Chapter 6

 

It didn’t take Garrett and his scout team long to find the trail left by the rats and scags again. Soon we were back on the move.

This habitat was the largest we had come across so far and we trudged through the hot, humid jungle for another hour. We had two more encounters with random beasts, but nothing as dangerous as the skull apes. These were singular monsters that were attracted by the noise the group made and mistook us for easy prey.

At last, there was a signal from the scouts up ahead and I rushed up to join them. The foliage and tree line faded away to reveal a fast-flowing river off to the left of where we stood up on a plateau with the water cascading over the edge in a glorious and noisy waterfall. It formed a deep lagoon at the base of the cliff face with most of the excess water overflowing into a subterranean passage. Only a small stream trickled further away into the habitat which we would have to cross. It was no more than ankle-deep and shouldn’t cause any problems.

The scene would have been picturesque, but it didn’t hold my attention for long. Across the rocky riverbank, the open basin continued for close to one hundred metres before the massive trees of the jungle reestablished their dominance. The group we had been following were across the stream and had set up a camp at the base of a monstrously large tree which was three times the width of the other already massive trunks that made up the rest of the jungle environment.

There were hundreds of rats of various sizes milling about at the base interspersed with twenty or more humanoid individuals. Some of whom wore ragged clothing or patched armour. The scags. People who had been corrupted and turned by the bites of the rodent swarm they were now a part of.

However, the swarm was not alone. We had discovered the reason for the rat army’s presence in this habitat.

Roughly fifty metres up the largest tree which dominated the surroundings were structures built from wood. A large tree house complex circled the tree made up of several different levels that rose high into the canopy. There were several figures up on the complex who desperately attempted to defend themselves from a wave of rat attackers.

Some of the rats climbed up the huge trunk directly, using the vines growing around it and their claws to find purchase. The small number of defenders had taken a leaf out of the skull ape’s book and hurled, or fired from makeshift sling catapults, the hard spiked seeds at the vermin menace which clambered up towards them.

The rats climbing directly were not the only threat. The smaller surrounding trees on that side of the stream also had other treehouse structures built into them at the same height. Scattered on the ground, I could make out the remains of walkways that used to connect the different treehouses lying on the jungle floor. The defenders must have destroyed them upon realising they couldn’t hold every platform and consolidated their efforts on the largest.

Unfortunately, it was the scags who had scrambled up to these platforms and they brought tools with them. They were in the process of passing up the fallen timber that used to be the connecting walkways and undoubtedly planned to use the pieces to build a makeshift bridge.

The rat king’s invading army would have been successful already except for an unusual phenomenon. Every now and then, one of the vines which was wrapped around the trunk or the treehouse structures, would seemingly come to life of its own accord. The vines lashed out and knocked either a giant rat or a scag warrior off the tree to fall onto the extended stone-strewn riverbank. The fall rarely seemed to be fatal but caused enough of an injury that it took some time for the dislodged attacker to recover and rejoin the fray. This had kept the defenders in the fight and slowed the progress of the bridge-building scags.

Despite this extra assistance, the rodent army was gradually gaining ground. The defenders were too few and even from a distance, I could tell they were exhausted and hanging on by the skin of their teeth.

“Whoever they are, they are in deep shit,” Tully whispered at my side.

His circumspection was probably unnecessary. The noise from the waterfall was loud, not to mention the yelling and hissing from the combat that was taking place.

“What are we going to do? Wait and let them exhaust themselves against each other before moving in?”

As plans went it wasn’t a bad one. It minimised the risk to our group and that was our primary concern. But sacrificing others to make things easier for us didn’t sit right with me. Another factor that plagued my conscience was the likely identity of the people desperately trying to save themselves. I couldn’t confirm it until we talked with them, but they almost certainly had to be remnants of the slaves captured by the Hooved Horde who had been commanded to map Pandaemonium on their behalf. The people we had assumed were dead and essentially trapped down here when we closed the waypoint they entered through and relocated it to Stormblade Harbour.

We had abandoned them to a grim fate once by accident. I couldn’t bring myself to do the same again deliberately. The odds that this was a different group of explorers seemed slim.

“No, prepare the warriors to attack. We’re going to hit the rat army from behind while they are distracted by the folks up in the trees. We’ll save them if we can. By the looks of it, they’ve been down here much longer than we have and probably know the area better. They could have valuable intelligence and help us complete this quest and get the hell out of here sooner.”

“Yes, sir.”

It didn’t take Tully long to get everyone in position. Carlos’ support squad would stay back in the trees on this side of the stream. Those of them with effective ranged weapons climbed up to the lowest branches to get a good vantage point. The rest of us moved forward at a quick pace on my waved signal.

Our people had been briefed about the need for as much surprise as could be achieved. There was no cinematic screaming charge to give away our assault. We let the roar and froth of the waterfall cover the sound of our unannounced approach at a fast jog over the uneven ground.

