“Good. It is a journey of many miles, so go. And take a walkie-talkie. We’ll need it to speak.”

Vithra cocks Zoladski’s fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows. “I want to kill more. I’ll go too.”

“You won’t. You’ll stay up here in case we encounter any problems.”

The old man’s face tightens. “But I want to go.”

“And I say you’ll stay.”

“My brothers and sisters will be waiting in the nesting temples before night falls–”

“Do not defy me, Vithra.”

“You could come down with us.” A flash of cruel irony in Zoladski’s eyes. “Oh, but you can’t, can you? What happens if you go down into the dark, Candlefly?”

Ernesto doesn’t lose his smile. It’s painful to keep it plastered to his face like that, but he feels it’s necessary. “You’re about to make me lose my good mood, old man. Stand back and let us work to free your brothers and sisters. Unless you care to see that mission complicated?”

Silence.

“Good,” he says. “As I thought. Now, let’s find the detonator. I want to be the one to hit the plunger when the time comes.”

Layers of earth – the mantle of this planet in its many colors and textures, the stratum of the Great Below laid bare – whip past as Mookie holds onto the cleaver embedded in the worm-god’s back. The air is heavy, the smell of soil and minerals bright.

Then there is a static crackle, the sound of stone shearing–

A fresh thunderous boom–

The beast known as Pelsinade launches forth into a massive open chamber like an eel dumped from a bucket. Its belly hits. The ground trembles. Limestone stalactites from above drop like swords into the earth, some sticking into the stone, others shattering.

All around them is a temple. A massive goblin temple. Mookie sees piles of bones. And corpses.

And hundreds of gobbos.

Mookie and Nora hang from the side of the worm-god.

He thinks: I’m going to have to kill all of these things if we’re going to escape–

But then he sees. They are all dropping to their knees. They’re ululating, tongues fluttering in their mouths. The sound is haunting, an infernal trilling fast dissolving into a warbling chant.

Mookie tries to pry the cleaver free, but he has no leverage. To Nora he says, “We’re just going to have to drop.”

“It’s almost three stories.”

“Just hold tight. I’m tougher than you think.”

He feels her arms around his neck. Even in this place of death, it gives him comfort. It’s the closest thing to a hug he’s had from her in years.

“Ready?”

She makes a nervous, uncertain sound.

He drops.