Rattus Rex

Chapter 46 - Beast

Going back into his little shed, Hamelin picked up the object that Mosel had left behind. It was a small, leather bound book, with the simple title of ‘Intricacies of Indric’. Flipping through the pages, with it’s varied symbols and combinations, Hamelin felt a strange, upward tug on his lips.

Scowling, to negate the threatening smile, Hamelin threw the book onto his cot and stomped back outside. Seating himself in the entranceway to his fortress of solitude, Hamelin rested his chin in his hands and looked in the direction that Mosel had disappeared.

It’s a trick, he ensured himself, He’s trying to make me take my guard down. Although he saw no reason for Mosel to lie, or any sign of deceit; there had to be a catch. There was always a catch.

What am I even worrying about? Hamelin sniffed and leaned backward into his shed, picking up an elongated item that he had hung on the wall next to the door. He’s the one with the fantasy that we’re still in some sort of brotherly relationship. Let him have his delusion, and it may be useful down the line.

Mosel was going to be a powerful mage in the future, and if he held true to his promise, then Hamelin might be able to get that kind of power to follow his will. Grinning at the prospect, Hamelin put the intricate flute to his mouth, letting out a few, hesitant trills.

The flute that the bastard Piper had given him had been another source of entertainment in his exile, aside from its value as an experimental tool. Seeing how Piper had been able to entice the rats in the pantry to come out dancing, Hamelin had hoped he would be able to mimic the feat.

As he kept trilling, however, no dancing animals of any kind entered the clearing. It was not entirely for naught, though; as the tune reverberated through the thick of trees, a gathering of eyes in the thicket shadows reflected light from the midday sun.

He had only ever been able to lure the smallest of animals in the forest—squirrels, birds, and the occasional woodlands mice—and never had they done anything other than watch him, tentatively. As he laid into the music, however, a few of the critters escaped the safety of shadows and approached.

Sniffing the air, a squirrel braved the distance between the thicket and the music, seating itself on its hind legs only a short distance away from Hamelin as he kept focusing on the notes. His self-taught technique made a hesitant staccato rhythm, and as soon has he messed up his hand arrangement, the spell was broken.

Shaking its head, the squirrel stood up and darted in the direction of the protective shade. Lowering the flute, Hamelin followed the squirrel with his eyes, evaluating his success. It was the first time he had managed to get a critter to come out of the thicket, and it proved he was improving.

As the squirrel ran, it suddenly jolted and changed directions, disappearing into the thicket with a high-pitched squeak. Surprised by its actions, Hamelin followed its original path into the thicket and found two beady, yellow eyes matching his own.

“Well, now… This is a surprise,” he said, softly. The shadow behind the eyes drew the lines of a much larger beast than he had ever enticed before.

“Welcome, master Wolf, to my humble abode,” Hamelin flashed his teeth and flexed his fingers excitedly. Perhaps his bad mood could be vanquished with a good and proper fight. The wolf staring at him from within the thicket made no effort to move, but he could tell it was ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“You and I, master Wolf,” Hamelin said, his voice silky smooth, “Are creatures of carnage.” His voice promised both a soft embrace, as well as the most violent of ends. The presumptuous claims that Mosel had made—calling him a ‘human’ of all things—required refuting, and Hamelin thought the wolf the perfect partner to expel his doubts.

Tilting its head, the wolf still eyed Hamelin, but remained in its position. Watchful. Waiting.

“We are the ones who lurk in darkness, hunting our prey with precision and efficacy,” he continued, standing up and slowly transforming his hands into wicked claws. The wolf finally reacted, gaining its feet and lowering its ears; lips parting in a slow, rumbling growl.

