Chapter IV
Gaston lead the way into the passage with Navarr right behind. Just as the two men ran out of the burial chamber, Navarr glanced over his shoulder and saw that several wererats came rushing into the room from separate passages. All of them were armed with rapiers and just a few carried torches. The ratmen never hesitated or broke stride as they rushed after the two men, and Navarr was certain he heard what sounded like hissing as they were being chased.
Gaston and Navarr backtracked through a handful of passageways and burial chambers as fast as their legs could carry them. Gaston never took a moment to look behind at their pursuing foes, instead he remained focused on the floor and the blood trail, making sure not to loose sight of it and become lost in the underground labyrinth. Navarr, taking up the rear, did take the occasional look over his shoulder. He was relieved to see that the wererats, while in their half-man and half-rat form, were not as fast as a regular man when running. They appeared to have a loping run, which obviously hindered their movement, allowing both Gaston and Navarr put some distance between themselves and their pursuers.
Gaston was a dozen paces ahead of Navarr when they entered another burial chamber in their mad dash to flee the catacombs. The room had four other passageways that led into it, and the one the companions needed to follow was on the opposite side from where they entered. Three waist high stone sarcophagi, all unadorned without carvings or unique designs, were arranged a few feet apart in the middle of room. Gaston managed to weave his way around the large obstructions and was entering the correct passageway as indicated by the blood trail Navarr, having slowed a moment to check behind them, was only approaching the first of the sarcophagi.
Just as Gaston entered into the passageway two small groups of wererats came rushing in from two of the chamber’s side passages. The two groups, each consisting of three wererats, nearly collided with one another as they turned to face Navarr and affectively blocked him from following Gaston across the room.
Navarr’s pace never faltered as the wererats entered the room in front of him. He continued running forward past the first sarcophagi, and then leaped up unto the second directly in front of the line of wererats. His leap caught his opponents off guard, and as he stood solidly atop the stone tomb his rapier made an amazingly fast slash along one of the wererats necks. Navarr rolled his wrist and extended his arm out slightly, thrusting his sword’s point into the heart of another wererat killing it almost instantly. So fast were the two strikes from Navarr’s sword that he was already withdrawing his blade from the heart of the second wererat, when the first one he struck was just bringing its hand up to its neck to stop the blood from pumping out its gashed jugular.
Then with a sweeping gesture of the torch he carried in his left hand, Navarr sent two of the ratmen on his left jumping back and away. The result of his quick actions left a large opening before him that allowed him to jump to the third sarcophagi. As soon as his feet solidly landed, Navarr spun back around with his sword slashing low and all the way across the space in front of him as he turned. His fast action struck aside the blades of two wererats that had overcome their surprise and had tried thrusting their own rapier blades into his briefly exposed back.
One wererat was dead and a second, holding his bleeding neck, collapsed near the passageway he and Gaston had used fleeing back into the room. The four remaining ratmen leaped forward all at once with frantic sword thrusts at where Navarr was standing above them, but at the last moment Navarr stepped backwards off the sarcophagi, and out of the range of their attacks.
Three of the wererats broke to the left in a mad dash to run around the sarcophagi to try and reach Navarr, while the fourth broke to the right in order to the same. Navarr noticed his best odds immediately and rushed towards the wererat on the right that was attacking alone. He met the wererat’s slashing attack by using the torch to parry it, and then followed up with a shallow thrust of his rapier into the creature’s abdomen. The wererat dropped its sword and clutched at its wounded belly, and Navarr tossed the torch atop the sarcophagi as he spun back around, drawing his dagger as he did so.
He turned in time to meet the attack of two wererats. The space they were in only allowed two of the three to attack at once, for which Navarr was grateful. As his rapier and dagger worked back and forth parrying the attacks of the two wererats, he noticed the third turn and began climbing atop the sarcophagi he had jumped down from just moments before. Navarr didn’t like the thought of one of the ratmen having the position of higher ground, so after he beat back the attacks of either wererat he turned again and darted away. As he did so he dashed past the wererat with the wounded abdomen and sunk his dagger into the creature’s side for good measure.
Instead of running around the middle sarcophagi Navarr leaped forward and across it with his right shoulder leading the way, performing a side rolling somersault across it, and coming to his feet once again on the other side. He spun in time to see the wererat that had climbed atop the sarcophagi just moments ago leap across to the middle one. Navarr slapped aside the creature’s rapier that was leading his leap, and stuck his own rapier up and at the creature. Its forward momentum caused it to impale itself on Navarr’s sword, and it stumbled backwards, severely wounded, and fell off the sarcophagi onto the floor. There was a loud cracking sound like a melon being smacked with a cleaver, and Navarr was sure the wererat cracked its head pretty good as it fell.
