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"Mean you to slay this?" Varr said slowly, as

The Sulfur Carrier stretched, its knees below

The pit its impact had carved out, "Do you

Yet say that this your sword shall cut down this

Colossus, berserker?" Klau swallowed, and,

With his eyes to vasty foe fastened,

Said, "Yes, I shall, although I can no more

Imagine how than I can fly." Shane snatched

The girl, who stared as fixedly as does

The sparrow at the adder at the dark

Arising form, though seeming without fear.

"Then do!" he shouted, "Strike it down! I will

See her to safety. I only ask that,"

The Boxer grinned, "you slay it not too swift

Before I can get back to use my fists."

Then as the Sulfur Carrier drew back

A hand crowned with obsidian claws, as

Its shoulders' skin cracked up like drying mud

And in the cracks glowed magma, as along

It's hunching back it bubbled like hot tar,

Shane dragged the girl away. He tossed her light

To Varr, who on his shoulders, like a horse,

Bore clinging, and they took off running for

The stairs. Shane fumbled on his gloves, looked back,

Saw Klau the Berserker had drawn his sword

Black but bright, saw beyond a house-sized fist

Come down upon the rampart's foundation,

So as he reached the top step, it buckled

And tossed below his feet. They half-scrambled,

Half-jumped along the quaking, crumbling stair:

They could not have gone faster if they'd flown,

And yet not fast enough. The tremor tore

Asunder gaping rents in the cold earth

Below the wall. Through them the Soot poured in

Like maggots not content to wait for death

Of natural causes, and turned assassin,

Their weapons brandishing, their baleful stench,

Their rotted hissing smothering the air.

As is the rush of foam over the edge

Of roaring cataract split into rags

And drops, each willing with all of its heart

To outrun gravity, to reach the ground,

Meets like a football rush the rush of air

That courses up the riverbed, so that

The weight and momentum of rivulet

And spout are shattered by the updraft. Both

Checked, twisted, broken, diverted, combined

And turned to thrashing mist, not reconciled

But warring still twixt wind and water in

Itself, even as it rises and drifts

Like cloud of dust above the battle's toil,

So did the Soot wave break upon the few

Who but a moment gone in horror gaped

At wash of undead sunlight. Now they fought

With all the rage and savagery of him

Who hope no more for victory, nor life

For himself or for anything he loves,

Whose only comfort is that those who slay

Shall pay most dearly for the privilege.

Into the furor Shane the Champion dropped

Like leaf-speck from the brink of waterfall,

And like a leaf speck he seemed vanished in

The churning chaos waves of Soot and strife

But as the leaf will float, and break the waves

And whirl through eddies toward the smoother stream,

So did the boxer break the waves of Soot

With blows like heavy balls toppling tenpins,

So did he circle through the melee, to

Rain crushing fists on rotten bone and rust,

Each step won with the slaughter of one foe

And each toward the mountain pass. Behind

Came Varr, sword whirling cleaving undead head

From smolder-hissing body, and the girl

Upon his shoulders piggyback, still looking grave,

Heedless seeming of carnage all about,

Up at the Sulfur Carrier, who moved not

Now that the wall was ruins. No ranks here.

No lines to hold, advance, or to retreat.

No time for discipline, only for death.

No time for tactics, only for each breath

Drawn red and furious, only the ache

Of muscles no more heeding ache, only

The split second to strike down one more foe

Or be struck down yourself, and then the next,

And then the next, and then the next. Shane struck.

And Shane was not struck down. Others had not

His fortune or fair fate. Ulf the Black-Brow

Went, as a mighty tree is overwhelmed

By caustic lava blast, beneath a heap

Of Soot both still, if not living, moving,

And those who moved no more, and there was crushed.

Down went Cuan Holyspear, with both the head

And butt of his stout shaft still striking, like

A whirlwind, even as he toppled with

His lifeblood drooping. Down went Rolf Quick-Rage,

In mid charge, slain Soot flying in his wake

As do raindrops that hit the windshield; though

Each is scattered, already they have fogged

The vision, already they have soaked through

The brakes, already the crash can't be stopped,

And though his momentum still slew them, Rolf

The Quick-Rage himself already was slain.

Down went Gor Battle-Hungry, now sated.

Down went Dar Storm-Braver, under the storm.

Down went Vyze Fighter-of-Tides, toppled now

By tide too heavy. All about was death

And double death. And through it waded Shane

As men might wade through flooded streets, and Varr

Carried the girl as one carries heirlooms

From floodwaters salvaged. Now only yards,

Now only feet, now only few inches

Came between them and stairs to safety. Shane,

Rushed bullike, knocking Soot flat to both sides

With both fists, forehead, and wound-heedless chest,

Then whirled upon the lowest stair, to hold

The ashen undead off, and buy some time

For Varr to bear the girl to safety, but

The Soot so pressed them that the two stood back

To back, the girl between, fighting on all

Angles. The stairs they took sideways. They slew

As many with the fall as with the fight.

The din behind them dimmed. The battle grew

With distance indistinct. No more the sole

And individual tragedies they heard.

One blow was blended with the next, that rode

On top, like letters in a cursive hand,

Until there was no sound of single sword,

Only a roiling, rolling sea of noise.

The last they saw, ere they slammed fast the door

To the long council hall, and barred it shut,

Was Klau, still on the remnant of the wall,

Like plaster saint upon a pillar set,

And fighting furiously the dark Soot

That swarmed like cockroaches up the rough sides.

The Black Sword was as a lawnmower's blade,

In every place equally, cleaving all

Instantly, grinding all effortlessly,

So all around the ruin dead Soot fell

And, as they fell, resolved to ash, like slow

Black snowflakes on the sulfur-colored night.

So small with distance was the scene, that sound

Was absent, and the Soot seemed shrunk

To smaller than the god of fury whose

Sword oversized ripped down their multitude.

Beyond, and vaster far than both, there smiled

The Sulfur Carrier. The doors swung shut.

And Shane the Champion could see no more.