But rat-men? They were different. There was something nasty about them, something dirty. There was always an odor that reminded me of garbage, or rotten meat. It wasn’t strong, just enough to make you grimace. They did the types of jobs that no one else really wanted, like garbage collection, corpse disposal, and chamber pot emptying. And they seemed to relish those jobs. At least, I never heard of one complaining.
“You come,” the rat-man repeated, reaching out to my shirt again. I drew back out of his range.
“No! Get out of here, will you?”
I turned from the thing and started walking off with Brindar again. The rat-man scuttled around us and got in front of me. I had no choice but to stop, or else walk over him.
“Please, come. You come.”
“Persistent thing,” Brindar muttered.
“Look, I’m not coming with you to whatever nasty hole you call home. For all I know there’s a horde of your brothers and sisters waiting to roll me. Not going to happen. Get it? Do you understand?”
I made to move around him, but he shifted to get in front of me again. I sighed, pushed him none too gently to the side, and walked on.
“Please,” his voice came from behind me, “he kills us.”
Brindar and I stopped in our tracks and glanced at each other before turning back.
“What are you talking about?” Brindar asked.
“The man,” the rat-man was looking at the cobblestones, his voice only a whisper. “He’s does things, hurts us, bleeds us…”
Rat-man or not, my previous feeling of disgust went out the window. Maybe they were vile, repulsive little creatures, but if this one was telling the truth…well, no one should have to come to someone else with a story like this.
“You in?” I asked Brindar.
He nodded, still watching the little rat-man who stood before us. “Yeah, I think I am.”
From the rumble in his voice, Brindar was as angry about this as I was.
The rat-man led us to a large hole covered by a grate on the side of the street. He bent down and struggled to pull the grate loose. Despite his size, and the very heavy iron grate, it started to shift. After watching the rat-man continue to struggle, Brindar bent down, and moved the grate aside easily. The gratitude on the rat-man’s face was almost pitiful to behold.
He sat on the edge of the hole, pushed himself off, and dropped out of sight. There was a soft splash, and then a whispered, “come, come” from below.
Brindar stepped back and swept his arm out, inviting me to go first. I grimaced, but stepped forward and repeated what I saw the rat-man do. A moment later, I landed ankle deep in cold, stinking water, ten feet below street level.
“Careful,” I called up. “It’s a pretty good drop.”
The light from the sky was blocked out as Brindar moved into position. I moved aside to give him room, and he dropped down beside me, splashing me with some of the water. I should have moved further away.
“Alright,” I growled, wiping the water from my shirt and instantly regretting getting it on my hand. “Which way?”
“Come,” the rat-man said. “This way. Quiet. Shhh. Come.”
He took off with a scurrying gait down the tunnel of water that stretched off in both directions, his long tail hanging out of a rip in the ragged pants that he wore. The tunnel was made of vaulted stone, which wept cold droplets of water. It was illuminated every several feet by shafts of bright light coming down through grated holes like the one we came through, but in between those areas, it was inky black.
“I don’t even have a torch,” I muttered. “I don’t suppose you have one of those lantern things, do you?”
“Nope,” Brindar replied. “But it’s not really that dark down here.”
Maybe not for a dwarf, used to living somewhere like Underworld, and obviously not for our rat-man guide who scuttled ahead of us, but for me, it was like the middle of the night.
“You stay behind the rat-man,” I said. “I can see you easier.”
For the next several minutes, we were a strange parade as we made our way through the sewers. Finally, we came to another tunnel which met ours at a type of crossroads, sloping down to the left, and up to the right. Uphill, there was still the occasional spot of light from the grates, but heading down, there were no such areas.
“We’re heading down that way, aren’t we?” I said.
Neither the rat-man nor Brindar responded. They simply took the left turn and started down the slope, because of course we were.
I held on to the back of Brindar, reminding me of our time in Underworld. Only this time I wasn’t as worried about something sneaking up behind me in the dark. Instead, I worried that I would step in a hole and find myself sinking into the stinking water. Which, I was dismayed to notice, was getting deeper, until it poured in over the tops of my boots, soaking my feet, and rose still higher, first to my calves, then to my knees.
It was bad enough for me, but even deeper on Brindar. For the rat-man, it was even worse. He must have been wading through water that came up to his chest, and even his neck in some spots.
Ahead of us, I made out a light, flickering in the darkness. It was a torch, shoved into a holder on the wall of the tunnel. While I was very relieved to see the light, I was also somewhat worried about who, or what, placed it there.
Our guide moved forward without hesitation. The water started to get shallower again as the tunnel first leveled out, then started a slight slope upwards. The water became no more than a trickle, coming down the middle of the floor, but leaving the rest slimy and slippery.
The perfect environment for those slugs, I thought to myself.
The rat-man kept on, with the torches flickering on the walls every twenty feet apart.
“Hey,” I called out, “who put these torches here?”
“Shhhh. Quiet, quiet. Come,” the voice came back.
Brindar glanced at me and loosened Biter in its belt loop. I did the same with my gun. While I didn’t think the rat-man was leading us into a trap, you could never be too careful.