The last two wererats came at him from opposite sides around the central sarcophagi. Navarr met the closer of the two ratmen first. He traded three fast parry and reposts before stepping forward and kicking the creature in the gut when an opportunity to do so presented itself. He would have liked to finish off the wererat, but he knew he didn’t have the time to do so. As the wererat went reeling away, Navarr spun around and met the other remaining creature just as a vicious slash was heading towards him. He parried the attack with his dagger but was slightly out of position to use his rapier to effectively counter attack. He did so anyway, but the wererat was able to parry the attack easily enough.
Time wasn’t on his side. Navarr knew that at any moment more wererats, such as those that had been chasing after he and Gaston, could come flooding into the chamber at any moment, and he was certain the one he had kicked was recovering and about to attack him from behind. He did the only thing he could do, he pressed forward against the wererat he was facing and pushed him back with a dizzying display of thrusts and slashes. It only took a few seconds, but in doing so he opened up enough space to dart past the wererat and around the center sarcophagi, and back towards the tunnel Gaston had fled down.
Navarr only ran into the dark passageway a few strides before he realized he didn’t have a torch and stopped and turned back around. The two wererats were fast on his heels, but it didn’t matter, because by facing them together in the tunnel he could deal with them both in front of him, and not have to worry about one being able to sneak around behind him. He only hoped his actions were giving Gaston time enough to escape the tombs and reach safety, and that other wererats wouldn’t sneak up behind him in the passageway while he dealt with the two before him.
Two wererats stood side by side and came at Navarr hard as they pressed their attack in tandem. Navarr retreated half a step, taking himself a little further out of their reach as he easily beat their blades aside. He stood directly in the center of the passageway as his blades danced back and forth with ease against his opponents. Within a few seconds he found the rhythm of his attackers, and soon began the dance of dodges, parries and counterstrikes.
Navarr was faster on all accounts.
With a roll of his wrist Navarr’s rapier went from parrying a thrust underneath his foe’s blade, to suddenly being on top. Then with a thrust of his own, Navarr used his opponent’s own rapier to guide his own straight into the wererat’s heart. At the same time Navarr used his dagger to parry the attack of the other wererat, who was sl
owing down considerably from the exertion of fighting. The wererat he had just run through stood still for a moment as shock and realization sunk in, and then the creature slowly slumped backward and stopped moving.
Navarr pressed forward on the last wererat, who was trying to disengage and retreat away from the man who had just killed five of his companions. Navarr wouldn’t allow it however, and before a dozens seconds passed the last wererat was bleeding from a handful of small slashes and puncture wounds. The creature lowered his sword for just an instance, and Navarr stabbed forward quickly with his rapier striking the creature in the chest. Navarr felt the sharp point is his blade scrape and deflect off a rib bone before pushing through more flesh and into the creature’s lungs.
Navarr stepped back and withdrew his sword. The wererat just stood there looking back at him as its sword fell from its hand and clattered to the stone floor. It was as good as dead. Both Navarr and the wererat knew it. Then slowly the wererat fell to the stone floor.
Navarr wasted no time looking over the results of his sword-work. He could hear the approaching sounds of more wererats in the catacombs, and was fairly certain it must be the large group that had initially started the chase several chambers further back. Without further ado Navarr grabbed the torch he had discarded atop the sarcophagi and immediately rushed off after Gaston, hoping he would be able to catch-up to the other man and find him safe.
The next two burial chambers the blood-trail passed through had no sign of Gaston or wererats for that matter. Navarr pressed on, his breathing coming more labored from all the running and swordplay. He noticed his torch was not burning as brightly as it was before, and wished he had taken a newer one from one the wererats he had recently killed. The last thing he wanted was to be killed, but after that the next least thing he wanted was to be stuck in the catacombs without any light.
Navarr was passing through another burial chamber and guessing he was two-thirds of the way back towards the first chamber where he and Gaston had initially encountered the wererats, when he heard sounds coming from the passageway ahead of him. The blood-trail lead into the passageway in question, and Navarr charged ahead faster than ever, certain that Gaston had gotten himself cornered or captured, and hoping that he wasn’t too late to help.
