A Prayer of Freaks and Sinners Page 13

  He brought his sword up to his face and smiled at the possessed child.

  "You failed before, unholy scum. Confident of victory that time too I recall."

  The child gave a small petulant shrug.

  "We are patient and we can sleep through trouble. This time we slept until you had all forgotten about us. Until you thought us stories to scare children. And we crept in the window and we poisoned your larder and killed your guard dogs, and set a fire beneath your foundations. We have been at war with you for decades, and you did not even know there was a battle taking place."

  Invar gritted his teeth behind his sword. He heard the rats closing around the fountain in greater number.

  "I did."

  The child's smile again.

  "You are just one old man. A relic of a bygone age. You think you can raise some rabble of blessed idiots and that the power of your absent gods will flow through them. Their frail forms will disintegrate as soon as power like that hits their hearts."

  Invar looked at the strange child. The ancient eyes and sadistic expression painted on such innocence.

  "You didn't. That poor girl's body seems to be holding up just fine for you. Why don't you vacate her and let her breathe?"

  The girl touched her own cheek, feeling the clammy grey flesh.

  "Oh this took time and effort. I marinated this little body in our essence for years, letting it soak us up. It's a long process but it allows them to house us so much easier. The results speak for themselves I'm sure you'd agree. And no, I don't think I will be leaving this little cow. I'll be watching your world fall through her eyes for years to come. Long after you're gone, old man."

  Invar glanced down and saw that the Holy Light from the fountain water had almost faded. He felt a shadow at his shoulder and spun around.

  One of the hairless warped rats had leapt on top of the fountain head from the edge. It clung to the stone with four sets of claws and green slime drooled from its jaws. Before Invar could move it leapt down onto him, its full weight knocking the paladin from his feet. The rat's teeth clamped down onto Invar's one exposed forearm, piercing the flesh deep. They both vanished under the water in an explosion of froth and bubbles. The other creatures clambered onto the fountain wall and snapped their jaws, lusting for the violence. The child walked a little closer, the eerier light behind her seeming to spill around her like a dress.

  Invar erupted from the water with a roar, holding the rat's severed head in his hand. He coughed and wiped watery blood from his eyes. Then he threw the rat's head at the child's feet and stood breathing hard. His unarmored hand dripped blood. Dark puncture marks peppered his skin. The child looked down at the severed head and smiled.

  "Well that one cost you, paladin. If we must, we will take your drop of blood at a time."

  Invar felt a surge of nausea. From the stench of the warped rats and from the rapid blood loss dripping from his arm. He prepared himself for the final attack. The rats on the edge of the wall edged their way into the water. Nervous at first but once they realized the burning Light had faded from it and in no danger, they advanced. Invar slashed at one and then felt them close all around.

  A glaring light blazed in the courtyard followed by a shattering crash.

  Invar was forced to shield his eyes and crouched down near the water. The rats screamed all around him, the intense light burning their nocturnal eyes. When Invar opened his eyes he saw that a clump of the creatures next to one alleyway on fire. They twisted and writhed as some burning tar-like substance ignited their fur. The flames bright and so hot they tinged with blue.

  Then he noticed a figure hanging like a monkey from a balcony at the end of the alley. It held a glass globe of thick liquid in one hand with a flickering fuse. With a cry the figure threw it amongst the rats and another crashing conflagration erupted in the courtyard.

  The sticky flammable liquid was searing the white skin of the creatures and burning their eyes. Invar caught a snapshot of the man on the ledge as he was illuminated by the flames. In the confusion, it looked like the man had a prehensile tail, and had secured himself to the balcony using it. Invar was half blinded with fire and blood, and he could have been mistaken, but he thought the man's face was rat-like too, with prominent incisors and a sloping snout. He didn't have time to ponder this odd man, because the child was screaming in anger and stomping towards the fountain.

  The man on the ledge threw another incendiary of strange cocktail, causing the girl and the swarming rats to duck for cover. He shouted down to Invar.

