The jeep raced downhill towards Michael, destroying the trail of footprints. Toby’s face was set hard but the triumph of getting the relic started, along with Nat grinning and whooping in the seat beside him, brought an unwilling smirk to his lips. Michael didn’t know what to say to them. Sugnar had breached right where he was standing. It was possible she missed the kids, that they ran back to the tree, but Michael knew the kids weren’t there. What he couldn’t work out was where else they might be, apart from in great wyrm’s belly, and if that was the case, wasn’t this all over? They didn’t have long to decide. The vibrations were growing under his feet. Sugnar would be with them soon.

  A shotgun bang backfired from the Jeep, and a filthy black cloud belched from its exhaust. Toby shifted down the gears with an unhealthy grinding. The jeep began to slow and skid as they reached the perimeter of the shallow crater. Nat was still hollering like a kid on a roller-coaster while Toby fought and lost against the slide. They turned through one-eighty and came to a stop with the exhaust choking Michael with fumes.

  Coughing, Michael jumped onto the back of the jeep.

  ‘Where to, M’ Lord?’ Nat bowed with a flourish.

  Michael decided to be honest. ‘I don’t think the kids are in the tree.’

  Nat’s face fell, from full beam to meagre nightlight.

  ‘What do you mean? Where are they then?’

  Michael understood Toby’s concern. He felt it too, that heart-aching tug, that for him remained as inexplicable as it was profound. That was it! He fished in his pocket for the witch’s stone. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  He put the stone over his right eye, closed the left, and levelled his gaze on Toby. Sure enough, moonthreads connected the big man to Nat and to Michael, but there was another running out from his heart. Michael bowed and found the thread from his own heart, and as his hunch suggested, both silvery threads ran in exactly the same direction.

  ‘There,’ Michael said, pointing Northwest of the petrified tree and into the dunes.

  ‘Where?’ Toby squinted in that direction, seeing nothing but sand.

  ‘They’re in that direction.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Toby was dubious.

  Michael held up the witch’s stone. ‘Same way I found the camp. But—’

  ‘But what?’ Nat was trying to muster levity and failing.

  Michael consulted with the stone again and felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. The two taut moonthreads were heading directly for them, like two fishing lines ensnared in the jaws of a great white shark that was ploughing through open water towards the foolish fishermen, who definitely needed a bigger boat. The conclusion was both dreadful and nonsensical. Sugnar was going to breach right on them, and the kids were with, or more accurately in, the dead god’s stomach, along with all the other Lorimers. But why the moonthreads remained attached, Michael didn’t know. As ridiculous as it was, he clung to the hope that it meant, somehow, they were alive.

  On cue, the jeep began to judder.

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  ‘We’ve got to go,’ Michael said, urgently. ‘That way.’ He pointed towards the sea, which fortunately, their skid had turned them to face.

  ‘But you said the kids where that way?’ Toby was confused, annoyance growing.

  Lightning forked down behind them, spearing the back of a dune, which collapsed. Toby saw it and understood. The gears of the jeep crunched, and Toby put his foot down too hard. Sand gushed from the rear wheels, spinning them ineffectually.

  ‘Let’s get going, Tobes,’ Nat said, grabbing the farmer’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m trying?’

  ‘I mean it,’ Nat said.

  Another fork of lightning struck the next dune closer to them, which promptly collapsed to a crackle of thunder.

  ‘I’m trying!’ Toby shouted, gunning the engine. The wind had picked up as if in argument with the revving engine. The wheels spun, digging themselves in deeper.

  ‘Stop, we’re stuck.’ Michael jumped out the back. The wind had picked up, whipping sand into the air. Nat jumped down too and ran to the back of the jeep. From their knees, they both started to dig furiously with their hands.

  Another bolt of electricity connected the dark citadels above with the dunes. Thunder galloped immediately out of the fading glare, and the dunes hummed through their bones. Michael slapped the back the jeep.

  ‘Try it.’

  Toby did, and both his friends shouted and banged on the jeep. ‘Stop, stop.’

