The Book Of Lost Things

“When I met you on the road, you were a stranger to me,” said Roland, “and although I knew there was a village here, I had never seen it until now, for I have never traveled these roads before. David, this land is as real as you are. Do not start believing that it is some dream conjured up from deep within yourself. I have seen the fear in your eyes when you speak of the wolf packs and the creatures that lead them, and I know that they will eat you if they find you. I smelled the decay of those men on the battlefield. Soon we will face whatever wiped them out, and we may not survive the encounter. All of these things are real. You have endured pain here. If you can endure pain, then you can die. You can be killed here, and your own world will be lost to you forever. Never forget that. If you do, you are lost.”

Perhaps, thought David.

Perhaps.

It was deep in the third night when a cry went up from one of the lookouts at the gates.

“To me, to me!” said the young man whose job it was to watch the main road to the settlement. “I heard something, and I saw movement on the ground. I am certain of it.”

Those who were sleeping awoke and joined him. Those who were far from the gates heard the cry and were about to come running too, but Roland called to them and told them to stay where they were. He arrived at the gates and began to climb a ladder to the platform at the top of the walls. Some of the other men were already waiting for him, while others stood on the ground and stared through the slits that had been cut into the tree trunks at eye level. Their torches hissed and sputtered as the snow fell upon them and melted instantly.

“I can see nothing,” said the blacksmith to the young man. “You woke us for no good reason.”

They heard the cow lowing nervously. It rose from its sleep and tried to pull itself free from the post to which it was tethered.

“Wait,” said Roland. He took an arrow from a pile against the wall, each one with a rag soaked in oil at its tip. He touched the wrapped point to one of the torches, and it exploded into flame. He took careful aim and fired where the guard on the wall said that he had seen movement. Four or five of the other men did the same, the arrows sailing like dying stars through the night air.

For a moment, there was nothing to be seen but falling snow and shadowy trees. Then something moved, and they saw a massive yellow body erupting from beneath the earth, ridged like that of a great worm, each ridge embedded with thick black hairs, each hair ending in a razor-sharp barb. One of the arrows had lodged itself in the creature, and a foul smell of burning flesh arose, so horrible that the men covered their noses and mouths to block the stink. Black fluid bubbled from the wound, spitting in the heat of the arrow’s flame. David could see the shafts of broken arrows and spears stuck in its skin, relics of its earlier encounter with the soldiers. It was impossible to tell how long it was, but its body was ten feet high at least. They saw the Beast twist and turn as it pulled itself free from the dirt, and then a terrible face was revealed. It had clusters of black eyes like a spider, some small, some large, and a sucking mouth beneath them that was ridged with row upon row of sharp teeth. Between eyes and mouth, openings like nostrils quivered as it smelled the men in the village and the warm blood beneath their skin. There were two arms at either side of its jaws, each one ending in a series of three hooked claws with which it could pull its prey into the maw. It did not seem able to make any sound from its mouth, but there was a wet, sucking noise as it began to move across the forest floor, and clear, sticky strands of mucus dripped from its upper body as it raised itself up like a huge, ugly caterpillar reaching for a tasty leaf. Its head was now twenty feet above the ground, revealing its lower parts and the twin rows of black, spiny legs with which it propelled itself along the ground.

“It’s higher than the wall!” yelled Fletcher. “It won’t need to break through. It can just climb over!”

Roland didn’t reply. Instead, he told all of the men to light arrows and aim for the Beast’s head. A rain of flames shot toward the creature. Some missed their mark, while more bounced off the thick, spiny hairs on its skin. But still others struck home, and David saw an arrow land in one of the creature’s eyes, bursting it instantly. The smell of rotting, burning flesh grew stronger. The Beast shook its head in pain, then began to move toward the walls. They could now see clearly how big it was: thirty feet long from its jaws to its rear. It was moving much faster than even Roland had expected, and only the thick snow prevented it from moving faster still. Soon it would be upon them.

“Keep firing for as long as you can, then retreat once you’ve drawn it to the walls!” cried Roland. He grabbed David’s arm. “Come with me. I need your help.”