  "Quickly! This way!"

  Invar wasted no time. He hacked his way through writhing rats and clambered out of the fountain. Staggering and dizzy, he watched as the man leapt down into the alley and held up a lantern. He beckoned Invar to follow him and then scurried off down a narrow side street. Invar could keep up but he knew it was his only chance at survival. He ended up at what looked like a dead end, a wall of mossy decaying brick and his heart sank. But the man was there, stranding next to an open storm drain.

  "No time for introductions. Down we go. Trust me I know a safe place."

  Invar looked at the open drain and shook his head.

  "I can't fit in there, friend."

  The man pointed at Invar's bulky armour.

  "Then get rid of some of that tin! It won't save you now and all it's doing is slowing you down. We can come back for it later during daylight."

  Invar was reluctant to remove his armour further. He had taken off one gauntlet to bless the fountain and ended up with filthy Sorrow teeth sinking into his flesh. But he knew he was slow and heavy with it. He tugged at a few hidden latches and the breastplate clunked to the cobbles. His pauldrons next. Lighter and more mobile, but still with a shirt of mail, he glanced behind them down the alley. All he could hear was furious screeching and hissing as the vermin composed themselves.

  The man held up the lantern and Invar saw his face was now that of a craggy old man. Bulbous nose, straggly hair and chin beard, wrinkles ingrained with dirt. The man gestured with the lantern down the drain.

  "Leap of faith?"

  Invar nodded and followed the man down into the dark. His savior reached up and drew the heavy cover back over the storm drain as they descended, covering their tracks for now. With no time for thought, Invar followed the man down a warren of cramped and disgusting passages. He advanced ankle deep in putrid water with strings of slimy moss slipping across his face. Invar's ears strained for the sound of white rats in pursuit. He was half deaf and half blind from the incendiary globes that his savior had thrown as well as the blood loss. He just did his best to follow the bobbing lantern in front. The man saw he was lagging behind and stopped. He raised the lantern to his craggy ugly face and gave a snaggle-toothed grin.

  "Sire! This way. Follow me!"

  Invar gritted his teeth and caught up. He was breathing hard. A lesser man without Invar's battle experience and the angelic power within him would have collapsed. The raggedy man turned to him again with his jovial smile.

  "You have come visiting Crowburgh at a most unfortunate time, my Lord."

  Invar grunted.

  "Enough with the Lord, nonsense. Name is Invar."

  The raggedy man gave him a little bow of the head.

  "Whatever you say Lord Invar. I'm Middigan, Middigan Smythe. We can be as informal as you like from here on in, but I know a lord when I see one. That armour you're wearing costs more than my life's work."

  They came to a crossroads in the tunnel system. Middigan narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air. Then he shot of to the left at a surprising rate. Invar followed, his face sweating.

  "Didn't seem to quite do the trick though, did it?"

  The little man in front's shoulders bobbed up and down.

  "Ah, well these here aren't normal vermin, so to speak. And you're talking to Crowburgh's foremost authority on the subject."

  Invar raised a bushy brow.

  "I am? So what is your life's work, strang
er? You seem to know your way around those incendiary devices."

  Middigan nodded and gave a little cackle.

  "They don't much like light and they don't much like fire. Not found anything else they're bothered by. And I'm a rat catcher. Best in town."

  Invar's eyes rolled upwards and he thanked Angall for his famous sense of humor.

  "Well aren't I just the lucky one, stumbling onto such an expert as my first local. If they don't like light, then why are we creeping around in the dark? Seems to be inviting trouble a little."

  Middigan shook his head and darted up a long sloping branch of the tunnels. Invar struggled to keep up. His mail was weighting heavy on him and his arm still dripped blood.

  "No one knows the tunnels and passages of Crowburgh like I do. I can take us safe routes these beasts haven't discovered yet. They seem to operate the same runs all the time so far. Following the urine and scent trails, if you'll pardon my language sire?"

