The creatures within the dust storm had seen them.
Yet none came.
The winged shapes continued circling inside the haboob, appearing and disappearing behind walls of dust. The hounds below paced through the ruined streets, their bodies unraveling and reforming with every gust.
They watched the heroes.
They did not cross the storm’s edge.
Kaylor remained behind his raised shield.
“They are waiting.”
“For us to enter,” Grazim said.
Fendor kept an arrow against his bowstring.
“Then we should disappoint them.”
Nethnarel looked toward the storm.
The column of dust stretched from the streets to the gray sky. Blue and violet light flashed somewhere inside it, revealing fleeting silhouettes of wings, claws, and open mouths.
“We have never left something dangerous alone before,” she said.
“I consider that evidence of growth,” Fendor replied.
“Or cowardice.”
“Growth is often difficult to distinguish from cowardice when it is someone else’s idea.”
Hexen watched the dust hounds prowling near the ruined buildings.
“They are bound to the storm.”
“Perhaps,” Grazim said.
“Or they simply enjoy dramatic entrances,” said Nethnarel.
Isamu had turned away from the haboob.
He stood motionless, his head inclined slightly toward the northwestern ruins.
Kaylor noticed.
“What do you hear?”
Isamu raised one hand for silence.
The wind moved across the broken city. Loose stones shifted. Dust hissed along the avenue.
Then the others heard it.
A shout.
Distant, but unmistakably human.
Another voice answered.
Metal struck stone.
The sound came from a raised section of the city that had not collapsed with the surrounding streets. It stood nearly seventy feet above them—a broad island of black rock, broken masonry, and hardened slag overlooking the ruins.
Something was happening on its summit.
“Survivors,” Grazim said.
“Or something imitating survivors,” Fendor replied.
Kaylor lowered his shield.
“Either way, we investigate.”
The haboob remained behind them as they crossed the ruins.
Fendor glanced back repeatedly. The winged creatures still circled inside the storm, but none followed.
“They are letting us go.”
Nethnarel looked over one shoulder.
“That is somehow worse.”
The raised field of stone had once been part of the city’s upper district. When the surrounding ground collapsed, this section had remained behind like a great table of black rock.
Most of its sides were sheer.
The shouts above had stopped.
Isamu examined the base.
“Something climbed here recently.”
He pointed toward grooves carved into the rock.
They were not tool marks.
The stone had been pushed aside from within.
A dark opening yawned at the foot of the butte. It was nearly eight feet wide and angled steeply upward through the black rock.
Fresh rubble surrounded it.
The hole had been dug recently.
Grazim crouched and touched one broken stone.
“This was not cut.”
“No,” Hexen said. “Something burrowed.”
A grinding sound came from inside.
Stone scraping against stone.
Whatever had made the tunnel was still moving through it.
Leonidas stepped forward.
Since the battle in the frozen court, he had spoken little about himself. His armor remained scarred from Grom’s blows, and the black-violet power he commanded felt different from the magic of the six reborn heroes.
More deliberate.
More practiced.
He placed two fingers against his lips and whispered a name.
“Pete.”
Something small moved beside him.
For an instant, Nethnarel glimpsed a pair of bright eyes and the suggestion of narrow wings. Then Pete disappeared completely.
Leonidas closed his own eyes.
“He is entering the tunnel.”
“You can see through him?” Kaylor asked.
“Yes.”
“That seems useful.”
“It usually becomes less useful when someone eats him.”
Fendor watched the black opening.
“Has that happened before?”
“More than Pete finds reasonable.”
Leonidas guided the invisible familiar upward.
The tunnel climbed steeply through the rock. Its walls were rough and freshly broken. Dust still drifted from the ceiling.
Then Leonidas stiffened.
“What is it?” Grazim asked.
“A worm.”
Hexen looked at the opening.
“How large?”
“It fills the tunnel.”
“That is large enough.”
Leonidas continued watching through Pete’s eyes.
“The creature is moving upward. It is almost beneath the summit.”
“Is it attacking the people above?” Kaylor asked.
