“Hrrrrk,” a deep, raspy voice called out. “Hrrrk.”
The sound was the croaking of a bird. It was vaguely menacing, yet familiar.
The door to the greenhouse thumped behind them, and then another, louder thump rattled the building. Thorn heard the faint sound of scratching.
Rats behind them, and an unknown beast in front of them. The bird in front of them was small at least, close to a regular size.
“We need more light. We need to know what we’re dealing with,” Lief said. “Back up a bit and set me down.”
Thorn walked backwards slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the back of the greenhouse. He was unable to pick out many details, but it didn’t seem like the beast was moving out of its corner.
Lief pulled a flashlight out of a pocket in Thorn’s pack and turned it on, carefully pointing the beam downwards and cupping it with his hands, so that it did not shine outside the transparent walls of the greenhouse.
“Hrrrk.” In the back of the greenhouse, standing on the floor and staring at them with a beady blue eye, was a crow.
It was large for a crow, but the intelligence and blue hint to its gaze would have given it away as a beast anyways. It hopped towards them once, then back again, ruffling its wings in the air. Or at least one of its wings; its right wing hung at an unnatural angle.
The crow stared at Thorn and tilted its head.
“Tok, tok,” it said, then tapped its beak on the ground.
To Thorn, all crows pretty much looked the same. They were black birds, some bigger, some smaller. Wings, beaks, beady little eyes, and bad attitudes. But this one seemed familiar. What were the chances it was the same crow that had warned him of the snake, and then tried to steal the core from him after the fight?
The gaze of the crow shifted past Thorn and Lief, to the front door. “Tok, tok,” the crow said, its tone more urgent.
The scratching at the door stopped. A new scratching sound, then the sound of claws tearing through fabric reached their ears.
“The rats have figured out the walls are thinner than the door,” Lief said.
Thorn cursed under his breath. If the rats were so smart, why hadn’t he figured that would happen as well?
“Watch the crow,” Thorn said, walking towards the front of the greenhouse. “Let me know if it makes a move.”
A rat the size of one of those pet dogs the rich merchants of Aba liked to take for walks around town was almost through a hole in the wall. Lief’s machete wasn’t really designed as a stabbing weapon, but it did have a sharpened point. Thorn jabbed it at the rat.
He only scored a shallow cut. The rat squealed, backing up and away from the hole it was making. Two smaller rats rushed through the hole and slipped by Thorn. He cursed.
“Incoming,” he called, taking a swipe at one of the smaller rats and missing. Lief could handle those, he was sure. He might get a couple of bites and scratches, but they weren’t life threatening.
At least if there were only two of them.
The big one, on the other hand… those teeth looked like they could chew. It was struggling to push its way back through the thick fabric, ripping it apart and snarling at Thorn. These rats were crazy.
Thorn stepped closer this time and made sure to put all of his weight behind the machete. The blade pierced the rat’s neck, spurting blood all over Thorn’s hand and leg. He tried to pull the machete free, but it was stuck; he ended up pulling the awakened rat beast all the way into the greenhouse before he could work the blade out of the rat’s body.
In that time several more smaller rats had found their way through the hole and were scurrying around. Thorn pulled a pile of empty pallets over to the rip and threw them against the hole. It wasn’t perfect, and wouldn’t keep out the smaller rats, but it might hold the fort for a moment.
Thorn glanced back at Lief. He had set the wounded warden in the middle of a raised bed of what looked like wilting potato plants. Lief had a knife in his hand and a dead rat on the end of it. He raised the skewered rat to his forehead in a mock salute, and Thorn turned back to the pallets blocking the hole in the side of the greenhouse.
The scent of blood from Lief’s wounds, and now from the dead awakened beast, were attracting more of the rats, and bigger ones, to the greenhouse. Their plan to hunker down and let the wave of maddened beasts pass them by was quickly devolving.
Thorn took a swipe at a fat, thick rat the width of his own leg that was busy chewing and clawing its way into the dead awakened beast. Two more hacking cuts, and it lay in a growing pool of blood.
