Iron Lung writes
patreon
FG: Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2024-03-25 12:00:29 +0000 UTCBe giving me death before giving me shame!
- Vikk Bad-Eye
The old rat led Skeever, Deekius, and Marcus towards his command post at the foot of the barracks. Skeever commanded the rest of his forces to stay behind and recuperate, taking advantage of the fort’s supplies before they moved on.
“Supplies?” Gatskeek huffed. “You would be lucky to be finding a morsel of good tail flesh in this dump.”
“What has happened here?” Skeever demanded, keeping his voice as low as possible so his men would not overhear his anxiety. “When last we departed, the fort was holding strong. Why now are you being so laid low?”
Marcus was too busy contemplating the rat’s denial to retreat to even pay attention to his reply.
“Raids from the yipping ones are becoming constant,” Gatskeek explained as the retinue past by ranks of wounded ratlings simply staring at the barrack walls. “Ever since they be having new Boss, they attack in large number with more and more anger. No matter how many we are killing, more come to climb over corpses and take fort. They all cry out victory for new Boss Skegga.”
Marcus noticed how uneasy even the name itself made Ix and the other Kobold prisoners. He made a mental note.
“Be telling me you are completing your mission, Skeever,” he asked with some faint hope.
The hulking Skeever responded in nary a whisper, perhaps so the Kobolds that now journeyed with them would not hear.
“We are,” he said, producing a small, crumpled map in his hands. “Though it is costing me half of my men to do it.”
Gatskeek returned his morose statement with a solemn nod. “We all are learning the cost of this war, kinsman. I am fearing that it has already spent us. There are being rumors from the capital that the North tunnels will soon fall against the might of Skegga’s united army.”
“We have seen him,” Skeever said with revulsion. “He is no God. He is nothing but surface slime. If only the dumb demons could know this!”
“How are they breaking Knifegut?” Deekius interrupted suddenly. “This fort is being one of the strongest in the North Warrens.”
“They are having advantages they never had before,” Gatskeek replied. “Skogs, big guns, and numbers we have never seen. This Boss Skegga has given the yipping demons some new religion and has brought the Kobold tribes together under it. He is telling them that Great Kleansing will come, and they will wipe out all life in these tunnels until only Kobold remains.”
The venerable rat looked back at the Ix and his compatriots and spat into the ground of the fort. His hatred could not be concealed.
Marcus couldn’t blame him. In war – especially one in which peace talks were not on the table - it didn’t behoove a commander to feel any compassion for his enemy. It would make the job of killing them that much harder.
He also understood the situation better now. These Kobolds, though individually insignificant, possessing basic intelligence, had been formed into a coherent military force through the galvanizing power of a new faith and a new God – this Boss Skegga. Whoever he was, he understood the power that faith wielded over those without minds of their own – those who desperately wanted to believe in something grater. The notion of disparate tribes being unified under such faith was not a novel one to Marcus – the Jihads under the Rashidun Caliphate of the 7th century and the Cathar Crusades of the 13th provided just two examples of how powerful an army with a common, spiritual purpose could truly be.
Eventually Gatskeek led the detachment of leaders to what served as his war room at the end of the fortress barracks. It was a tiny chamber lit by two torch sconces on either side of a desk riddled with termites. Upon the desk lay a map of the surrounding area, with several points viciously crossed off like someone had taken a blade to the paper.
Marcus was surprised to see that it was a rather more detailed map of the stronghold than he had expected – clearly identifying the three tunnel entryways and the escape route through the great steel door, as well as diagrams of defensive positions that could be taken up on the twin Martello towers.
“We are being boxed in,” Gatskeek said with another indignant spit of phlegm. “Every day Kobold raiders are hacking at us from the West and East tunnels. We try plugging them, but Gutmulcher attacks too frequent. Walls have held for past month but now,” the Talon-Commander sighed. “You are seeing situation.”
“Indeed,” Marcus said, stepping forward to get a closer look at the fortifications and the wall foundations. “You’ve done well to hold out this long with what you’ve had to work with.”
