"Morlock," said Ulugarriu, "what if this doesn't work?"
"Then we'll think of something else."
"What if it does work?"
"Then get away as fast as you can."
Ulugarriu knew what he meant. This thing had millennia of perpetual winter locked in its guts, all the cold of the world's far north. They were hoping it would be released more or less at once. If so, this would be no place to linger.
"Then," Morlock said, and took to the air.
Ulugarriu had a speech planned, witty yet tender, designed to make Morlock less inclined to kill them, should the occasion ever arise. They gaped after the winged back of the disappearing never-wolf. "Gaaaah!" they shouted, and took to the air flying westward.
Due west and fairly low, at first. They didn't want to pull the harpoon loose, but drag it through the side of the Ice-Binder, doing as much damage as possible.
Soon the cord on their harness jerked, holding them back as they strained with their wings to fly forward.
That was good. It meant that the hook had set.
Now came the hard part. Ulugarriu pumped, with their arms and legs, as hard as they could. At first, it seemed as if they were trying to fly through stone. Then something gave a little; then something more. Soon they were plowing forward slowly-not as if the air were stone, but perhaps a thick unpleasant sludge. Which it sort of smelled like.
They looked back over their left wing and saw a gratifyingly long scar of blue light opening in the Ice-Binder's side. It wriggled at the edges, as the Ice-Binder's legs turned to feed on itself.
Ulugarriu was repelled, but also pleased, and they turned with a fierce grin to drive themselves a little farther west, to drag that hook through the Ice-Binder's side a little longer.
It was a lot longer. Ulugarriu lost track of time, but a good deal of it had surely passed when they felt a shadow pass between them and the moon.
Ulugarriu looked up curiously, and saw something high in the sky, like a tower. A falling tower. And on top of the tower was a kind of mouth ringed with dark flashing teeth.
It was the Ice-Binder-the end of the Ice Binder. Ulugarriu's first thought was that it was coming to attack whatever was hurting it, that is, Ulugarriu themself. They thought furiously, then regretfully loosed the rope tied to the wingset's harness. They had done as much harm to the Ice-Binder as they could; now it was time to save themself.
Except it was already too late, it seemed. As Ulugarriu flew free from the rope, the many-toothed worm head swerved to follow. Ulugarriu twisted in the air, veering left, and the worm head followed again.
Ulugarriu hoped fiercely that they had at least killed the thing that was about to kill them when a winged silhouette impinged on the sky between them and the falling worm. Morlock. That crazy brach's bastard.
"What are you doing?" Ulugarriu shrieked. "You were going to kill me anyway! "
Morlock arced high, drawing the attention of whatever the worm used for eyes. It followed him, bending upward again.
Morlock vaulted straight in the air, spun in the sky, and began to fall.
He had released both his wing grips, Ulugarriu saw. He was holding that sword of his, Tyrfing, in both hands. He fell past the questing worm mouth and scored a shining blue wound down the side of the worm. The worm mouth turned its teeth on its own wound and began to tear at it. Morlock fell past, dropping his sword, clutching at his wing grips.
But the close passage with the blazing hot surface of the Ice-Binder had kindled the phlogiston-imbued scales on his wings. Morlock was burning, and burning he fell to the ground and lay there.
Ulugarriu stooped like a hawk, driving themself to the point where Morlock had crashed to earth. They pulled up at the last minute and stalled in the air, dropping down beside the fallen maker.
The fall had actually extinguished most of the fires on Morlock's wings. He had rolled in the dusty ground. Morlock was starting to move.
"Be still!" Ulugarriu shrieked, and heaped dust on his wings until the flames were dead.
"You hurt anything?" said Ulugarriu. "Idiot. You were supposed to be pulling the hook in the other direction."
"Rope broke."
"My ropes don't break! You must have done something wrong! You're always doing everything wrong! You should have let it kill me, you idiot, don't you see? Now you'll have to kill me or I'll have to kill you."
"Ulugarriu," said Morlock, "it's snowing."
"It-" It was snowing. Ulugarriu stared mutely at the white flakes falling like a benediction around them in the moonlight. Towering over their heads, stretching eastward past Dhaarnaiarnon, the Ice-Binder was busy ripping itself to shreds, releasing deep winter into the humid air of midsummer. "It's snowing!"
"Yes."
"We have to get out of here!"
"Yes."
Ulugarriu found they wanted to rage some more at Morlock about something, anything, but now was not the time, obviously. "Where away? The volcano? It's still our best bet, I think."
"Yes."
"Will your wings carry you? You lost a lot of scales."
Morlock stretched his wings testingly. He nodded. "Yes."
"Say something else!" Ulugarriu shrieked in his face. "Say something else! Say anything else! Say eh, or something!"
Morlock shouted, "Tyrfing!" The deadly blade flew from the ground by the self-eating Ice-Binder into Morlock's outstretched right hand. He sheathed the blade over his crooked shoulders and then gestured politely at the sky.
After you, Ulugarriu interpreted the gesture. They leapt into the air and flew westward, giving the Ice-Binder a wide berth, then taking a long steep turn eastward, running alongside the dying monster through the sudden moonlit snowstorm.
Ulugarriu marvelled at the ferocity of the thing's self-attack, as pitiless toward itself as if it were alien to its own being. Morlock was right, they realized. This thing was not really alive. It was a mechanism, not an organism. But it was a mechanism designed to look like an organism-a parody of life, made by something that hated life. Ulugarriu wondered who had made it. It seemed beyond the scope of the Strange Gods.
When they were over the dark shoulder of Dhaarnaiarnon, Ulugarriu looked back to see how far Morlock was behind. They assumed he would be flying more slowly, because of the lost scales.
Morlock was not behind them at all.
Ulugarriu felt the bite of panic and shook it off. They circled slowly in the air, scanning the snow-scattered sky.
They caught sight of a winged man flying slightly to the south, toward Wuruklendon atop Wuruyaaria.
Morlock. He had been hollering something about the Stone Tree earlier. But didn't he realize they had to get somewhere safe?
Ulugarriu hesitated, then followed. It was barely possible he knew what he was
doing.
Morlock wearily relaxed his arms and let himself fall the last few feet to the ground of Wuruklendon.
The scaffold of his execution had been dismantled. No one else was present. To all appearances, he stood alone in the moonlit snowstorm under the Stone Tree.
But he could feel something happening. He knew something was happening. He remembered his brief vision of the Strange Gods drinking from the Well of Shadows. And he remembered this feeling from the time he had died in the Bitter Water.
"Death!" he shouted. "I feel your presence! Show yourself! I have something to say to you."
Death manifested herself not far from him, in the form of a spider with a woman's face.
"If you wish," the woman's face said. "It is a foolish wish, but I owe you this at least for the service you have done me."
"I reject your service. I will not serve you. I will not serve."
"You have already served me. I give you the gift of everything you have, which I will take back whenever it suits me. Go now. I'm working." She disappeared. But Morlock felt that she was still present somehow.
Morlock drew Tyrfing and summoned the rapture of vision.
The scene transformed itself as he entered the talic realm. All around the Well of Shadows he saw the Strange Gods in their various manifestations, bound with strange dark webs of talic force. The webs all ran to and through Death, still spiderlike, her manifestation perched on a branch of the Stone Tree.