Thorn looked around the greenhouse, but there wasn’t anything he could really use to stop the rats from coming through the hole. The pallets were already knocked over; they weren’t heavy enough for the bigger ones, and the smaller ones just slipped through regardless.
Why not let them come through, then? If he plugged the one hole, then they would just make another one. And then another one, and things would quickly spiral out of control. If he couldn’t stop the flow, he needed to control the flow.
Thorn ignored the smaller rats scurrying underfoot and quickly pulled more pallets, planters, boxes, buckets of dirt, carts, metal shelves, literally anything that wasn’t nailed down, and piled them in rows leading back to an aisle between two bed rows. He dragged the carcass of the awakened rat to the end of the aisle, near where Lief was sitting, and blocked that aisle off as well. Finally, he gave Lief back his machete and grabbed a shovel.
The shovel wasn’t sharp, but it was pointed, and with all the work that machete had been doing, the blade on it no longer had much of an edge. He needed the reach, and the shovel would have to do.
He got to work.
As the rats pushed through the fabric, the rows of piled boxes and pallets funneled them between the two raised beds, each about a meter off the ground. The scent of blood and the weight of quintessence in the awakened beast’s corpse pulled them down the funnel; driven by fear of the encroaching dead zone, hopped up on imperial plums, and now mad with bloodlust, the rats rushed forward down the path of least resistance.
Thorn stood on the raised beds, stabbing down at the passing rats. A few he killed directly, but most he simply wounded. He focused on the larger ones, the ones that had partially awakened and grown larger than normal. The occasional full-sized awakened beast also drew his attention, although on two occasions he couldn’t kill them on his own. Only when they reached the point of the funnel where Lief waited did their heads leave them, Lief’s remaining arm descending like a revolutionary guillotine, reaping lives with bloody precision.
The wounded rats with a leg broken, a stomach wound, or a deep flesh wound were swarmed by the smaller rats around them, turning into mounds of biting and ripping flesh.
Thorn was bitten all over his legs, mostly by the smaller rats that he ignored except to kick out of the way. He had a few bites on his arms, too, but he avoided sustaining any serious wounds.
The rats kept coming though. Thorn jumped down into the blood and guts and began laying about with his shovel. He stomped rats under his boots, their squeaks and squeals driving him into a deeper and deeper rage he couldn’t control.
He didn’t want to control it. He felt good; he felt great. He finally felt like he should, with the strength that was now his for the taking. All he needed to do was survive, gather more quints, and level up again. And again. These rats were in his way, and they needed to die.
Just like the people who’d destroyed his future. His elders, his parents, his so-called friends, the ones who had abandoned him.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Just like the thugs who beat him for no reason other than he had something they wanted.
The shovel splintered in his hands. He didn’t care. He beat the squirming piles of rats until the only sounds left in the greenhouse were his frantic breaths and the pulpy smacks of the wooden handle hitting rat guts.
“Thorn.”
Thorn stopped and looked around. Where were they? The rest of the rats. They all needed to die.
“Thorn!”
His eyes itched. He rubbed his hand over his face, smearing blood and wooden splinters on his cheeks. Why did his eyes itch so much?
“THORN!” Lief’s voice finally reached him. He dropped the shovel handle and looked at Lief.
“It’s over,” Lief said. “Now calm down.”
Who was Lief to tell him what to do? The old man was always bossing him around, telling him what to do. But who was stronger now? Who had killed all of these rats? That’s right. He had. Thorn Farmer, the useless glitch, had.
Thorn took an aggressive step towards Lief, but then stopped. What was he thinking? Lief wasn’t a rat. He wasn’t a threat. He’d set the machete down and was holding both hands up.
“Something… is not right,” Thorn mumbled . The words came out thick and slow, like his brain was operating faster than his muscles. Like he was hearing himself speak under water.
“Sit down,” Lief urged. “Hell, use that Skill you have. The one that lets you make quints while you sleep. You like quints, don’t you?”
