The smell preceded the creatures. Acid rose in the back of Ayn’s throat, the urge to vomit warring with the dread.

  Rotten flesh hung from naked, almost human bodies. Four thick legs sprouted from each torso, ending in mottled and paddle-like feet tipped with claws. The whole of their bulk lay flat on the dirt, with long necks undulating in front of them like snakes. The heads on the serpentine necks were an odd mix of insect, bird, and mammal, which Ayn had no desire to study. A set of tiny, flesh-colored bat wings sprouted from each creature’s back, and they flapped incessantly as the creatures propelled themselves forward in awkward jumps. Each jump ended with a wet smack as they flopped to the ground.

  Bren bolted to one corner of the room. Ayn had just enough time to consider whether he’d abandon them when he vomited. Ayn felt more than a little queasy herself. She stepped back as the flopping mounds of rotten flesh closed in. She’d meant to step forward, to bring out her weapons and shield Sheyric while he finished his chant, but her body wouldn’t listen.

  Kayara pushed ahead. “Stay next to Sheyric. Don’t let them stop him.”

  One of the creature’s faces split open. Kayara grunted, the back foot she’d picked up in preparation to strike dropping back down. It took Ayn a second to realize what had happened. A fleshy tube as thick as Ayn’s thumb led from Kayara to the creature. Ayn’s breath grew rapid as she stared at the back of Kayara’s shoulder blade. A bony needle attached at the end of the tube had pierced through Kayara’s armor and body in a flash. Two more needles pierced through. Blood bloomed at the site of the injuries.

  The needles vanished with a sickening sound; the creature’s faces snapping shut as the tubes coiled within. Spots of blood turned to free-flowing streams.

  “Kayara!” Ayn’s voice came out weak and tremulous. The rest of her felt just as weak. She stumbled back, hit a moving mass of fur, and hit the dirt on her backside. Kayara’s wolverine barreled toward the creatures, snarling all the way.

  The creature’s faces slit again, the tubes whipping out at the wolverine. Each needle found its mark. The wolverine didn’t slow. It hit the lead creature with fury, ripping and tearing large chunks of putrid flesh free. Kayara joined in, slashing and yelling with equal fury. Although pieces of the creatures splattered across the walls and floors, it brought no hope to Ayn, for every piece torn away grew back within seconds. The creatures writhed, using all their bulk to shield their heads, and when their tongues grew back, lashed out. More blood ran free. Kayara slowed.

  “Sheyric. Hurry!” Ayn pleaded from her pathetic position on the floor. Sheyric’s chant remained the same. It likely had to, leaving them at the mercy of the Abyssal creatures until it finished.

  A cone of fire shot past Ayn’s head. It fanned out, engulfing Kayara, the wolverine, and the creatures in flames. High-pitched screams came from the fire, and for a second, Ayn had the horrified thought one was Kayara, but the cone cut off, leaving only three charred mobs.

  Ayn pushed up onto wobbly legs. Kayara and her wolverine fought on, yet as shadows passed over them, Ayn saw others—a knight whose armor had turned red; a cleric’s body, the first to succumb to the ambush.

  Sheyric’s chant stopped. The decomposing masses shrieked, undulating backwards down the tunnel until they vanished from view. The other groups of mobs—the alarms in Ayn’s head placing them behind the walls and about to attack—faded away with the whispers.

  The tablet disappeared into Sheyric’s inventory as his hands glowed blue, lighting up Kayara and her wolverine until the bleeding stopped.

  Ayn wanted to rush to Kayara’s side, to make sure her wounds were healed, to apologize for being utterly worthless, but her traitorous body still refused to respond. She half-sat, half-fell back to the dirt and tucked her knees to her chest. If she kept going, she’d get this party killed, too. Kayara approached, and she tucked in harder, willing herself to disappear.

  “Ayn…”

  “You guys go on without me,” Ayn said.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to get you killed.”

  “You’re the only one who can tell where they’re at, and where the tablets are likely to be. That seems the opposite of getting us killed.”

  “I’m also worthless for anything else. All I could do was watch while you got torn up. Even if one got past, I don’t think I’d have stopped it from reaching Sheyric.”

  Kayara kneeled down and placed a hand on Ayn’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of the mobs, whether I can kill them or not. You just point the way, okay?”

  “And quickly, please,” Bren said. “Or we’ll be in danger of dying for sure.”

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  Kayara glared at him. “Stow it, Choir Boy.”

  “No,” Ayn said. “He’s right. The longer we stay in one place, the more danger we’re in.”

  She kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see any of the expressions on her party member’s faces. The hate and disgust were no doubt rising in all three of them. She deserved it.

  “So? He still needs to figure out when to keep his mouth shut,” Kayara said.

  “Keep my mouth shut?” Bren asked. “Yes. Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut as I walk. We’ll find the tablets regardless of whether she cares to join us. Sheyric!”

  Ayn saw Sheyric jump out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t budge.

  “Then have fun dying.” Bren’s footsteps headed out of the room.

  “Sheyric,” Kayara said. “Go.”

  Venom laced her words, although Ayn couldn’t tell who it was aimed at.

  Sheyric shuffled by. As soon as he did, Kayara shifted position, looped her arms around Ayn’s chest, and pulled. Ayn couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to. Kayara’s grip was like a vise, and she pulled Ayn into a standing position with ease.

