Stars streaked past in a pale blur. It was like skidding down the icy slopes of Eagles Mount at night—except now the ground lay above them and instead of the shriek of wind, Darak heard only Yeorna’s scream, fading to a hoarse sob and then to silence. And still they tumbled, the stars spinning around them in sickening circles. Darak closed his eyes, but that only made it worse. He opened them again to discover a milky opalescence filling the sky, now overhead, now beneath. A false promise of dawn, of hope, in a place that possessed neither. Something loomed out of the light. Above, below, above, below. A wall? A cliff? They hurtled toward it. Yeorna screamed again. Darak could make out rocks, creamy and jagged. Above. Below. Holding fast to Yeorna, he hurled his body to the right, bracing himself for a bone-jarring collision. They landed as softly as falling into a pile of fleece. They lay panting, still clinging to each other. In the Grain-Mother’s eyes, he saw his surprise, in her smile, the same giddiness at their unexpected deliverance.
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