Diplomats and Fugitives (The Emperor's Edge Book 9) by Lindsay Buroker

the rifle in the darkness caused by the blocked windows. Despite his throbbing head, he knew they would be in more trouble if they were out there on foot.
    The lorry swerved again, and light filled the cab. A grimbal tumbled off the hood.
    “Can’t shoot them if they’re on top of us,” Jomrik grumbled.
    Basilard stepped toward the door, but Mahliki stopped him with a hand to the shoulder.
    “Let me try something,” she said, holding up a couple of vials.
    The vehicle struck something, and she flailed for a second, nearly falling into Basilard. She caught herself on the wall. A grinding noise came from the lorry’s engine. They had come to a stop.
    “I was afraid of that,” Jomrik said. “We’re in the mud, and it’s deep. Hold on. Trying to get us free.”
    Another grimbal hit the side of the vehicle. Claws gouged the door, and metal squealed like a dying animal.
    “They’re all around us,” Ashara yelled down from above.
    Basilard wished he had the ability to yell back, to order her to come inside. By now, more arrows protruded from the pelts of the grimbals throwing themselves at the lorry, but she was not safe up there, not even close. The massive creatures towered taller than the vehicle. Surely, they could easily swat her down. Indeed, thumps came from above. Paws striking the roof? Or Ashara jumping to avoid the creatures’ swipes? He couldn’t tell.
    Basilard tried to push open the door again, his rifle ready for more shots, but there was too much weight pressed against it. All of the grimbals had surrounded them, and they were trying to peel open the vehicle like a tin of sardines. Even though Jomrik had thrown the controls into reverse, the wheels spun uselessly, unable to find purchase in the soft earth. Mud flew everywhere, spattering the white coats of the creatures. Basilard could not tell if the ones coming from behind had caught up or not. There seemed to be claws and white fur everywhere.
    Maldynado managed to force his door open and start firing again. Mahliki leaned out behind him, hurling one of her vials. A shadow fell over her, and Basilard grabbed the collar of her shirt. She leaned back at the same time as he yanked her back. A bloody white paw swiped through the air, each claw as long as a dagger. Maldynado was firing at one of the animals on the hood and did not get out of the way in time. The paw clipped his shoulder, bashing him against the doorjamb. He grunted and stumbled against Jomrik.
    “Off,” the corporal snarled, as if giving a command to a naughty dog.
    “You talking to them or to me?” Maldynado asked, righting himself. He tossed his hat aside and reloaded the rifle.
    “Everyone. Is that blood on the floor of my lorry? I’m going to kill these ancestors-cursed monsters.”
    “Better not tell him it was my blood, eh?” Maldynado whispered to Mahliki, his words almost lost in the chaos.
    The vehicle lurched forward, rolling over something, and a howl erupted from outside. Jomrik smiled grimly. “One foot down.”
    More distressed howls sounded. Something more than a wheel rolling over a paw must have happened. Most of the cries came from the driver’s side of the vehicle. A greenish-blue smoke filled the air out there.
    “Now would be a good time to leave,” Mahliki said. “Even with the doors shut, that’s going to be acrid for us too.”
    “I’m trying to leave.” Jomrik batted his hanging duck feet and cursed under his breath.
    The sounds of grunts came from outside. No, those were coughs. Ashara.
    Basilard spun toward Mahliki, pointing toward the roof.
    “Tell her to come inside,” Mahliki said, shaking another vial, ready to throw it. “It’s going to get worse before it dissipates.”
    The press of shaggy white bodies had lessened, the creatures reeling back and swiping at their snouts as the smoke filled the air. Basilard tried his door again. This time, nothing was pressed against it. After taking a deep breath, he slipped outside. He climbed up,