A Rebellious Soul

Acidic gunk spewed from Marlo’s mouth, mixing with the fleshy warm slurry already coating it. The arms holding him coiled up, and he fell to his knees, the sludge on his face sliding off and splattering onto the ground. He gasped for air, wiping his face, tears mixing with gore. His heart was roaring in his ears, and his mind was shrieking. He had just murdered that person. He had heard their flesh split under immense pressure, forcing their blood out of the body. The sounds of bones breaking, the crunching overpowering the screams, until after a few horrific seconds… there was silence. He groaned, wiped his mouth, and looked up.

The first thing he saw made him immediately throw up again. A few metres away, twisted in a sad, small heap, was a tangle of flesh and metal. The rods, once black, were now drenched in blood, bent and mangled as if hit by a high-speed vehicle. And while the flesh was slowly fading, he still saw way too much.

His breath rasped, and his throat stung. His neck still had deep imprints on it from the Amne’s hands.

“I didn’t mean to.” He whispered, tears dripping from his eyes. “I never wanted to… I’m so sorry.” They hadn’t wanted to attack him. A person without any memories, without any idea who or where they were, apologised to him. He hadn’t known anything about them. Not even if their gender could be determined in this form. That person could have been anyone in history. Could have even been an ancestor of his. But they had no clue who they were. They had been trapped here for who knew how long, then through some cruel twists of fate they had been placed in there. There, they had run into him, and he had killed them. In self-defence or not, now no one knew who that person had once been. And no one would ever be able to find out. He had effectively erased that person from history.

“I’m sorry…” He repeated, not sure to whom he was whispering. His thoughts were interrupted by a metallic whirring sound. Wide-eyed, he turned and looked up. Aiming down at him, were four gun barrels, spinning. As he stared with mounting terror, they span faster and faster. He remembered how the Amnes unfortunate enough to stumble into the path of the convoy were pulverised, their cries cut short by a sudden barrage. His eyes widened further, and he scrambled back, unable to break eye contact as the sound of whirling metal got louder and louder. The arms of his Armpak shot out, creating a barrier between him and it, but he didn’t remotely trust that it would be enough. There was no way in hell he could escape its effective range. He was going the exact same way he had just sent that Amne. He opened his mouth to yell, and the first bullets started to fly.

With a colossal blast of noise, the gun, and the entire carriage it was anchored to, were consumed in a colossal pillar of light. The radiant blast was thick, a central trunk of white light surrounded by a rainbow veil, and blinding. The noise it emanated was insane, a roar similar to a choir chanting a hymn in Latin, but so loud Marlo couldn’t hear himself screaming. The metal arms coming from his back changed tactic, the palms slamming into the ground in front of him, and shoving, sending him rolling back as his flesh and blood, regular hands covered his ears, his face screwed up in agony from the noise which was shaking his entire body.

After what felt like an eternity of crawling away, the noise stopped. Ears ringing, chest heaving, Marlo lay face down. The ground, beneath the rust-coloured grass, was grey and felt like loose sand under his fingers. His heart was pounding, and his blood was rushing in his ears. He lay there for about a minute, just painting. Then, he looked up. He banged his head on a tree stump. Swearing, he staggered up and looked around. The convoy was turned on its side, collapsed on the ground. The train carriage he had entered through, and the one he had been attacked in, were both gone. Marlo stared in shock. The next carriage had been sliced into; a semi-circular section sliced out of it. the edges were molten, red hot, and melted metal was dripping from them. He couldn’t see the others anywhere. Heart dropping, he stepped forwards, about to break into a run, but then stopped.

A collection of other Amnes were staggering forwards, groaning and shambling like zombies. Just the sight of them made Marlo feel violently ill, but he managed to keep it down this time. Terrible images in his head played, of the arms attached to him going after them, grabbing them as they ran and pulling them apart. He now had a basis to know what the sound of tearing flesh looked like. And the last one had been at least a little protected by the metal exoskeleton. Judging by the fact that these arms had cut through the floor of the train, they could punch right through these ones.

