The group followed Number One as he tracked the nettlegeist through the woods, following a light blood trail that the monster had left behind as well as some subtle disturbances in the foliage. Sam would certainly not have noticed most of it if the old chimp didn't point out what he saw every so often, keeping a measured pace to avoid getting ahead of the others.
It was nice not to be stuck in a gray bubble anymore, actually able to see some of the terrain around her. The forest was less dense than it had seemed when fog was plugging all the gaps. Without all the bullshit in the way, it was also easier to avoid thickets and thorny bushes.
Number One soon led them out into a large clearing that sloped up toward a low hill at its center. The hill was riddled with big dark holes that Sam quickly realized were tunnels, bloody idols of carven bone posted about the place as though to dissuade visitors.
Number One turned to his father and signed something. Mongrel nodded.
"That looks an awful lot like a grumpling den," he said with a weary sigh, scratching angrily at his neck. "Number One thinks the nettlegeist went in there. Damn things must be friends of his."
"Shit," Price muttered.
"What does that mean?" Oatmeal asked, looking around at the others. "Is that bad?"
"It means we've got our work cut out, at the very least," Mongrel replied without a glance at the youth.
Sam was about to ask if it was possible that the den was abandoned, but her question was answered as she saw several pairs of eyes glittering in the openings, heard low voices chattering incomprehensibly when she strained her ears.
"Well, guess there's nothing for it," Mongrel said. "The sun isn't getting any higher with us farting around. No choice but to go in and clear the place."
"Can we do that?" Oatmeal asked.
"You better hope so." He pointed at Sam. "You better go first, girl. You're the only one who can take a good knock upside the head without your brains spilling out. Genius, I reckon you're too big. You stay out here and cheer us on or something."
"Okay," Gug intoned, digging in his nose with a pinky finger.
"I've got this one, guys," Sam said. "Let me do this on my own."
Mongrel hissed as he scratched himself too hard, pulled his hand away to inspect the fresh blood under his fingernails. "Bad idea, kid. That's a big nest right there—no telling how many of the little fuckers are inside. I know you think you've got something to prove, but going into a place like that without backup is pretty crazy, even for you."
"I'm doing it," Sam insisted, arms tightly crossed to hide the fact that her hands were trembling.
Mongrel didn't back down, hands on hips and chin outthrust in that annoying way of his. "I've known a thousand stupid kids like you, and most of 'em died before they got old and wise like me. Young people all think they're unkillable until something kills 'em. You're not as invincible as you think, all right? If you die out here, Will is going to fucking shishkebab me with that sword of his, and I'm not too keen on that."
"I'm doing it," Sam repeated. She turned to Gug, the troll looking back at her with a vapid, vaguely questioning look on his blunt cinderblock of a face. "Gug, would you mind asking your brother to come out for me? I could use his help with something."
Gug did not mind. One Brainstorm later, and his colder, sterner self manifested in full force.
Sam explained to him what she wanted. "Would it be possible for you to link us up with Telepathy so that when I'm in there, you can hit me with a Power Word [Rage] or something? Just to, uh, make sure I have the guts to do what I gotta."
"You do not look angry enough for that to be effective on you," Nug said, then heaved his massive shoulders in a shrug. "Although, I believe I can make something work."
She nodded her approval.
Realizing that he wasn't going to win an argument against her, Mongrel decided not to stand in her way. "I'd offer you a sword," he said, "but it's looking like it might get a little tight in there to be maneuvering a blade around."
Sam took his point. She hadn't planned on bringing a weapon at all, but in the end she went and fetched a small hatchet strapped to Zero's packing that they normally used to chop firewood. Weighing it in her hand, she decided it would have to do. She had her belt knife as a backup, too, if she needed it.
Oatmeal looked supremely relieved that he wouldn't need to do any fighting after all. Price stooped to prepare a torch for Sam while Mongrel put a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"Grumplings are common enough that I've fought a couple in my time," he said, "so let me tell you what's up with these guys."
"All right," Sam replied.
"Their innate ability is called Hordeling Outburst. I guess it gives them a sort of hivemind. They're normally pretty cowardly, so they prefer to set up ambushes and the like. They look dumb as bricks, and just one on its own isn't too dangerous to deal with, but they're crazy coordinated. Kind of like those creepy twins who do everything in sync and finish each other's sentences and shit."
"Right."
"Expect them to get sneaky with you is all I'm saying. I've never known anyone stupid enough to walk into a grumpling den, let alone come back out again, so I can't tell you what you'll find in there. Watch your ass."
"Got it. Any chance we can talk them down? Do you think they speak our language?"
