Raphael looked about. All the animals had deserted him save the eagles, who clustered behind him, feathers drooping.
‘This ought to destroy the city,’ he said to Empyrean.
‘We shall see,’ answered the bird.
Everything was still. After the thunder, it seemed that the world was dead. No sound came from the city. The great machines were silent. In the half light ashes continued to fall swiftly like snow.
‘Look!’ suddenly screamed an eagle. Raphael looked.
A great wall of black lava was spreading from the hills toward the city. It rolled down from the mountain as molasses rolls over a colony of ants. It oozed up from the bowels of the earth like sap welling from a frightful gash. The boy heard for the first time the awful hiss of steam.
Slowly the lava struck the edge of the city and welled over it, wiping the great buildings from sight. Leveling, swallowing, drowning everything in its terrible path, it advanced toward the heart of the city.
As though at a signal a terrible confusion of noise broke out in Mechana. Bells tolled, whistles blew, searchlights groped blindly through the falling ash. There was a frenzy of activity. An earthquake rippled over the plain which opened in livid fissures. Raphael heard the dull crash of masonry as it toppled and fell.
‘The walls of the city!’ screamed the eagles exultantly. Raphael could hear the shriek of straining machinery as steam shovels, tractors, trains, and giant engines labored trying to restore order out of chaos. But steadily, silently the lava flowed on, the ashes fell.
