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Doon； that Ariane was dead。
Doon had already rearmed himself from the walls of this mad arsenal。 This time with a morningstar。 He spun the spiked head rapidly on its chain； and probably meant to try to tangle the blade of the Sword of Force and pull it from Mark's grip。 But Shieldbreaker's shining blur this time intercepted the weight itself。 With the clang of a split anvil； the spiked iron ball； points tipped with bronze and gold； spun free to give up its momentum in the devastation of another shelf or two； from which inlaid helmets and gilded gauntlets cascaded in metallic thunder。
Doon had a broadsword now； in his hands the silvered blade of it made a blur that looked as swift and bright as the arc drawn by the Sword of Force。 But when the two met； only one remained。
Staggering amid the wreckage of the room； marked with blood from minor wounds from metal fragments and splintered wood； the Baron grabbed up a spear。 Holding this like a lance under one arm； and swinging a scimitar with the other； he let out a scream of defiance and despair； and ran； with all his force at Mark。 〃Stop！ I。。。〃
Whatever argument Mark might have made； there was no time for it。 The Baron closed with him … or came as close to him as will and skill could drive。 The Sword hammered briskly； blurred impersonally。 How many teeth of the gleaming millsaw bit at Doon； Mark could not count。 The spear was in three pieces before it hit the floor； and Doon himself was left in more than one。 One of his arms was gone； and when the Sword of Force at last came to rest it had transfixed his body。
Mark watched the life depart from Doon's eyes； which were fixed on him。 And Shieldbreaker's rhythm； perhaps keeping time with the heart it pierced； went thudding softly down into silence。
Still the body stood almost upright； glaring as if the Baron's will were not yet dead。 But in fact the Baron's flesh was supported by a set of tilted shelves that he had crashed into； and by the thrusting Sword itself。 Mark raised a foot and pushed。 The dead weight slid from the blade； away from the supporting shelves； and fell amid debris with a last crash。
The Sword was suddenly a dead weight as well。 Mark let it sag。 He turned to the doorway； where Ben still crouched； oblivious to everything but the dead girl he rocked in his arms。
Just then； a strange voice boomed； from somewhere out in the dark cave： 〃You four in the weapons room； surrender！ We have taken your two friends already； and you are trapped！〃
Mark forced himself to move methodically。 He turned first to the tree of Swords； and got down the belt that had held Shieldbreaker； and put the weapon bloody as it was into the sheath； and strapped it to his waist。 He called： 〃Ben； e on。 You must leave her； for now。 e here； quickly。〃
Ben came lumbering toward him。 〃Where's Dmitry； Mark？ He threw the rock。 He hit her。〃 The big man was obviously in shock。 〃I've got to get him。 But … she's gone。 She's gone； Mark。 She。。。 just。。。〃
〃I know。 e on； Ben； e on。 I know where Dmitry went。 No； just leave her there。 You've got to leave her。〃 He dragged Ben almost unresisting to the tree of Swords； and there loaded him with Doomgiver and its belt。 Then Mark took down the last Sword； Stonecutter； for himself； for the moment carrying it belt and all in one hand。 For a moment； touching Stonecutter and the Sword of Force at the same time； he was aware of the old feeling that when he was still half a child had terrified him to the point of fainting； a feeling of being taken out of himself； of what he had imagined death itself to be like。
Now to find a way out。 Or make one。
He went to the set of huge shelves that stood at the far end of the room； almost against the rock wall of the cave。 〃Ben； help me tip these back。〃
The big man followed the order mechanically。 The shelves toppled until they caught leaning against the wall of rock； more treasure spilling and crashing from them unheeded。 Now they made a high ladder； or crude steps。 Mark led the way； climbing up them。
Again the distant voice called： 〃Your last chance to surrender！〃
Ben had mechanically strapped on the first Sword； Doomgiver； that Mark had handed him； and now； while they balanced awkwardly atop the leaning shelves； Mark gave him Shieldbreaker to hold； saying： 〃Fight them if they e。〃
Ben nodded numbly。 〃What are you doing？〃
For answer； Mark turned to press Stonecutter against the wall of stone； feeling the blade e alive in his grip as he did so。 Like Shieldbreaker； this Sword generated a hammering vibration； but Stonecutter's was heavier and slower than that of the Sword of Force。 When Mark pressed Stonecutter against the wall； the point sank right in； as if the stone it touched had turned to so much butter。
The first piece he cut free； an awkward cone the size of a man's head； came sliding out。 It fell heavily between the two men's feet； bounced from the angled； tilted surface of the top shelf； and crashed down to the floor below。
〃You're carving steps？ To where？〃
〃It'll have to be more than steps。〃
The next pieces that Mark cut out were larger。 Quickly their crashing fall became an almost continuous sound。 Mark was cutting them at an upward angle； so that each block when loosened slid free of its own weight。 This meant that the men had to keep their feet out of the way； it also meant that the hole now rapidly deepening in the wall was angled upward。 But that was all right； they wanted to go up anyway。 Rough…cut pyramids and lopsided cones continued to fall free at an encouraging rate。
Soon Mark had to widen the mouth of his excavation； to be able to step up into it and continue to reach the receding workface； while still keeping his feet and Ben's out of the way of falling blocks。
Ben was ing out of shock a little； belatedly getting the idea。 〃We can cut a tunnel； and get out！〃 〃So I hope。 If we have time。 Watch your feet！〃
