Day 7

The abomination that dived into the middle of grots’ ambush was nothing else but the small grot that had bitten Giliad’s shoulder. There was no telling what caused the rapid alchemical reaction but the results were spectacular. Its size grew to thrice the size of its brethren. Extra heads on thick elongated necks had no eyes but when they opened their mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth, Giliad suspected the outcome of their bites. It’d rip his shoulder off without effort.

Other grots fleed between trees, so only Giliad’s companions remained in the center of the small flat area. The creature roared, pushing a mental wave of bloodlust-drenched hunger. Okay. This was a new thing to Giliad. Only legendary beasts from the desert were supposed to have such bizarre abilities. If the stories of the drunkards in taverns could have a grain of credence.

“Hey! Here!”

Four out of the six extra heads turned his direction. While the beast’s bulk increased dramatically, its coordination and reflexes dropped. A good sign, this. Excluding other grots which surely remained in the vicinity, the situation was not that dire. If he played this out carefully, there was a chance, Giliad wouldn’t need to fight it.

It charged him and he stood his ground. When a second later, the first head dived to snap at him, Giliad punched it with all the strength he had. He felt the thick skin part and bones crack. The creature roared, angered. Remembering the insane healing speed of the young grot, Giliad rightly assumed this version would be able to heal at a similar rate, if not faster.

Not even a minute passed when the punched head had not a scratch.

“Shit.”

Fighting this without a weapon, sword ideally, was going to be a pain. None of his companions had any. In the current state they were useless anyway. Zuma lay unconscious, the bandit and the wildling pulling him toward a treeline. Giliad worried about grots awaiting the unaware idiots. These animals were clearly smarter than them. He needed to do something, fast. For now, he danced around the monstrosity, dodging its attacks and occasionally deflecting a head that came too close.

Pressed to get out of this, Giliad glanced around. The creature left a trail of shattered trees. Shattered trees. If he managed to shove it onto a sharp stump, it might buy them time. Without chopping it to pieces, there was no hope to kill it. It had to be improvisation and escape.

With a shaky plan drafted in his head, Giliad started moving toward the tree stumps. The creature followed and although it stumbled upon turning, it regained footing surprisingly quickly. Giliad was faster still. Twenty paces from the monster, he abruptly stopped and waited for the incoming destruction. The creature’s three sets of eyes, located in a spot that could be a belly now, fixed on Giliad. Its intelligence was what made the Royalblood hesitate for a split second. It looked at him as if it knew what he planned.

He ignored the weirdness and charge the beast. As he came close he dropped, then caught the muscular leg, hoping to get enough leverage to overturn it. The mutated grot gave him no chance to find his footing as its many mouths snapped at him. Giliad was forced to keep behind the creature, which wasn’t easy as it spun one way or another. It still needs its eyes to see him. Eyes. He should’ve thought about it earlier. Impaling a large beast onto a three stump sounded like a good idea until he had to do it.

With a better plan, Giliad grabbed a splintered branch and jumped on the beast. Six sharp teeth-filled mouths snapped at him at the same time. Twice the teeth brushed his skin. This thing was pushing him to the limit of his abilities. It was weird as it had never happened to him before. Giliad somersaulted forward and without a second thought stabbed the left side eyes with the branch. The beast roared, Giliad’s mind felt the maddening rage exploding from the creature and invading his thoughts. What kind of mutation happened?

Not waiting for an answer, leaving the jammed branch in the grot’s head, Giliad shot past it toward three travelers. They reached the tree line on the other side of the opening. As he’d predicted grots have waited. That crazy rain woman’s power would come in handy now. The first grot that came between Giliad and his companions received a blow to its head. It cracked and the animal whimpered. It gave Giliad an opening, he threw Zuma over his shoulder like a doll.

“Run.”

The wilding and the bandit didn’t need encouragement. They could not match a Royalblood’s speed but still made an impressive job of evading the incoming attacks. It looked like the grots’ attention was all on Giliad now and the Royalblood couldn’t help but speculate why that was. Could it be that they wish the same transformation as their weaker brethren?

