They went down into the nest together, boots crunching frost and shattered shell, and the blue-violet glow of the place swallowed them whole.
The clutches spread out below in a wide crystal-lined basin, and the soft-shelled young crawled thick across every inch of it, hundreds of them, chewing at the shards their dead elders had left and hissing as the two men dropped into their world. At the far end, over the largest of the broods, the Deepmother lifted her vast crystalline head and watched them come.
Moses walked out a few paces ahead and stopped. "Stay back for this one, young master." He rolled the great warblade off his shoulder and down into both hands. "You'll want the room."
Trafalgar stepped back and let him have it, curious in spite of himself. He'd fought at the captain's side for two days and watched him fold whole ranks under with a swing, but a swing was still just a swing. He had not yet seen the man reach for the bottom of himself. He was about to.