There were renewed cries for their surrender； ing from somewhere cautiously out of sight。 Ben and Mark were now pletely inside their ascending mine； and the Old World lights somehow registered their departure； and turned themselves off。 One headlamp； tuned to a dim glow； gave enough light to work with。
There was a rush of invisible feet below。
Ben said： 〃Let me cut for a while。 Take your bow and lob an arrow or two at them。〃
Now； for just a moment； it was Ben who had two Swords in hand at once。 Seeing his expression change； Mark said to him： 〃It'll be all right。 Go on。〃
With Ben's hand driving the heavy Sword； the work of tunneling went even faster。 The tunnel grew； wide enough to let them keep clear of the sliced…out pieces as they fell； its surface rough…hewn to give them footing and handgrips where needed。 The blocks； hewn out as easily as so many puffs of smoke； still came falling and crashing down like the heavy stone they were。 The constant barrage of their falling had already broken down the tilted wooden shelves； splintering them and pounding their load of treasure into twisted metal and debris； beneath the fast…growing pile of the rock itself。
Now the enemy below was lighting torches； trying to get a better look at what was going on； the presence of Whitehands evidently did not trigger the Old World ceiling lights。 Mark fired all his remaining arrows but one at torch…lights； and heard cries of pain。 Now he could hear the Whitehands climbing on the talus of rock that grew under the strange new opening in the wall； but more rock continued to fall upon them there； crushing them and beating them back。
Ben had begun to bend the tunnel around a corner。 Already the whole opening was some five or six meters deep； and still growing fast。 Presently the bend began to afford them … the protection that Ben had foreseen they'd need； when the first flung stones began to fly up from below； they could make themselves safe around its angle。 The Whitehands； like the cave's regular garrison of soldiers； were used to fighting in the dark or by poor light when they fought at all； and bows or slings were not in mon use among them。
As the work progressed； each loosened piece of rock slid and fell for a greater distance； building up a greater speed； before it struck anything or anyone。 The blocks swept the tunnel clean of climbing Whitehands faster than they could be made to enter it。 Before long the attempt was abandoned； and the yells of the wounded were heard no more。
The carving and crashing down of rock； the climbing； went on for a long time。 Rock dust began to choke the two men's nostrils。 The beams of their headlamps were white now with the fog of it。
Pausing to try to breathe； Ben asked： 〃What if we're below the level of the sea when we e out？〃
〃I don't think we can be。 Or the cave down there would be already flooded。〃 As he spoke； Mark hoped that he was right。
〃How do we know where we'll e out？〃
〃We don't。 Keep going up； and we'll e out somewhere。 Unless you've got a better idea。〃
Mark took another turn at digging。 Again touching Stonecutter and Shieldbreaker at the same time； he wondered aloud： 〃Why didn't Blue Temple ever use these Swords？〃
〃You don't know Blue Temple。 If it's valuable it's treasure； and if it's treasure you bury it in a hole in the ground so you don't risk losing it。 We'll hear Benambra screaming all the way up to the surface when he sees what's gone。〃
And at last； without warning； the cutting Sword broke through； broke upward into clear space； and what had to be daylight； though it was dim and indirect。 The two men muttered and marveled more than they had for jewels and gold。 Some fine dirt trickled down。
Mark quickly widened the hole； then climbed up through it。 Ben followed。 They were standing in a narrow； cavelike fissure that ran horizontally toward the light； and in the opposite direction from it。 Walking； climbing toward the light； they soon got a glimpse of misty sky。 Now they could smell the ocean； and hear the steady waves。
At a couple of places Mark had to use Stonecutter to carve a secure step； or widen the fissure so they could squeeze through。
They emerged at last upon a narrow ledge； in living sunshine； halfway between the clifftop and the sea。
Chapter 17
Blinking and squinting in the mild sunlight that contended with clouds of blowing mist； they emerged from the crevice into full view of the sea。 Mark realized that it must be early morning。 The air was warm； and summer had evidently not yet departed。 Beyond the first reach of water； slate gray and shaded blue； the opposite headland was half in sunshine； half in shadow。
〃What's that？〃 asked Ben； cocking his head。 There had been some kind of distant clash and cry。
〃It sounded like a fight。 But it didn't e from behind us； in the cave。〃
〃No。 Maybe from on top of the cliff？〃
The sound was not repeated。 〃Anyway we're going down。 Get to the shore； and then try our charm…words to bring in Indosuaros' ship。〃
They began to work their way down； carefully。 Rounding a bulge of the cliff； they came upon a broader ledge； and stopped。 A marvel lay before them； halfwreathed in mist。
The giant figure had fallen sprawled out； in a prone position。 It was crumpled and broken over rock； and as dead as any corpse that Mark had ever seen。 The Phrygian cap had fallen off； the great head was turned to one side； the sightless gaze bored at a surface of rock only centimeters from the face。
〃It's Hermes。〃 Ben whispered it。
There was a long pause before Mark whispered： 〃Yes。
〃But … he's dead。〃
〃Yes。 〃
The two living men looked at each other as wildly as if it were a dead friend that they had found； and more fearfully。
〃Doon boasted that he had slain a god。〃
〃But … if a god is mortal … what does it mean？〃
They looked at each other and could see no answer。
Small wreaths of smoke； or steam； were rising from the figure； as if it might be beginning to dissolve into the sea…mist that had e to lave around it。 In the middle of the naked back there was a raw； fresh wound。 It was just of a size； thought Mark； to have been made by the thrust of a broadblade