Grimmock
They returned to the train tracks—specifically, the site of the Parnathi ambush.
“This is a bad year to be in the train business, apparently.” Math’s face twisted as he studied the carnage before them.
The train company hadn’t wasted time. Judging by the scene, repair crews had come from both directions: two trains loaded with cranes, crews, and likely a mandate to clear the tracks as quickly as possible.
A massive sinkhole, easily a hundred feet across, had swallowed the tracks, leaving train parts scattered and broken. The twisted edges of the broken tracks jutted into the air like poorly sharpened knives.
There was blood, and signs of something massive clawing at the ground—but no bodies.
The wrecked carriages from the first attack were now on their sides, one of which shuddered with irregular thuds, while a sharp scratching noise filled the air.
“What could make such a sound?” Oltaxath asked.
It was a question immediately answered, although not by their party.
The monster lifted its head from behind the carriage.
Not a plant, but a grotesque blend of reptile and mammal—the stuff of nightmares.
Six wormlike stalks erupted from the middle of the creature’s forehead and swiveled in their direction.
A wet-looking black dot crested each tip—something not an eyeball yet functionally similar. The beast snarled as it spotted them.
It was, without question, a grimmock. Several of the horses immediately reared, for which Math could hardly blame them.
“Oh, heavens,” Kai murmured.
“That thing’s way bigger than a bear,” Math muttered.
The carriage had hidden it only because the beast was long rather than tall. In terms of mass, it rivaled one, maybe two elephants.
What sort of animal the grimmock had originally been was a matter for debate.
It had scales, mammalian legs, and claws meant for rending.
Its rodent-shaped head sported the fangs of a predator—not a scavenger.
Then there were those tentacle eyes. Math could not imagine any normal animal with such features.
“Back up,” Math ordered sharply. “No one moves in until I say so.”
“You are not in charge—”
Math turned on the Souna chief. “Have you fought a grimmock before? Because this is what I have trained to fight for my entire life.”
Oltaxath paused, considered his words, and made an after you gesture to Math.
Math ordered the group to shift position, keeping their movements slow enough to avoid a chase response, should the monster be the sort to find that irresistible. Kai circled the group, finishing the final carvings to activate their protections.
“Only five minutes,” she told Math. “Make them count.” She wiped sweat from her forehead, her face paler than usual.
He felt the pull of her fatigue, a tightness in his chest that wasn’t entirely his own.
Oltaxath began speaking to her people: “Staying out of its striking range is most important. Be nimble. Be fast. Never stop moving.”
A horse’s angry scream drew Math’s attention—not because it was unusual in the tension-filled atmosphere—but because it was too far away to be part of their group. A quick scan revealed the horse in question, an upset, anxious stallion circling the periphery of the accident site.
Math pointed. “Whose horse is that?”
That wasn’t a Souna horse. Even at this distance, its bulk marked it as a larger breed.
“That’s not one of ours,” Oltaxath protested. “We don’t use those kinds of saddles.”
But Idallik Knights did. Quick on the heels of that thought came a more horrible recognition: that he not only knew those saddles, he also knew this specific horse: Inquisitor, Alik Nuhzar’s horse.
“Damn,” Math breathed out. “They must have sent the Order out to investigate the Parnathi attack on the train.”
He saw no sign of Nuhzar or any other knights. No other horses, either. The lack of partially eaten carcasses on the ground—or even torn remnants of saddles and kit—suggested the creature liked to drag its prey to another location, probably a tunnel.
Math eyed the carriage container the monster had been so persistently trying to open and took note, again, of the horse refusing to leave the area even though such bravery put his own life at risk. Inquisitor was every bit as much an asshole as his rider, but he was a very loyal asshole.
Math had a pretty good idea where Nuhzar was.
“Arrows ready!” Oltaxath called out. The group spread out as they carefully rode around the sinkhole and the train wreck to put themselves into position.
So far, the grimmock had paid little attention to them, more intent on whatever lay inside the overturned train carriage. If Math’s guess was correct? An injured Idallik Knight.
“Loose!” Oltaxath called out, which seemed to be as much direction as any of the archers expected.
They began firing, while Math watched and tried to judge just how dangerous it would be to move close enough to use his borrowed halberd.
Right away, they learned the scales were considerably tougher than those of a snake. Most of the arrows bounced off, little more than annoyances.
Then someone got a lucky shot off and hit one of the eye tentacles.
The monster howled and whipped around to face the riders. It almost certainly hadn’t been able to tell exactly who had fired the shot.
So instead, it attacked randomly. The monster leaped over the downed train carriage and rushed a horse and rider.
There was a flash of light as the creature landed on the hunter.
Math remembered the talismans Kai had created, and how they would protect against all but the most serious injuries.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that this qualified as “serious.”
Kai’s charms would be useless against the full brunt of the monster’s attack.
The man tried to dodge, but the creature was absurdly fast for something the size of a house. Math winced at the screams, the cracking bones, the hot spray of blood.
One of the Souna riders called out a name, anguished.
He had to hand it to the Souna, though. Not one of them stopped moving, and none of the horses panicked.
Math had expected the creature to keep attacking the Souna. What he did not expect—what none of them would’ve suspected—was that the grimmock would return to the carriage and resume trying to claw it open.
Yet that was exactly what it did.
Math met Kai’s incredulous gaze even from across the battlefield.
Evidently, the grimmock wouldn’t be deterred from its original prey. Even as he had that thought, the creature’s claws broke through the cladding on the carriage. It ripped backward, peeling back a section like it was something substantially more fragile than wood and iron.
“Kai!” Math shouted. “Can you distract it? I need to get closer.”
She nodded, expression grim and unhappy, clutching a necklace around her neck. She yanked off the chain, holding it up in one hand while she stared at the monster.
Math felt the spike of determination in her like a hot wire across his ribs, followed by fear, and something else—regret? Resolve?
Meanwhile, he jumped off his horse and ran the rest of the way—or as close as he dared without provoking the grimmock into a lethal change of targets.
A white glow started around Kai’s fingertips and flowed from her hand to the creature’s head. It roared and reared back. Its eyestalks changed colors, first turning gray, then lighter, then the same hue as polished silver.
Math knew in an instant what she’d done—just as she had with Huraiik, she’d silvered the outsides of its eyes, rendering it completely blind. It roared, while its eyestalks thrashed.
That was probably the single most helpful thing she could’ve done.
Unfortunately, several of the Souna must have seen the white magical light from Kai’s spell, the silvering of the monster’s eyes, and decided that they were unlikely to get a better opening.
Two of them charged in with their halberds aimed low.
The grimmock spun, jaws gaping wide. The teeth snapped shut so fast Math felt more like he was re-creating the scene in his head later than watching it happen. The lead rider and half of their horse were simply gone, and blood sprayed over the monster’s head.
With a casual, almost dismissive flick of its tail, it swatted the other rider off his horse and sent him flying several dozen feet to land with an unpleasant crunching sound.
As bad as that was, the flare of light at the impact and the fact that the stricken hunter was still moving told Math the talisman had partially shielded him, possibly saving his life.
Assuming any of them got out of this alive.