"They're fluent in gibberish and that's about it. Besides that, they're as friendly as a pack of piranhas."
"Actually, piranhas aren't really that aggressive toward humans. In fact, they're mostly herbivorous for some parts of the year."
"Kid, seriously, who cares?"
"I do, because I had to sit through a whole ten-minute lecture from Will when I made a comparison like that."
Once she was ready, Nug came and cast Telepathy on her, placing one finger against her forehead to apply the skill effect more easily. She expected it to feel strange, like having someone else stuffed into her head, but there was only a light creeping sensation across her skull that quickly faded. Nug explained that the connection was only one-way unless he chose otherwise, meaning she wouldn't be able to view his mind at all, only the other way around.
Then, while the others remained at the edge of the clearing, Sam approached the hill alone, hatchet in one hand and flaming torch in the other. The indistinct chattering from inside dropped to a low murmur as she got closer, the eyes glaring at her from those tunnels seeming to have multiplied since she first spotted them.
She stopped about twenty feet from the nearest entrance and shouted: "Hey! You in there!"
The hill grew completely silent. The only sound was a light wind sighing through the trees.
"I don't have any quarrel with you," she continued, "just the thing you're harboring. If you let me pass, there's no reason for us to fight."
There was no response. One pair at a time, the eyes vanished, until she was staring at a messy collection of dark, empty cave entrances.
Sam was pretty sure that meant they'd rejected her offer, but it still remained to be seen. Forcing herself into action before inertia could root her feet to the ground, she picked one of the larger tunnels and stepped inside. Almost instantly, the world narrowed in on her, darkness closing all about her with only a slim circle of insufficient, flickering light cast by her firebrand as she held it out before her.
She spared a single glance back at the entrance, took a deep breath to steel herself, and continued.
The tunnel was wide enough for her to maneuver without much impediment, but she had to walk just a little bit crouched to avoid hitting her head off the uneven ceiling. Hanging roots brushed over her face and hair like trailing fingers. They made her shiver. It smelled like mold and dirt and rancid flesh. She quickly learned the source of the latter as her feet kicked off bits of bone, some of which still had bits of gray, rotted tissue attached.
The remains of some other unfortunate travelers, she guessed.
The walls were covered in a strangely thick mat of slimy mushrooms of various sizes and species, their umbrella tops producing a faint, arrhythmic drum beat as water dripped from the moist earthen ceiling to hit off them.
She stopped as she reached a small chamber with three other paths branching out from it, unsure which one would get her to the nettlegeist. She held up her torch while she scanned the cave floor for any signs of the blood trail they had followed, but it was so covered in debris and old, dried-in bodily fluids that she doubted she'd have much luck there.
Then, all at once, the tunnel system came alive in an explosion of frenzied movement, chattering and shrieking and the pounding of bare feet coming from every direction at once.
A whole heap of four feet tall, hairy bundles of fury sprang at her from the shadows. They were like some bizarre variety of monkey with too-big heads, round saucer eyes, and wide mouths lined with many needle teeth. She tried to beat them back with her torch, but as soon as she turned one way there were others jumping on her from behind. Several grumplings latched onto her back and hung off her arms, trying to pin her down. One clambered onto her shoulders and clapped its hands down over her eyes, effectively blinding her, while screaming in her ear so loud that she quickly could only hear ringing on that side.
Sam dropped her torch on the ground to free up a hand, caught the beast riding her shoulders by a handful of greasy fur, and flung it ahead of her with force, not bothering to determine where it landed.
The creatures bit her, clawed her, stabbed at her with crude knives of flint or bone, buffeting her this way and that with the sheer weight of their stinking bodies.
"Nug!" she shouted, her voice nearly drowned under the chorus of unholy gibbering that issued from the grumplings. "I need that Power Word now! Please hurry!" She could only hope that his connection to her mind was still holding strong.
The reply was almost instant.
Sam's stomach lurched like she was looking over the edge of a very tall building, and her eyes went wide as there was suddenly too little air inside that chamber, everything all staid and moist and clinging to her skin, countless voices screaming, bodies pressing too close, pulling on her.
She'd never make it out of this cave alive.
She'd die in here, and she wouldn't be able to go back and help Will, and he would die, and all her friends would die, and it would all be her fault.
My fault.
With a high yell, voice breaking, Sam brought down the hatchet on the closest furry head in front of her, felt the skull splitting under its weight as easily as a piece of firewood, the metal head buried up to the shaft. A pair of huge eyes rolled back, and she felt the little body spasming through the handle before going slack.
It was the first time she had ever felt something die by her hand.
But there were so many more of them. She'd never get them all.
She couldn't breathe.