  Invar forced a tight lipped smile, but his head was still spinning.

  "Oh I've no airs and graces when it comes to language, Middigan. Besides, you saved my old arse back there. You can say what you like in my book."

  Middigan stopped in his tracks and peered at Invar's wounded arm.

  "You're hurt sir. Let me take a look."

  Invar drew his arm back and dismissed him.

  "No. No it's fine. I'm a map of bloody scars, this will just be another for the collection."

  The rat catcher chewed his straggly moustache and shook his head. He looked concerned.

  "It's not just that, lord Invar. Been hunting vermin down in this sewer for more years than I can remember. But not like these. You don't need to be a scholar to see that these things aren't natural. They're unclean, and not in the way I am or a normal rat is. They're unclean of soul. I don't know how to say what caused them sire, without sounding like an imbicile, that is."

  Invar could see the man struggling with words he knew should sound ridiculous but no longer did.

  "They're infected with the Sorrow.”

  Middigan's narrow shoulders sagged with relief.

  "Yes. That's it. I know that sound like some absurd children's story come to life. I know a grown man shouldn't be talking this way. But I got no other explanation, my Lord. It's real, the old story."

  They turned another corner and the brick tunnel continued sloping upwards. Invar could feel a light breeze and was able to take more air into his lungs.

  "You owe me no explanation, Middigan. I know that the old stories are true. Been fighting the Sorrow in one way or another my whole life."

  The little man turned again. He raised his lantern to face level and his expressed was vexed. Invar put a hand on Middigan's arm and squeezed.

  "What you did there, with those beasts that attacked. I saw. You were born different. It's more than being a rat catcher sets you apart, Middigan Smythe."

  The old rat catcher blushed and could not meet Invar's eyes. He seemed ashamed.

  "You can tell, sire? Most folks can't see me for who I am. I learned to live in good disguise."

  Invar offered a little smile.

  "Like can sense like. The Magus Heart can take on almost infinite variety in its expression. Some races born with it and can travel with their minds. Some can make ice or fire. Others can warp their flesh into other shapes. We're all as different as can be. But we all share one thing. A light inside that shines bright. And it often shines in the presence of others."

  Middigan tried to turn away in shame.

  "I do my part in town. I provide an honest service. And if my eldritch nature helps with that job, then so be it. It puts coin in my pocket and keeps good folks homes clean of vermin."

  The old paladin held him fast. He fixed him in the eye.

  "Middigan Smythe, famed rat catcher. Where I come from, there are far stranger things than you stalking the halls. You would be regarded by those I bide with as a thing of grace and beauty. You need not hide your true nature around me."

  The squat little man looked humbled.

  "Why, those are terms that I will admit have never been applied to me, not anyone in my family. A blessing on you sir."

  Invar slapped him on the shoulder and tried to straighten up in the cramped tunnel.

  They moved on until they reached another crossroads. Middigan gestured left.

  "It's this way."

  Middigan glanced own at Invar's arm with a concerned expression.

  “About your wound."

  Invar flexed the fingers and felt pins and needles in them. The entire arm now felt hot and inflamed. He grimaced.

  "Aye what about it?"

  Middigan tried to keep his voice light but his worry was clear.

  "I can smell infection on folks. And I have seen the results of those bites before. People don't make it through the night. Can't often walk after a few minutes. But you're still on your feet. And I can smell something different on your skin. Something cleaning the wound. How come?"

  Invar felt his sliver of angelic spirit battling against the toxin he now knew was within him.

  "It's Angall's Light. It works hard against poison. Let's just hope it works against this."

  Middigan nodded and carried on.

  "I hope so sire. Cos' the alternative ain't pretty."

  "Not much about my life is."

  "It's up this way. It's where the last of us have taken to hiding."

  Invar looked up the sloping tunnel and saw a heavy iron studded door.

  "How many?"

