Battle Cries

Sir Perceval the Bold peered through the visor of his helmet, trying to pierce the veil of darkness that pervaded the ruins. Small shafts of light cut through the gloom here and there, but they were not enough to chase away the darkness. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his trusty sword and hefted his shield. Aless the Wise moved up into his field of view, she nodded to him as she pulled something from the depths of her rich purple robes. She whispered a few words and light flared on the tip of her wand. Perceval blinked the spots from his eyes as his companion’s magic banished the darkness. When his vision cleared, he was able to see the beads of sweat glistening on the dark skin of her forehead. She turned, raising her rune carved staff defensively in the direction of a skittering sound from the darkness deeper in the ruins.

“Fear not Aless, according to the towns folk these ruins are teeming with Ratkin, but they will fall before us.” Sir Perceval said as he pressed forward.

Aless followed behind him, knowing he would be far better suited to holding off the razor like claws of the rat men that waited in the dark. She held the wand aloft, trying to keep the way ahead of them illuminated. Perceval stalked forward, shield raised and sword at the ready. The skittering sounds continued in the darkness beyond Aless’ light.

“Remind me how I let myself be talked into things like this?” Aless asked.

“The chance to make life better for the people that live nearby, by removing the Ratkin that continue to raid their village.”

“Very altruistic, but that doesn’t sound at all like me.”

“Ah, well I did cleverly leave those details out and only tell you about the promise of riches and a powerful relic.”

“And people think I’m the smart one.” Aless said with a smirk.

The knight half turned to say something else when a dark form flung itself at him from beyond the light. The Ratkin was a hideous amalgam of man and rat. It snarled and snapped at him with its oversized rodents muzzle, sharp yellowed teeth dripping saliva. The creature raked the razor-sharp claws of one hand across the helmet, leaving deep scratches in the metal. Sir Perceval grunted and shoved the creature with his shield, forcing it back. The Ratkin hissed at him with rage and leapt at him once more, but the knight was ready for it this time. Stepping to the side he swept his blade through the creature’s path, opening its abdomen in a splash of red. The Ratkin tumbled to the ground, writhing for a moment before succumbing to its injuries.

“Best steel yourself wizard, they never travel alone and now that there is blood in the air, they’ll waste no time coming for ours.” Sir Perceval called to Aless.

As if the Ratkin took his words as an order, hissing sounds filled the air around them and dozens of pairs of eyes began appearing in the darkness, reflecting back Aless’ light. Sir Perceval the Bold stepped in front of Aless the Wise, raising his shield protectively and with a disdainful flick of the wrist he splattered the first Ratkins blood from his blade onto the stone floor between them and the horde, almost a challenge. For her part Aless began muttering the words to a complex incantation, her hand weaving through the air before her, guiding the magical energies into the shape she would need them to take for the working. The air around her began to crackle with power, several small arcs of electricity raced across Sir Perceval’s chain mail. Four Ratkin stepped into the light. Their hunched forms covered in matted brown hair, gnarled fingers ending in sharp claws. Their black eyes glinted in the light, they snarled and hissed. The Ratkin dashed forward almost as one. Aless shouted the final words to her spell before they got within a few feet of Sir Perceval, lightning swirled and crackled around her, following the line of her outstretched arm and coalescing at the tip of the wand. The air split with a deafening crack of thunder as the lighting struck the Ratkin, arcing between them for a few moments. Their bodies stiffened and they let out a keening sound as they fell to the ground. Aless released the spell and their corpses lay still, aside from a twitch here and there, smoking and filling the air with the stench of burnt hair and cooked meat.

From the dark beyond the other Ratkin let out a shriek of rage in unison. “I guess they don’t like it when you cook their friends.” Sir Perceval called to her as he readied himself for the coming assault, then he yelled into the blackness. “That’s right ya, blaggards! We’ll roast the lot of ya!”

Dozens of furry creatures rushed forth from the darkness. Sir Perceval slammed his shield into the foremost Ratkin, with a clang of metal and crunch of bone the creature dropped to the ground. The knight pivoted with surprising grace to avoid a slash from the next monster and then drove his sword into its chest. The next four came at him at once, trying to pull him to the ground. They raked their claws across his armor and sharp teeth struggled to find purchase within the flesh incased in his chain mail.