Finally, he stopped, and moved over so that he hugged the wet wall of the tunnel. Brindar and I did the same, although I grimaced at the thought of touching the tunnel wall. After a moment, the rat-man slowly peeked around the corner. I saw him release the breath that he was holding, and motioning us forward, turned the corner.
There were several other rat-men waiting there. When we appeared, one of them gave a squeal and rushed forward. Our guide opened his arms and the squealer threw herself into them. They hugged fiercely and nuzzled each other. Although I still found rat-men to be disgusting, it was a touching gesture. For all the world, it was like a worried wife welcoming home her husband after he completed a dangerous job.
The was a lot of chittering and squeaking noises, from both our guide and his significant other, and from the group gathered in front of them. I realized that they were talking in their own language, which was nice for them, but the high-pitched noises sent shivers down my spine.
“Look," I said, "I appreciate that you’re the returning hero and all, but I’d like to get out of here as soon as I can. Go back to my lady? Understand?”
Our guide turned to us, holding the hand of the rat-woman.
“Down there,” he gestured to a small side tunnel. This one wasn’t made of arched stone, tightly fitted, like the one we were in, Instead, the stones were pulled from the wall at this point, and a rough tunnel was dug from the earth behind it. It sloped down steeply, and turned a sharp corner. The torches continued that way, telling me that whoever was down there didn’t see in the dark like the rat-men.
If they were human, I didn’t need to reset the gun, which I couldn’t until tomorrow anyway. The normal little, metal ball did enough damage on its own for work like that. And if it didn’t, Biter had no problem cutting through human flesh.
“We’ll go see what’s going on. Are you coming?”
The rat-man looked at his woman, who shook h
er head slightly and tightened her grip on his paw. I saw him hesitate, then turn to me and Brindar, and take a deep breath.
“I come,” he said, and gently took his hand back. He hugged his woman, said something in their language, and walked over to us.
As we started down the new tunnel, I looked back. The rat-woman was watching us go, her paws clasped tightly together in front of her. The others stood behind her, looking equally as worried.
“We’ll bring him back,” I said gently. Hell, rat-men or not, I could appreciate the act of bravery it took for him to come with us.
We walked quietly down the slope, the rat-man back in front, leading the way. It took a sharp turn to the right, and as before, he hugged the wall and peered around the corner before continuing. There were no other turnoffs that I saw. Just more tunnel, always sloping down, leading us deeper into the earth.
Finally, we made our cautious way around yet another bend and came to level ground. The tunnel continued on for a good distance, making another sharp turn at the end of it. But here, for the first time, was a dark, gaping hole in the wall, out of which came a horrible stench.
“What do you think?” I asked Brindar.
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m not keen on the idea of leaving something behind us,” he replied.
“Me neither.” I grabbed one of the torches from its holder on the wall and started toward the hole.
“No,” the rat-man whispered. “Not there. Not there.”
“Sorry, friend,” I continued on. “I want to see what’s in there before we go any further.”
The rat-man stopped protesting, but stood, rubbing his paws together nervously again. “Nothing there. Nothing but death.”
Brindar and I stepped through the gap in the wall, the torch held high in my hand, and my breath held against the stench.
I stopped short, the flickering light illuminating what was in that chamber. Brindar uttered a harsh curse in his own tongue.
Piles of rat-people bodies lay strewn across the floor. Most of them looked drained, their cheeks sunken in and their muscles loose on their frames. Eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, and tongues lolled from their mouths. Some had been here for a long time. Others looked like they had been placed here recently.
“By the Gods,” I whispered. My stomach revolted and I turned and let loose. Brindar grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the main tunnel, retching himself.
Once there, we both sank down, our backs against the wall. The stench was still strong here, but compared to being inside that chamber, it felt like fresh, spring air. This was almost a real-life version of the visions that the Death Knight had shown Lilly and I in his tower.
I looked at the rat-man and saw the tears shining in his eyes. “Death,” he whispered. “He kills us.”
I nodded, my sadness and nausea turning to rage.
“You’re right about that, my friend. Death,” I said as I stood up. “This time though, it won’t be for your people.”
Brindar rose to his feet also, his face clouded with anger. “Lead on,” he growled, his hand finding Biter.
The rat-man nodded, turned, and started down the tunnel again. When he reached the corner, he stopped, holding up his paw to tell us to do the same, and very slowly and cautiously, peered around it.
He snuck out, staying pressed against the wall, and Brindar and I followed him. This new stretch of tunnel didn’t lead very far. It continued for only a few yards before dead-ending at a door set into the wall. The door was of thick wood, bound by dark iron straps at the top and bottom and a heavy latch. But it was slightly ajar, and from within we could hear noise.
It took us a moment to realize what it was that we were hearing, but then it dawned on us. Laughter. Cold, maniacal chuckling that emanated from the room. Then there was a sharp squeal, like the sound of an animal in pain, and the chuckling got louder, followed by a high-pitched, cracked voice. “There, there, my little pet. It’s not that bad. Soon, it will be over.”