“Our hunt consumes the weak, culling the herd and leaving only the strongest behind. In turn they fear us; fear of the beast who tempers their very existence. Through our bestial destruction, they grow.” Hamelin’s lips parted as well, baring his teeth as he snarled viciously. He took one step forward, then another. “However, sometimes, we should also temper one another…”

The wolf leaned backward, putting all of its weight on its hind-legs, ready to pounce. Hamelin’s excitement rose, his desire to destroy growing urgent. Just as the confrontation seemed inevitable, another pair of eyes made Hamelin stop in his tracks.

At the feet of the massive wolf, another set of eyes peered up at Hamelin. These were much smaller and filled with playful curiosity. Beside the first, another pair appeared, and another. In all, four pairs of eyes looked up at Hamelin with naive fascination, even as their great protector prepared for a clash.

Wrinkling his nose, Hamelin looked at the small wolf cubs with a mixture of disdain and fascination. Disdain at the weakness apparent in front of him; small creatures which were not even capable of judging the danger they were in. Fascination at the innocence their young eyes betrayed, despite the violent nature they should have inherited.

Each of the four cubs had distinct markings, from gray, reddish-brown, to black and white, but one in particular stood out. Among the curious creatures, this was the only one who had dared step out in front of the protector, looking up at Hamelin with a playful snarl in response to his own.

Streaks of red and black ran down its side, while its head and snout was dressed in a black mask, broken only by a single red mark on its forehead, shaped into the form of a crescent moon, points facing down. It’s eyes, though, was what truly set it apart. One eye was beastly yellow, like the others wolves’ eyes, but the other was a deep, emerald green.

Putting his hands down, Hamelin dismissed the claws and looked from the cubs back to their protector. “It seems I was mistaken, mistress Wolf,” he said, stepping back, “I presume my playing lured the little ones?”

The hardened she-wolf sniffed, and the little cub in front of her mirrored her contemptuous demeanor. “I do apologize,” Hamelin said, his voice drenched with disappointment, “I had hoped you were here for a challenge, but I suppose that will have to wait.”

Shaking her majestic head, the she-wolf pushed the cubs away from clearing, forcing them away from this interesting place. Only the impertinent whelp in front escaped her herding, instead pushing forward to yelp at Hamelin. It was a display of bravery that could only be described as stupefying.

Squatting down, Hamelin fished out a piece of jerky from his pocket and threw it at the little beast, observing as its hostility faded into confused gluttony. The little rascal did not get to enjoy his meal for long, before his mother had taken a solid hold of his neck, and raised him into the air, eying Hamelin warily.

“I only hunt the worthy,” Hamelin explained, grinning, “You, mistress Wolf, are worthy. In time, this little one will be as well. I look forward to that day.”

While the cub protested the stern treatment, and simultaneously fought to keep hold of its prize, the she-wolf sniffed again, and then backed away into the clearing, where the other cubs had sensibly remained. Setting down her wayward offspring, the she-wolf gave Hamelin one more wary look, before she herded them back into the dark forest.

Looking at another guest leaving his home unscathed, Hamelin could not help but shake his head. I’ve truly gone soft.

Sighing, he returned to his shed and put the flute back in its place. He spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of the small garden he had cultivated behind the shed, where he was currently raising some of the most potent poisonous plants he could get his hands on.

As the sun waned, he was visited once more, by his third visitor of the day. Wither came skulking out of the shadows, quick as the wind. It settled itself on its hind legs and gave Hamelin his biggest, toothiest smile.

‘Master, I return,’ it’s speech came through images and senses, more than words, but it had developed into a cohesive language between master and subject over the years. To Hamelin, Wither sounded like an excited ratling, hoping for a chance to prove itself to its overseer.

“And you’ve brought a guest,” Hamelin noted, staring pointedly at Wither’s shadow. The area beneath the rat’s feet billowed, and another rat rose from out of the ground, pitch black and misty.

“Greetings, Master,” said this second form, performing a mock bow of the head.

“I do wish you’d stop using that form with your messengers, Minera,” Hamelin said, wrinkling his nose at the shadowy rat, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Not even when it’s done in honor of my great and powerful master?” Minera’s voice, projected through the shadow sounded hurt, but Hamelin could feel the playfulness in her tone.

