Chapter tenErwin the Waggler was gone. He was dead. He was a mere blackened husk falling through the shrieking inferno below.
I, Dray Prescot, could only stand there uselessly. All I could do was consign my young comrade, Erwin the Waggler, a good Valkan, to the mercies of Opaz. I wished him a safe passage through the encircling mists, through the Ice Floes of Sicce, to the Sunny Uplands beyond.
As for me, there was no way back. The flames leaped higher and higher from the pit ahead. I stepped back half a dozen paces. The figure of Perempto wavered and distorted. He threw up his arms. I could just make out his shout.
“You’ll never jump it!”
“By the Black Chunkrah!” I snarled to myself. “There’s nothing else to do! I will jump it!”
Gathering myself, I ran and leaped.
Sheer heat engulf