  They’d sunk again. The vibrating sand was growing unstable. Michael considered the dead tree, estimating how fast they could cover the distance versus how close Sugnar was, and concluded that the jeep or splitting up was their only hope. He dropped and started digging again. Nat clambered in the back of the jeep and frantically began emptying the bags they’d brought with them.

  ‘We need grip,’ he said, throwing Michael one of the empty canvas bags. ‘Get it under the wheel. I’ll do the same.’

  The sky exploded with light and sound, but they didn’t turn to see how close it was. They worked fast, digging like wild animals and stuffed the material as deep as they could.

  ‘One last thing... get ready to push, Mikey. Tobes, put it in second. Let it out slow, but careful you don’t stall.’ Nat said this while reaching in the back of the jeep to retrieve their two water bladders. ‘More grip,’ Nat said by way of explanation to a confused Michael. He unscrewed the cap and poured the contents in front of the rear wheel on his side. Michael aped his friend. Once they finished, the ground shook so hard it was difficult to stand. At least they had the back of the jeep to hold onto.

  ‘Nice and easy to begin with, Tobes. We’ll push on three.’ Nat counted down and they set their shoulders to the jeep. The storm blazed but it was impossible to tell whether the thunder or the tunnelling God made more noise. Nat said, ‘Three,’ and the wheels spun on the canvas bags.

  ‘Mikey, pull down.’ Nat showed how, hanging all his weight off the back of the jeep to help the jeep compact the sand to create more grip. Michael did as he was instructed, thinking that if this didn’t work, they would have to cut loose and run in different directions or all be killed. Then the tyres found the purchase they needed. The jeep lurched a foot.

  ‘Push!’ Nat shouted. Feet skidding under them, they both gave everything they had.

  With a shotgun bang and an eruption of black smoke the jeep was free. Michael kept running and pushing, elation flooding through him. He clambered in the flatbed. Half blind and choking, he turned back to offer Nat his hand. He wasn’t there. Toby was picking up speed, getting them clear. Behind was a filthy cloud Michael couldn’t see through. With each second, they pulled further away, gaining speed.

  ‘Toby, slow down.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Slow down. Nat’s not there.’

  Toby swivelled in his seat. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He must have fallen. I’ll go back.’ Michael readied to dismount. ‘Keep moving or we’ll get struck again. I’ll be right back.’

  The sand they’d kicked up behind had thickened the already dust-saturated air, turning it into an opaque yellow fog. Before Michael could jump, perhaps a hundred feet short, a figure materialised out the mirk. Little more than a ghost at first, it quickly took on the form of a wiry man, legs pumping, arms windshield wiping over his head. Michael thought he was shouting too, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying over the roar of thunder and vociferate rumble. But it soon became clear, because from within the cloud of dust a mass erupted with a leviathan’s bellow that cowed the thunder and ate the lightning. Michael muffled his ears. Toby swerved and stalled, and Nat stumbled and fell flat on his face. Behind him, the monster grew, rearing higher and higher. Drawn to their god, forks of electricity spasmed from the storm, to writhe around their mother, like a multitude of snakelets. Nat rolled over on his backside to face the behemoth. Higher and higher Sugnar breached, and Michael felt the terrible pattern of the dunes repeat itself. His father and his friend, separated by two and a half decades, facing their end, while Michael watched on powerless to do anything.

  Toby’s shovel hands grabbed Michael’s shoulders. ‘In Herne’s name!’

  Nat managed to tear his eyes away from the source of his terror and waved his two friends away. His shouts were lost in the bedlam, and he turned to the shadow in the maelstrom. It had reached its zenith, a terrible black obelisk that punctured the festering heavens. The inevitability of it was sickening. The ascent was over, and all serpents must strike. When Nat crossed his arms over his face and tried in vain to shrink from impending disaster, Michael and Toby reflexively turned away together. In the time it took for the trapped God to fall upon their friend, Michael jumped in the driver’s seat and turned the engine over. It stuttered and whined.

  The earth rocked with the impact of the great worm crashing down. Michael flinched, turning the ignition, and pumping the gas.

  Toby screamed a futile protest, ‘No!’

  It seemed as though the engine would never catch until it did. Michael found a gear, floored it, and sped away.