With the falling mountain anchored securely overhead, Titus turned his massive front limbs toward the frozen star-iron inner wall at the northern end of the sump basin.
The inner wall was four inches of heavy silver-steel plate. It was sealed by twenty feet of solid black ice.
“Titus, breach the wall,” Arthur commanded, stepping to the side with Grimm. “Clear us a path to the volcano bowl.”
Titus stepped forward, his newly forged black-ice pillars gleaming along his back shell. He lowered his armored head, his front spurs digging into the stone. Then he slammed his sixty-five-ton bulk directly into the center of the inner wall:
KABRRAAAASH!
The silver-steel plate tore open like wet cardboard. The twenty feet of black ice shattered into millions of crystal-clear shards, blowing outward into the freezing void beyond.
Arthur stepped through the breach. His boots crossed the threshold onto the rim of the Central Glacial Caldera.
The sight that met his eyes took his breath away.
