The ground bucked under our feet, and I knew many more sand worms were wiggling under there, eager to get fresh blood.
The sand shifted in deep grooves and undulated like a sea of boiling molasses as the worms poured out, shrieking and coiling, their slick bodies shining under the suns.
The sound was enough to set my teeth on edge. Promising death to those who hear it.
Jamila looked at me and I nodded.
"Form up! Shields and spears to the front!" Jamila's voice cut sharply above the chaos.
The Bishar? They were mostly scattered. Their so-called line broke into an anxiety dive as the worms lunged at them.
One man screamed as he was yanked down by the waist, another thrashed helplessly before vanishing beneath the roiling sand. Their spears stabbed wildly, but their rhythm was broken.
There was nothing courageous left in their movements only panic and for some, raw unadulterated fear.
