Heinz made the last rounds of the night to check the doors and windows on the ground floor, making sure they were locked and bolted. It was amazing how often thieves tried to break into The Stinky Pig to steal the contents of the cellars. Not even the reputation for ferocity of Heinz's guards could prevent the desperately poor and alcoholic inhabitants of the New Town from making the attempt. Actually, he was quite pathetic.
He went down to the cellars, where he directed the light into the dark corners between the huge barrels and wine racks. He could have sworn that he had heard a strange noise of little legs running down there.
"It's just my imagination." He told himself. He was getting old and was beginning to hear things that didn't exist. Regardless, he went to check the secret door that led to the sewers. It was hard to be sure in such low light, but it seemed intact. He doubted anyone had used it since two months ago he and Ekysia had dumped those corpses into the river to spare everyone involved considerable scandal. Yes, it was just that he was getting old; that was all.
He turned and limped toward the stairs. His diseased leg was sore that night. The same thing always happened when he was about to rain. A ferocious smile spread across Heinz's face as he remembered how he had received that war wound. He had been run over by a warhorse in the annual war between the Kingdom of Lothal and the Empire of Kaleth. It was a clean break. He remembered that, lying there in the bloody dust, he had thought that it was probably just payment for having impaled the rider on his halberd. That had been a hard time, the worst he'd had in all the years he'd been a soldier. That day he had learned a lot about pain. Despite everything, he had to admit that throughout his mercenary career there had been both good and bad times.
Sometimes Heinz wondered if he'd made a good decision when he'd given up the free-spirited life of mercenary companies for that of a bartender. On nights like this, he longed for the camaraderie of his old unit, as they drank around campfires, swapping stories and recounting tales of heroism.
Heinz had been a halberdier for ten years; first as a private and later with the rank of sergeant. He had risen to captain during campaigns against the orc hordes to the south. In recent clashes he had obtained enough loot to buy The Stinky Pig, and finally gave in to old Lotte's insistence that they settle down and create a life for both of them. His former comrades had laughed when he married a camp follower, and they had insisted that she make off with her money. On the contrary, they had both been very happy for five years, until old Lotte had to spoil everything by dying of exhaustion. He still missed her, and wondered if she still had a reason to stay in Bergheim. Her relatives were all dead, and Lotte had passed away.
At the top of the stairs, Heinz thought he heard that sound of little feet running again. There was definitely something moving down there.
For an instant, he thought of calling Frey or one of the others to investigate; but then he opened both hands in a gesture of disgust. He was really getting old if he was going to allow himself to be upset by the noise of a rat scurrying through the cellar. He could imagine what the others would say if he explained that he was afraid to go down there by himself. They would laugh like crazy.
He pulled a thick blackjack from his belt and turned to head down the stairs. The truth was that he was restless, since under normal conditions he would never have drawn his weapon, because he was too serene and patient a man. It was clear that something had made him uneasy and he had caused him to awaken the old soldier's instinct that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
He remembered that night, near the border with the Frozen Kingdom of Glacia, when due to a feeling of bad omen he could not sleep. He got up from bed and went to relieve the sentry, whom he found dead at his post. He had just had time to wake up the camp before the beastmen attacked. At that moment he had a similar feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he hesitated at the top of the stairs.
"It'll be better to wake up Frey." he thought he. Only heavy drinkers were still awake in the tavern at this hour. The rest were sleeping under tables, in alcoves, or private rooms, or had gone home.
And he heard again, the sound of scampering, like the soft scrape of padded claws on the stone steps. Then Heinz began to really worry. He closed the door, turned and almost ran down the hall until he reached the main bar area. A group of his guards were idly chatting with some of the tavern wenches.
"Where's Frey?" Heinz asked. A stocky boy, Helmut, jerked his thumb toward the privies.