“Not yet. It is digging toward them.”
A deep scraping vibration passed through the ground beneath their feet.
The creature was close.
Kaylor drew one sword.
“We stop it here.”
Leonidas approached the tunnel mouth.
Dark energy gathered around one hand.
“Pete is clear.”
He spoke a word of binding.
A faint black mark appeared upon the creature somewhere inside the tunnel.
Leonidas thrust both hands forward.
Two beams of violet force struck the darkness.
The first shattered against stone.
The second hit flesh.
A roar filled the tunnel.
It was deeper than the sound of any natural beast and loud enough to send dust cascading from the walls.
The grinding stopped.
Then the worm turned.
Its body coiled within the narrow passage with impossible flexibility. Stone cracked as it twisted around itself.
“It is coming back,” Leonidas said.
Hexen smiled faintly.
“Good.”
His body changed.
Dark fur spread across his arms and chest. Bones thickened. His shoulders rose until they nearly touched the tunnel ceiling.
The cave bear emerged with a roar of its own.
Green light appeared around him.
Wolves formed inside it.
The summoned pack entered the tunnel first, scrambling upward over broken stone.
The worm descended to meet them.
Its head burst from the darkness.
The creature had no eyes that any of them could see. Its mouth opened in four sections, each lined with inward-curving teeth. Armored plates covered its pale body, scraping the tunnel walls as it moved.
The first wolf leapt.
The worm swallowed it whole.
Green light burst between its teeth as the summoned creature vanished.
Three more wolves attacked.
They seized the worm’s exposed flesh and tried to drag it downward. The creature coiled around them, crushing two against the tunnel walls.
Hexen charged through the remaining pack.
The cave bear struck the worm head-on.
The impact filled the passage with the sound of breaking stone.
Behind him, Isamu moved into the tunnel.
The restricted space allowed little room for his speed. He stepped along the wall itself, avoiding the bear and the wolves, and struck the creature near the hinge of its mouth.
The armored plate shifted.
Not enough.
Isamu struck again.
The worm snapped at him.
He twisted aside, but the teeth closed close enough to tear part of his sleeve.
Fendor stood outside the tunnel.
He carried the bow recovered from Grom’s frozen court. The weapon was pale and cold beneath his fingers, its limbs formed from something resembling ice but stronger than steel.
His old bow rested across his back.
The older weapon seemed almost offended.
Fendor ignored it.
He fired into the narrow opening.
The first arrow passed between Isamu and the bear and struck the worm’s mouth.
Frost spread from the wound.
The creature recoiled.
Fendor fired again.
The arrow hit the same place.
The frozen flesh cracked.
Nethnarel raised one hand.
Several small stars of fire appeared around her head. They spun slowly, each leaving a red-orange trail through the air.
“You might wish to move.”
No one inside the tunnel moved.
Nethnarel sighed.
She sent the stars past them anyway.
The first struck the worm’s armored head.
The second passed into its open mouth.
Fire erupted from within.
The creature thrashed.
Its body slammed against the walls, shaking the entire butte.
Grazim stepped into the tunnel behind Hexen.
He raised his hammer.
A distant bell sounded.
The noise did not come from the city.
It seemed to emerge from somewhere beneath the world—a single funereal toll that passed through stone and flesh alike.
The worm shuddered.
Black energy formed along the cracks in its armor.
The creature fought the spell and continued downward.
Grazim met it with his hammer.
The first blow struck the frozen plate weakened by Fendor’s arrows.
The plate broke.
Grazim struck again.
The second blow entered soft flesh beneath it.
The worm recoiled so violently that the remaining wolves were thrown down the tunnel.
Its mouth opened.
Hexen thrust both paws inside.
The cave bear held the jaws apart.
Teeth cut into his forelegs.
Blood ran through his fur.
The worm forced him backward one step.
Then another.
Fendor drew a final arrow.
He watched the movement of the bear, the creature, the cramped tunnel, and the shifting stone.
There was no clean shot.
So he created one.
The arrow left the frost bow, struck the wall, and changed direction.
It passed beneath Hexen’s raised paw.