Like all the passageways, the one Navarr now ran down had gradual curves in them making it impossible to see directly from one chamber to the next. This passageway in particular was longer than the others he had been in, and Navarr remembered it distinctively because it had one sharp curve in particular that was close to the chamber he was approaching. Because he remembered the passageway, he knew for a fact that the stairs leading up to the room in the inn was about a minute away by hard running. He just hoped that whatever he found in the next chamber he would be able to overcome and still make good an escape with Gaston.
Rounding the sharp corner in the passageway, Navarr ran a dozen more feet and entered the burial chamber. There was enough commotion going on in the room that his fast approach was not noticed as he came to a skidding halt. Quickly taking in the scene before him, Navarr noted a burial chamber was void of stone sarcophagi, and across the room with their backs towards him were four more wererats. They had Gaston cornered and appeared to be toying with him as they playfully thrust at him with their rapiers. Gaston had his own sword in hand and was slapping away their attacks as best he could. Navarr also noted his companion appeared to have a minor wound in his left arm. The only other light in the room was coming from Gaston’s lamp, which he still held onto.
Navarr could see Gaston’s face and noted the man didn’t appear afraid, but rather an expression of firm resolve crossed the other man’s face. The expression was one that he often saw on men who knew their time was coming to and end, but wanted to make the most of it and die with honor.
Then Gaston saw him from across the room.
“It’s about time!” Gaston shouted.
The wererats that had Gaston cornered noticed their prey’s eyes focus on something behind them as he spoke, and they all quickly glanced over their shoulders. They noticed too late, however, as Navarr was already making his attack. He thrust his rapier into the side of one wererat and was smashing his failing torch onto the skull of another. At the same time Gaston used the distraction to run his sword through one of his other attackers. Both wererats that were pierced by blades went scurrying away while the one Navarr smashed with his torch simply crumbled to the floor.
Navarr stepped back, drew his parrying dagger and parried an attack by the forth wererat. He easily parried two more attacks with his rapier as he noticed Gaston facing off against one of the wounded wererats that was coming back into the fight. Navarr riposted after parrying the very next attack and scored a vicious gash on his foes sword arm. The wound was severe enough that his opponent was unable to hold his sword and dropped it. Just as the wererat was turning to flee, Navarr expertly used the end of his blade and slashed a deeper gash along the creature’s left leg hamstring. The wererat collapsed when it put weight on the wounded leg, and Navarr stepped forward and thrust his sword into the creature’s heart.
Navarr accessed the rest of the room and noted one of the wounded wererats must have gotten away. The one that Navarr had hit with the torch was still unconscious on the floor, he had just killed the one that had not been wounded in his and Gaston’s initial attacks, and the last wererat left in the room was one that either he or Gaston had wounded moments ago, that was now battling with Gaston.
Navarr stood back and let Gaston fight his foe alone, knowing his companion was capable of dealing with the creature, but also because he knew Gaston needed the victory and the self-confidence.
Gaston, with his lamp in one hand and his rapier in the other, danced back and forth with the wounded wererat. Their swords flashed back and forth between each other a half dozen times as they gauged each other’s defenses. Suddenly, Gaston stepped into his opponent and used the lamp to parry his foe’s attack with a sweeping gesture, while at the same time he managed a counter thrust with his own sword that struck the wererat in the shoulder. The wererat jumped back from the sting of the wound, but Gaston stayed on him by following up his wounding strike with a series of more attacks. The wererat was barely managing to parry Gaston’s attacks, and certainly was unable to counter attack, when finally Gaston managed to sink another piercing thrust into the creature, this time to the side of his chest.
With a squeak, like a normal sized rat would make, but much louder, the wererat stumbled and fell to the floor. It was having trouble breathing as Gaston’s blade undoubtedly pieced a lung. Just as Gaston was about to finish him off with a killing thrust, the wererat dropped his sword and held up his hand in surrender, then quickly fell over as it passed out.
Gaston relaxed never delivering the last blow, instead he immediately turned to face Navarr.
“Where were you?” he fumed. “I thought you were behind me? They had me cornered and all I could do was hope and pray you would soon come along and offer some aid. But I feared you dead and gone and my end soon to follow.”
Navarr shrugged slightly. “A few chambers back just as you were running into the next passage, six wererats came dashing in from two others and blocked me from following.”
“Six?” Gaston asked incredulously.
“I had to deal with them before continuing after you.”
