The evil winds did their best to smash our plane against the towers of stone, but here it was a good thing that the air was thin. The winds lacked force. With a sure touch, Vivi wafted us over the verge and through a winding pass. And now we were above the spreading Plateau of Leng, nearly the size of Rhode Island, and ringed by the Mountains of Madness. Not more than ten miles ahead of us was the lost city itself.
From a distance, the ancient, ruined metropolis was like a maze or a labyrinth, partly buried in the ice and snow. Stretching toward the horizon, a city on the edge of forever. As we approached, I could make out the shapes of buildings—some of them roofless ruins, but many intact. They ran a full gamut of forms, as one often sees in cosmopolitan cities with long histories. Fanc
