As though the sound had been a signal the spindle trembled; up we were thrust another hundred feet or more.

Back dropped the host of brandished arms, threaded themselves into the parent bulk.
Right and left of us the spindle split into scores of fissures.

Between these fissures the Metal Things that made up each now dissociate and shapeless mass geysered; block and sphere and tetrahedron spike spun and swirled.

There was an instant of formlessness.
Then right and left of us stood scores of giant, grotesque warriors.
Their crests were fully fifty feet below our living platform.

They stood upon six immense, columnar stilts.