A scream made him jolt. He looked forwards and paled when he saw an Amne on their back, staring up in horror at a large metal arm., which swayed over them like a cobra ready to strike. He traced its length with his eyes and found that it connected to him. He stared back at the Amne, who was holding up their arms as if it would do any good. Marlo, try as he might not to, could easily imagine that enormous hand grabbing both of their forearms and crushing them together, and the arm there followed his vision, reaching down and splaying its fingers. They followed his mind, viewing his occasional stray thoughts as mental orders, whether he wanted them to or not.

“Stop!” He yelled. The other arms instantly coiled around the first, locking it in place. Marlo breathed heavily and thought very hard about having it coil back up. Every glance at the terrified Amnes around made them briefly lunge, but he physically grabbed them and started to haul them back. After a few tense seconds, he managed to have them all return to their resting positions, ten hands protruding from the leather on his back, and sank to his knees, wiping his forehead. The arms were nothing more than dumb metal. It was his fault when they did something like that. He had to get these things off. As useful as they were if they were this reactive, this uncontrolled, they were a danger to everything around him. Perhaps Nessa could alter how easy it was for them to pick up on his thoughts but until then… the sound of shuffling made him look up. The Amnes were still moving towards the train, the one who had been on the ground getting back up, any trace of fear gone from its blank face.

“Stop!” Marlo yelled. The Amnes ignored him and walked over the carcass of Marlo’s last victim. He heard some awful crunches and squelches, and recoiled, but they didn’t seem to care at all. Muttering to themselves, they converged as a horde on the train, directly below the dripping metal.

“You’re going to get killed!” He yelled. The lead Amne stepped straight forwards, and into a shower of hot grey sludge. It cut deep into his shoulder, and he screamed as a terrible smell of burning filled the air. He clutched at his back and staggered away, and the other Amnes recoiled from him.

“I told you!” Marlo yelled, running forwards “Why did you do that? Even if you can’t remember things, surely you should have known that was going to-”

The Amnes all snapped towards him, their blank faces unreadable, but their stares deep and intense. They extended their hands to him and started to moan in unison.

“-happen.” Marlo’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. When the Amens took a step to follow, ten barely formed feet stumbling through the dirt, sending rusty grass and sandy soil flying, he felt the arms on his back twitch.

“No.” He said firmly, glancing back at them. They stopped, but in the time he’d given that command, the Amnes had advanced further.

“Do you know who I am?” The closest one gasped.

“I… no.” Marlo kept walking backwards, slowly, without breaking eye contact, as if he was escaping a wild animal “I don’t know, sorry.”

“Who are you?” Another murmured. Marlo didn’t answer, then realised that was a mistake. They got agitated, groaning louder and advancing faster. It was surreal, seeing these humanoid creatures act like children, but also deeply unsettling

“Who am I?” A few yelled, in unison. They started to come forwards faster, and Marlo rushed backwards. The Armpak lashed out, and this time he didn’t stop it, instead directing the limbs to make a wall. The Amnes pushed against it, a clamour of howls erupting from them, begging for any clue about who they were, where they were, who the people around them were or who Marlo was. They forced Marlo back, hesitant as he was to not use any real force. He had no idea how to ensure his shoves would not cripple them, and with these arms, after his previous experiences, he had to settle for this. He tried to plant his feet, but he had to move around tree stumps and was forced into a kind of awkward backwards shuffle. The Amnes kept advancing, something in their messed-up minds telling them this boy had all of their answers.

Marlo looked back over his shoulder, and his heart sank. The second group of Amnes were walking over, starting up a groaning chorus of their own. He frantically swirled his arms around, half moving to create a second wall to block the new gaggle. This had the unfortunate effect of creating gaps in his original wall, allowing the first group of Amnes, whose attempts at entry had begun to wane, redouble their efforts, trying to crawl through spaces much too small for them, stretching out their own arms and crying out.