Gatskeek didn’t bow in deference as the others did. Instead, he accepted the praise with a way, curt nod.
“We can be holding for another day at best,” he continued. “Then Kobolds will take Knifegut. Will have clear path to assault Capital.”
“Why haven’t reinforcements come from Fleapit?” Skeever asked in disbelief. Marcus could tell the state of this place was having an effect on him. In the short time he’d known the creature, he could tell this hulking rat despised the idea of seeming weak in the face of his foes.
“King Shrykul is decreeing that no more help will come,” Gatskeek replied. “He is needing to reinforce city walls against dwarven raiders to the South. Kobold threat is not seen as biggest problem.”
“We will change that,” Deekius promised. “Our mission is bringing word not only of great threat, but of way to be stopping them.”
“We can be allowing you to pass through today,” Gatskeek huffed. “Tell the King we are fighting and dying well.”
“’Dying’?” Marcus asked. “Why are you so content to die?”
The rats all looked at him, their eyes streaked with confusion.
“There is much you have not told the Shai-Alud then,” Gatskeek reprimanded his kinsmen. “When we are being ordered to make sure Knifegut has a standing army, we are standing no matter what.”
“This is being our way,” Skeever said. “What the King commands, we are doing.”
Marcus, however, wasn’t accepting that.
“This fort will fall tonight,” he told Gatskeek, sensing Skeever and Deekius’ hesitation. “With or without your rats here to man it. You said so yourself. I counted at least sixty good men out there who could fight another day. Can you really look them in the eye and tell them they are dead rats walking?”
“They are being loyal servants of our King, human,” Gatskeek growled. “If the king commands it, then we are to follow!”
Marcus looked at his companions for any support, and found instead that they nodded with the old grey veteran. He felt fury rise in his throat but stop at his gullet. He remembered Mari’s words. Then, he remembered what his purpose here was.
There could be more dangers on the way to Fleapit, and Skeever’s men numbered only around approximately 24 beleaguered spearmen by this point. Extra manpower was exactly what they needed if they were going to survive the journey through another one of these decrepit tunnel systems. Marucs, having just seen the horrors of Gutmulcher jaws, was surer of that now than ever.
Gutmulchers…
He flew forward suddenly, analyzing the map.
“The orders of your King,” he said. “What, exactly, were his words?”
Gatskeek’s furrowed browd betrayed his confusion, but he answered without hesitation: “To be ensuring the fort is manned and protected from threats to the North.”
Marcus nodded.
“What if there was another army that could protect it?” he said slowly, his eyes darting from each leader in the tiny chamber, knowing that they looked into his eyes and saw the flickering of the dim torch embers that threw themselves across the room.
“Well, Talon-Commander?” Marcus pushed. “King Shrykul didn’t say that you, specifically, had to guard this place from your Kobold enemies, did he?”
The old veteran licked his scarred lips. “No,” he said. “But if you are thinking that the ratmen you bring with you will be enough to hold this place when sixty of my soldiers cannot, then you are more insane than you are looking.”
“Who said anything about ratmen?” Marcus said with an impish grin that couldn’t help forming at the corners of his mouth. “We have a better ally that we can use in this fight.”
Amidst the stares of the twitching rats Marcus’ smile only widened. A plan was forming in his mind that he wouldn’t exactly call ‘sane’. But it was practical. And it was better than letting 60 able-bodied rats die here when they could be helping him reach his goal.
“Gatskeek,” he said aloud. “If I told you I could save your men and keep this fort manned, would you trust me?”
The old rat scoffed. “Trust you?” he said. “No, human. I am not trusting anyone without the tail of my kinsmen. But if Skeever-Steelclaw vouches for you, then I will hear your plan. Then we shall be seeing if I will risk my men for you.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Marcus said. “If you follow my instructions, not a hair on their tails will be touched.”
Skeever and Deekius exchanged looks that told Marcus even they doubted him in this moment. Yet when they turned back to him, they saw only confidence in their prophet’s eyes.
“First things first,” he told Skeever. “Gather your troops. We’re going spider hunting.”
NEXT: FG: Chapter 11
