Ramarro's death

Cole plunged through the mist in a hailstorm of shattered stone. And then all the stone became dust. And the mist parted. And the maelstrom yawned below him, a wild vortex that whirled down toward forever.

  Off to one side, Cole saw Ramarro falling, arms and legs flailing.

  Unbelievable! Ramarro cried.

  They hit the swirling surface of the vortex simultaneously, perhaps twenty yards apart. Cole tumbled and spun in the hurricane currents, a banshee choir wailing in his ears. He remembered this experience. It was horrifying and familiar.

  Somewhere behind all the commotion, Cole could faintly hear the homesong. As he focused on that beckoning music, the tumult seemed to fade.

  It was all right.

  He could go.

  He could die this way.

  He had stopped Ramarro.

  It had seemed impossible, but he had stopped him.

  Cole finally understood the sky castles.

  The whole setup had been a trap all along.

  A trap set in case the torivors got free.

  Dandalus had prepared a battleground that had given Cole a chance.

  Cole had made the most of the opportunity. He had fought to keep Ramarro at the doomed castle. And he had won.

  He had succeeded.

  Now it was up to the vortex. Would it be enough?

  Trillian had seen the slipstream in Cole’s memory. He had told Cole that he could not have resisted the homesong. And torivors could not lie.

  Ramarro would perish.

Chapter 33