The Rat King's Swarm
Dede Samudi spewed endless, insulting, and cynical taunts in an ancient tongue toward the huanma and the witch. The huanma's auras visibly wavered under the barrage.
Yet the witch's alarm stemmed from something else entirely.
"Dede Samudi? How in the world did a wretch like you manage to summon Dede Samudi?"
Her voice faltered from sheer shock, yet she forced the words out, the effort leaving her looking rather pitiful.
"For years Dede Samudi ignored every summons from us great witches, every invitation to the Sabat—why now?"
I chose not to answer, out of respect for his dignity. The truth was rather undignified and deflating.
At my thought, Dede Samudi radiated clear displeasure, but I brushed it aside. It was the truth, and he knew it as well as anyone.
"So you really were someone important. A great witch—I'd heard the title, but I never imagined one actually existed."
I had caught fragments about the Swamp Witch and great witches earlier, but the truths buried in Dede Samudi's mocking words were far more intriguing.
Over six hundred years. Forbidden arts gained by slaying one's own master. Sacrifices and inefficient, profane rituals. And the fact that Olsidra was not yet thirty.
"Killing one of the great witches. Thanks to you, my meager list of exploits just gained another entry."
—Gikra Log Kakel!
At my will, an ancient incantation rang from Dede Samudi's lips. The sky overhead darkened as though night had fallen.
"Tin Pek Silte!"
The witch realized the spell's intent and hurled fireballs toward the Followers of the Yellow Honor and the faceless ones, but the moment they raised their hands the flames simply died.
Her mana was pathetically weak compared to before. Whether the forbidden arts had stripped more than just her youth, or whether most of her power was being spent maintaining the huanma, I could not be sure. Either way, she was no longer worth worrying about.
The huanma she had called Suku Goetina let out a toad-crushing bellow. The surrounding energies churned and Dede Samudi's spell wavered, but Jequirak's swift lightning and flames silenced the roar.
The darkness that had blanketed the sky shattered and rained down, seeping rapidly into the ragged clothes of the Followers of the Yellow Honor. Their yellow rags turned black. Their hunched bodies swelled. Their unnaturally short arms lengthened. From beneath the rags, sharp, uneven legs burst forth—multiple limbs of varying lengths that looked both grotesque and dangerously unstable.
When the true sky reappeared, the Followers of the Yellow Honor had transformed into far more menacing, bizarre forms, breathing heavily.
Suku Goetina brandished its tentacles threateningly at the changed followers and Dede Samudi, bellowing once more. Its bloated, round body made it waddle slightly; had its appearance not been so repulsive, the sight might almost have been comical.
All but one of the huanma behind Suku Goetina stepped forward to form a wall. Energy flowed from Suku Goetina, enveloping and linking them. The animal-headed genitals—grotesquely prominent compared to the rest of their bodies—twitched up and down. The sight made me order an all-out attack without hesitation.
The Followers of the Yellow Honor kicked off the ground with their grotesque legs and charged at speeds far beyond their previous limits. The faceless ones slid across the earth like shadows.
When the animal heads on the huanma's genitals shrieked, sharp shockwaves erupted. Several followers in the vanguard were hurled back, yet even they rose again and rushed forward.
Like insects swarming a great tree, the followers—now wreathed in black energy—clung to the massive huanma forming the wall. Their elongated arms and twisted tongues tore into the huanma's flesh. The faceless ones who arrived next loosened the leather straps covering their faces before the writhing huanma.
Where faces should have been, there was nothing—only shifting shadow. Unlike when they had devoured the thief's face, however, actual faces began to surface within that darkness.
A scarred man. An old man covered in wrinkles and liver spots. A woman who had lost her beauty. A patient whose entire face was mottled with black lesions.
The moment those disparate faces emerged, a sound like a sigh escaped them. Then a language never before heard—and impossible to imitate—resounded. Even if recorded and replayed through crystal or any magical device, it could never be reproduced. It was at once incantation, curse, plea, sob, and roar, yet also the quietest silence. Those who heard it would understand, even without comprehension.
With that language, the energy cloaking the huanma began to unravel. The followers' claws and tongues sank deeper, tearing further. Agonized screams filled the air. The huanma's genitals shrank until the followers' claws severed them completely.
