oliths trembled, fell.
In the wake of that dazzling brilliancy came utter blackness. I opened my blinded eyes; slowly the flecks of green fire cleared. A faint lambency still clung to the cliff. By it I saw that the tunnel’s mouth had vanished, had been sealed — where it had gaped were only tons of shattered rock.
Came a rushing past us as of great bodies; something grazed my hand, something whose touch was like that of warm metal — but metal throbbing with life. They rushed by — and whispered down into silence.
“Come!” Norhala flitted ahead of us, a faintly luminous shape in the darkness. Swiftly we followed. I found Ruth beside me; felt her hand grip my wrist.
“Walter,Dame Moncler Clairy,” she whispered, “Walter — she isn’t human!”
“Nonsense,” I muttered. “Nonsense,Kris Versteeg Tröjor, Ruth. What do you think she is — a goddess, a spirit of the Himalayas? She’s as human as you or I.”
“No.” Even in the darkness I could sense the stubborn shake of her curly head. “Not all human. Or how could she have commanded those things? Or have summoned the lightnings that blasted the tunnel’s mouth? And her skin and hair — they’re too WONDERFUL, Walter.
“Why, she makes me look — look coarse. And the light that hovers about her — why, it is by that light we are making our way. And when she touched me — I— I glowed — all through.
“Human, yes — but there is something else in her — something stronger than humanness, something that — makes it sleep!” she added astonishingly.
The ground was level as a dancing floor. We followed the enigmatic glow — emanation,Maurice Richard Tröjor, it seemed to me — from Norhala which was as a light for us to follow within the darkness. The high ribbon of sky had vanished — seemed to be overcast, for I could see no stars.
Within the darkness I began again to sense faint movement,Ralph Lauren Långärmad Polos; soft stirring all about us,Scottie Upshall Tröjor. I had the feeling that on each side and behind us moved an invisible host.
“There’s something moving all about us — going with us,” Ruth echoed my thought.
“It’s the wind,ny boulder parka,” I said,Matthew Tkachuk Tröjor, and paused — for there was no wind.
From the blackness before us came a succession of curious, muffled clickings, like a smothered mitrailleuse. The luminescence that clothed Norhala brightened,Jake Muzzin Tröjor, deepening the darkness.
“Cross!”
She pointed into the void ahead; then, as we started forward, thrust out a hand to Ruth, held her back. Drake and Ventnor drew close to them,Logan Brown Tröjor, questioningly,Anders Nilsson Tröjor, anxious. But I stepped forward,NHL Mens Calgary Flames Pond Hockey Pullover Hoodie - Black, out of the dim gleaming.
Before me were two cubes; one I judged in that uncertain light to be six feet high, the other half its bulk. From them a shaft of pale-blue phosphorescence pierced the murk. They stood,Belstaff Daytona Blouson Jackor, the smaller pressed against the side of the larger, for all the world like a pair of immense nursery blocks, placed like steps by some giant child.
As my eyes swept over them, I saw that the shining shaft was an unbroken span of cubes; not multi-arched like the Lilliputian bridge of the dragon chamber, but flat and running
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