The arrow entered the wound Grazim had opened and drove deep into the creature’s head.
Ice spread through its body.
The worm became rigid.
For a moment, it remained upright, held in place by the narrow tunnel.
Then the armored body split along the frozen wound.
Black fluid poured down the passage.
The creature collapsed.
Hexen pulled himself free of its jaws.
The cave bear shook blood from his fur.
Fendor lowered the bow.
Nethnarel studied the dead worm.
“Was that planned?”
“Yes.”
“The wall?”
“Yes.”
“The change in direction?”
“Yes.”
“The fact that it nearly entered Hexen’s paw?”
Fendor looked toward the bear.
“That portion required trust.”
Hexen growled.
“I believe he accepts your explanation,” said Grazim.
The worm had nearly reached the top.
Beyond its body, pale daylight entered through a thin opening in the rock.
The heroes climbed.
The tunnel was steep, but the creature’s passage had broken enough stone to create irregular footholds. They passed the immense corpse and continued upward.
Pete emerged first.
Leonidas followed through his familiar’s sight.
“There are more.”
“How many?” Kaylor asked.
“Two.”
The heroes reached the summit.
The top of the butte was broad and uneven, covered in black slag and the ruins of several old buildings. At its center stood the remains of a stone house.
Two enormous worms surrounded it.
One battered the outer wall with its armored head.
The other coiled around the building’s rear corner, tearing stones free with its mouth.
Arrows flew from the windows.
The people trapped inside were not villagers from Wallowdale.
Several were dragonborn wearing battered armor. Others were smaller figures whose bodies contained brass, steel, and exposed clockwork mechanisms.
They fought together.
One clockwork soldier leaned from a broken window and fired a crossbow into the nearest worm.
The bolt bounced from its armor.
The worm struck the wall again.
Cracks spread through the building.
“Help!” someone shouted.
Kaylor recognized the design upon their armor.
Not the exact symbol.
The shape beneath it.
A dragon curled around a narrow tower.
The insignia had changed over centuries, perhaps millennia, but it descended from the same authority he had once served.
The realization entered him without memory.
“These are temple guards.”
“How do you know?” Grazim asked.
“I do not.”
Kaylor drew both swords.
“But they are.”
The worms had not noticed the heroes emerging behind them.
Kaylor attacked first.
One sword remained in his hand.
The other rose by itself.
The dancing blade flew across the summit, turning through the air before striking the nearest worm’s exposed side.
Kaylor followed with the greatsword.
The first swing glanced from armored hide.
The second cut beneath a plate.
Leonidas marked the same creature with his curse.
Violet force struck it twice and drove it away from the ruined house.
Fendor fired from the tunnel opening.
Two frost arrows struck the creature’s upper body. Ice crawled across its armor, slowing its movement.
Hexen summoned the wolves again.
The pack streamed from the green light, surrounding the worm and tearing at the gaps opened by Kaylor.
Grazim called the funeral bell.
The toll passed through the creature.
Its movements weakened.
Nethnarel looked toward the second worm.
It had stopped attacking the house.
Its head turned toward the heroes.
“Pete,” she said.
The invisible familiar hovered somewhere above them.
Leonidas opened one eye.
“What about him?”
“I require something carried.”
Nethnarel pointed at the undamaged worm.
She spoke a spell.
The creature disappeared.
In its place lay a tiny pink mouse.
Everyone stared.
The mouse twitched its whiskers.
Fendor looked at Nethnarel.
“That was unusually precise.”
“I am as surprised as you are.”
Pete became visible long enough to seize the mouse.
Narrow wings beat rapidly.
The familiar rose.
Higher.
Higher still.
He climbed above the butte, carrying the transformed worm in his claws.
The mouse struggled.
Pete nearly lost his grip.
Leonidas watched through the familiar’s eyes.
“How high?”
“Higher,” Nethnarel said.
Pete continued upward.
The haboob turned below him like a vast brown sea. Winged shapes circled within it, unaware of the tiny creature flying above.
“Now,” Leonidas said.