He did. He needed more quints; that was the truth. So he sat down, right in the blood and stink, and activated his Meditate skill.
…
A sharp pain on his leg brought him out of his skill’s trance several hours later.
“Ow,” Thorn said, opening his eyes. He reached to rub his leg. After a few more moments he was fully back and aware of all the pain he had deferred with his Meditate skill.
“Oof,” he managed to get out. Everything hurt, his muscles, tendons, eyes, and nose. Even his teeth. His mouth was dry and tasted sour. His torso cramped, and he struggled to take a few breaths until he relaxed.
The crow was hopping up and down in front of him. It had pecked him on the leg and woken him up.
“Tok, tok,” the bird croaked. Every time that damn bird made that sound something bad happened.
Thorn tried to stand but couldn’t quite make it to his feet.
“You okay there, bud?” Lief asked. The lines in the older man’s face seemed even more drawn than before.
“Yeah, I’m fine now,” Thorn said. “Sorry about before. I-I got a little out of control. Won’t happen again.
“Glitter’s a hell of a drug,” Lief said. “Not your fault. But if you’re gonna bathe in the blood of your enemies, we’re gonna need to take better precautions against accidental exposure.”
Many, if not all of the rats, had had that golden-glitter shine to it. Thorn had gotten a lot on his clothes, skin, and some might have even splashed into his mouth or nose or eyes. Scratch “some”… a lot had gotten, well, everywhere.
Thorn struggled again, and this time he made it up onto his knees. The crow scuttled backwards a few steps, keeping an eye on both him and Lief.
Lief tossed the crow a piece of a Q-Stix, and the crow snatched the jerky out of the air, swallowing it in one gulp.
“Making a new friend?” Thorn asked.
“Enemy of an enemy counts as a friend.” Lief shrugged, then pointed at the back of the greenhouse where the crow had been situated. Neatly pecked rat corpses lay in stacks in a semi-circle.
“Tok, tok,” the crow said, rapping its beak on the ground once before looking at Thorn expectantly.
“Plus I’m starting to think it’s smarter than you,” Lief said. “Killed all those rats and didn’t eat a single one. Doesn’t need a bath afterwards either.”
Thorn looked at his clothes. They were a lost cause. It might be better to strip naked now and leave the foul rags behind.
“Now I’m not saying you don’t have your virtues,” Lief continued. “You got… well, two legs and two arms and none of ‘em are broken. Can’t say the same for me and ole blue-eyes over here.”
“Thanks,” Thorn said. He leaned heavily on the raised bed and pulled himself to his feet.
“Tok,” the crow said insistently, then began hopping towards the door.
“I’m pretty sure that means we gotta go,” Thorn said. “More beasts are coming.”
“And I was just getting used to the place,” Lief said, but he already had Thorn’s pack on his back, machete sheathed, and a few onions, carrots and potatoes he’d harvested. “You got a few corpses to loot first, though. Quickly.”
The corpses that Lief was referring to were the largest rat corpses in the small canyon of death Thorn had created. He took the knife and gloves offered by Lief and split the corpses open, careful to avoid getting any more tainted blood on his exposed skin.
When he was done, he had three cores in his hand. They were strange, compared to what he knew. First, they were the smallest he had ever seen, but more concerningly, they were pitted and flaked, like chunks had been eaten out of them by acid. The damage to the cores was similar to the core they had harvested from the awakened snake.
He hoisted Lief onto his shoulders and walked towards the entrance of the greenhouse. The hole in the fabric was large enough to walk out by stooping slightly, so he didn’t bother unbarring the doorway.
The crow was waiting for them outside. It hopped forward and Thorn paused. The crow tapped its beak on Thorn’s right boot then looked up.
“What’s it want?” Thorn asked.
“A cigar and a glass of brandy,” Lief replied. “Does it look like I speak corvid?”
“…Yes?”
“Crrrrw,” the crow crooned, looking up at Thorn. Its gaze held the weight of expectation. Lief threw a piece of jerky on the ground. The crow stepped on it, flicking it into the dirt behind it.
