Straight up the hall he went, leaving
behind him a track of blood on the marble pavement, till at last
he reached the sacred stone, which stood in the centre of it,
and here his strength seemed to fail him, for he stopped and
leaned upon his axe. Then suddenly he lifted up his voice and
cried aloud --
'I die, I die -- but it was a kingly fray. Where are they who
came up the great stair? I see them not. Art thou there, Macumazahn,
or art thou gone before to wait for me in the dark whither I
go? The blood blinds me -- the place turns round -- I hear the
voice of waters.'
Next, as though a new thought had struck him, he lifted the red
axe and kissed the blade.
'Farewell, Inkosi-kaas,' he cried. 'Nay, nay, we will go together;
we cannot part, thou and I. We have lived too long one with
another, thou and I.
'One more stroke, only one! A good stroke! a straight stroke!
a strong stroke!' and, drawing himself to his full height, with
a wild heart-shaking shout, he with both hands began to whirl
the axe round his head till it looked like a circle of flaming steel.
Then, suddenly, with awful force he brought it down straight
on to the crown of the mass of sacred stone. A shower of sparks
flew up, and such was the almost superhuman strength of the blow,
that the massive marble split with a rending sound into a score
of pieces, whilst of Inkosi-kaas there remained but some fragments
of steel and a fibrous rope of shattered horn that had been the
handle.
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