“Especially when done in my honor,” Hamelin retorted, waving his hand to dismiss her argument, “It is a false sense of flattery. It is beneath you, Minera.”

The shadow billowed again, flattening out before retaking the form of a spider. “Better, My Master?” She said, her voice laced with honey.

“It will suffice,” Hamelin said, crossing his arms, “Tell me your news.”

“Arden is grumbling,” she began, “But that’s nothing new. Apparently his progress is being blocked in Farras, and he has managed to piss off both the local authorities and the gangs we’ve partnered with.”

“He failed to adjust the price of his wares with the import of wine coming from Hyskal, didn’t he,” Hamelin sighed and put a palm to his face, “I thought we’d made sure Olivio, at the very least, was aware of the issue.”

“We did, and he was,” Minera said, her voice clearly indicating she was occupied with some menial task back with her original body. Probably filing her nails, Hamelin suspected. “However, Arden overruled him. Again. He’s becoming a problem, Master.”

“I will deal with Arden,” Hamelin growled. The fear of the gods he had put into Arden, back at their initial meeting, was apparently waring off. It would need to be reinforced soon. “Anything else?”

“My side of the business is growing steadily. We’ve opened several dancing halls in the past few weeks, as per your instructions, and our costumers have been very generous. I may also have some additional good news for you in a few days.”

“Oh…?” Hamelin looked at the shifting form of the spider below with expectation.

“Tsk, Master, you of all people should know the importance of savoring good events. When it’s time, I’ll tell you more.”

Shrugging, Hamelin decided not to pry any further. Minera had a certain flair for the dramatic, and she had yet to disappoint him. He was half-way hoping her ‘good news’ was an attempt to betray him. That, at the very least, would give him an opportunity to teach her a lesson.

Or, perhaps, remove her entirely.

Since he had provided the means for her to control the darkness that grew within her, she, in turn, had grown incredibly powerful. Hamelin knew her probing jabs at him to be a search for weakness, as she was evaluating his strength against her own, looking for a chance to strike.

It would not be long now before she would realize that her current powers were much greater than his, and she would attempt to take over. She was an expert at uncovering information, and her shadowy abilities made it impossible to keep a secret she wanted to unveil.

Thus, it had barely been a year into his exile that she had discovered his whereabouts. Hamelin had seen no other option than to confide in her, at least to let her know the most important aspects of who he was. Seeing as he had no attachments to his erstwhile family, there was little potential gain to her in threatening them, and so Hamelin had seen no problem revealing that much.

The fact about where his powers came from, and what he was truly capable of, he had managed to keep from her, at least for now. However, if he did not advance his withermancy soon, or kill her, she would betray him. Hamelin was absolutely certain of it.

“Oh and,” the spider flickered its shadowy feet in expectation, “Heron has secured the deal for the Hell Seed you wanted. It will be here in a fortnight.”

That made Hamelin straighten and eyes gleam with delight. “Truly?” He said, face splitting into a true grin.

“Truly, Master.”

“And… is there any trickery afoot?” His entire face was a warped mask of vicious cruelty. The little spider shook, for some reason, and Minera took a short pause, before responding.

“Oh yes… just as you predicted. Only, I don’t think even you could predict the extent of the trickery.”

“Oh?” Hamelin could barely contain himself, hearing such deliciously vile news, “Do tell.”

“As you suspected, the transaction will be used as a cover to set up a trap, led by a royal subjugation force, no less. However, there is one member of said force with a particularly interesting relationship with you.”

“Go on… Who?”

The spider leaned forward, its attention rapt onto Hamelin’s expression, enough that he could feel Minera’s gaze through her shadowy familiar. She was looking for weakness, he could tell.

“Heston Regias,” she said, with tangible expectation in her voice, “Your brother.”