“Hrrrrk,” the crow said more insistently, pecking at Thorn’s leg.
“What does it want?” Thorn asked. He was surprised when his System responded; previously, it never replied unless directly addressed.
“Oh, I think I get it,” Thorn said. “Beasts grow by consuming other beasts’ cores, right?”
“Things full of quintessence, sure,” Lief replied. “Usually natural plants, but if they can get them, of course they will consume other beasts’ cores; that’s part of what’s driving all of the animals and beasts trapped in here with us mad.”
Thorn pulled one of the small rat cores out of his pocket and held it in his fingers. The crow’s blue eyes glinted with avarice.
“Hrrrrrrrrrrk,” it croaked, low and long, before pecking at Thorn’s boot again.
Thorn shrugged and tossed the core to the crow.
“We’ll split the loot three ways, I guess. One for me, one for Lief, and one for you,” Thorn said. “But I expect you to earn your keep.”
The crow grasped the dark red rat core in its beak, licking it with its tongue, before swallowing quickly.
“Tok, tok,” the crow replied, and began hopping in the direction of the lake.
Thorn trudged after the crow, wondering why he felt like the daggone bird was in charge.
…
They quickly refilled their water bottles at the lake’s edge. Lief refused to go up to the water. He was happy to watch them get eaten by a fincroc, he said, but couldn’t recommend the experience. Thorn ditched most of his clothes, cutting his pants into shorts, and washed his body and hair as best he could in the freezing water. Most of the mental side effects from being dosed with glitter-infused blood had been dealt with by his Meditate Skill, except for a bit of brain fog.
That Skill had unexpected uses. It wouldn’t rain fire down on his enemies, let him fly, or win in a tug-of-war match with a tow truck. It wasn’t make-a-million-quints-an-hour type of useful, but it was something.
The physical effects of the last few hours were taking more of a toll. In the span of a day, he’d almost drowned, he’d leveled up, he’d beaten hundreds of rats to death with a shovel, and he’d almost overdosed on a powerful stimulant. So he was moving a bit slower than he wanted.
The crow, despite its broken wing, pushed a relatively punishing pace for Thorn to try and keep up. The reason he was following was simple.
Lief liked to make fun of Thorn’s intelligence, and Thorn himself knew that he wasn’t very educated. That was his own fault, of course, and there was no changing that now. But Thorn also knew when one plus one equaled two. And that was twice now where the crow had warned him of impending danger: first the snake, then the rats. The crow had used him to help itself avoid and benefit from the danger it had sensed.
They were about halfway between where he’d entered the cavern and the far end of the lake when the crow began to grow more frantic, hopping forward more quickly. Thorn picked up his pace. He ran up, stooped down to pick the crow up with both hands, and nestled it on his shoulder.
It squawked at the manhandling… or rather, crow-handling, and whacked Lief in the face once or twice with its good wing. But it stayed on Thorn’s shoulder as he ran over the rocky shore.
“See anything behind us, Lief?”
“Why are you asking me?” he groused. “Why not ask your pet bird?”
Thorn didn’t deign to answer. If the crow could talk, it would have.
Lief craned his neck backwards, throwing Thorn slightly off balance as he pushed off a loose stone.
“Huh,” Lief said. “That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” Thorn asked in between breaths. “Interesting” wasn’t a good thing. He picked up his pace.
“It would seem that the weaker beasts, and I’m including us in that number, have all been hanging around the edges of the boundary between the spherical cylinder and quintessence void. Likely to avoid the much stronger predators in the center.
“But when that circle contracts, when the zone of quintessence in the middle gets smaller, or a predator runs around the outside, that pushes the small, weak beasts attempting to hide at the periphery into a wave of panicked beasts washing inwards.”
“What is it?” Thorn asked.
“Looks like bats,” Lief said. “Snakes too. Or maybe a few of those worms you were talking about? Hard to tell.
“That oversized humper though… Yeah, it’s definitely gaining on us. You might want to run a bit faster.”