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his ivory harp. After the initial chords had been struck, the kanteel seemed to turn and twist as if it wished to escape his fingers. The troubador knew it was the evil of the nethersphere resisting the music, not the magical instrument. Bringing forth power from within, Gellor controlled it by building a mental image of the little harp held steadily. He pictured his hands grasping it firmly yet gently, and then thought of his long fingers touching its silvern strings. The forces bent on preventing its playing were pushed back dispelled. With a grim look of satisfaction at the success he had thus achieved, Gellor placed his fingertips upon the row of argent wires and once again sent out the sweet, ascending ripples of sound from the kanteel. Predatory demons a mile distant turned away from the wash of music he brought forth.
    Initially Gord had concentrated on the ebon twin of the bright blade he clasped in his right hand. Its attacks upon the pack of great demon-beasts had been envisioned by him, and the sword seemed to respond as if it were an extension of the young champion's will. The herd of ringing lesser monstrosities no longer surrounded the two men. Those nearer to Gellor had been slain, wounded, or driven off by the music the bard brought forth from his magical harp. Before Gord, though, there was still a horde of howling horrors, and three or four of the towering demon-beasts were nearly upon him. Letting the dark brand do its work as it would, Gord prepared to face the onslaught with the shining portion he still held.
    A leering thing with a froglike mouth splitting its wolverine head was almost upon the young champion. Despite its porcine body and flipper legs, the monster moved fast. Gord raised the diamond-bright part of Courflamme, aiming at the demon's outthrust head. The sword's tip suddenly spat forth a black bolt of force. The crackling ebon dart sheared off the top of the fiend's head, and the impact of it actually flipped the demon's massive body over in a somersault.
    Without pausing to view his work Gord turned and faced his next foe, now aiming the long blade as if it were a wand. Again the inky core of the weapon sent forth a blast of dark power, and another of the charging demons died. It became almost mechanical thereafter Gord pointed the blade, willed destruction. and another monstrous beast crashed down dead. Again, again, yet again. Soon a half-circle of twitching demon corpses formed a barrier in front of him, a wall so great that the young champion could see nothing but its stinking height.
    In desperation, Gord moved backward, readying for yet more of the terrible things to come pouring over the barrier of corpses. "I'll blast you all!" he shouted defiantly, cutting a semicircle in the air before him with the bright blade. The gesture brought a withering geyser of soot-tongued flame from the sword's crystal tip, and the inferno of black fire disintegrated the reeking pile of demon-flesh. A dozen of the smaller beasts, busy feeding on the bodies of their larger kin, were caught by the torrent of destruction and likewise made into corpses. A handful of the massive fiends, the slowest of the pack, suddenly floundered to a halt at the sight of what had occurred. Even such minuscule brains as theirs could discern the fate that awaited, should they come closer to the small man who had seemed such easy prey. They flopped and rolled and turned, seeking escape.
    Gord didn't allow that. Even as his comrade sent forth fresh ripples of sweet sound to play havoc among those demons who still opposed the troubador, Gord leaped through the breach in the massive wall of dead fiends, and with arm outstretched brought his blade into play again. It was as if he were skewering tied fowls. Black radiance sped from Courflamme's point, and a lumbering thing convulsed in its death agony. Another elephantine demon shot yards into the air as the burning ebon force struck and slew it. Foul thing after even more