“Who am I?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can you help me?”

“Please, tell me your name!”

“I can’t help any of you!” Marlo yelled desperately. The second group hit his new barricade, and the shouting doubled in volume. No one was listening to him, and worse still, he could see a third group moving closer from his left. There was no way his arms could hold off this many of them. not unless he took more… drastic actions. At the mere thought of that, the arms started to move, angling as if they were picking targets. Frantically shaking his head, Marlo thought desperately, his wide, desperate eyes taking in the threats on all sides. He settled on a plan of action and pulled the arms in.

They hit the ground below him, and pushed up, unfurling and making him climb in height as he did so. He rose to six or seven metres off the ground and looked around. The Scourgefields were so flat that he could see for miles and miles. There were gangs of Amnes wandering aimlessly, occasionally splitting or grouping up. The only landmarks visible, besides the innumerable grey tree stumps, like rivets set into a rusted metal wall of some old battleship, were the road they had followed, and the metal carriages of the train, left sprawled on their sides. Far away, in the distance, he could see the same ring of flames, all the way at the top of those mountain silhouettes, black on black. Behind him, he could faintly see the lights and structures of Asgard. What he couldn’t see, was any of the others.

What the hell had done that gigantic pillar of light? Some other God? Was it out here somewhere, just watching him? Or was it some attack from some insane distance, an orbital strike? Marlo didn’t know which was more terrifying. It had obliterated the train, and left it deathly silent, after that terrible blast of noise. Were the others – no. there was no way in hell. If he had gotten away, they definitely had. No question.

Groans from below made him look down. All three groups had converged at the base of his arms and were clawing at them.

“I can’t help you!” He repeated, a little less worried this time. There was no way they could get to him up here. Surely, eventually, they would lose interest and… He stopped. Of course, they wouldn’t. These Amnes seemed to have forgotten not just their past lives, but large portions of their present afterlives too. They would likely each forget, and find themselves here, in a crowd full of people all yelling for answers, so naturally, they’d join in, and accidentally fool others, until they forgot again. He should move away, but where to? Without Monticello or Nessa, there was no way he knew to get out of here, and he didn’t fancy walking back to Asgard, even if technically it wouldn’t be his limbs walking. He couldn’t just go wandering off somewhere. What if one of the others was unconscious right now, and would wake up in a minute? What if they all were? He should at least move back to the wreckage of the train and look. He was just about to do that when he felt something brush his leg.

He looked down, and stifled a scream, seeing an Amne stare up at him, tears rolling from their beady black eyes as it climbed up his arm.

“Why won’t you help us?” They asked. Marlo recoiled and kicked out at them reflexively. His foot connected with their collarbone, and they fell back. They landed on their arm, and Marlo paled as he heard a crunch. They curled up and howled, but the other Amnes didn’t react. They grabbed at the arms, trying to work their fingers between the segments. A few succeeded, and found handholds, starting to climb up. Marlo’s arms started to stride away, trying to shake the Amnes off. It didn’t work, so Marlo tried harder. The Amne’s were sent flying, and one slammed, back first into a tree stump. The noise this time was so bad Marlo’s Armpak recoiled with him, and he fell. The big metal hands caught him before he slammed his face into the dirt, but when he turned, the horde was bearing down on him.

With a sickening slice, a spinning chunk of metal tore through the crowd, rending through torsos and necks and ending up embedded in the ground, dripping with blood, next to Marlo. He stared at it for a few seconds, then turned slowly, to see Nessa, smiling, rushing over to him.

“Friend!” She yelled “You are alright! I feared you had been consumed by a Scourgestalker. We have procured many rations for our enjoyment!”

She reached down to help him up, but Marlo pushed her hand away with a metal arm and got up on his own.

“You killed them.” He said, with a hollow voice.