The instant the genitals were cut away, black smoke poured from the fading bodies of the remaining huanma. Only empty husks of skin collapsed to the ground.
A gap opened in the wall. Several followers lunged for it, but narrow entrances always favored the defenders. Suku Goetina's tentacles impaled them; under the spell, several followers burst like bubbles.
Dede Samudi and Jequirak's attack spells struck the weakened wall once more. Another huanma fell.
Yet nearly half the summoned Followers of the Yellow Honor had already been lost. Beyond the loathsome wall, I could feel Suku Goetina and the witch preparing a new spell.
"As expected, it won't be easy."
After sending the metal golem and dark elementals into the fray, I conjured a small sigil on my hand. I could have summoned other creatures, but like the Followers of the Yellow Honor and Dede Samudi, there was one I had been planning to call since Olsidra was still alive.
"Squeak."
The creature that stepped from the sigil was a black rat wearing a cheap ring like a crown and gripping a rusty fork like a trident in one forepaw.
The King of Rats. Sito Juconkl, creation of the Black Sage Joma and one of the guardians of Afros.
"Welcome, King of Rats. I find myself borrowing your strength once more."
"Squeak squeak squeak. Squeak squeak, squeak squeak."
He glanced at the battlefield, then spoke with a cynical smile, chiding me. The remark about demanding two silver coins this time was clearly serious.
"Two coins is a bit steep… would one not suffice?"
It was a joke, of course. If he agreed it would be welcome, but it was mostly jest.
"Squeak."
I smiled back at his laughing rebuke not to be stingy. There was no time for banter, however. The numbers of the Followers of the Yellow Honor and dark elementals were dwindling again.
"Squeak squeak squeak?"
"Yes. Simply summon them for me."
Sito Juconkl was watching Dede Samudi. He had clearly guessed what was about to happen. He climbed down my body, stood on two legs upon the ground, and raised his fork-trident like a conqueror. His eyes began to glow blue, and strange sigils etched themselves across his entire form.
With a surge of mana, numerous small black portals opened across the earth. Countless rats poured out. Dede Samudi extended both hands toward them and chanted once more.
Black smoke from Dede Samudi swept over the rats. Their noisy squeaking ceased at once.
More rats than could be counted lifted their heads as one. Their eyes shone red.
Dede Samudi pointed at Suku Goetina. At that signal the rats surged forward like a black tide, washing over the huanma.
Shockwaves erupted again. Many rats were crushed, yet it made no difference.
Blood, flesh, bone, and fur mingled as the rats were pulverized or torn apart, their corpses flung in every direction. Yet it did not end there. The corpses and blood clung to other living rats as though they themselves were alive, swelling those bodies further.
"Squeak, squeak squeak squeak, squeak."
Sito Juconkl grinned cruelly at the sight and remarked that it was in rather poor taste. I agreed. The procession of dead rats was hardly a pleasant spectacle, even without invoking the old legends.
"You summoned them anyway."
"Squeak, squeak."
A deal is a deal, after all. He truly was a lord of dark cheer. That was probably why he showed me this measure of favor.
"Squeak squeak, squeak squeak squeak? Squeak squeak squeak."
He offered to summon even more rats if I wished—provided I paid the additional fee, of course.
"No. Let's see how this plays out first."
I took two silver coins from my pocket and handed them over. With a flick of his fork the coins floated into a portal and vanished.
I wondered what money could possibly mean to a being who wore a rat's body.
As one of Afros's guardians, created to manage the city's rats, what use could he have for coin? If he desired anything, the Afros Council would surely provide it.
"Squeak squeak, squeak squeak."
Reading my thoughts, he answered with a self-mocking tone. To prove his worth, he said. Then he added playfully,
"Squeak squeak squeak squeak, squeak squeak?"
'Are you not the same, Summoner?'
The eyes that looked at me as he spoke made it clear he was also gazing into my heart.
"…I suppose so."
Yes. The satisfaction of watching coins, currency, or possessions accumulate was not merely about fulfilling needs or filling a lack. I knew that well. Perhaps that was exactly why I was so attached to money.