Tallah [Book 3 Complete]

Quistis had seen grinners before, in Valen's underbelly and even in Aztroa's labyrinthine lower levels. In dark, secluded, and quiet places they weren't an uncommon sight to find, even if a terrifying one.

Being visited by an entire colony of the things was unheard of. Grinners weren't fond of company, neither alien nor their own species. They rarely came together, and even rarer did they approach humans of their own accord. As frightening as the beasts were, they were usually shy and gentle, quick to fright and flight, slow to aggression.

Quistis had once scared one off a loud boo!

Now her skin scrawled as her sprite cast long shadows through the waterway, showing off at least ten of the beasts approaching on long, thin limbs, dragging knuckles and claws across the wet, slimy floor.

"Captain? A wall, please?" Vial drew his curved atagan and stepped in front of her, ever her dutiful guard.

More grins joined from the dark beyond, needle teeth shining wetly beneath clusters of red, reflective eyes. There didn't make a sound, though grinners never did.

She shook away the shock of the sight and began weaving. First an outer barrier, loosely anchored to whatever crevice she could detect in the walls around. Then supports in the back of that. Then reinforcement, until she had a proper stopper in the mouth of the tunnel.

Falor still had the white electric flame atop his finger, looking from her to the horde. He could simply destroy the horde. Grinner were not dangerous to most channellers, especially not in a one-on-one fight. They burned as easily as kindling.

But something in Falor's demeanour up to here had Quistis wondering if he was reluctant about showing off his strength. There was only one person that he was so against meeting, and only one person about whom he would've warned Mertle and Tummy: his aunt Yriea, sole aelir'rei of the Calhad household, and the empress's highest adviser. Little wonder he didn't want to risk a face-to-face with that walking calamity.

They would always argue, like electric cats in a bag.

"See about the gate." She doubled her efforts as the grinners massed around the outer shell of her barrier. "I can hold them. Just don't take forever."

A grunt was all the answer she got, followed by the smell of overheated metal rising in the air along with the temperature.

"They're not attacking," Vial noted as he took a step forward, towards the edge of their walkway.

It was only a few steps that separated him from the creatures. And he was right. They weren't pressing against the barrier, weren't scratching at it nor testing. If anything, they'd stopped at the very edge and just stared.

"Not generally a violent animal," Quistis said, trying hard to remember if she'd ever read of an unprovoked grinner assault.

"Not generally a social one either." Vial's sword traced little eight-like patterns in the air as he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, eyes not straying from the gathered troupe. "Heard they're strong enough to snap a spine in two. If they get their hands on you, that is."

One wouldn't believe that just by looking at the things. Gaunt to the point of skeletal, hunched and ill-proportioned, with heads too large for their desiccated frames, arms too long, and legs bending like those of dogs. Everything about the creature screamed weakness.

Except the needle teeth that gave the monster its name.

And the razor-sharp claws promising painful disembowelment.

The middle of the waterway was deeper than the glassy surface suggested. Offal and worse slapped against the side of slimy stone banks. Something slid beneath the surface, dragging a v-shaped wave behind it.

It came all the way to the edge of the barrier, then rose from the depths of the filth.

Quistis met the eyes of the creatures that breaking the water's surface. It rose and kept rising until it stood fully erect, thigh deep in the sludge. It still towered head and shoulders over the others gathered. There were four mismatched eyes that bore into hers, intelligence plain as day in their depths. This latest arrival scattered some of the others as it approached and laid a hand on the barrier, painting a streak of smudged filth across the air.

The sight of it was terrifying in a way that bore into Quistis's very soul. This was not an animal. It couldn't be—

A grate crashed behind her and she jumped as Falor cursed. "Gods, that's hot!"

The grinner did not move.

Heartbeats later the commander was cutting the next one. The air around them, trapped behind her invisible bubble, sizzled and sputtered, growing from uncomfortable to stifling. Sweat plastered Quistis's hair to her scalp and to the nape of her neck, dripped down the slope of her nose as she worked at the barrier, adding layers. Maybe it wasn't necessary, but the way that large grinner regarded her spoke of a danger that couldn't be ignored.

