A hill exploded and sent a landslide against the God. It stood its ground and the rocks and dust parted around its legs and hips. When the cascade was over, it hauled itself out and continued its journey southward.

A deep ravine, which the Fallen God vaulted.

A river of molten rock, which it walked across, leaping from one floating boulder to the next with an agility that belied its size.

It should have been destroyed, but it forged on. A score of times Nomi should have died, but somehow she survived. Protected by the God. Saved, for some special purpose.

Nomi had no desire to know what that purpose would be. But try as she might, she could not use on herself the knife she still clasped.

This is the final voyage, she thought. And there was some obstinate pleasure in knowing that even after all his years up here and his century and a half of being so revered in Noreela, Sordon Perlenni had never seen anything like this.

THE FALLEN GOD finally stopped running and sat on top of a hill. To the south a new volcano vented the land's molten guts, and everywhere earthquakes cracked the ground. Dust and smoke filled the air, and night fell before the sun went down.

It set Nomi and Ramus on the ground. There was nowhere to run, and it did not seem to be watching, but it took a long time for Nomi to find the courage to move. She crawled eventually to Ramus, enjoying the feel of cool, damp grass beneath her as the world around them sank into chaos.

Even when she reached out and touched him, she was sure that he was dead. Yet he was warm, and when she lay down beside him and hugged him close, he mumbled something in his sleep. She did not catch the words. She thought perhaps he was speaking another language.

WHEN RAMUS WOKE up, his God stood before him. He had been touched. He was blind in his right eye, but the pain seemed to be gone from his head, the weight that had been growing behind his eyes for years now absent. It left a hole which Ramus thought he might fall into, but as he sat up and blinked, he realized that he felt better than he had for a long time.

He leaned over to pay homage to the God, but it kicked him across the ground.

“Ramus,” Nomi said. Her voice came from above, and Ramus looked that way. Though it was still dark, there was enough light from fires and the volcano by which to see, and he made out Nomi's shadow grasped in the God's hand.

“Is this your nightmare?” he asked.

“No nightmare,” she said. “Real.”

Ramus touched his head again, amazed that he felt so different.

The God turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Ramus shouted.