"You have only a few hours of life left. Don't trifle the time away."

Maskull could bring nothing out.

"You have despised life," went on the low-toned voice. "Do you really
imagine that this mighty world has no meaning, and that life is a joke?"

"What must I do?"

"Repent your murders, commit no fresh ones, pay honour to..."

The voice died away. Maskull waited in silence for it to speak again.
All remained still, however, and the speaker appeared to have taken
his departure. Supernatural horror seized him; he fell into a sort of
catalepsy.

At that moment he saw one of the statues fading away, from a pale, white
glow to darkness. He had not previously seen it shining.

In a few more minutes the normal light of the land returned. Corpang got
up, and shook him out of his trance.

Maskull looked around, but saw no third person. "Whose statue was the
last?" he demanded.

"Did you hear me speaking?"

"I heard your voice, but no one else's."

"I've just had my death foretold, so I suppose I have not long to live.
Leehallfae prophesied the same thing."

Corpang shook his head. "What value do you set on life?" he asked.

"Very little. But it's a fearful thing all the same."

"Your death is?"

"No, but this warning."

They stopped talking. A profound silence reigned. Neither of the two men
seemed to know what to do next, or where to go. Then both of them heard
the sound of drumming. It was slow, emphatic, and impressive, a long way
off and not loud, but against the background of quietness, very marked.
It appeared to come from some point out of sight, to the left of where
they were standing, but on the same rock shelf. Maskull's heart beat
quickly.

"What can that sound be?" asked Corpang, peering into the obscurity.

"It is Surtur."

"Once again, who is Surtur?"

Maskull clutched his arm and pressed him to silence. A strange radiance
was in the air, in the direction of the drumming. It increased in
intensity and gradually occupied the whole scene. Things were no longer
seen by Thire's light, but by this new light. It cast no shadows.

Corpang's nostrils swelled, and he held himself more proudly. "What fire
is that?"

"It is Muspel-light."

They both glanced instinctively at the three statues. In the strange
glow they had undergone a change. The face of each figure was clothed in
the sordid and horrible Crystalman mask.

Corpang cried out and put his hand over his eyes. "What can this mean?"