I hold my bow in my hand. Two bot les of vodka-soaked arrows stand by my feet. My knife’s in my boot sheath. I ain’t gonna think about havin to use it. It’s my last defense an usin it ’ud mean everythin else had failed.

I feel calm. Clear-headed. Even though my heart’s bangin aginst my ribs.

Emmi, I says, stay close to Tommo.

Okay, she says.

Okay, she says.

Silence. Silence. Silence. Essept fer the cracklin of the fire. I dart a look at Jack. His head’s lifted, like a wolfdog onto a scent.

Then a creakin noise. A slow, painful groan. The kinda noise a old rusted shut door makes when it’s forced open. But it ain’t a door. It’s the ground.

From somewhere deep below us, from somewhere down down down in the dark heart of th’earth, the lakebed’s ancient body is slowly bein forced open.

The hel wurms is awake. An they’re comin up to feed.

The ground starts to tremble. It starts to shake. Then it shifts unner our feet. I stagger. Epona grabs my arm, stops me fal in over.

Holy crap in a cup, says Ash, her eyes wide.

Everybody git down! yel s Jack.

Me an Epona throw ourselves to the ground. Throw our arms around our heads.

The earth groans, deep in its bel y, as it’s forced open. Over an over an over it moans its pain. Groanin an shriekin an shakin unner us, around us, it gits louder an louder. Til it takes me over, floodin my body, my breath, my brain til I think I’l go mad.

Then it stops.

Silence.

Slowly, we al git to our feet. My ngers is clenched tight around my bow. I look over at Emmi. She’s clutchin Tommo’s hand, her face white in the moonlight.

Then, over the crackle of the fire, another sound.

A rustle. The click of claws on dry earth. Somethin’s movin.

It stops. Hisses.

It can smel us, Ike says in a low hoarse voice.

A high pitched shriek rips the night open.

My heart leaps to my throat. My bowels clench.

It’s cal in th’others, Jack says. Git ready! An remember what I told you.

Aim fer the eyeholes. An don’t let ’em git close enough to use their claws.

Claws. No eyes, jest dents in the skin where they used to have eyes a long time ago. No point in havin eyes, Jack says, livin unnerground like they do, so they hunt by smel . They snif out their prey.

Their prey. Us.

Then, not more’n thirty foot away, straight in front of me an Epona, a crack appears in the ground. It splits open, starts to widen.

Here we go! Epona yel s.

A claw appears.

The claw hooks itself onto the edge of the crack. It’s got three long scaly toes. Each toe ends in a hooked nail sharp enough to slash to the bone with one swipe. Then another claw hooks itself beside the first.

Don’t be shy, I says. Show me yer face, you scaly-toe sonofabitch.

An, almost like it heard me, a round head appears. Covered in scales an maggot-white with a dip in each side where the eyes oughta be. A long neck. The blunt head sways back an forth, the scales ripplin like tiny waves. It must be smel in us.

That’s right, I says. Over here. I’m real tasty.

I pul a arrow out a the vodka. Nock it to my bowstring. Dip the arrowhead into the fire at my feet. It flames up right away. I take aim.

The hel wurm slithers out a the crack. Gits up on its hind legs.

Uh … Jack, I says. You didn’t say they could walk.

Sorry, he says. I fergot that bit.

The wurm’s three times my height. Two long arms with claws, an claws on its feet too. A wide slash of a mouth with lots of sharp teeth, good fer tearin esh. You can see right through its death white skin to its beatin heart an other innards. It gives o the most gawdawful stench. Like a three-day-old corpse in a smal room on a humid day. I gag. So does Epona.

It throws its head back an shrieks.

I let y with my arrow. Straight at the right eyehole. A hit. The wurm’s head bursts into ame. It screams an staggers backwards into the crack it jest come from.

Nice shot, says Epona.

But there’s more comin. From al around us. Hunnerds of ’em by the look of it. The lakebed’s alive with their scut lin stinkin bodies.

We start pickin ’em o with our crossbows, as fast as we can. Epona an me, Jack an Ike an Ash. Emmi an Tommo re away with their slingshots, dartin in between us to git a closer shot.

Hel fire, Jack, I says. You didn’t say there was this many.

They must of bin busy breedin, he says. He shoots me a grin, but I can tel this is worse than he especkted.

The night rings with the screams of the hel wurms an our shouts. The air’s l ed with the lthy smel of ’em an the crackle an smoke of the fire.I keep firin. Dip the arrow, nock, let fly, hit. Dip, nock, let fly, hit.

Around me, everybody else is doin the same. Em an Tommo run around stu n arrows into our bot les but, no mat er how many wurms we shoot, more keep comin.

There’s too many, says Epona. We ain’t gonna do it.

I’m git in low on arrows, I says.

Me too, says Ash.

More arrows here, Emmi! I yel .

That’s it! she cries. There ain’t no more!

Jack grabs my arm as I’m about to fire. By the silvery white light of the moon, I can see his face is al streaked with smoke from the fires.

Git out a here, he says. Take Emmi an Tommo. Ash an Epona’l cover you.

My heart stops. There’s a roarin in my ears. You want us to go? I says.

He nods. Ike an me’l stay, he says.

He nods. Ike an me’l stay, he says.

No, I says.

I pul myself free. I grab twig bundles, shove ’em into the re. They catch light an I launch ’em at the wurms. More screams as they burst into flame. Beside me, Jack keeps on shootin his bow.

If you leave now, he says, at least you got a chance of findin yer brother.

Ferget it, I says.

I snatch my bow agin an start firin.

Use the torches if they git too close! yel s Ike. Don’t waste yer arrows!

I look around. The hel wurms is closin in. Closer an closer they come. Some slither along the ground, some walk upright, their heads swayin. They won’t try to cross the fire ring, but once it starts to die down, that’l be it.

Jack pul s the bow out a my hand. If you don’t do this, he says, everythin you bin through to find yer brother counts fer nuthin.

I stare at him. I feel like my throat’s closin up. Leave him. Leave Ike. But I got a find Lugh. I’m so close to findin him.

You know I’m right, he says.

Okay, I says. We’l go.

Saba! yel s Ash. Behind you!

I whirl around.

One wurm, bigger’n the rest, darts forwards through a dyin section of the re ring. Jack grabs my arm an goes to yank me back but the wurm’s claw flashes out. A hot pain slashes through my right shoulder. I cry out.

A blast rings out an the wurm’s head explodes in a mil ion pieces. Putrid esh an blood splat er down on me like rain. I look over my shoulder. Ike’s holdin his bolt shooter. He gives me a lit le salute.

You al right? says Jack.

I close my mind to the pain. Like I used to do in Hopetown.

I’m fine, I says.

Time to go, he says. He grabs up a torch in each hand an lights ’em. Ash! he yel s. Epona! C’mere!

They start to run over to us.

The ground rumbles. We al stagger an I grab onto Jack to keep from fal in.

The wurms stop. They raise their heads. Then they scat er.