Nethnarel released the spell.
The mouse became a giant worm in midair.
Pete vanished and darted away.
The worm fell.
Its immense body twisted above the ruined city.
It passed from sight into the haboob.
The dust storm swallowed it.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the entire storm bulged outward.
A deep impact shook the streets.
Winged creatures scattered within the dust. One enormous shape rose briefly and vanished again.
No one could tell whether the worm had died.
Nethnarel watched the storm.
“That seemed successful.”
“By what measure?” Fendor asked.
“It is no longer here.”
The first worm remained.
It tried to crush the wolves beneath its body, but the narrow gaps in its armor were already torn open.
Hexen charged in the form of the cave bear.
He seized one of the plates and ripped it free.
The wolves attacked the exposed flesh.
Grazim’s bell sounded again.
The worm convulsed.
Fendor’s arrows struck.
Kaylor drove both swords into its side.
The creature collapsed before it could make another attack.
The entire battle had lasted only moments.
The surviving guards emerged slowly from the ruined house.
Two dragonborn came first. Their armor was dented and stained, and both carried broken spears.
A small clockwork warrior followed.
One of its metal arms hung uselessly from its shoulder. Blue light flickered weakly behind the glass covering its eyes.
They looked upon the heroes in silence.
Kaylor lowered his swords.
“How many are inside?”
The leading dragonborn looked back.
“No others.”
“You were alone?”
“We were twelve.”
The clockwork soldier emitted a quiet clicking sound.
“Confirmed survivors: three.”
A shadow moved inside the tunnel opening behind the heroes.
Fendor turned.
Another armored worm forced its head from the rock.
It had followed the first creature’s passage.
There would be no surprise this time.
The wolves attacked before it cleared the opening.
They leapt onto its head and shoulders, biting and clawing. The worm emerged anyway, carrying several of them with it.
Fendor fired twice.
Both arrows struck.
Nethnarel sent a bolt of lightning into its side. The spell wrapped around the armored plates and burned the flesh beneath them.
Grazim’s funereal bell sounded.
Hexen met the creature in bear form.
Kaylor’s swords flashed.
Isamu moved beneath the worm’s attack and struck the same point again and again until one of its supporting plates buckled.
Leonidas extended both hands.
Violet force erupted.
The first blast tore through the damaged armor.
The second struck deeper.
The worm was driven backward.
Its body slid across the black slag toward the open burrow.
For one instant, it balanced at the edge.
Then the earth beneath it broke.
The creature disappeared into the tunnel.
Its body struck the stone walls again and again as it fell.
A final wet impact came from below.
Silence returned to the summit.
The rescued guards watched the heroes.
The clockwork soldier’s eyes brightened.
“Threat assessment revised.”
“To what?” Nethnarel asked.
The clockwork creature clicked several times.
“Unreasonably effective.”
Fendor nodded.
“A fair assessment.”
The lead dragonborn introduced himself as Captain Varesh. The other survivor was a young guard named Toran. The clockwork soldier identified itself only as Unit Seven.
They had entered the ruined city through the same canyon as the heroes.
There had been twelve of them at the beginning.
The worms had found them almost immediately.
“We heard movement beneath the road,” Varesh said. “Then the first creature broke through.”
They had fled toward the butte after discovering an older tunnel climbing through the rock.
“The worms followed,” Toran said. “They took the others one at a time.”
Several bodies lay inside the ruin.
The guards had dragged in those they could recover. Others had been carried away or swallowed.
Hexen returned to his human form.
“Why did you enter the city?”
Varesh looked toward the distant haboob.
“Because the city woke.”
The heroes became still.
“What does that mean?” Grazim asked.
“The ruins were dead,” Varesh said. “Empty. Scavengers sometimes came searching for old metal or coins, but there was nothing dangerous here.”
“Until seven days ago,” Toran added.
The timing matched their absence.
Varesh continued.
“A purple storm appeared above the temple. Light opened over the central district. After that, things began crawling from beneath the streets.”
Kaylor looked toward the column beyond the dust storm.
“What caused it?”
