"He wants us to get on with the demolition," said Sturm.
"Fine. I'm ready."
All the glass and porcelain jars and cups they had were to be used to pour vitriol on the lead mortar seams. The gnomes lined up like soldiers, mugs and cream pitchers in hand like swords. Kitiara gave them a mocking salute and told them to bide their time.
Inside, Cupelix was nervously hopping from one massive leg to the other. "All my books and manuscripts are safe," he said. "The Micones have transferred everything to a safe place in the cave." There was no longer reason to delay.
Cupelix put his three-toed feet into the hole and curled his tail up close to his chest. It would be a tight fit.
"Get your wings in," Sturm said. "Closer. That's it."
"Good thing I am a svelte example of my race," Cupelix said. His massive body was in the hole. Only his head showed inside the obelisk.
"I believe I shall miss this place," he said.
"Go on!" Kitiara shouted. Cupelix's head disappeared. He fell forty feet before getting his wings open. He hit the cavern floor with enough force to rock the tower on its foundations, but to the dragon it was a minor tumble. He telepathed his good health and told the mortals to proceed.
"Cupelix is safely in the cavern," Sturm said to Stutts when they were outside.
Stutts put two fingers to his mouth and blew a shrieking whistle. "Begin pouring!" he cried.
The gnomes, spaced around the three sides of the obelisk, applied vitriol to the lead. Wisps of noxious vapor coiled off the walls, choking all the gnomes but Roperig and Fitter, who had invented Caustic Smoke Filters for Noses and
Mouths (Mark II). Keen observers would have recognized the filters as being made of old bandannas and suspenders.
"Right! Now clear off the top level and pour on the sec ond!" Stutts called. Convenient beakers of vitriol were posi tioned on the lower platforms of the scaffold.
Flash climbed down the spindly collection of poles and planks. He swung to the second level and promptly kicked over his beaker. Oil of vitriol streamed down the scaffold, eating away the wood and rope lashing with as much vigor as it consumed the lead.
"Look out!" said Sturm. The poles under Flash sagged and came apart. The gnome wavered back and forth on his toes and toppled from the planking.
Kitiara gauged his fall and stepped below him. She held up her arms and caught the plummeting gnome.
"Thank you so much," he said.
"Certainly," she asked.
The walls of the obelisk steamed with vitriol vapor.
Streaks of black showed on the flawless red marble where the liquified lead ran down. The corrosive fluid ate into the joints between the courses of stone with alacrity, and half an hour after starting, the gnomes were down to the fourth level of their scaffold.
"It looks like it's weeping," Sturm observed of the struc ture. "But I don't think it's suffering much damage."
"The effect should be cumulative," said Stutts. "Without the lead support, each course will sag under the weight of the upper blocks. By the time we get down to ground level, the whole structure may be leaning as much as three feet out of plumb. The remaining fourth wall cannot support such an imbalance, and the obelisk will collapse."
The wine-purple sky segued into claret red. Sturm frowned. "Sunrise," he said. 'Will the discharges affect the process?"
"How can they not?" Kitiara replied. "They may bring the whole thing down on our heads." She went to the foot of the scaffold and yelled, "Get a move on! Dawn is coming!"
There were accidents, gnomes being gnomes, with the imminent sunrise pressing on them. Vitriol burns, falls, and sprained ankles multiplied. The stars faded from view as the heavens changed from claret to rose. The usual streak of meteors ricocheted from one horizon to another, and the intense stillness was broken by a stirring in the air that Kiti ara felt, though Sturm could not.
"Hurry!"
The gnomes tumbled off the scaffold like mice from a burning building. The platform groaned and curled up wherever the vitriol dropped on it, and the lower third of the obelisk was coated with sickly gray steam.
"Run!" Sturm said. "Run as far and as fast as you can!"
He grabbed Cutwood, who was slow, and dragged him off his feet. Kitiara scooped up Roperig and Flash, the last ones off the scaffold. And they ran, past the point at which they'd left Cloudmaster, on the unscarred side of the tower, as far as where the valley began to rise in elevation. A hor rendous grinding noise filled the valley, overpowering even the first crackle of the morning discharge.
From under Kitiara's arm, Flash twisted around to see.
"The blocks are giving way!" he cheered.
The grinding sound arrested their mad flight. Everyone stopped, turned, and stared.
Bolts of blue lightning sizzled from the obelisk's peak, not to the distant cliffs that defined the valley, but into the dry red soil a hundred yards from the monument's base. The obelisk leaned appreciably, and whole courses of stained marble tumbled to the ground. It seemed for a moment that the tower might withstand the loss of those blocks, but the weight of the upper reaches was too much for the under mined base. The five-hundred-foot obelisk slowly, grace fully, leaned over. Stones shattered under the unbearable pressure. The top broke apart in midfall, the stones separat ing with the tumult of a hundred thunderstorms"."Blocks twelve feet long, six feet high, and three feet thick hurtled to the ground, gouging out deep craters in the soft turf. The obelisk lay down like a falling tree, pieces weighing several tons bounced off each other, breaking, crushing, and com ing to rest at last, as though too tired to leap any farther.
The great pyramid capstone crashed with blue and white sparkles dancing around it. Will-o'-the-wisps rose above the swelling cloud of dust and vanished, silent witnesses to the mighty structure's fall.
There was silence. The rumble died away.
"My," said Stutts solemnly.
"It worked," said Wingover.
"Did it ever work," said Rainspot.
Suddenly, Kitiara gave out a loud, long whoop of tri umph. "Yaaahaaah!" she cried, leaping up into the air. "We did it! We did it!"
Sturm found himself grinning from ear to ear, but as the members of the little party moved slowly toward the fallen giant, an awed silence settled over them. Large blocks stood upright, buried to a third of their length. Sturm looked on and marveled. The shape of the obelisk proper could still be recognized as a heavier concentration of broken masonry.
Sturm climbed to a pile of blocks near the erstwhile base of the obelisk. The dust thrown up by the collapse had risen, making a dull red ring in the sky. He had an odd thought:
Would stargazers on Krynn be able to see the ring of dust? It was miles and miles across, and darker than the surface soil.
Would the astronomers see it, theorize about it, make learned discourses on the cause and meaning of it?
Everyone gathered at the base. A dome of blocks had fallen over the hole in the obelisk floor, and only a very small person could wriggle through the resulting gap. Kiti ara called for Fitter.
"Go in and call to the dragon," she said. "See if he's all right. I can't get him to answer."
"Yes, ma'am." Fitter scampered into the arch of stone. In answer to his call, they all heard a telepathic Success!
"He's alive," Stutts said.
"We'll have to clear these stones away," Sturm said.
Get clear, little Fitter; I'm coming out!
Fitter crawled out, and the mortals drew back. The mass of blocks flew apart, and Cupelix emerged. His massive face was split by a wide smile. Huge teeth gleamed dully in the light as he flung back his head and expanded his chest.
"Rejoice, mortal friends! I am free!" he cried.
"You had no trouble shifting those blocks," Kitiara said.