“You fought and defeated six by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And your not even wounded,” Gaston said with a flippant gesture to his own wounded arm. “If you can so easily dispatch that many by yourself then why are we running away?”
Just then the familiar sounds of the wererat horde could be once again heard fast approaching.
“Because that sounds like at least a score of those damn things,” Navarr said grimly. “That’s more than we can handle at once.”
Navarr gestured for Gaston to continue following the blo
od-trail, but Gaston waved him off.
“They came at me from the passageway ahead,” Gaston said urgently, “and then forced me back into this chamber here. There were more than these four, however; at least twice that number and I suspect more in the chambers beyond, though I know not where they went. They have us cut off from the inn, I’m sure of it.”
Navarr nodded in understanding. The wererats knew he and Gaston were in the catacombs and they knew they had come from the Blue Sparrow Inn. There was also no doubt the wererats knew the catacombs quite well, and Navarr was sure they hade more of their numbers in the passages ahead to try and stop Gaston and himself from getting back to the Inn. He was certain the creatures didn’t care about the money Gaston carried, at least not anymore. What they were after now was revenge for the deaths of their fallen comrades.
“This way,” Navarr said as he gestured towards the third passageway in the room.
Gaston didn’t argue as he ran into the indicated passageway. Navarr was right behind and didn’t want to get to far away from his companion, as Gaston had the lantern, which was now their only source of light. They ran down the passageway at a steady pace but not as fast as they had been moving before, as the last several minutes of continuous running and fighting was starting to take a toll on them. Both men knew that without the blood-trail to guide them they would be at the mercy of the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers that made up the catacombs.
They entered another burial chamber much the same as all the others before, with multiple passageways and the all too familiar notched walls holding dust and bones. Gaston halted and turned to ask Navarr which of the three other passageways they should take when he heard the strange whispering voice once again.
“This way,” the voice said, and it sounded like it came from the passageway on the right.
Gaston immediately set off in that direction and Navarr followed. The passage was narrower than the others they had been in, and curved slightly to the left as they ran down its length. Eventually it ended in another room, but instead of a typical burial chamber they entered into a large square gallery.
Both men stopped abruptly as they came into the chamber. There were two rows of sarcophagi that extended before them, each row containing seven of the stone coffins. But what really caught their attention were the dusty skeletal remains that were intact and lined the walls all the way around the room, with strands of old spider webbing cross-crossing back and forth over them. There were easily a hundred of them. The corpses no doubt were positioned standing up when they were first brought into the large tomb centuries ago, with their arms crossed and heads hanging down or resting on either shoulder, and they were tightly packed next to each other side by side. Over the many years their earthly remains decayed and rotted away, leaving to be seen today just their skeletal bones. There were smaller skeletal remains as well, obviously belonging to children, that were standing up and leaning back against the larger ones. Some of the skeletons still had pieces of clothing hanging from their bony remains.
“If I never see anything like this again I will die happy,” Gaston commented softly at the eerie sight. A Sudden shiver wracked his body and his next breath came as shudder.
The companions made their way into the hall, walking between the rows of sarcophagi, while the vacant eye sockets of a hundred skeletons gazed onward. It was incredibly unsettling to be surrounded by so many dead, and both men couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, especially considering how their night started with the whispering words of a ghostly voice.
They were halfway through the chamber when suddenly Gaston stopped walking and turned to the side. “Did you see that?” he murmured as he pointed at one of the skeletons. He noticed his arm and hand was shaking slightly and quickly lowered it.
“See what?” Navarr replied. He eyed his companion oddly then looked at the skeleton in question.
“It moved.”
“Stop it,” Navarr scolded. “You’re seeing things and frightening yourself. And if you keep it up you’ll start frightening me as well.”
“I know what I saw,” Gaston said emphatically.
“Do you really?”
“I think so, yes.”
Navarr shook his head absently at Gaston and quickly looked away with a slight scowl. It was Navarr’s way of telling the other man that any further comments on the subject should be kept to himself. Then he turned his attention back towards the burial gallery. “I don’t see another passageway out.”
That got Gaston’s attention and he began to turn all about looking at the walls, holding his lantern up high to shine as much light as possible. Everywhere he looked the skeletons were lined up against the walls, with the exception being the tunnel that he and Navarr had just come from.
“Damn-it,” Navarr cursed.
“What is it?”
“They’re coming.”
Then Gaston heard the distant sound of the wererat horde coming from the passageway and he understood at once. They had nowhere to run.
They were trapped.