The Cryptic wasenormous, with a bulky build that reminded him of a badger, if a badger shaved off all its fur and put on scale armor. It had a thick tail that ended in calloused lumps of bone, thick enough to pulverize a person with one blow. The half-moon claws were as long as swords, six each per massive, scaled leg.
Definitely a Rank Four.
It slammed its claws into the cave walls again and again, trying to turn Luc into jelly. And it would, Rolan feared, if even one of those blows struck home. The Arcanist was clumsy and slow, his wounds clearly having drained his strength. He didn’t so much as dodge the monster’s attacks as he stumbled away from them.
Rolan’s ribs seemed to knit together, squeezing the air from his lungs. Luc must have fought this Cryptic already, gotten seriously wounded, and retreated to the cave to rest and heal.
And Rolan had led it straight to him.
“HEY!” he yelled, waving the torch. “Over here, ugly! Look at me! I’m a tasty little snack, huh? Come take a bite!”
“No,”Luc gasped out.“Get out!”
Rolan wondered how Luc imagined he would do that, given the massive Cryptic blocking the way.
He also wondered what intruthhe was thinking, luring the monster’s attention to himself. Because it worked. The Cryptic’s heavy head swung his way.
“Yikes!” Rolan grimaced in disgust.
A single, enormous eye glared at him from the center of the creature’s forehead. It was entirely black and lidless, rimmed with pale spikes. The long, tapered snout glittered with fangs that curled over its lips and flung spittle when it hissed.
“Whew, you areugly,” Rolan said.
The Cryptic pounced.
Rolan went limp, dropping the torch.
He had no idea if jelly bones would work against a monster thesize of a barn, but it was the only plan his brain could think of. He folded like an empty grain sack, transforming from terrified boy to terrified puddle.
Astonishingly, the Cryptic paused.
It stared at him as if bewildered, then prodded him with its nose, snuffling like a pig after truffles. Rolan lay very still, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his tongue struggling to contain the moan of dread that bubbled in his throat.
Even Luc look stunned, frozen to Rolan’s left.
The monster’s head was so close now that its large, insect-like eye hovered just over Rolan’s belly. His hand tightened around his dagger. If he thrust upward fast enough—
The Cryptic roared.
Its mouth stretched to its full size, a rain of venomous spit plastering Rolan from head to toe. Its upper fangs gleamed inches from Rolan’s eyes, while its monstrous, quivering tongue dragged across his chest.
Luc surged toward him, one hand wrapped around his bleeding torso, the other dragging his sword. He swung wildly, scoring a deep wound across the Cryptic’s neck.
It swung its head toward him, still roaring.
“Get out of here, boy!”
“How?” Rolan cried, scrambling to his feet. Funny how his wounds, which had felt incapacitating on his walk to Luc’s house, suddenly felt as significant as ant bites.
Luc stood over Rolan and faced the Cryptic. It gathered itself, preparing to pounce. Luc spread his feet, gripping his sword with one hand. With the other, he picked up the torch Rolan had dropped.But Rolan could see the tremble in the big man’s limbs. The blood dripping from his hands.
“When I say run,” panted the Arcanist, “run.”
“We’ll run together, right?”
“Together.”
Rolan nodded, his pulse drumming in his ears. He wondered if the Cryptic would be a good sport and give him time to throw up before it attacked.
