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Updated: June 26, 2025
"The night is really past at last, Nightspore.... The day is here." Nightspore gazed long and earnestly at Maskull's body. "Why was all this necessary?" "Ask Crystalman," replied Krag sternly. "His world is no joke. He has a strong clutch but I have a stronger... Maskull was his, but Nightspore is mine." The fog thickened so that the two suns wholly disappeared, and all grew as black as night.
Maskull's self-control broke down and he dashed at the boy, choking with red fury his beard wagged and his face was crimson. When he realised with whom he had to deal, Crimtyphon left off smiling, slipped off the couch, and threw a terrible and malignant glare into his sorb. Maskull staggered. He gathered together all the brute force of his will, and by sheer weight continued his advance.
She was evidently tiring, but she refused all help, and was in fact still the nimbler of the two. She made a mocking face at him. Panawe seemed lost in quiet thoughts. The rock was sound, and did not crumble under their weight. The heat of Branchspell, however, was by this time almost killing, the radiance was shocking in its white intensity, and Maskull's pain steadily grew worse.
But daylight had vanished there; Maskull's eyes rested only on a vague darkness. He faintly heard what sounded like the distant sighing of innumerable treetops. In the rapidly darkening twilight, they came abruptly on a man. He was standing in a pool, on one leg. A pile of boulders had hidden him from their view. The water came as far up as his calf.
The precipices on all sides, overhung with thorns, flowers, and creepers, invested the enclosure with an air of wild and charming seclusion a mythological mountain god might have dwelt here. Maskull's restless eye left everything, to fall on the two men who formed the centre of the picture.
The upper part of it was covered with a kind of glittering vegetation which he could not comprehend. Joiwind put her hand on Maskull's shoulder, and pointed upward. "Here you have the highest peak in the whole land that is, until you come to the Ifdawn Marest." On hearing that strange name, he experienced a momentary unaccountable sensation of wild vigour and restlessness but it passed away.
"Maulger is dead," said Catice, speaking the same tongue as Spadevil, but with an even harsher accent, so that the tympanum of Maskull's ear was affected painfully. The latter saw before him a bowed, powerful individual, advanced in years. He wore nothing but a scanty loincloth. His trunk was long and heavy, but his legs were rather short.
But the rhythm persisted the four beats, with the third accented, still came pulsing through the atmosphere, only now against a background of thunder, and not of silence. Maskull's heart beat wildly. His body was like a prison. He longed to throw it off, to spring up and become incorporated with the sublime universe which was beginning to unveil itself.
The only distinction is that their productions are more human and intelligible." "Nothing comes from it but vanity," said Panawe, and, taking the crystal out of Maskull's hand, he threw it into the lake. The precipice they now had to climb was several hundred feet in height. Maskull was more anxious for Joiwind than for himself.
He indicated a narrow ledge, winding along the face of the precipice a few yards beneath where they were standing. It averaged from fifteen to thirty inches in width. Without waiting for Maskull's consent to the undertaking, he instantly swung himself down and started walking along this ledge at a rapid pace. Maskull, seeing that there was no help for it, followed him.
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