The wildling had a natural instinct, he chose narrow spaces between large trees and always tried to keep a tree between his back and the following grot. The bandit was hopeless. He didn’t understand the basics and ran like a headless chicken. Stalking grots noticed his clumsiness and did something remarkable and terrifying, they made fun of him. It looked bizarre when the large animals did that sort of cat and mouse play. It seemed harmless but Giliad knew the truth, the bite would come and the bandit would become a truly headless man.

The wildling got ahead of them because the Royalblood kept the same speed as the idiot bandit. This was harder than it seemed because the grots kept attacking Giliad and he was forced to dodge which was difficult with an unconscious man on a shoulder and watching over the bandit. Each time Giliad edged closer to him, three or four grots appeared, forming a wall between them.

“Here!” A call came from ahead. The grots couldn’t understand the word but somehow they worked out the meaning behind it and charged the bandit without hesitation. They came for the kill this time. Giliad pushed his body once more to the limits, remembering about Zuma. One too-fast turn and the innkeeper’s body would snap like a twig.

Giliad’s speed surprised the grots. He swept the bandit off the ground, a loud grunt signalized the pain it caused him. They had no time for being delicate. Giliad cleared the thick bush and rows of trees and came vis-à-vis an entrance to a cave. In its mouth stood Wandering Rain beckoning them. Didn’t the man know how dangerous caves were in the jungle? Predators of all sizes loved them.

But right now it was the best place to defend against the greater number of attackers. He dropped both men the moment they crossed the threshold of the cave and spun ready to fight. He froze seeing a row of grots, piercing him with their three sets of eyes. Why weren’t they charging him? It had to be the best time, right? After the run, Giliad was supposed to be out of breath. Why then they were giving him a chance to catch up?

Behind him, the wilding and the bandit argued.

Grots withdrew one by one, leaving them be. Something was terribly wrong. It felt like the worst was still ahead of the four travelers.

*

“He brought us here,” the bandits said, point a finger like a dagger at Wandering Rain. “It was a trap.”

The wilding stared at him with disbelief. It seemed a bit out of character for the bandit to act in such an overt way. While it felt like they’d been led to the hunting ground with a deadly purpose in mind, Giliad knew it was not the truth.

“If his boss wanted us dead, she’d kill us in the tribe’s village.”

“What boss?” the bandit asked.

Zuma stirred before Giliad could answer and he immediately vomited.

“What happened?” he asked weakly when he regained his breath. The three men watched him with clouded faces. Then Wandering Rain disrupted the silence.

“She’s not my boss. She’s my goddess.”

“Goddess?” Zuma and the bandit asked at the same time. They looked up to Giliad.

“She isn’t goddess,” Giliad wasn’t keen on having an argument but making divinities out of people never lie well with him. “She is strong but not a goddess.”

“How do you know?”

“What are you talking about?” the bandit asked more lively. The topic stirred his interest.

“I had a chat with her.”

Wandering Rain got to his feet, his face underwent some twists and turns as he considered what to say. Giliad was surprised to find the wildling not to know this. The crazy water woman had ordered him to join Giliad’s party after all.

“She doesn’t show herself to the likes of us. She only speaks through Daughter of Rain. If you think you saw her, then you were likely tripping after eating something nasty.”

“Royalbloods don’t hallucinate,” the bandit said with solemnity. “And if she’s as mighty as you claim, Giliad. Then what are her motives? Why is he really with us?” Now he was asking questions? Giliad snorted softy. With ongoing hunger, exhaustion started to build up.

“Gil, what’s going on?” Zuma asked when Giliad’s lips remained sealed.

“I don’t know.” It was all Giliad had to say. In truth, the things got too complex for his taste and were messing with his plans. “Let’s rest here and head out for Soto in two hours.”

“We’re already in Soto,” Wandering Rain muttered, unhappy by how the conversation turned out. “Or more specifically, under Soto. This cave leads to an underground cave system called Tulum’s Caves. Your bandits won’t see us coming.”

The bandit’s eyes narrowed. Giliad knew right away that Wandering Rain brought them here for a reason (and it had nothing to do with a surprise attack on the bandits). A trip to the hunting grounds was only an excuse to get here. He didn’t comment about his boss’s motives but they were clearly getting closer to the truth. I need to be more careful about him from now on. I can’t trust the wildling anymore.

One more thing bothered him. If they were so close to Soto, why haven’t grots invaded it?