Overhead, the pollen-colored Bridge of the Gods vanished as the clouds rolled steadily eastward. Lightning flashed, and now the thunder followed quickly. The wind came faster here in the open; the grasses bent down before it; the temperature seemed suddenly to plummet.
Tak felt the first drops of rain and dashed for the shelter of one of the stands of stone. It ran like a narrow hedge, slightly slanted against the rain. Tak moved along its base as the waters were unleashed and color deserted the world along with the last bit of blue in the sky.
A sea of turbulent light appeared overhead, and three times spilled streams that rode crazy crescendo down to splash upon the stone fang curving blackly into the wind, about a quarter mile up the slope.
When Tak's vision cleared, he saw that which he did now understand. It was as though each bolt that had fallen had left a part of itself, standing, swaying in the gray air, pulsing fires, despite the wetness that came steadily down upon the ground.
Then Tak heard the laughter—or was it a ghost sound left in his ears by the recent thunder? <.p>
No, it was laughter—gigantic, unhuman!
After a time, there came a howl of rage. Then there was another flash, another rumble.
Another funnel of fire swayed beside the stone fang.
Tak lay still for about five minutes. Then it came again—the howl, followed by three bright flashes and the crash.
Now there were seven pillars of fire. Dared he approach, skirting these things, spying upon the fang peak from its opposite side?