Chapter 3: Eeny, Meeny
The duo paused to catch their breath at a T-junction as the ceiling in the corridor behind them finished collapsing, blocking the most recent group of pursuers on the other side. The sound of their muffled curses mixed with the still falling rubble. As with every other corridor, it was dimly lit with the occasional tapestry, though the opposing wall to the collapse was dominated by a large portrait.
“Well, this has been more fun than I thought it would be,” said the larger man with a good-natured smile as he loudly cracked his knuckles. “You move like the wind. Those poor fools never knew what hit them!”
“Most of the time it was you doing the hitting, great sir!” replied the smaller as he beat the dust off of his legs. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you by using you as a springboard so often”
“Not in the least! I found it hilarious,” he chuckled as he surveyed the rubble behind them. “Looks like we’ve made a bit of a mess!”
“True,” scoffed the smaller man, “I fear the maid will want our heads.”
Sounds of rubble being moved and shouted orders began to seep from the other side of the collapse. “Sounds like she may not be the only one. Best not to linger,” the larger man sighed, kicking in a fake stone panel that had been softly opening to his left. “Perhaps we should be on our way,” he grunted with satisfaction as he heard muffled dismay coming from the other side of the newly blocked passage. “Don’t you think?”
“Hmmm…probably,” replied the small man absentmindedly as he casually drew his saber and stabbed through a tapestry to his right.
“YERK!” An abrupt yelp sounded from behind it.
The tapestry was then violently torn from its mountings as the thief concealed there, in his efforts to avoid being stabbed, fell through the hatch in the floor through which he was trying to enter, dragging the thick cloth with him. Muffled cries of shock emanated from below the now clogged hatchway.
Turning back toward the looming painting between them, the smaller man began, “I’m sorry…but this painting… there is something odd about it, yes?”
“He certainly is an ugly fellow,” replied the larger man eyeing the portrait. It was a dark and smoke-stained oil painting dominated by a pinched-faced man in large ill-fitting robes. In the lower left corner stood a stack of lovingly rendered wheels of cheese topped by a skull with candles melted to it. The background was a mass of small dark shapes with beady red eyes. “A bit overwrought, in my opinion.”
“Oh yes, he is so very dark and scary,” chuckled the little man. “No…the rat here in this corner…it keeps…blinking, see?” He extended his hand, pointing to a scrawny rat that as they watched, blinked and twitched its nose. At his touch, the painted image of the rat changed to that of a rat being held by its scruff. As the little man traced his finger across the surface of the painting, the image of the dangling rat stuck to it. Pulling his finger away from the surface of the painting the rat dropped to the bottom of the image, then snarling, bounded back to its original corner.
“He looks a bit angry at you,” the big man chided, “perhaps he wanted some cheese.” He reached forward and swiped across the painting depositing the rat upon the cheese. The painted image of the rat again shifted, this time to that of an overfull rat passed out contentedly in front of the pile of cheese. There was a barely audible click and the painting slid sideways, revealing stairs that spiraled up into darkness.
“Well that was entertaining,” the larger man said as a small crossbow bolt passed between them lodging in the staircase wall beyond. Behind them a small hole had been made at the top of the rubble. Gloved hands were reaching through the hole clawing at the larger chunks in an effort to enlarge it. “My they are determined. Which way then? Left, right or up?”
Before the little man could answer, doors along the sides of both hallways exploded open. Goon squads bearing large square iron shields rushed into the halls. They locked the shields edge to edge then knelt behind them forming a chest high wall. Behind each of these iron barricades flooded hordes of crossbowmen filling the corridors completely.
“UP!” they both agreed as they lunged into the stairway.
Luckily for the massed thieves, the arrows that crisscrossed behind the pair buried themselves in the two opposing shield walls. As the last bolt thunked home the two walls broke apart with a roar of frustration. The charging hordes lunged toward the stair with drawn blades and murderous looks.
“LEAVE IT!”
A harsh voiced barked, bringing them all to a sudden silent stop. To a rogue, the crowd parted deferentially forming ordered rows on either side of the opening. A petite woman with bright silver hair and an eye patch slipped through the hole in the rubble. She sauntered casually to the base of the stairs tilting her head and looking up into the darkened stair. The scar that lead from her eyepatch to her lip twisted the wicked grin that spread across her face.
“Let the Rat earn his keep.”
Murmurs and grim chuckles spread through the assembled crowd as she slowly slid the door closed.
© Tucker Johnson 2020