"Some are wounded," Vial noted. He was pressed against the inside of the barrier, an arm's span away from the closest grinner. "This one's bit at the shoulder." He pointed with the back of his glove towards another creature. "That one's got fingers missing. Still bleeding."

Now that he pointed it out, she could also make out the various wounds. This group had suffered. Even the large one bore more than a few signs of battle, strips of skin flayed off its arms to reveal pink, glistening muscle beneath.

"Maybe some of the other things got down here," she ventured. It was a terrifying thought, to imagine the shambling dead somewhere farther in that waterway, shuffling their way to them. This wasn't an ideal place to make a stand.

A second grate fell with a heavy clang but without echoes, the sound muffled by the barrier. Falor was breathing harder now. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw him cringing through a small cut in the metal weave. He'd cut a large rent in the first layer, and a smaller one in the second since the edges of the cut still glowed red. Now he was almost on his knees cutting into the third, grumbling.

"Never rush in. She always said never to rush in. What the blazes am I doing then?"

"Captain," Vial called urgently and Quistis added another layer in a panic.

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The lager grinner took a step back from the suddenly expanded bubble. It raised a hand and dug its bone-white claws into the soft meat of its five-fingered paw. Then it smeared the blood across the air, drawing something in its blood. It was easy to understand what it was.

A red skull, crudely drawn, hung in the air, ruby-bright as it reflected the sprite light.

Was it warning them of danger? Or… threatening them?

Why? And… how?

They live in human places and we mark our dangers with skulls. It's almost universal. Did they learn this from us? Is it a warning?

Her heart climbed in her throat as the grinner raised its blood hand, formed a fist and extended a finger. It pointed straight at Falor. Or, maybe, at the hole he was cutting. In just a little more time he'd be through and they'd be inside Drak's Perch. What awaited in there that they'd be warned by such creatures of all things?

Was it something about the prison? Or about the Commander?

Or was it nothing at all? The grinner's eyes never strayed from hers, though she couldn't bear to keep meeting its placid expression.

"Commander, I think it's trying to communicate," she called out. "I think it's a warning."

"Lovely," came Falor's voice from behind her, thin with effort and lack of fresh air. "As if we needed more trouble than we already have on our hands."

"I don't think this behaviour is known."

"Lovely. Are they attacking?" He was straining with the work, forcing himself to speak calmly and measured. She could recognise the forgery of his good cheer.

"No. Just pointing at us."

"Long as they're not coming in. I don't want to have to kill them. If I don't need to." His aerum would run out soon. So would hers. Her head was growing light and a fuzz darkened the corners of her sight.

"Do you think they came here for protection?" Vial asked from up ahead. "Seems they're running from something. They might come into the prison if we drop the barrier."

"All. The. Better." Falor bit off each word as he struggled to move the heavy iron grate and not burn himself on the other hot, jagged edges. "As long. As they give. My aunt. Something else to focus on."

He let out a slow breath and the buzz finally dispersed.

"Mind the edges." Falor's voice was already coming from deeper within.

"Get going, Vial." Quistis held up the barrier and considered if to let them drop or not. Were those glints of reflected sprite light farther into the tunnel? Were those teeth?

The farthest grinner turned just as Vial passed her, resheathing his weapon.

More followed.

"Come, Captain." Vial's voice was past the grate, worry in his every word. "Come on. There's no guard."

But Quistis couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight unfolding.

Something else moved through the dark. The sprite's light shivered as Quistis took in the sight. Several more grinners turned slowly, arms extending to the sides, claws at the ready.

A mound of flesh oozed through the water, pushing the filth and excrement forward like a bow wave. It squirmed on legs made of too many knees and elbows, dragging itself forward with a forest of limbs that rolled one over the other, cracked and splintered, reformed. Red, palm-sized roaches crawled on the walls and ceiling ahead of the aberration. Their chitters filled the air with bouncing echoes that the barrier barely absorbed.