“Yes.” Nessa’s smile didn’t waiver “They looked to be harassing, perhaps even haranguing you. I wished to protect my friend.”

“Did you not think that I could have done that if I wanted to? With these terrifying hands you’ve given me, you think I couldn’t…” he trailed off, then hands on his back coiling and darting like a nest of vipers “But they were all people. Sure, they didn’t know where they were but-”

“Ah yes!” Nessa interrupted “I remember now. People from your time period seem to struggle with violence in their immediate presence. I shall endeavour to-”

“You murdered them!” Marlo yelled, getting right up in her face. Her eyes went wide, but he didn’t stop. “You killed all the ones in the train too! They couldn’t control what they were doing, and they’re all helpless, but you killed the lot of them just because they were in your way!”

“We-”

“I’m not finished! These hands you gave me crushed one without me wanting them to! I was trying to avoid hurting those people after that, and then you just slice them up and expect me to be happy? Whether or not they know where they are, they’re still people!”

“I do not like being shouted at.” Nessa sad, eyes transitioning from shocked and hurt to cold.

“Well tough shit! You made the mistake of giving me these monstrous hands, so now you can’t just intimidate me. In fact, if you want to try, why don’t you just go ahead!” Marlo imagined his arms spreading out. Nothing happened. He turned, and his face fell when he heard the metal straining. His arms were locked in place by some invisible force, and no amount of mental pushing would move them.

“If you have an issue with my creation,” Nessa said, finger and thumb pinched tightly to hold them in place “I would be happy to attempt to rectify any issues you raise to me calmly. I do not appreciate them being called “monstrous” or “terrifying”, not after I spent thirteen hours working on them, and blessed it with the spirits of several of my friends. I apologise for trying to defend you. Clearly, you are beyond needing me.”

She turned on her heel and stomped away. Marlo’s arms unfroze suddenly, and splayed out everywhere, making him jump. For a second his head cleared, and he sighed. “Nessa, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Nessa didn’t turn around. She simply walked back to the train, where he could see Monticello fussing around one of the carriages. Being ignored made Marlo angrier.

“Fine! Be that way!” He yelled. He turned, and in his anger kicked up dirt. It flew everywhere, and he roared in anger as he saw it fall on the corpses. “Stupid brute!” He continued. “Just killing them without a thought? What’s wrong with her? How do you get that arrogant?” In his anger, he didn’t see where his next kick was aimed, and so learned his target was a tree stump when his toes made contact with it. He swore, and jumped up and down, pain flaring up his leg.

“Nice jig ye’ve got there laddie.” Wimund said, right behind him. Marlo jumped at turning and seeing the large, flat face of the man just a few inches away, those strange metal eyes staring into his. “Come on, I ain’t that ugly, am I?”

“I… uh…”

“Don’t answer that. Let’s talk.”

He sat down on a tree trunk and motioned to another one. Marlo, feeling like a naughty schoolchild, took it.

“How’d ye find yer first mission lad?”

“I…”

“Be honest. I ain’t yer Pa, ye dinnae have to lie to me. Be as rude as ye like, I cannae let ye go.”

“I don’t…” Marlo put his head in his hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t just kill people. Even if they’re trying to kill me, even if they’re like… this.”

Wimund nodded “Yer life must have been very different than ours. That’s a good thing. Ye shouldn’t be ashamed of that. The issue is, sticking to principles like that, in this world, is hard. We had to kill those Amnes so that their exoskeletons wouldn’t have them still attack us while unconscious. Besides, if ye ask me, I’d rather die than live out here, like this. I’d prefer nothingness to this terrible, half state.”

Marlo looked around. In the distance, he could faintly hear the wailing of the Amnes.

“They just wander these lands.” Wimund mused “if they get too close to a city, they get gunned down. If DVIN need them, they grab them and stick them in exoskeletons that slowly kill them, controlling their bodies against their will until their bones break. Then, they lie out here, without knowing why they’re this injured, until something eats them. Their only comfort is they dinnae ken they’re at the bottom of the food chain out here. If I have it my way, one day I’ll come out here and let them all rest. It’s not a prospect I look forward to, but letting ‘em exist like this… it’s cruel, nae?”

