“Just a land tremor,” Rune calls.
All are weary as we shuffle back into our line and walk on, their uncertain murmurs rising like a wave. We haven't madeit eight steps before there’s a muffled shout, followed by the sound of skittering rocks.
“Corrin!”
Rune flies towards the commotion, pushing through the other bodies that begin to gather. I’m on his heels. A thin man kneels beside a barrel-sized hole in the ground, the corded muscles of his neck straining as he shouts. “Corrin!” The soil at its edges is still crumbling in.
“Back up!” I shout.
“Who the fuck asked you?” someone behind us asks.
I don’t bother to acknowledge them. Rune pulls the kneeling man up by his waist and drags him back, just as a crack splits beneath him and the hole grows big enough to touch the toes of their boots.
“I’m down here! I’m alright!” Corrin’s voice echoes below. The sound seems to shape the crew’s panic into focus, and they break apart in a flurry of activity.
“Who’s got the rope?”
“Here!”
“Everybody back up!”
“It’s secure. Get it down there!”
Rune spins, sweeping his attention over the trees. “It’s happening again.”
He’s right. The ground rumbles. Faint. Adrenaline arcs through me like lighting. It’s no land tremor.
“GET HIM UP HERE,” Rune commands, taking a spot on the rope, the muscles of his arms and shoulders straining as they pull. Their first heave splits the earth further, wedging the rope in a crack of its ownmaking.
“Shit.”
“Back up Corrin!”
“We’ll have to break it.”
“Someone get him a torch.”
I step closer as they drop one in. It falls longer than I’d expected before spinning on the ground. Luckily, it stays lit and Corrin grabs it, the light reflecting off his sweaty, dirt-smudged face. He’s at least a story and a half down. It’s a miracle his legs aren’t broken.
The rumbling grows as three men use fallen limbs to stab at the ground around the rope, trying to make space for him to get up. They’re going too slow.
“Use your sword! You have to dig!” I say.
This time, they listen. Those working the ground use their weapons to chip away at it instead, slamming the blades down and twisting so the crack slowly widens. The ground shakes, the leaves and branches rattle, scraping against each other.
“Don’t stop!” Rune orders. “But get a second rope secured on the other side.”
“Something's coming!” Corrin shouts, his voice high and panicked.
“We’re almost there, Corrin,” he says, but I can see the despair as he watches the second rope get secured. The crack around the rope is only half a man wide.
“There’s something—THERE’S SOMETH—”
The light in the hole snuffs out, replaced by the shine of a segmented exoskeleton.
“The hell!!” someone shouts.
It’s huge. Endless. Its body moves beneath us in waves that rise and fall towards each seam. I step forwards, but a hand latches around my forearm. Bear. He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head, the skeleton hand earring bobbing away. Rune’s jaw flickers as he watches the creature pass. His arms are crossed, lips pressed tight. Everyone is silent. Waiting.
