It became clear to Kim upon further panicked inspection that Fiora had not suddenly grown shorter. The dragonspawn had stepped onto a grey patch of sand and been sucked downwards, as if the ground was gulping her like she was a giant winged chicken nugget. Sand was already up to her hips, and before Kim could reach out, Fiora dropped another foot further and shifted away. The patch of sand spread, forcing Kim and Damon to jump back onto solid rocky ground.

  "Oh, this is lovely." Fiora unfurled her wings and spread them wide. She flapped them once, twice, thrice, and each time sank deeper into the sand trap.

  "Can we help?" Damon shouted. "I don't have any levitation spells. Do you need some Light in the Black?"

  Fiora cursed several times—Kim was certain they were impressive curses, but they were in another language. The words had so much vehemence they should have, in a fair world, parted the sands. Metaloria was not a fair world, and Fiora was now up to her shoulders.

  The dragonspawn lowered her wings. "The more I move, the more I sink. I am surprised nothing has yet chomped my toes. Unless, of course, I've been stung with numbing Bathory venom and can't feel the toe munching."

  "Let's form a chain," Kim said. "And pull her out of there."

  "I'm not sure two people can be a chain," Damon replied. "But it's a good plan."

  Kim took a step in Fiora's direction, and her boot sank up to her ankle in the sand. Damon's grip was tight, his hand surprisingly warm, and she felt a bit more in a solid position and safer. Kim dangled over the sand, reaching towards the dragonspawn. The Destroyer Boots Of Major Metal Destruction dug into the earth. Her fingers were just inches from Fiora's outstretched hand.

  Was it a hand? Kim wondered. Or did dragonspawn have paws? She touched the very tip of a claw and grabbed Fiora tightly around the first knuckle.

  "For spawners, you are doing good work," Fiora said, stretching enough that Kim could get another finger and a few more knuckles. "I guess we now know why nothing lives above ground."

  "Ready, Damon?" she said.

  "Yes, pull!" he replied.

  Before Kim could pull, Fiora slumped a few more inches, and Kim was left grasping air.

  Kim took another step and sank up to her right knee. Something under the sand grabbed the calf of her leg. Her boots shook with destructive power, driving the thing way. "Get me out of here!" she shouted.

  Damon yanked her back, grunting as he dragged her onto the rock. Kim shook the sand off her leg, lifting her trousers to discover there was a bruise made of circular, suction-like shapes.

  "What on earth was that?" Kim said.

  "Technically, you should say, 'what on Metaloria was it?'" Damon replied.

  Kim wondered when Damon's need to be grammatically correct would get him killed.

  "Ignore Damon's nervous habit." Fiora's words were markedly calm. "The creature under the sand has wrapped itself around my midsection and my legs." She was now neck deep: the back of her mullet spread out on the sand like an offering. Or like a mullet spread out on the sand. "I can still wiggle my toes—so no bitings or severings or grindings."

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  "We'll get you out of there!" Kim grabbed Damon's Screaming Eagle staff and leaned again, holding it with one hand. Damon grabbed her other hand.

  "We should have used this the first time," Damon said. "I'm used to having lots of time to think before doing anything on these adventures."

  "This isn't a game!" Kim grunted.

  "Wait, wait, child," Fiora said. Only the tips of her wings, her shoulders, and her snout were above the surface. "It's too far. And we don't have any rope. The simplest of items would have saved me. I have rocked my last. Hallowed be my name in the halls of glory! I only hope to suffocate before whatever is lurking in the depths eats me. I'm sorry I called you the stupidest, bumbling idiots who ever existed."

  "You never called us that," Damon said.

  "Oh." Fiora blinked twice, perhaps to clear out some sand. "I guess I was just thinking it. In that case, I recind my apology. Try to complete Blayre's quest without me. It will be impossible, but you may get a few days of hard rocking in before your brainpans explode." She sucked in through her nostrils and sighed. "I really wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. That's a dragonspawn joke, in case you were wondering."

  "Don't go," Kim said. "We need you."

  "Yes, you do," Fiora replied. "And it is good to know that I'm needed, even if it's by spawners. You are nice headbangers. Both of you." Kim felt it odd that Fiora seemed to be at her sweetest and kindest just before she was about to die. "Again, I pray to the metal gods for your quick deaths. And don't forget—"

  With a ploop she was sucked under. The sand levelled out a moment later, and it looked as if she'd never been there.

  "Oh, no!" Damon said.

  Kim stared at the sand, hoping Fiora would pop her head up again. But there wasn't the slightest hint of movement. "If we had dynamite or a grenade, that might help. Well, it would move the sand, but the percussive forces…" She trailed off. She must have been listening to her mother too often or Uncle Gord. "I wonder how long a dragonspawn can hold her breath?"

  "We haven't looked in here." Damon picked up the Bag of Ultimate Rock Surprises.

  "Fiora said not to look in there," Kim said.

  He shook the bag, and it made a metallic rattling sound. And a hissing. "It's our only hope."

  "Then open it," she said, putting her hand on her sword hilt.

  He opened the bag and turned it over to dump the contents onto the ground. Nothing came out. He shook it several times, and the sack rattled and hissed a little more, but dropped none of its contents. "There are several heavy things in there that won't come out."

  Kim let out her breath. "Maybe you have to reach inside and grab it."

  He was about to do so, then he stopped. "It's a Blayre trick, isn't it? I might lose a limb or digit. If I do, I want you to write a song about me if I lose a finger. Damon of the Nine Fingers would be a grand title." Kim did not want to ask him why he thought she'd write a song at all, let alone a song about his missing finger. But a tune came into her head. Happy finger loss day to you, happy finger loss day to you. Oddly, she almost sang it.

  Damon slowly lowered his hand into the mouth of the bag. "I can't feel anything. This is the strangest—oww!"

  "What is it?" Kim grabbed one end of the bag and pulled.

  "Something has a hold of my hand!" He took a breath. "Oh, wait, I can feel something in there."

  "Is it the thing that's biting you?"

  For someone with a hand in a bag that was biting him, he gained a buddha like calm and concentration. "No. I've got hold of it. I'm going to pull it out. Maybe get ready with your sword."

  She unsheathed her sword. He pulled out his arm, and the bag closed with a snap. Damon wasn't missing any fingers. In fact, he was holding at the end of those fingers a shiny piece of an animal.

  "It's a summoning horn," he said, rubbing the polished sides. "Maybe from an auroch. It's for warning war parties, or letting the fellowship know you're being attacked by orcs."

  The horn had been polished to the point that it glowed, despite the greyness of this realm.

  "You think it summons things?" Kim asked.

  "Yes," he said, looking slightly above the horn. "It has +8 summoning. It's the Horn of Udo."

  "Why do I feel you know what it means?" she asked.

  "Udo was a singer for the German band Accept. I don't know why it's named after him."

  "But what do we do with it?" she asked.

  "Well, we blow it," he answered.

  Damon lifted the Horn of Udo to his lips and blew it with all his might.