Gutter Rats: Origins Chapter 13

Curses and cries of fear rose from the soldiers upon seeing the flames. They stumbled forward, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

It was worse.

The front gates had burned, leaving only charred timbers hanging from the walls on either side. A dead soldier lay in the opening, blood pooled around him. More soldiers slumped dead on top of the walls.

The survivors rushed inside and came skidding to a halt as the full horror of what had happened sank in.

The general’s entire retinue, all his servants and retainers, were dead, their bodies sprawled across the grounds. The handful of soldiers left to defend the place had been hacked to pieces.

The tents and the general’s pavilion had been put to the torch. The camps of the three companies had been burned, along with the wagons bearing all their food and backup weapons and materials. Blackened doorways in the headquarters building and other buildings on the grounds showed that they had burned as well. Though the stone walls were intact, the roof beams had burned, and the ceilings had caved in.

Lady Atheen turned on General Stanley. “What are we going to do?” she screamed. “How are we going to get out of this?”

He swallowed hard as the survivors turned to him. All the captains were gone, and the only surviving sergeant was badly injured. There was a single lieutenant still alive, a thin man who looked very pale.

“We have to…we have to…” He looked around wildly. Somehow, he’d shed his armor during the flight. He was bloody and looked very young. “I don’t know!” He turned on the lieutenant. “You’re an officer. Do something!”

The lieutenant blanched and backed up, shaking his head violently.

The soldiers looked at each other in dismay. A few started arguing with each other. Tempers began to flare quickly as despair turned to panic and fear.

Rome spoke up then.

“The first thing we need to do is secure the gate.” He pointed at a group of soldiers. “Find anything you can and drag it in front of the gate. There’s a wagon that doesn’t look too badly burned. Use that. Pile up anything you can carry.”

He turned to several other soldiers. “You men get up on top of the wall. Keep your heads down. Give us a warning if there’s an attack.”

It was a testament to Rome’s natural leadership that all the soldiers sprang to carry out his orders without questioning or arguing.

Rome sent some men to drag the bodies into one of the smaller buildings. He sent others to comb through the wreckage and find whatever they could that was useful. Others got the job of putting out the remaining fires.

Grimald and Lou were there. Lou had blood on his face, and Grimald was limping, but they seemed mostly intact.

“Find me a litter for the sergeant,” Rome told them. “We’re going to have to carry him.”

He turned to Quyloc. “You and Glane start filling waterskins and handing them out.” They’d all been out of water since late afternoon.

Quyloc and Glane headed for the nearest water barrel. “Oh no,” Glane said when they got there. The barrel had been smashed. The precious water was nothing but mud now.

“You check the rest of the barrels,” Quyloc told Glane. Quyloc took off running for the fort’s well, knowing before he got there that it was going to be bad. The Crodin had been very thorough. There was no way they’d missed the well.

The well had a low, stone wall around it. It looked fine at first in the dim light from the flickering fires. Quyloc pulled up the bucket.

The bucket was full of plants. Quyloc pulled one out to look at it closer. His worst fears were realized.

He ran back to Rome and showed him the plant. “They filled the well with devil weed.”

Rome’s shoulders sagged as what Quyloc was saying sunk in. “We could pull it out.”

Quyloc shook his head. “It’s too late, and you know it. The water is already contaminated.”

Rome said, “And the water barrels?”

“I sent Glane to check, but I’m sure they got them all.”

Rome looked around to make sure no one was listening. The general and his lady were nearby, but they were busy arguing.

“This is bad. This is real bad.”

“We’re not getting out of this, are we?” Quyloc asked.

Rome straightened. “We’re not dead yet. That means we still have a chance. Don’t give up on me.”

Quyloc wanted to, but knowing Rome was counting on him made it easier to bear. He couldn’t afford to give in to despair. Not now. He racked his brain, thinking.

“Without water, we can’t hold out here. In a day we’ll be dead or too weak to fight.”

Rome nodded grimly.

“We have to get to Last Water. It’s our only hope.”

“The Crodin know that too,” Rome said. “They’ll just keep doing what they did all afternoon. How many of us will make it through?”

“I know that. There has to be another way.”

Rome put his hand on Quyloc’s shoulder. “If there is, you’ll think of it. You always do.”

I don’t think this time there is, Quyloc thought. But he just nodded.

A soldier on top of the wall shouted down to them. “Crodin!”

The two men ran to the wooden ladder leaning against the wall and climbed up. What they saw made Quyloc wince.

Hundreds of Crodin warriors were massed outside the fort, perhaps as many as a thousand. It was hard to tell in the dim light. They were a dark mass bunched outside the gate.

A spark appeared in their midst, then flame. A torch was lit. The Crodin moved aside as a figure carried the torch forward. He walked boldly up to the wall. Someone could have put an arrow into him quite easily, but no one moved.

He was squat and broad. His hair hung in thick, matted braids. Ritual tattoos covered his face. When he spoke, they could see that he’d filed his canine teeth to sharp points.

“I am Trakar Cornash!” he bellowed, throwing his arms wide. “This is Crodin land. For too long we have suffered your presence, but no more. Now the stain of Qarath comes to an end.”

He pointed the torch at them. “You will all die!” He threw the torch down and walked back to his people.

Rome looked at Quyloc. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to reason with him.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

They climbed down off the wall.

“I could really use a brilliant plan about now, Quyloc.”

Quyloc had nothing. He was sure they were going to die. But then a soft voice spoke up.

“I may be able to help.”

Go to next chapter.