  “You’re coming, too,” Kayara growled into Ayn’s ear. “Even if I have to drag you around like this.”

  “You’ll die.”

  “If I can’t fight because I’m dragging you? Probably. We can die together. Don’t like it? Stand on your own damn legs.”

  True to her word, Kayara walked backwards, forcing Ayn to walk as well, or be dragged. To take herself out of the equation was one thing, especially if it meant saving her party from her failures, but to be dragged around like a sack of potatoes and pulling Kayara down with her in the process was too much.

  She tugged at Kayara’s hands. “Let go.”

  “You going to walk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Kayara released her and stepped back.

  “Come on, then.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  *****

  Bren and Sheyric were easy to find. All Ayn had to do was chase the bubble of safety surrounded by mobs causing her Sixth Sense to blare.

  After some terse words, Ayn steered them all toward what she hoped was the next tablet. Her hunch proved correct. Another altar, this time guarded by what Ayn could only describe as giant land shrimp covered in pink fungus, yielded a second tablet, which Kayara snatched. Although the writing on it was different, the effect seemed the same, so Ayn led them on.

  Hairy goat-men with gaping maws full of teeth. Flying masses of eyes. More iridescent black blobs. Kayara and Sheyric took turns reading their tablets and keeping the mobs at bay, yet with each passing minute, the mobs seemed to grow braver, and the party’s mood more sour.

  By the time they found the fourth altar, things were at their snapping point. This bone altar, identical to all the others, stood in an alcove at the back of a circular, large room.

  Ayn stared at the newest tablet. She tried not to glance at the glowing slimes creeping along the room’s walls, or the flying eyes perched on roots.

  “Take. The. Tablet,” Kayara said.

  She’d kept her word. Her daggers were at the ready, her back turned to Ayn as she watched the mobs crowd in. If one broke through, she’d fight to the death. Ayn knew that, and she hated it.

  Bren glared at Ayn, whatever nasty remark was on his tongue stuck as he chanted from his tablet. When they’d retrieved the third tablet, they’d realized something. Not only were they untradeable, but each party member could also only hold one. Ayn was the only one who could get the next tablet.

  “Tablet,” Sheyric growled. He took a step toward Ayn.

  Ayn reached toward the tablet. The things kept the mobs at bay, but they didn’t keep the floor from poisoning their minds. They were at each other’s throats, and Ayn worried about the consequences of staying longer, yet something still made her hesitate. The creatures seemed…eager.

  “Pick up the damn tablet!” Kayara yelled.

  Her wolverine whirled from its position at Kayara’s side and snapped at Ayn’s ankle. Ayn jumped, hitting the altar and unseating the tablet. It brushed her hand as it fell, vanishing into her inventory. All went silent.

  The iridescent blobs absorbed into the walls. The many flying eyes closed, blinking out of existence. At the room’s only exit, larger creatures receded as if in a dream, shrinking from view without a hint of movement.

  Bren finished his chant, but the scowl didn’t leave his face. “About damn time. For not wanting us to die, you sure seem willing to give these abominations some extra opportunities.”

  “Like you plowing ahead?” Kayara said. “You really think your squishy ass would last without me and her?”

  “Oh, right. Because she’s being so helpful.”

  “Shut up!” Sheyric’s outburst echoed around the room as silence crashed back down.

  Ayn could almost see the red cloud Bren and Kayara’s vision. Ice ran down Ayn’s spine as Kayara’s daggers came up. She reached out in what felt like slow motion.

  Mist appeared. Kayara fumbled her assault, Ayn’s sluggish attempt at stopping her farther off the mark than the ranger’s daggers as they sliced an opening in Sheyric’s robe but drew no blood. Sheyric stumbled and fell. Kayara whirled away from him, her wolverine’s focus following its companion.

  “What the hell is it now?” Kayara asked through gritted teeth.

  A flood of dread drowned any relief Ayn might have felt from the sudden distraction.

  A single iridescent black slime appeared in the center of the room, glowing mutely through the mist. Its round contours went rigid, triangular, the corners sharp enough to cut. Kayara lunged at it with a snarl. The mist thickened. It wrapped around Kayara, obscuring her, and everything else, from view.

  Silence.

  “Kayara?” Ayn’s voice came out weak and thready.

  “Where did the wolverine go?” Bren asked. All anger had drained from his words, and seemingly from his skin as he paled.

  Ayn understood his fear. The wolverine hadn’t moved. It had been right next to them, bristling at the mist, when Kayara attacked. Then, when the mist enveloped the ranger, it…wasn’t.

  Growling came from the mist. For a second, Ayn’s heart jumped in excitement. Perhaps the wolverine had slipped past while they were distracted. But no. The growl wasn’t the deep-chested rumbled of the animal. This growl clattered like bones, a low moan of pain laced underneath, with threads of something more sinister which wormed itself into Ayn’s head. The alarm of her Sixth Sense increased until all became white noise.

  Her body and mind paralyzed, she could only watch as creatures the size of ponies emerged from the mist. Hounds. The word came to mind, but it wasn’t right any more than the sound they made was a growl. One stalked toward her. A facsimile of a skull filled her sight. The air left her chest, then darkness descended.