There was another squeal, and I felt our rat-man guide stiffen next to me. I put my hand down and touched him lightly on the shoulder. He looked up at me, and instead of the tears I was expecting to see, there was rage in his eyes.
I nodded, glanced at Brindar and took the lead, moving toward the door slowly and carefully, my gun now in my hand. Brindar pulled Biter out its belt loop as well.
When we reached the door, I held up three fingers, and slowly counted them down: three, two, one. When my final finger curled down, I slammed into the door, forcing it open and moving to the right with it as it did. Brindar came in immediately behind, moving to the left so we could both see the room and be ready for whatever was in it.
We weren’t. Instead what we saw was a sight that would stay with me for the rest of my days.
There was a table in the middle of the room, with a rat-woman sprawled out on it, held down by ties crossing the table at her legs, hips, chest, and neck. Even her tail was lashed down tightly. The ropes bit into her, but compared to the other things the monster behind the table was doing with his knives, I was sure that she didn’t even notice.
Around her were several clay and glass vessels, many filled with a deep, red fluid, which I knew was her blood. But there was so much of it, it couldn't have all come from her. It must have come from several rat-people. I now understood why our guide told us, when we first met, that “he bleeds us”.
The man, if you cared to call him that, behind the table jerked up as we crashed through the door. He was middle-aged, at one time good looking. But his madness changed his features, and he stared at us with bugged out eyes, and pursed lips. His dark hair stood up on his head, glued into weird shapes by the blood and gore that was matted in it. He hadn’t shaved in several days and a straggly beard covered his lower face.
But his clothes drew my eye more than the rest of his appearance. From what I could see they were, or had been, rich and luxurious. The type that only folks who live on Silver Tree Lane or even richer could afford. Now, they were also stained with blood and other filth, and were ripped and tattered in places. I thought perhaps he had stolen them from a human victim. A thought that was enforced when I heard the moan from the back of the room.
I moved cautiously, hugging the wall, while the madman watched both Brindar and I, his lips moving as he muttered to himself. Finally, I could see behind the table, to the man chained to the wall. He wore what was once a suit of brightly colored clothes, although now they were also dirty and stained. But more disturbing was the fact that this man was missing his hands. His arms ended in two roughly wrapped stumps, the bandages stained with old blood. He looked up at me, and I recognized him as one of the pipers who caused the city such problems a short time ago. In front of him, laying mockingly out of reach, was his pipe, the mouth hole packed tight with dirt and mud.
I turned my gaze back to the man behind the table, and watched as he continued to mutter to himself, his eyes taking in Brindar, me, the table in front of him, and sometimes the ceiling. He looked back at me and a change came over his face.
“Ah, gentlemen,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming surprisingly deep and cultured. “How fortuitous that you have come. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
Brindar and I looked at each other.
“Look, Crazy,” I said. “I don’t know what game you’re trying to pull here, but it’s over. You can either come with us now, or I’ll kill you right here. And trust me, I’d much rather do the second.”
He seemed surprised. “Come with you? Oh no, I’m afraid I can’t do that. My work is much too important to be interrupted, you see. But if you return down the passageway, you’ll find my store room. It’s become a mess and I need you to clean it out. When you’ve done that, return here, and by then, I should have more refuse for you to dispose of.”
The whole time he was talking, the rat-woman on the table in front of him writhed in silence. Now, she whined and tried to stretch against her bonds.
/> “Hush now,” the man said, and brought the knife down.
“No!” both Brindar and I yelled, but it was too late. He knew exactly where to cut to claim yet another victim.
“Kill him,” Brindar growled, and I raised my gun.
The man looked at us both again. “Kill me? How impudent.”
With that, he swept one of the bowls of blood off of the table, and ducked down behind it. Before we could move, he tipped it, spilling the other containers that were on it, and breaking ones that were already on the floor. The blood flowed across the floor toward us, as well as several half-formed slug things, that wiggled for a moment, and then went still.
I heard what sounded like a door slam behind the table, and I ran around, avoiding the blood and dead slugs on the floor, only to find a trap door that opened into another passage that ran below this room. He had dropped down, and the sound of his footsteps running off echoed back up to us.
“Please, help me,” the chained piper said.
“We’ll be back for you,” I told him, hoping that it sounded like both the threat and the promise that I meant it to be.
I dropped down into the passage, followed by Brindar. The rat-man followed, and at this point, I was no longer surprised.
The passage ran away from us and took another turn to the left. I didn’t bother with stealth, but took off at full speed after the deranged lunatic. When I caught up with him, there would be no more talk.
I skidded around the corner and was hit with a large, slimy pink tendril. It was as big around as my leg, and got me in the right hand, hitting me so unexpectedly and forcefully, that it slammed the hand holding my gun into my body, and held it there. My gun was pointed off to the side, useless. I struggled to free myself, but the strength of the tendril was too great.
In front of me was the largest of the slug things I had yet seen. It took up a large part of the tunnel, and the arms, legs, snouts and tails of dozens of rat-people stuck out of the mass, were reabsorbed, and then appeared elsewhere.
Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story Page 53
