Gone was all calm, vanished every trace of unearthly tranquillity.

It was a Norhala awakened at last--all human.
Yet in the still rage that filled her I sensed a force, an intensity, more than human.

Over the blazing eyes the brows were knit in a rigid, golden bar; the delicate nostrils were pinched; the sweet red mouth was white and merciless.

It was as though in its long sleep her human self had gathered more than human strength, and that now, awakened and unleashed, the violence of its rage touched the vibrant zenith of that sphere of which her quiet had been the nadir.
She was like an urn filled and flaming with the fires of the Gods of wrath.
What was it that had awakened her--what in awakening had changed the inpouring human consciousness into this flood of fury?
Foreboding gripped me.
"Norhala!" My voice was shaking.

"Those we left--" "They are gone!" The golden voice was octaves deeper, vibrant, throbbing with that muffled, menacing note that must have pulsed from the golden tambours that summoned to battle Timur's fierce hordes.