But the gushing and falling water couldn’t hide us from beady rodent eyes. Most of us made it across the stream which flowed away from the waterfall before a mutant rat with a bulbous head covered in numerous black blinking eyes spotted us and squeaked loudly. Three arrows thudded into its black-furred body when it started making a ruckus, but it had done enough to alert the others close by and the screech of warning rippled through the swarming mass.

The fight was on.

Everywhere I looked, mob descriptions flooded my senses and it started to become a distraction.

“Quincy, knock it off for now, please.”

{Whatever} the sprite grumped but the notifications ceased blinking in my periphery and let me concentrate fully on what was to come.

With the spellsinger spear pointed forward, I built up power that flared on the tip and unleashed the biggest firebomb I had ever created. It was forged using half of my available mana pool. Eight hundred mana in total. If I’d tried something like this before, the backlash for expending that much mana would likely have brought me to my knees. But when it was only half of your pool instead of ninety percent that was no longer a problem.

The ball of flame grew to a couple of feet in size and shot forward from the spear tip. It flew unerringly towards the centre of the rodent mass before impacting amongst them in an explosive blast. The firebomb rapidly expanded to ten metres in diameter and engulfed everything inside with flames and diminishing explosive power.

Bits of rat and rock were flung in all directions from the epicentre of the blast. Anything within a metre radius of the contact point was torn apart. They were mostly a seething mass of giant rats, and the mobs were not strong enough to absorb the explosive power of the supercharged firebomb. Those inside the rest of the bomb zone were burnt from the flames and any nearer to the centre were knocked off their feet. But they weren’t killed, and the firebomb only encompassed a quarter of the creatures that raced towards us.

It was a good start, though.

We had a couple more seconds and then the battle lines clashed with one another. The point of my spear rammed home into the shoulder of a giant rat the size of a Great Dane who tried to jump on me. In my exhilaration, I’d managed to get a few steps ahead of my allies and recklessly put myself on the frontline. Not the smartest place to be for a sorcerer build.

The patchy fur of the diseased creature had been scorched by my earlier firebomb and it struggled weakly against my grip. I might not be strong enough to push the blade deeper into the beast’s body, but I could flood the spear with green-flame-attuned mana and burn the creature from the inside.

While the skewered rat squeaked and squealed in agony, my flanks were guarded by two crewmen who utilised a shield and melee weapon combo. They reached my position and stepped half a foot ahead of me. This forced any other oncoming attackers to take them on instead and prevented them from reaching my less armoured self.

It didn’t take much longer before the faint azure nimbus which denoted the giant rat could be looted confirmed the kill. With a sharp yank, the spearhead exited the dead rat’s body and freed me to focus on the wider battle. With my two guardians blocking the path, I switched back to my more usual offensive contribution and shot out a few dozen flame darts at any available target.

We fought like this for a couple of minutes, but with the constant shifting of the battle line and several of our fighters being forced to retreat or pulled back for their own good, the disciplined line began to buckle. Things became distinctly more chaotic, but the advantage and momentum remained with us. More than half of the enemy combatants had been downed when a particularly nasty looking scag managed to slip past one of my guardians when he slipped on a gore-covered rock and left an opening.

The scag looked like it had once been human. The man’s eyes had morphed to be more rodent-like and grown to twice their original size. Those eyes were rimmed with red, puffy skin and nasty-looking dried secretions. His nose and jaw had elongated a couple of inches, and his extended tongue hung from a mouth filled with rotten, broken teeth.

He was armed with a pair of wicked, serrated knives, but didn’t wear much armour. What little clothing the scag wore was filthy, ragged, and in poor repair. But I recognised the style and the material it was made from. Human skin. Before becoming a scag, this person had been a Carnax cultist. One of the people who had chosen to serve the Hooved Horde and dressed in the same grisly manner they did. Using the body parts of their victims to craft or decorate their macabre clothing.

The scag’s devotion would have been usurped by its transformation but confirmed what we suspected. Those who had been forced to enter Pandaemonium had been used to bolster the rat king’s army.

The scag tried to take advantage of my guardian’s slip and planned to use its nasty knives to cut his throat. The plan was interrupted when my spear punched into the base of its back, and I pumped a couple of fire darts directly into the spinal cord. With its spine severed, the scag collapsed in a heap on the rocky ground and was easy to polish off and allowed my guard to right his position.

This effectively signalled the end of the battle.

A piercing screech emanated from a much larger scag that stood domineeringly at the base of the smaller tree where his cohorts had been trying to build a bridge. The builder scags had already descended to the jungle floor to surround their leader. In response to his screech, the remaining rats and scags which had been engaged with us turned and fled in their direction.