  "Must be forty or fifty folks. Lords and beggars alike, we're all in the same mire now."

  Invar had come here to Crowburgh to find the lost page of the Libram. Now he also had souls to save. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain.

  "If I can lead you all out of here, or the Sorrow away from you, I will Middigan. I promise you that."

  They arrived at the door and Middigan rapped on it three times.

  "Aye, sire. I don't doubt it. But right now all we look ahead to is making it through each night without being taken by those things.

  The iron door opened and a wiry nervous woman in a headscarf ushered them inside. She stole a quick glance down the passageway and then secured the door with a deadbolt.

  Invar observed the room and saw that they must be in the lower levels of some kind of guard tower. He stood in a wide round room with thick stone walls. No windows and he had the sense still below ground. The space was lit with thick cathedral candles and the floor was strewn with reeds. The guard tower was full of people. Some injured and bandaged, sitting with their backs to the walls. Others lining up for a bowl of soup from a pot, dished out by a harassed fat man with red moustache. A few tired town watchmen huddled around a small table playing cards and smoking pipes. When Invar walked in they eyed him and shifted in their seats with a rattle of mail. A couple of them rested their hands on the hilts of their shortswords. The guard tower stank of too many people, of sweat and fear. Everyone looked strained and exhausted.

  Invar scanned the townsfolk and shook his head.

  "Is this all that are left?"

  Middigan chewed his lip and shrugged.

  "It's all we could find and gather in one place. Whole lot of other folks, their houses are just...empty. They can't be found anywhere. Folks think the creatures took 'em. Dragged them down below to the deepest sewers. It's an old city, Sire. Our foundations start deep. I know my way around under the streets, so I helped get as many here as I could. But even I ain't been to the deep warrens."

  A gangly man with a beaky nose and wild grey hair walked across. He wore a tattered red cloak trimmed with fur. Beside him what looked like two bodyguards and some kind of scribe holding a tablet and a quill pen.

  He offered Invar a practiced smile as he approached.

  "I see our resident vermin hunter brought in another stray."

  The scribe coughed a sycophantic laugh but Invar failed to see the funny side of being called vermin.
The man extended his long hand.

  "I'm Michael Torse, mayor of Crowburgh. Such as is left of it. Our hospitality is better than this. But welcome."

  Invar stared at the mayor's hand for a moment and then gave it a terse squeeze which made the man wince.

  "Invar Ironbound. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

  The mayor gave a faux embarrassed expression and gestured around him at the filth.

  "As you can see, our fair city is having a spot of trouble. All assistance is most welcome. But I see that you require some help yourself?"

  Invar's arm had stopped bleeding, but the skin felt like it was on fire. He clasped his fingers and his grip felt as weak as a baby's.

  "It's fine. The light will do its work."

  The mayor raised his eyebrows and spoke.

  "A devout of Angall? We have a fine little temple to the Lord of Illumination here close to the mayoral office. There are a few worshippers of Angall here, as well as the other great temples. We are an open, cosmopolitan city. In better times I would give you a tour."

  Invar cats him a glare and grunted.

  “Actually Mayor Torse, getting to Angall’s temple here is exactly what I need to do. It is of upmost importance.”

  Invar walked over to a study wooden chair and sat down, taking the strain off his exhausted legs. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His thoughts swam and he felt nauseated. The mayor followed him across.

  “It’s no accident that you are here, is it Lord Invar?”

  Invar took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. He scanned the resources in the room. He saw a few bags of flour, a couple of barrels of what looked like beer, and a motley assortment of rusted swords in a pile.

  "I see you have a few watchmen still with you. What do you have in the way of arms and trained men?"

  Mayor Torse shrugged.

  "We are a merchant city, we have watchmen and militia but we are not an army, not soldiers. We do not want war."

  Invar limped across to the pile of swords and picked one up, testing it for balance. The handful of city watchmen eyed him. Invar turned to the mayor.