CHAPTER XII

THE RESCUE

“This way, Ruth, this way!” whispered David. “My faithful Horse is waiting for us.”

It was so dark that Ruth could only stumble blindly on. Once she almost fell; had it not been for David’s strong arm she surely would have fallen. He called in a low voice, hoping for response from the Wingèd Horse. But no sound could they hear, nor, in the black darkness that surrounded them, could they tell in which direction they were going. They groped onward, blindly but cautiously, feeling their way.

A sound of much confusion rose within the Palace behind them. Every now and then the King’s voice could be distinctly heard above the turmoil. When he spoke in authority his voice sounded like the angry roar of a great fire.

Suddenly a streak of light fell across the path in front of them, as someone opened a heavy door giving access to the Garden from another quarter of the Palace than that through which Ruth had entered. The Bronze King himself, alone and unattended, stepped out into the gravel path. He carried a large torch that flamed above his head. The lurid light fell upon his hard bronze face, showing it distorted and drawn with rage.

“She shall never escape me,” he muttered to himself, but loudly enough for both David and Ruth to hear distinctly the words, “I will kill her first.”

What followed happened far more quickly than it takes to tell it. As he spoke he lifted the torch high and rushed furiously forward. Before there was a chance to retreat, he came face to face with Ruth! The King was so thoroughly surprised at this unexpected meeting that he failed to notice David. The full glare of the burning torch fell blindingly upon Ruth’s pale and frightened face.

“So!” cried the King, “here you are, are you? I have found you myself, have I? Well, come with me.”

He caught Ruth’s wrist in his great rough burning hand. They could both feel his hot breath as he spoke, and it seemed to fill the air with fumes like those of sulphur.

“Take your hands off her!” commanded David--and his voice was that of a man.

The Bronze King turned upon him in a fury of astonishment.

“What!” he cried. “Who are you, to be commanding the King within his own Palace? The girl is mine; to-morrow she is to be my bride. She shall do as I command her or die instantly.”

“_You_ shall do as _I_ command you or die instantly,” said David. “Take your hand from her wrist and let her go free, or you shall repent of your folly.”

Never in all his royal existence had the Bronze King been addressed so. He grew so angry that his face looked more coppery than ever in the flickering light of the torch; Ruth thought she had never looked upon any one more terrible in all her life. A sound came from him that seemed to start somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. It was like the roar of a raging forest fire.

He turned the torch so that its light fell on David’s face. And when he saw the boy standing there before him, he laughed in scorn and turned, dragging Ruth toward the doorway.

David drew his hunting-knife and rushed upon the King with such fury that the torch fell to the ground, setting fire to the grass and bushes as it rolled over and over; for the force with which it had been hurled from his hand when David made his onset was great enough to send it some distance.

The King was a terribly powerful and heavy man, but he had no weapon save his own strength. David was slender and frail, but he held within his grasp a power that made him fearless and wise to act. The King, infuriated by David’s boldness, relaxed his grasp on Ruth’s arm; and she, finding herself free, ran a few steps from him so that she might be beyond his reach should he attempt to seize her again. In a moment David and the Bronze King were rolling over and over in an angry struggle, that same strange sound belching from the King’s huge body with increasing volume. Ruth trembled, for she feared lest David be hurt if not killed outright. In the growing light of the fire that had started from the blazing torch these two struggled and struggled, while poor Ruth looked on helplessly, her heart throbbing with fear and anguish.

The whinny of a horse sounded not far away, and the light from the spreading fire illuminated a grove of dark cedar trees, within which Ruth could distinguish the outline of the Pale-Coloured Horse as it gazed with clear, intelligent eyes upon its master.

A quick and clever turn on David’s part threw the Bronze King so that he fell violently to the ground. David stood over him; then, lifting his knife, he plunged it deep into his enemy’s side below the heart, just as the defeated King was about to call for help. The mighty monarch roared with pain. As David drew forth the knife there gushed from the wound a fluid, the colour of molten copper, that burst into flame the instant it came in contact with the air. In a moment the whole body of the great Bronze King was enveloped in vivid flame.

David caught Ruth by the hand, and together they fled toward the Wingèd Horse. In an instant they were on its back. David held the reins of the magic bridle in one hand while with the other he supported Ruth, who sat before him on the wonderful steed which was now so miraculously to save their lives. Looking toward the Palace, they saw that armed men were rushing into the Garden from all directions. News that the King was slain had already spread, and his soldiers and men-at-arms had vowed vengeance upon the slayer.

“Come, my faithful Horse,” cried David. “Save us! the hour has come.”

Slowly the creature moved, walked forward a few steps; then, carrying its precious burden, it spread its great pale-coloured wings and rose up into the air; up, over the tree tops, over the roof of the great Castle, over the capstone of the high, high wall that enclosed the garden; then on over the iron pickets that made the place seem impregnable. Ruth’s hair had fallen loose, and its silk-like strands blew across David’s face and blinded his eyes as they moved forward through the vastness of the night.

Below them raged the fire, which had spread with incredible fury and speed. All at once there was a terrific noise, louder than the explosion of the largest bomb. David and Ruth looked below them toward the spot where the Bronze King’s Palace had stood. They saw fiery broken fragments falling to the earth like rain; and where the mighty Palace had once stood, there was nothing to be seen save burning desolation and wreckage. The Bronze King, his Palace, his chained Lions and prancing horses had all been annihilated in one huge explosion. The terrific heat had caused such pressure within the Bronze King’s body, whose blood was but fuel and whose flesh but gas, that at last it exploded with a tremendous detonation; and the spot where he had lived in such mighty glory knew him no more.