City of the Rats

One thought burned in Lief’s mind more strongly than all the rest. Some terrible danger really did lurk within the darkness of the Hole. Otherwise Reece would not be smiling so triumphantly as he drove his prisoners towards it.

Barda and Jasmine had plainly come to the same conclusion. Jasmine was shrieking, vainly tearing at the Ra-Kacharz’ thick garments with her nails. Barda was struggling to hold his ground, his arms wrapped around his head to protect it.

The leather whip flicked viciously around Lief’s ears. He staggered back, turning away, the stinging pain bringing tears to his eyes. Again the whip cracked, and now the warm blood was running down his neck and shoulders. The blackness of the Hole yawned just in front of him …

Then there was a dull, ringing thump. And suddenly there was no more cracking of the whip, no more stinging pain.

Lief spun around.

Tira was standing over Reece’s crumpled body. The kitchen door gaped wide behind her. Her eyes were glazed with fear. In her left hand she clutched the companions’ weapons. In her right was the frying pan she had snatched from the kitchen shelf and used to hit Reece over the head.

With a gasp of horror at what she had done, she threw the pan violently away from her. It struck the stones with a ringing crash.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine raced to the girl’s side and took their weapons from her. She seemed paralyzed with shock. She had sprung to their defense without thinking, but plainly in attacking a Ra-Kachar she had committed a terrible crime.

“Barda!” hissed Jasmine urgently. She pointed. The handle of the red door was turning.

Barda flung himself against the door and leaned against it with all his strength. Jasmine added her weight to his. An angry thumping began and the door shuddered.

“Run, Tira!” hissed Lief. “Go! Forget this ever happened.”

She stared at him, wild-eyed. He hurried her towards the kitchen door, pushed her through, and shot the bolt behind her. Now the Ra-Kacharz trying to beat their way through the red door would have no help from the people in the kitchen, and, with luck, Tira would be able to reach the stairs and climb to the walkway unseen.

He spun around again just in time to see Barda and Jasmine knocked sprawling and the red door flying open. He sprang to his friends’ aid, and, at the same moment, three Ra-Kacharz charged through the opening. Though they had been roused from sleep, they were fully dressed in their red suits, gloves, and boots, and their heads and faces were covered.

Their eyes were already burning with rage as they burst into the little room. But when they saw their leader lying on the floor, and the three prisoners standing over him, they roared and lunged forward, cracking their whips without mercy.

Barda, Lief, and Jasmine were driven back, their blades slashing uselessly at the empty air. Lief cried out in frustration as a whip curled around his sword and tore it out of his hand.

Now he was helpless. In moments he heard with horror the sound of Barda’s sword, too, clattering to the ground. Now Jasmine’s two daggers were their only defense. But the Ra-Kacharz were pushing forward, driving them into a corner, the lashing whips whirling together in the air like a terrible, cutting machine.

“Stop!” cried Jasmine piercingly. “We mean you no harm! We want only to leave this place!”

Her voice echoed against the stone walls, soaring above the cracking of the whips. The Ra-Kacharz did not falter. They made no sign that they had even heard.

But someone had heard. Through the red door hurtled a scrap of grey fur, chattering and squeaking with joy.

“Filli!” exclaimed Jasmine.

The Ra-Kacharz shouted in horror and disgust, lurching out of the way as the little animal scuttled between them, leaping for Jasmine’s shoulder.

It was just a moment’s distraction, but it was all that Barda needed. With a roar he hurled himself at the two nearest red-clad figures, throwing them against the wall with all his strength. Their heads hit the stones and they slumped together to the ground.

Lief twisted and kicked at the third Ra-Kachar, feeling his foot connect with the leg just above the boot. The man howled and stumbled. Lief snatched up the frying pan and felled him with a single blow.

Panting above the bodies of their fallen enemies, the friends glanced over to where Jasmine stood, crooning to Filli.

“Filli saved us,” Jasmine said happily. “How brave he is! He was lost, but he heard my voice and came running to me. Poor Filli. He has been so afraid, and in such danger!”

“He has been afraid and in danger!” exploded Barda. “And what of us?”