♦ ♦ ♦
Slitha reached the top of the stairs and opened the door. So far, everything was going well, like a properly oiled machine. Everything was going according to plan. They had entered the tavern undetected, and from then on it was just a matter of searching the house until they found the armored warrior and killed him, plus taking down anything else that got in their way, of course.
Slitha was feeling a little irritated. It was typical of her superior to take on the easier task. They had already discovered where the female called Elysia slept, and the chief had decided that he would be the one to kill her himself. Surely that was the only explanation. Big Chang couldn't possibly be afraid of meeting the armored warrior, though Slitha didn't care. When he dispatched the feared armored warrior, it would only serve his own fame. He gestured for his companions to go in first.
"Hurry! Hurry!" she said between squeaks. "We don't have all night." The ninjas rushed into the hallway.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia and Elissa were lying on the mattress passionately kissing, when suddenly Elysia shifted uneasily. She thought she heard a faint scratching sound outside the window.
She delicately got rid of Elissa's arms that imprisoned her, and suddenly she felt hot and sweaty the area where her bodies had been in contact. He looked at the girl's face, which had a small swelling on the left side of it where he had hit her, and she seemed really pretty to him.
"What's going on?" he wanted her to know that he looked up at Elysia with wide, trusting eyes. Elysia listened for a moment, but she didn't hear anything.
"Nothing" she answered, and kissed her again.
♦ ♦ ♦
Slitha bounded down the hall. She smelled like the big male, it was a very characteristic smell, different from that of a human; she followed her trail at the same time as she hissed orders at her vanguard comrades. Surprised by Ratfolk's stealth, speed, and ferocity, his weakest foe would be quickly taken down. What chance could a mere warrior have against the deadliest of ratfolks?
Slitha almost regretted being in the rear, the position of honor traditionally held by any chief whenever possible. She would have liked the chance to be the first to plunge her sword into the large male's body.
As they reached the end of the hall, the stench of the large male intensified. He had to be very close. Slitha's heartbeat sped up dramatically; his blood rushed through his veins, and his tail stiffened and he began to thrash. Gearing up for combat, he bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. The smell was very strong: they must be almost on top of the armored warrior. His ninjas waved their tails proudly, prepared to overwhelm the opponent with his numbers and ferocity.
Suddenly a red mist covered Slitha's eyes. It looked like a huge sword had sliced Klisqueek in half, but that couldn't be it. There was no way they could have been detected. It was unlikely that a mere human would have the cunning to ambush a pack of ninja ratfolks.
And yet suddenly Hrishak began to scream in pain and terror. A huge fist had caught around his neck, and due to the use of monstrous force, he broke his with a simple squeeze. The thick, cloying musky scent of fear was now filling the air. Klisqueek's body had already begun to dissolve into a pool of black goo as the decay spells tattooed on the bodies of the ratfolk ninjas took effect.
Slitha looked out at the swirling melee. Half a dozen of his best ninjas were trying to dominate a burly, burly man. Slitha saw the great sword swing in a deadly circle, splitting heads and bones as blood spattered.
"They lack street if they want to try to attack me by surprise" pronounced the armored warrior in a perfect ratfolks language; as he cut a trail of spoils through the group of ninja ratfolks. The large male howled and chanted a strange war cry as he fought.
Slitha shuddered. The noise was enough to wake the dead, or at least the sleeping human guards. He felt himself lose the advantage of stealth and surprise, and his eyes widened in terror as he watched the armored warrior complete his bloody deed by taking down Nikkit and Blodge with a single sword strike. Suddenly, Slitha realized that he was alone with a very angry and very dangerous warrior, who apparently could speak Ratfolk perfectly.
It was impossible to do, but the armored warrior had killed most of his brothers in a matter of seconds. Nothing in the world, not even a ratfolk ninja master, could be so deadly. Slitha turned to run, but a heavy boot landed on his tail, pinning him to the ground. Tears of pain filled Slitha's eyes, and his glands emptied of the musk of fear.
The last thing he heard was the buzz of the sword in the air as it approached.