I and any other member of our party with reliable ranged offence continued to harry them for as long as we could. However, they were fast little fuckers and managed to get into the cover of the jungle before we could do much more than make their recovery take a while longer. Pursuit would be incredibly risky, and I quickly shouted orders for the fighters whose blood was up to let them go and return to our lines.

There weren’t that many of us, so it didn’t take long to get back into a more disciplined position.

By that point, the support team had started to cross the stream over to us without being called. From a quick glance in their direction, it seemed they’d been in the wars too and I hurried over to intercept them as they crossed to our side of the stream. D-Ball was covered in blood and had to be carried over by two other members of his team. A few others showed signs of wounds but nobody else was in such bad shape.

“Carlos, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Jackson. I screwed up,” Carlos apologised, an edge of panic in his voice when he looked over at the condition of our mutual childhood friend. “I don’t know, a patrol or maybe reinforcements from the rat king came through the trail behind us. Twenty, maybe thirty different rats and a couple of those scag things. I’d put all our fighters in the trees to help you. I didn’t consider that we no longer had the militia to watch our backs. Tommy, the other healers, and the cartographers were on the ground, vulnerable, and the rats went after them first.

“D-Ball, shit.” Carlos rubbed his jaw in a nervous fidget before he could continue. “Diego was the closest to them and jumped from where he was perched right into the rat’s midst to keep them off Tommy and the others. The dumb bastard didn’t even hesitate. They fucked him up real bad before we could get him out, Jackson.”

“Hey, you didn’t screw up, Carlos,” I told him firmly. “I did. I was too damn eager to end this quest and didn’t put enough thought into contingency planning. I should have left a patrol of militia back there with you. Take the others and assist Amber and Tully with the clean-up. I’ll do what I can to help D-Ball.”

I clapped Carlos on the shoulder and got him moving. A bit of work would get his mind off the situation until we’d had a chance to help our friend recover.

With Carlos taken care of, I skipped over to a patch of grass where we had gathered our wounded. “How bad is it, Tommy?”

The cleric didn’t need any further prompt as to what I wanted to hear. “Diego is going to live, though that isn’t the good news it normally would be. We’ve been able to replenish some of his Hit Points, but his Health went deep into the red and we don’t have the resources to fix that. but that’s not the biggest worry. He was infected with a hefty stack of rat-bite-fever status ailments and with his health so low, he is especially vulnerable. I’ve managed to clear a few of them with Cure Disease, and it has suppressed the effect of the remaining infections for the time being.”

Tommy lowered his voice and spoke gravely. “Jackson, there is only so much we can do. The stack of infections is just too large. The suppression won’t last, and the rot is already perilously close to his brain. I can recast my spell when it comes off cooldown for D-Ball tomorrow, but it’s going to take maybe a dozen more casts over as many days with how many infections he’s been afflicted with. He doesn’t have that much time. Even with perfect timing for the recasts, the rot will keep advancing and it’s already so damn close. Five, maybe six days, at most. If I hadn’t been practically by his side, it would be game over already. They bit him a lot and could have killed him easily. I think he was left alive deliberately so he would turn.”

I nodded in understanding. “I’ll use my white flame. That might help cleanse some of the stacked infections. Maybe give us enough time.”

Tommy smiled wanly in encouragement, but I could see the hopelessness in his expression. He didn’t think it would help save our friend.

A few minutes later, I’d almost exhausted what remained of my mana pool in repeated attempts to help. The stack of infections had been reduced by a handful and likely reduced the clearance time by two days. But that progress had come from the initial applications of my healing flame. The subsequent treatments had achieved nothing.

{You need to stop, Jackson.} Quincy berated me for probably the fifth time. {You’ve done what you can. The rest is up to the young man himself. He will either resist the fever or he will not.}

The sprite’s words punctured the bubble of guilt and regret that had been driving me. He was right, pushing myself into mana exhaustion wouldn’t save D-Ball. I’d done what I could, and further attempts would not help.

Neither was D-Ball our only casualty. Six others had taken health damage and had been infected with rat bite fever. I couldn’t waste my resources trying to save the unsavable when those resources could be better used on others. It was the first and hardest rule of battlefield triage.

I got back to my feet and then a thought struck me.

“The fever, its transformative properties are linked to the existence of the rat king, right?” I asked the sprite.

{That is correct.}

“What happens if we kill the rat king?”

{Ah, I see where your line of thinking is going. Yes, that would work. Without the presence of a local rat king, the infection would revert to regular rat bite fever. Nasty and damaging, but survivable with the proper care. It wouldn’t damn your friend to the fate of becoming a scag.}

A grim smile tugged at the edges of my lips, and I turned back to the huge tree where the exhausted defenders were holed up. My determination to find and destroy the rat king had been rekindled with even greater verve and it was time to find out if the people we’d saved could help me in that endeavour.