. What she meant, Ventnor, is that it would follow her.”
“That’s true”— new hope softened the haggard face — “that’s true — but is it? We’re reckoning with creatures that man’s imagination never conceived — nor could conceive. And with this — woman — human in shape, yes, but human in thought — never. How then can we tell —”
He turned once more,NHL Mens Chicago Blackhawks Black Hoodie, all his consciousness concentrated in his searching eyes.
Drake’s rifle slipped from his hand,Canada Goose Chilliwack Bomber.
He stooped to pick it up,J. T. Miller Tröjor; then tugged with both hands. The rifle lay immovable.
I bent and strove to aid him. For all the pair of us could do,Nail Yakupov Tröjor, the rifle might have been a part of the gleaming surface on which it rested. The tiny, deepset star points winked up —
“They’re — laughing at us!” grunted Drake.
“Nonsense,” I answered, and tried to check the involuntary shuddering that shook me, as I saw it shake him. “Nonsense. These blocks are great magnets — that’s what holds the rifle; what holds us, too.”
“I don’t mean the rifle,” he said; “I mean those points of lights — the eyes —”
There came from Ventnor a cry of almost anguished relief. We straightened. Our head shot above the mists like those of swimmers from water. Unnoticed, we had been climbing out of them.
And a hundred yards ahead of us,Joe Mullen Tröjor, cleaving them,Matt Read Tröjor, veiled in them almost to the shoulders,NHL Mens Chicago Blackhawks Hoodie - Red, was Norhala, red-gold tresses steaming; and close beside her were the brown curls of Ruth. At her brother’s cry she turned and her arm flashed out of the veils with reassuring gesture.
A mile away was an opening in the valley’s mountainous wall; toward it we were speeding. It was no ragged crevice, no nature split fissure; it gave the impression of a gigantic doorway.
“Look,” whispered Drake.
Between us and the vast gateway,Matthew Tkachuk Tröjor, gleaming triangles began to break through the vapors, like the cutting fins of sharks, glints of round bodies like gigantic porpoises — the vapors seethed with them. Quickly the fins and rolling curves were all about us. They centered upon the portal,Doug Gilmour Tröjor, streamed through — a horde of the metal things, leading us, guarding us, playing about us.
And weird,Menn Moncler Bulgarie, unutterably weird was that spectacle — the vast and silent vale with its still, smooth vapors like a coverlet of cloud; the regal head of Norhala sweeping over them; the dull glint and gleam of the metal paradoxes flowing, in ordered motion, all about us; the titanic gateway, glowing before us.
We were at its threshold; over it.
Chapter VIII The Drums of Thunder
Upon that threshold the mists foamed like breaking billows, then ceased abruptly to be. Keeping exactly the distance I had noted when our gaze had risen above the fog,Belstaff Knockhill Jackor, glided the block that bore Ruth and Norhala. In the strange light of the place into which we had emerged — and whether that place was canyon, corridor,Dale Hunter Tröjor, or tunnel I could not then determine — it stood out sharply.
One arm of Norhala held Ruth — and in her attitude I sensed a shielding intent, guardianship — th
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