For the first time—and maybe this was a first for human history—Quistis heard a grinner scream. Its voice broke her heart. Pain and fear and desperation warred with each other in that wordless cry.

The large one turned and advanced through the water, pushing the others behind it.

"Captain?"

She heard Vial's footsteps approaching. Felt his hand grip her arm. Yank her back. She resisted. More of them were screaming now, their voices as clear as bells.

"I am of the many." Quistis wrenched her arm away from Vial's grip. "And I am of the few."

She pushed Vial back. "Go through. Now. Go. Go."

"Wh—"

She pushed him again, harder, right through the gap in the grates.

Then she turned and tore down her barriers. The stink hit her like a physical blow, rotted flesh, animal musk, human excrement, all of it roiling in a soup of disease. She also heard the low thrum of the advancing thing, almost a voice that sang.

She didn't need to think too much of what the song was. Ort's hymn, the only one his priests ever farted out. Falor could believe in the god's innocence all he wanted, but she'd seen little evidence of it. Here, again, was a creature that could only be his.

And the creature slammed into her barrier with the force of a rolling rock. She was braced for it from the moment she began weaving. It didn't help with the backlash as it staggered her steps. But she recovered, drew herself up, and continued weaving on.

Now the grinners were all looking at her, eyes wide, jaws hanging slack.

"Don't stare at me, morons." Could they even understand the words? Did they get what she meant? "Run!" For emphasis, she pointed at the gaping wound in the back of the tunnel. Most of them would fit through.

They all turned and regarded the large one. The wall of flesh was pressed so tight against Quistis's barrier, just paces away from the gathered creatures, that it had compacted into a slab of muscle and sinew, writhing against the invisible wall. Cracks formed in the air, but Quistis still had enough illum to mend them.

But the roaches slithered through. First one found a way past some edge that didn't seal properly. Then two. Then more. Tentacles of boneless meat squirmed through, in spite of her efforts, reaching for her.

The large grinner let out a chitter of its own, teeth clicking together rapidly as it swept its gaze around those cringing, shivering things. To Quistis's surprise, they all bowed to her as they turned again and made for Falor's opening. She could hear Falor's voice from the other side, calling her name, with Vial next to him.

"Don't hurt them." She took a step back, feeling the tension of maintaining the barrier as the monster worried at its edges. The beetles nipped at her boots, tried to climb her legs. She kicked and stomped, trying to retreat.

There was now a flood of the creatures, and a great big commotion at the grate with the grinners trying to slither through the small opening. Falor kept calling her name.

"Go." She reached out but stopped herself before touching the grinner.

It, instead, touched her. In a swift, fluid motion, it picked her up in its arms and ran with her to the passage into Drak's Perch, covering the distance in a strides. Behind them the barrier bucked and shattered, the flesh spilling into the tunnel again, advancing with wet, slapping sounds. A cacophony of mouths sang in dissonance and filled the sewer with their echoes.

Quistis didn't have time to be surprised before she was almost thrown through the cooling gap. Strong hands gripped her clothes and pulled her through. Falor. His face outlined by lightning, eyes black, his frown a storm.

The grinner followed through, compacting itself through the much too small gap, bones creaking and popping as it squeezed through.

"Made us a friend," Quistis gasped out as Falor and the creature stared at one another. "Best we don't tarry, yes?"

They had broken through into what could only be the bottom of a privy. The stench was just as bad, the room small and crowded with bodies, the heat stifling. In Falor luminescence, she spied a heavy door against one wall. Two grinners were already pushing at it, the wood creaking with their effort.

"I trust your judgement, Quis." Falor gave her shoulders a squeeze, then marched towards the creatures, maul in hand. "Stand back."

When the door shattered under the third blow, screaming echoes burst in from the other side.

It was all about to get far worse.