Closer it drew.
"Norhala!" gasped Drake.
Robed in her silken amber swathings, red-copper hair streaming, woven with elfin sparklings, she was racing toward the City like some lovely witch, riding upon the back of a steed of huge cubes.
Nearer she raced.

More direct became our fall.

Now we were dropping as though at the end of an unreeling plummet cord; the floor of the valley was no more than two hundred feet below.
"Norhala!" we shouted; and again and again--again "Norhala!" Before our cries could have reached her the cubes swerved; came to a halt beneath us.

Through the hundred feet of space between I caught the brilliancy of the weird constellations in Norhala's great eyes--saw with a vague but no less dire foreboding that on her face dwelt a terrifying, a blasting wrath.
As softly as though by the hand of a giant of cloud we were lifted out from the wall, and were set with no perceptible shock beside her on the back of the cubes.
"Norhala--" I stopped.

For this was no Norhala whom we had known.