Aless drew a deep breath to steady herself and mutter a quick phrase, one of her spells that was so well worn that she barely had to think when using it. Then she thrust her wand towards the Ratkin swarming her companion and darts of flame streaked from the tip. Each of the darts left a bright trail in her vision as it closed the distance to its target. The darts collided with the faces of the four Ratkin struggling with Sir Perceval, exploding into a shower of flame and hot ash, blinding and scorching the creatures. Sir Perceval’s sword burst out through one of the creatures backs as it flailed at the flames in its face. The distraction had worked, Perceval was regaining the upper hand. His swords keen edge cleaved through the vile creatures with the grim efficiency of a butcher. Aless could see the shadowed figures of more Ratkin massing for another strike, once they regained their nerve, they would be likely to overpower them by grace of their sheer numbers.

She looked around for anything they could use to their advantage, there wasn’t much in the way of areas that would make a serviceable choke point to reduce to the effectiveness of their numbers. Nothing overly flammable to bring the full potential of her fire magics to bear. Then it dawned on her, she glanced down at her feet, the floor was made of stones. Heavy stones, she could use that. She dragged the tip of her staff in a wide circle around herself, it clacked as it hopped from stone to stone. She closed her eyes and began to chant. It was an old language, one few still spoke, strange and guttural. She spoke to the stones themselves, calling on their aid in her time of need.

Sir Perceval drew himself back to his full height and turned to face the horde of Ratkin in the shadows. He could hear the claws of their feet scratching at the stone floor and their hissing and snarling as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Then he heard the wizard’s chant. It was not quite a song, though he felt it had a melody to it, though it was course. He didn’t recognize it from any of their other battles. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Aless with her arms held out to the sides, a number of large stones hovering in circles around her. Several more stones dislodged themselves from the floor and floated up to join the their brethren dancing in the air around her. He heard the Ratkin running towards him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the wizard. The song stopped. She opened her eyes and smirked at him.

“If you’d be so kind as to duck, Sir Knight.” She said sweetly to him.

Sir Perceval threw himself to the ground. Dozens of Ratkin scrambled into the light, seeing the knight prone on the ground they were blind to the real danger. As the first few leapt into the air, hoping to pounce on the fallen knight, the wizard sent the stones flying. The rocky missiles crashed into the Ratkin, shattering bone and driving the limp bodies back into the darkness. Stone after stone smashed into the unwitting creatures, several were smeared across the floor. Sir Perceval lay there, listening to the wet thuds of heavy stones crushing the rat men into loose bags of blood and bone. After a few seconds the sounds stopped. “You may stand now Sir Perceval.”

He pushed himself to his feet, collecting his blade as he stood. He surveyed the carnage left by the wizard. The broken bodies of Ratkin lay all around, stones pinning them to the ground. He could see the glistening, blood streaked white of ruined bone jutting through flesh, pools of crimson grew around them. Most were dead, but he could hear the sounds of labored breathing and pathetic mewling from those who had been unfortunate enough to have avoided being killed outright. He brushed a hand down his tabard, sending a small puff of dust into the already hazy air.

“Gods Aless, that was quite effective. Why haven’t you ever done that before?” He asked as he took in the scene around him.

“It’s quite difficult and…” She slumped, leaning into her of staff. “’Tends to leave me exhausted for a bit afterwards.”

Sir Perceval moved to her and offered an arm in support, which she gratefully accepted. “Well, it seems to have brought what would have otherwise been quite the protracted battle to a swift, if somewhat brutal, conclusion.”

They picked their way through the corpse strewn room, careful to steer away from the few Ratkin still struggling to breath, lest one of them decide to make a last attempt to avenge themselves. The light from Aless’ wand revealed the area ahead. The room tapered into a long hall, narrowing to the point that they would have to travel single file. The stonework was worn and crumbling in many places; it was a wonder that the walls were still standing given the number of holes in them. He looked to Aless, who nodded to him with a smile of grim determination. He moved in front of her, shield raised and sword at the ready. Aless was feeling less drained now and leaned less heavily on her staff. She held her wand up high, trying to let the light reach as far ahead of them as possible.

Aless was so focused on the path ahead she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She felt the claws slice through her back and the warm rush of blood as it welled up from the wounds. She called out in pain and spun on her heel, whipping the heavy wooden staff around in a less than graceful arc. It collided with the Ratkins head with a sharp crack, sending it into the wall. It slumped against the stone, blood seeping from the head wound. Aless stared in horror as more Ratkin slipped from the holes in the wall. Sir Perceval pulled her behind him, trading places with her as the hall began to fill with furry bodies.