Marlo sighed “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not the kind of person who can answer that. I’m not… I guess you could say I don’t have a rebellious soul. I’m not the kind of person who can…” he trailed off, staring at Wimund as he laughed.

“A rebellious soul?” He coughed into his hand “Ach that’s good lad. I should hope you don’t, because anyone who would say they did, they’d be the type to ignore all me suggestions and get ‘emselves killed.” He doubled over, chortling almost falling off his tree stump

Marlo coloured “I… I didn’t mean-”

“-Yeah, I’m sorry lad.” Wimund wiped the tears from his eyes. “I get what ye mean, even if you said it strange. You’re worried you’re not the kind of person who can live such a daring life, killin’ folks and stealin’ convoys and whatnot. Yer afraid this life ye’ve been shoved in tae wit’ nae warnin’ and nae choice might actually not be the best for you.”

“I… Something like that.”

“Well, kid. I’ll let ye in on a secret. Come here.” Wimund leant in. “Come on, just lean in. We’d best whisper.”

Marlo did so, and Wimund’s face creased into a smile. “Me neither lad. Don’t have an idea in blazes what I'm doin’. Was convinced until yesterday we’d not be here, and we’d get even hungrier. I didn’t have a clue what to do with you. Every day I wake up scared that today we’ll get caught, and we’ll all die. I kill to look after the others, and it worries me how easy it’s gettin’. Any time I killed someone in life, I had time to pray for ‘em. But now, I dinnae know who I’m killin’. I can’t pray for ‘em, not proper, if I don’t know their names. And I’ve learned a lot of ways in which prayers go wrong. Especially if ye’re prayin’ to the kind of God down here. But… we survive. We persist. It may not get easier, but if ye work real, real hard… It don’t get much harder.”

Marlo blinked. It made sense when he thought about it but…. Really? This world-wise old man, just as worried as him? Surely not. Wimund leant back and smiled. “Dinnae tell the others. Got tae keep their faith in me. Though, I bet that if you asked ‘em, they’d say somethin’ similar.”

Marlo stared for a second, then nodded. Wimund grinned, and with some difficulty and a lot of groaning, pushed off his knees and got up. “Now. You’re the modern lad, so you can help us identify some of this food we’ve just gotten. I can do a lot of things, but if you ask me to identify what a Quorn is, I’ll buckle.”

Marlo followed the large man. “How’d ye like me performance?” Wimund continued.

“Your performance?”

“Ye must have seen it. I made sure ye weren’t in any of the back carriages, then flipped a train with one of my Sky shanties.”

“You mean the giant light beam?” Marlo gawked. “That was you? I thought that was some God attacking us!”

“Gee, ye dinnae have tae be so rude about it. If ye dinnae like it, just say.”

“But… how did you… that was insane!”

“All things are possible through the Lord me laddie. He protects me against all of these false idols.” Wimund’s face fell. “Though, when I think about it, might be best you drop your principles for them. You see one, you fight to kill, and damn how ye feel. That’s a direct order.”

Marlo shook his head “Me, kill one of them? No way! I couldn’t get close, even with these.” He gestured to the arms on his back “They’d flatten me before I could react.”

“Ach, maybe. We’ll need to buff ye up somewhat. I’ll see what I can get for ye.” Wimund turned. They were coming back to the train. Nessa could be seen through one of the windows, sorting through cans. Marlo’s heart sank when he saw her. She had only been trying to protect him. Who knew what that crowd would have done to him. He shouldn’t have snapped at her.

“That’s the spirit.” Wimund said. “An apology never hurt anyone.”

“What?” Marlo turned. “How did ye know?”