Varesh hesitated.
“You did.”
Fendor’s hand tightened around his bow.
“Explain.”
“We saw figures appear near the temple when the storm began. Six of them, perhaps more. The witnesses in the village said they matched your descriptions.”
The heroes exchanged glances.
Their return from the frozen realm.
The teleportation.
The passage through impossible spaces.
Some part of it had awakened the city.
Grazim thought of the Shard of Everlasting Life hidden inside the Bag of Holding.
“Did the creatures begin appearing immediately?”
“Not all at once,” Varesh said. “First there were lights. Then movement beneath the roads. The first things reached the village two nights later.”
Unit Seven turned its metal head toward Kaylor.
“Temple heraldry identified.”
Kaylor looked down at the dragon symbol upon his shield.
“You recognize it?”
“Partial correspondence.”
The clockwork soldier pointed toward the faded emblem on its own chest.
The design resembled Kaylor’s shield, but the dragon encircled a tower rather than standing before it.
Unit Seven continued.
“Current temple authority descends from an older order. Your insignia appears to precede recorded revisions.”
“By how long?” Grazim asked.
The clockwork soldier clicked.
“Estimated interval exceeds reliable archive.”
“Thousands of years,” Kaylor said.
The words emerged before he understood them.
Varesh studied him.
“You speak as though you knew the old order.”
Kaylor looked toward the distant temple.
“I may have.”
The statement brought no comfort.
The heroes searched the dead worms.
Inside the creatures they found broken weapons, fragments of armor, twelve gold pieces, and the partially digested remains of one of the missing guards.
There was little dignity left to preserve.
Grazim closed the man’s eyes.
“We will bring word to the village.”
Varesh looked toward the tunnel.
“You are leaving?”
“We are continuing toward the temple,” Kaylor said.
“There are things in the city worse than these worms.”
“We have already noticed.”
The captain glanced toward the haboob.
The winged shapes remained inside the storm.
“We cannot follow you.”
“You should not,” Grazim said.
“We can return through the tunnel,” Toran said. “But the lower streets—”
“Are clear for the moment,” Fendor said. “That condition may be temporary.”
Varesh looked at the bodies inside the ruin.
He did not want to abandon them.
He also knew that remaining would eventually kill the last three members of his patrol.
Kaylor placed one hand upon the captain’s shoulder.
“Return to Wallowdale. Tell them we found you.”
“And if you do not return?”
Kaylor looked toward the purple storm.
“Tell them we continued.”
The guards prepared to descend.
Unit Seven stopped beside Kaylor.
Its metal hand rose in a stiff approximation of a salute.
“Temple authority unconfirmed.”
Kaylor returned the gesture.
“Mine as well.”
The clockwork soldier considered that.
“Honesty assessment: favorable.”
Nethnarel leaned toward Fendor.
“I like that one.”
“You would.”
The guards disappeared into the tunnel.
The heroes remained upon the butte.
From that height, they could see more of the ruined city.
The haboob occupied several districts between them and the central temple. Dust hounds moved along its edge. Winged creatures circled above the rooftops.
Beyond the storm, the purple column continued turning.
Something pulsed within it.
The light resembled the Shard of Everlasting Life.
Not in color.
In hunger.
Grazim placed one hand against the Bag of Holding.
For the first time since leaving the frozen garden, something moved inside.
One slow pulse answered the storm.
Then another.
Nethnarel felt it too.
“The shard knows that place.”
“Or the place knows the shard,” Hexen said.
A cry rose from the streets below.
Not from the departing guards.
Pete had flown ahead of them, circling the base of the butte.
Leonidas closed his eyes and looked through the familiar.
“What do you see?” Isamu asked.
“Bodies.”
The streets below were filled with bones and half-decayed corpses.
Some wore the same guard uniforms as Varesh and Toran.
Others had lain in the city far longer.
One of the fresh corpses moved.
A hand pressed against the rubble.
A dead soldier began to rise.
Then another.
And another.
Leonidas opened his eyes.
“They are waking.”
Below the butte, the dead turned their faces upward.