“Now would be a good time to run.” Perceval grumbled to her.

Aless moved as swiftly as her feet would carry her. Sir Perceval fought the Ratkin behind her, holding them back. In so narrow a space they couldn’t bring their superior numbers to bear properly. For a fleeting moment she wished they had been able to use this to their advantage in the previous engagement, but immediately realized that not only had the last horde stood between them and the hall, but with all the holes providing apparent points of ingress for the Ratkin, it would have made a poor choice indeed. As she ran, she saw more Ratkin beginning to creep out of holes ahead of them, trying to cut them off no doubt. Those close enough received a cracked skull courtesy of her staff, the ones she spied further ahead were quickly convinced to scurry back from whence they came when they were assailed by a small swarm of flame darts. Behind her Sir Perceval hacked and slashed the Ratkin that continued to assault them from the rear. He constantly moved backwards, trying to ensure that Aless did not get so far ahead that he would not be able to render aid if she needed it.

After several minutes that felt like hours Aless saw the outline of a staircase come into the light. She thought this might give them at least some slight advantage. She called back to the knight to let him know, he yelled his rather terse agreement over the clanging of steel as he continued to fend off the swarm of Ratkin. She pushed forward until she was at the foot of the stairs. Peering upwards she could see that the staircase spiraled up for what she assumed was several stories. She turned and fired off a volley of flame darts, sending the foremost Ratkin scrambling backwards and causing chaos amongst their ranks long enough for Sir Perceval to reach the stairs. Together they hurried up the steps, determined to make as much of the distraction as possible. They were halfway up the spiral when the Ratkin caught up, several angry and scorched individuals leading the charge. Sir Perceval separated one’s head from its body with a swing so fierce it continued through, and the sword stuck the stone wall of the staircase, creating a small shower of spark. A Ratkin darted forward, hoping to catch him off guard, but he saw it coming and smashed it into the wall with his shield, shattering its ribs in the process.

Aless sent one volley of darts after another streaking into the horde of Ratkin behind them, trying to force them back enough for Sir Perceval to get some breathing room, but the creatures were enraged. As they ascended the stairs the gloom began to lessen, light bleeding in from above them. Inch by inch the horde pushed them up the stairs, but the duo made the creatures pay for every step of it with their blood. As they approached the top Aless began to feel a breeze wafting into the stairwell. Sir Perceval drove his sword through the chest of the nearest Ratkin, holding up his shield to ward off the blows of the next creature. He was struggling to wrench his sword free of the dead monster’s chest when two Ratkin grabbed hold of his shield and managed to pull it aside. They fell on him with the wild abandon of a pack of starved hounds. The knight let go of his sword for a moment, grabbing one Ratkin by the head as it lunged towards his throat. The other managed to find a weak spot in his armor, the claws sinking into his side. Sir Perceval growled in pain and kicked the Ratkin that had wounded him in the chest, sending it tumbling into the crowd behind it.

The wizard sent another volley of flame darts into the crowd, setting one of them alight. The Ratkin shrieked in pain and panic as it frantically tried to put out the flames, stumbling back into the assembly behind it, driving them back. Sir Perceval snarled as he twisted the Ratkins head, there was a snapping sound and then it went limp. He shoved the corpse to the side and regained his feet. He ripped the sword free of the fallen Ratkin it had been lodged in and turned back to the horde on the stairs, slamming the bloodied sword against the shield before spreading his arms tauntingly.

“Perceval! We need to take advantage of this and retreat while the fire has them held at bay!” Aless yelled to him just as he started toward the horde.

Sir Perceval snarled once and then jogged up the stairs to Aless. They quickly made their way to the top of the stairs. The stairwell emptied out into a room of grand proportions. If they had been in a more inquisitive frame of mind they might have wondered if this had once served as a throne room for some long-forgotten monarch, but as it was, they only had time to take in their surroundings with immediate survival in mind. The vaulted ceiling was held aloft by massive stone pillars, the parts of it that were still whole at least. There were several large holes in the ceiling through which the midday sky was visible, the sun brightening the room considerably compared to the gloom below. Sir Perceval turned towards the stairs as the sounds of hissing and scrabbling claws on stone echoed up to them. The pair moved towards the center of the room when the sunlight glinting off something metallic caught Aless’ attention. A pillar of sunlight poured into the room from a massive hole in the roof at the other end of the room, beneath it lay pools of gold coins. The occasional wooden chest lay within the treasure horde.