“I can also tell when a man feels guilty. We lack the delicacy and subtlety of the finer sex. But it’s a good thing. I like a crew that can get along. Your reaction was understandable, but she’s just trying to look after ye. She cares about ye, though I cannae blame ye for misunderstanding her. She’s not an easy one to read, our Nessa.”

Marlo nodded, slower this time. “Oh, and one more thing.” Wimund said. “Just tae warn ye, before you eat the food, it is laced with mood-altering gobbledegook. Make ye less aggressive tae DVIN. Takes a good few servings in quick succession to take effect, but just don’t trust your thoughts on ‘em for the next few days after eating.”

Marlo was alarmed at that, but the sudden biting hunger inside him overrode that worry. He realised he hadn’t eaten since he had come to Limbo, and that sudden notion was almost crippling. Biting his lip against the gnawing emptiness, he wondered how long it had been since any of the others had eaten, and how they were possibly able to maintain any modicum of composure. Perhaps he had to give them some more credit.

Monticello emerged from the carriage, holding armfuls of cans. He dumped them on an already substantial pile he had made on the rusty grass and turned to look at them. Marlo stepped forwards sheepishly “Can I help?”

Monticello took one look at him and threw him a can. Marlo caught it reflexively, then staggered, gasping with sudden shock and exertion. The can felt like it weighed ten times what it should. He staggered and managed to get it into the grip of one of his metal hands, which held it much better. Monticello raised his eyebrows.

“Didn’t expect you to think of that. Guess you can.”

“God,” Marlo panted “What was that for?”

“Thought it was easier than an explanation that DVIN pumps these full of artificial weight boosters to stop them being stolen.”

“Listen, if this is about what I said to Nessa, then I’m-”

“Kid, I don’t really care what you said to her. She likely deserved it. But just…” Monticello sighed “You shouldn’t be here. I mean obviously, you shouldn’t be on the run, but… I could tell how scared you were coming in here. You ignored what Nessa said and didn’t follow us into an active gunfight. Don’t mistake me, that was likely the right move but… in situations like this, you can’t be separated like that. What if we do something like this in a city, and a DVIN knight…” he trailed off at Marlo’s confused expression “like their best officers. A God, or a servant to a god which would be some grand historical figure. Think someone like Hermes and Benkei. If one of them were passing and grabbed you, not only would you be doomed, but you’d probably tell about all of us.”

“I wouldn’t!” Marlo said, defensively. Monticello looked down his nose at him.

“Really kid? You think that if you were tortured you’d say nothing? Really think about it. You’d be electrocuted, half-drowned, you’d have nails ripped out and fingers broken. They’d saw wire on your throat back and forth, every time getting a little closer to cutting open your windpipe. They have some people who are real good at it. And you will not be good at resisting. Few people are. I don’t know why the three of us are so good. Likely something in our past lives, but of course, I can’t remember anything like that-” He stopped suddenly, looking like he’d seen too much. Things started to connect in Marlo’s head. Monticello’s hatred of what he called Hyakkus, his disgusted looks at Amnes.

“Monticello,” Marlo said softly “are you-”

“Anyway!” Monticello, glowering, cut across him “When we get back, I’m going to ask Wimund to send in a request to have you transferred. Somewhere must have a nice desk job or something. It’ll be safer for you, and us. Sorry kid, but it makes sense.”

Marlo shook his head, dispelling his musings. It did. While that sounded boring as all hell, he really couldn’t do something like this day to day. This had been too much for him. It looked like another night of lying awake staring at the ceiling and reliving the day’s fuck ups for him.

“Yeah.” He said, turning around and looking out over the landscape. “You’re probably right. But still-”

“Marlo.” Monticello’s voice was insistent “You need to move.”

“Okay, okay, I get what you’re saying.”

“Marlo.” He was now speaking in a low whisper “You need to move, now.”