But Jasmine simply shrugged and went back to stroking Filli’s fur.

“What are we to do now?” muttered Lief. “There are four Ra-Kacharz here, counting Reece. And we know that there are two in the kitchens. But three of the Nine are still missing. Where are they? Where should we go for safety?”

“We must take our chances with the tunnel,” said Barda grimly, looking around for his sword. “There is no other way out for us.”

Lief glanced at the Hole. “Reece thought that whatever is in there would kill us,” he said.

“If the Ra-Kacharz can survive it, so can we,” snapped Barda. “They are strong, and good fighters, but they do not have magic powers.”

“We should put on their garments,” said Jasmine from her place by the wall. “Surely it is not by chance that they dress differently from the others in this place, and it is only they who can use the Hole. Perhaps the creature that dwells in the darkness is trained to attack all colors but red.”

Barda nodded slowly. “It could be. In any case, to wear the Ra-Kacharz garments is a good idea,” he said. “Our own clothes mark us as strangers. We could never bluff our way out of the city through the front entrance. But perhaps the back way …”

They wasted no more time, but began to strip the three Ra-Kacharz they had just defeated. Jasmine was quick and deft at the work. Lief could not help remembering, with a chill, how many times she had stripped the bodies of Grey Guards in the Forests of Silence. She had done it to obtain clothes and other things she needed, and she had done it efficiently and without a moment’s pity, as she was doing now.

They dressed quickly, pulling the red garments over their own clothes, the boots over their own shoes. The Ra-Kacharz lay still. Tight white underclothes covered them from wrist to ankle. Their heads, like those of the other people in the city, were shaved bald.

“They do not look so dangerous now,” said Jasmine grimly, winding red cloth around her head and making sure that Filli was buttoned securely under the collar of her clothes.

Despite his haste and worry, Lief had to smile as he glanced at her. She looked very strange. The Ra-Kacharz garments were too big for him and even for Barda, but on Jasmine they hung in vast, baggy folds. The gloves were not a problem, for they were made of a clinging material that fitted all sizes. But he doubted that she would be able to walk in the huge red boots.

Jasmine had thought of that. Carrying the boots in her hand, she ran over to where Reece lay. She pulled off his gloves, crumpled them, and stuffed them into the toe of one boot. Then she unwound the cloth that bound his head and face and used it in the second boot.

Reece mumbled, his shaven head rolling on the hard floor.

“He is waking,” Jasmine said, pulling on the boots. She drew the dagger from her belt.

“Do not kill him!” exclaimed Lief in panic.

Jasmine glanced at him in surprise. “Why not?” she demanded. “He would kill me, if our places were reversed. And when he was attacking you, you would have killed him, if you could.”

Lief could not explain. He knew she would never agree that to kill in the heat of the moment, in defense of your life, was very different from killing a man, even an enemy, in cold blood.

But Barda had suddenly exclaimed, striding to Jasmine’s side. He crouched beside Reece’s body. “Look at this!” he muttered, pushing the man’s head to one side.

Lief knelt beside him. On the side of Reece’s neck was the ugly scar of an old burn. The scar was in a shape he knew only too well.

“He has been branded,” he hissed, looking at the dull red mark with horror. “Branded with the mark of the Shadow Lord. Yet he lives here, free and powerful. What does this mean?”

“It means that things in Noradz are not what they seem,” said Barda grimly. Quickly he moved to the bodies of the other Ra-Kacharz. The Shadow Lord’s brand was on every one.

They looked up sharply as the handle of the door that led into the kitchen shook and rattled. There was a loud knock. Someone was trying to get in.

“Another inspection must have been completed,” muttered Jasmine. “The cooks have a bin of food to throw away.”

Finding that their way was barred, the people behind the door began shouting and thumping with their fists. Reece mumbled and groaned. His eyelids fluttered. He was about to wake.

Barda sprang to his feet. “We will take him with us. We will force him to tell us how to save ourselves from whatever is inside the passage. And, in any case, a hostage will be useful.”

Hastily they pulled their packs onto their backs and dragged Reece to the Hole entrance. They pushed him into the darkness. Then, one by one, they crawled after him. There was no time, now, to think of what might await them below.