Aless’ grin at the site of so much treasure died almost as soon as it formed. Ratkin began pouring out of the shadows around the room. She turned to Perceval and saw the horde coming out of the stairwell. The Ratkin squinted and some shied away from the sunlight, but the horde as a whole pressed on. Closing in from all sides. The blood from Aless’ wounds had matted her robes to her back, she was sore and tired from having to constantly marshal her magic. Sir Perceval had backed up close enough to her that they nearly touched. His cloak was torn and bloody, his armor dinged and scratched all over.

“I have to admit, this is not looking great.” Sir Perceval said as he stared down the advancing Ratkin.

“The townsfolk did forget to mention the how densely populated this ruin really was.”

“Nothing for it now, but to take as many of them with us as we can.” Sir Perceval said with steel in his voice.

Aless began another incantation, weaving the magic around her. She didn’t know how much more she had in her, but she was fairly confident she could pull off one more big spell. As she chanted and gestured The Ratkin continued to close in. Sir Perceval began smacking the flat of his blade against the front of his shield, working himself up for the coming onslaught. He let out a yell of fury, a true battle cry. As if in answer, a roar sounded in the distance. The Ratkin stiffened almost as one and began to look around nervously, several even took a step or two back.

Again, the roar split the air, this time it was definitely closer. The Ratkin began to scatter, retreating back into the shadows. Within a few moments the duo was once more alone in the room. They looked at each other, more confused than worried. Something bloated out the sun for a moment, a gargantuan shadow moving across the sky. A massive dragon landed at the far end of the room, taking up most of the empty space in the ceiling above the treasure horde. Its scales were white and brown, the massive wings beat as it settled into place, kicking up a billowing cloud of dust. The weight of the massive creature dislodged several of the huge stone blocks that made up the wall, sending them crashing to the ground. The massive head, crowned with spike like horns, swiveled in their direction on the serpentine neck. The massive nostrils flared a few times and then the dragons head turned to stare directly at them. The flat lips peeled back to reveal rows of teeth, each easily the size of the knight’s sword. The dragon’s maw opened, and it let loose an ear shattering roar.

Aless the Wise and Sir Perceval the Bold covered their ears as best they could. When the roaring ceased Sir Perceval stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. “I always have wanted to slay a dragon…”

“Not sure if this is an improvement over a seemingly endless horde of rat men or not.” Aless said as she stepped up to the knight’s side.

Sir Perceval let out a guffaw, pointed at the dragon with his sword and yelled. “Have at you, you scaly bas…”

“James!” A woman’s voice cut him off mid sentence.

The he spun on his heel, his shield lowering and the tattered beach towel serving as his cloak billowed, as worry bled into his eyes. “Oh no…”

“James Goodwin! You had better not be in that barn again!” The woman yelled from the fields outside.

The knight dropped the trash can lid that had served as his shield and took the cooking pot from his head, revealing tussled dirty blonde hair. He turned back to the wizard and saw her tucking the flashlight back into the pocket of her faded purple bathrobe. Behind her the large white and brown barn owl beat its wings in annoyance, its black eyes stood out from the rest of it’s stark white, heart shaped face even in the poor light of the old barn. The wizard shifted nervously, the tree branch she had been using as a staff grinding old hay into the floorboards. “Your mom sounds mad…” She muttered.

The knight shrugged and rested the baseball bat on his shoulder, he tapped the pot in his other hand against his thigh nervously. “Yeah…she doesn’t like me playing in here…”

“We should go before we get into trouble.” The wizard said, proving once again that she was truly the wiser of the two.

The knight nodded and started to shuffle back to the rickety old staircase, then he turned with a mischievous grin and said, “We could always fight the dragon out in the fields.” Then he took off running, his foot falls thundering through the dilapidated barn as he charged down the stairs.

“Wait for me!” The wizard yelled as she ran after him, her curly hair bouncing with each bounding step, her robe dragging up a small cloud of dust behind her.

The barn owl canted her head to the side as she watched the adventurers retreat from her domain. She gave a final flap of her wings, accompanied by a small shriek and ruffled her feathers in relief as she settled in on her perch to wait for night to return and the rats to scurry back out where she could hunt them.