“Go, Lugur!” she cried. “Go⁠—that you and Yolara and your Shining One may die together! Death for you, Lugur⁠—death for you all! Remember Lugur⁠—death!”

There was a great noise within my head⁠—no matter, Lakla was here⁠—Lakla here⁠—but too late⁠—Lugur had outplayed us; moss death nor dragon worm had frightened him away⁠—he had crept back to trap us⁠—Lakla had come too late⁠—Larry was dead⁠—Larry! But I had heard no banshee wailing⁠—and Larry had said he could not die without that warning⁠—no, Larry was not dead. So ran the turbulent current of my mind.

A horny arm lifted me; two enormous, oddly gentle saucer eyes were staring into mine; my head rolled; I caught a glimpse of the Golden Girl kneeling beside the O’Keefe.

The noise in my head grew thunderous⁠—was carrying me away on its thunder⁠—swept me into soft, blind darkness.