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Updated: May 7, 2025
We reached what I knew to be Lakla's own boudoir, if I may so call it.
Plain now was the reason for his foreknowledge of Lakla's appearance at the feast where Larry had so narrowly escaped Yolara's spells; plain the determining factor that had cast his lot with ours, and my confidence, despite his discourse of mysterious perils, experienced a remarkable quickening.
Olaf's eyes were burning. "But Lugur is mine to slay." That pity I had seen before in Lakla's eyes when she looked upon the Norseman banished the white wrath from them. She turned, half hurriedly, as though to escape his gaze. "Walk with us," she said to me, "unless you are still weak." I shook my head, gave a last look at O'Keefe; there was nothing I could do; I stepped beside her.
"Steady!" It was Lakla's voice and not beside me there, but at my ear close before the screen. "Steady, Goodwin! And see!" The sparkling haze cleared. Enormous reaches stretched before me.
Wondering, I glanced at Lakla's face and there was a dawn of foreboding and bewilderment. For a little she held her listening attitude; then the gaze of the Three left her; focused upon the O'Keefe. "Thus speak the Silent Ones through Lakla, their handmaiden," the golden voice was like low trumpet notes. "At the threshold of doom is that world of yours above.
It was hot, and a pang of remorse shot through me. If this place had so shaken me, how must it have shaken Olaf? It was with relief that I watched him, at Lakla's gentle command, drop into one of the litters and lie back, eyes closed, as two of the monsters raised its yoke to their scaled shoulders. Nor was it without further relief that I myself lay back on the soft velvety cushions of another.
Another rush of feet and down upon Lugur's forces poured the frog-men, their booming giant leading, thrusting with their lances, tearing and rending with talons and fangs and spurs. Against that onslaught the dwarfs could not stand. They raced for the shells; I heard Lugur shouting, menacingly and then Lakla's voice, pealing like a golden bugle of wrath. "Go, Lugur!" she cried.
I felt Lakla's touch; turned. A hundred paces away was a dais, its rim raised a yard above the floor. From the edge of this rim streamed upward a steady, coruscating mist of the opalescence, veined even as was that of the Dweller's shining core and shot with milky shadows like curdled moonlight; up it stretched like a wall.
"This corial is of the swiftest Lakla's are of the slowest. With Lakla scarce a va ahead we can reach her before she enters the Portal. Lift you the Shadow we will bring her back, and this will I do for you, Serku." Doubt tempered Serku's panic. "Why not go alone, Rador, leaving the strangers here with me?" he asked and I thought not unreasonably. "Nay, then." The green dwarf was brusk.
Swift as the lithe white wolf hound she leaped, and one slender hand gripped Yolara's throat, the other the wrist that lifted the quivering death; white limbs wrapped about the hidden ones, I saw the golden head bend, the hand that held the Keth swept up with a vicious jerk; saw Lakla's teeth sink into the wrist the blood spurt forth and heard the priestess shriek.
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