“What?” Marlo turned around. “We have to at least get back. I can’t find anything out-”

“Not that.” Monticello gestured down. Marlo looked and saw that in front of him was a line of pointed rocks, about a foot long. They hadn’t been there a minute ago. They cupped him in a semi-circular ring, separating him and Monticello. They were long, tapered and yellow. Upon inspection, less like rocks, and more like… teeth. Marlo went cold, all over. He carefully checked over his shoulder and found that the ring made a full circle behind him, surrounding him.

“Monticello?” His voice quavered. Monticello made a stabbing motion behind him with his fingers, and his shadow split in half, one half slithering inside to the others.

“It’s okay Marlo.” He said, slowly looking around. “These things sense based on vibration. You have to space out your steps. If you walk too fast, it’ll snap shut on you. Take a step towards me and stop.”

Marlo did, and almost burst into tears when he saw the teeth twitch. When he stopped though, they stopped moving.

“Don’t try to reach over and pull yourself out with your Armpak.” Monticello said, softly. “It will snap shut if it senses a loss in weight, and you won’t get out. You’re doing fine now. Count to five and take another step.”

Marlo had no idea what this thing was. Of course, the others had mentioned things out here eating Amnes, and a food chain, not to mention the things in the streets of Asgard no one seemed to want to talk about, but the others hadn’t been worried, so he hadn’t taken it too seriously. He’d been more concerned with other things, like a moron.

“Monticello?” He repeated. “What is this?”

“If I tell you, you might go weak at the knees and fall over. Step… now.”

Marlo took another one. It would take two or three more steps to escape the ring. The temptation to run was almost overpowering him, but he stayed still.

“That’s it. Nice and slow.” Behind Monticello, the others came out of the train, slowly. Clearly, his shadow had somehow warned them.

“Lad!” Wimund called, quietly. Nessa just stared.

“Nessa.” Marlo said, eyes tearing up “I’m really sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have.”

“Focus on your steps, friend.” Nessa said, firmly “Apologise to me later.”

Marlo nodded and looked down. “Can I step yet Monticello?”

“Almost… yes.”

Marlo took another step. Thankfully, it looked like one more would take him out of the ring. That was good because he was sweating and shaking so much he was sure he was going to collapse any second.

“Make sure you don’t brush those teeth with your feet.” Monticello said, looking at Marlo’s shoe, which was only a few hairs away from one of the triangular spires. “It’ll snap shut on that too.”

“Ye’re doing great lad.” Wimund assured him. Nessa reached out, and that door which had cut through the Amnes slowly lifted off the ground some ten or so metres away. It floated over to hover above Marlo, and began to spin, slowly at first, but then faster and faster.

“And one more step…” Monticello froze, face going pale. Marlo followed his gaze and did the same. An Amne was running over, its eyes locked on Marlo.

“Nessa, get it!” Wimund yelled.

“If I do, the sudden fall of its body will alert the Terro!” Nessa replied, moving the door to block the Amnes view. It slowed but couldn’t stop in time.

With one final “Who am I?” It stumbled into the ring, kicking several teeth as it did so. Time slowed down for Marlo. As he dove forwards, towards the outstretched arms of Monticello, the ground began to tear up. Two more rings of teeth, these ones long and more ovular, rose up, tearing up vast swathes of earth. One tore its way up from the direction the Amne had come from, while the other ripped out of the earth behind Monticello, the sudden slant of earth knocking him off his feet and sending him flying into Marlo, sending the pair tumbling into the centre of the ring Marlo had almost escaped, which caved in. The earth fell away to reveal a cavernous, pitch-black and foul-smelling throat. Marlo, Monticello, the Amne, the door, and an avalanche of sandy soil plummeted down the throat, and out of sight. The four jaws of the creature slammed shut some twenty metres above the ground, green fleshy mountains smashing together with the finality of a tomb door closing, and then, rapidly sunk out of sight. Wimund and Nessa were left standing, wide-eyed, as the sound of rumbling quickly faded, taking their friends with it.