Walter set the mug down on the bar in front of his patron. The dinner hour was nearly over, and only one table remained occupied at this late hour. Thomas, the man drinking the ale, was trustworthy enough. Walter felt comfortable stepping out for a minute and leaving the bar untended. The three at the table finishing their supper were familiar, but he didn’t know them personally. With Thomas at the bar, he didn’t fear anyone serving themselves a free pour or, worse, getting their hands in his coin box.
He stepped into the back to see how Sarys’s boys were doing. Henry and Peter had been remarkable. Not only had they flown through the giant stack of dirty dishes, but the dishes had actually been cleaned. Most young boys would have given the plates a token wipe and stacked them back on the shelf with half the leftovers still stuck to them. After that they still had time to get the dining room tables set up for the first round of dinner guests and even managed to help in the kitchen. Walter intended to offer them both a regular job, if Sarys would allow it. A few hours a week for a few extra coins in their pockets would benefit everyone.
The boys were most of the way through the pots and pans from the dinner preparation. At the rate they were going, the kitchen would be spotless and sparkling within the hour.
“Well done boys,” Walter said. He grabbed a lantern from the wall near the door to the basement and took it over to the cooking fire. The fireplace actually occupied a shared wall with the dining area, heating the room for the patrons at the same time the cooks were preparing their meals. He took an unlit candle from a wall sconce and held the wick in the cook fire until it lit. He transferred that tiny flame to his lantern, then shook out the candle and replaced it. The things were expensive; he saw no need to waste one. The fire itself was providing plenty of light for what the boys needed.
“Come with me for a minute, please,” he said, once his lantern was lit.
“Sure thing Mr. A.,” Henry, the older son, replied. He took a moment to rinse the grease and suds off his hands, then dried them by simply shaking them in the air. Peter had apparently been put in charge of drying the dishes. He found a dish rack and hung the towel, then followed his brother over to Walter.
“Can we go home soon? I’m tired,” Peter asked. Walter could see his eyes drooping and red with fatigue. The poor boy looked ready to fall asleep where he stood.
“You sure can,” Walter replied. “I’ll tell you what. Just help me restock the wine and I’ll set you home with a few coins in your pockets for all your hard work.”
The boys seemed to brighten up a bit with the promise of an unexpected reward, but even a few coins couldn’t overcome their weariness.
“And a pastry, you can pick, any one you want,” Walter added, smiling.
That did the trick. Both boys perked up immediately and caught up to Walter before he hit the first step down into the wine cellar. The steps led down into darkness, the light of the lantern just reaching the floor at the bottom. Walter descended slowly, the boys right behind, staying in the lamplight. He stepped down onto the floor and lifted the lantern. The basement was mostly cobbled, but patches of dirt still showed here and there. The walls were stone, serving as the foundation for the building above. The room was cool but a little damp, not ideal for storing wine but it served its purpose well enough. Half the basement was storage for all the supplies a busy inn and tavern could want. A faint skittering from somewhere in the shadows caught his attention. He would have to call on the rat-catcher. The last thing he needed was vermin infesting his inn. Walter turned to the right, towards the half devoted to storing his wines and ale casks.
A double row of dusty wine racks extended a few yards back to the wall. He led the boys down the outside of the first row and began selecting bottles.
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"Henry, grab one of these, and one of these," he instructed, selecting the more popular vintages that were running low upstairs. He continued down the row, pointing out a third bottle for Henry. They turned the corner and started up the next row, looking for a few more bottles for Peter to carry. As they stepped into the next row, the skittering became louder. Some larger vermin must have found its way into the basement. In a way that was good; a family of racoons would be easier to deal with than an infestation of rats. The scratching and scrabbling tugged at Walter's memory, some faded nightmare struggling to stay hidden in the back of his mind.
He paused and lifted the lantern to illuminate the aisle ahead. The scratching was louder now. Was the dirt moving ahead, at the edge of the lamplight?
Walter gasped as the memory of that early childhood nightmare slammed back into the front of his mind. "No, it can't be," he whispered.
The boys were peering around him, curious expressions on their young faces.
"What is that?" Peter asked.
Walter turned and pushed the boys back, frantic. "We have to hide, now!" He kept his voice as quiet as he could while still impressing the urgency on the boys.
"What's happening?" the older brother asked.
"Hide!" Walter ordered, pushing them back to a row of casks near the wall. Three kegs of ale stood upright at the end of the row of wine-racks. Smaller casks of liquor rested in a pyramid atop one of the kegs. A wooden support pillar jutted out from the wall behind the kegs, leaving a narrow space. He shooed the boys behind and tried to squeeze himself in after. His joints screamed in protest at the abuse as he wedged himself in. He didn't quite make it, bumping the keg and unsettling the smaller casks. One toppled forward and hit a flagstone with a crack. The strong smell of an especially potent rum reached his nose. The fact that the smell identified it as some of the cheapest spirits he had was no consolation given his current predicament.
Walter blew out the lantern flame and darkness covered the three of them. No sooner had the light gone out than a muffled shriek floated through the black. The boys gasped, and Walter felt them shrink further back into their refuge. They were smart enough to know something was seriously wrong and didn't ask any more questions. His eyes adapting to the light, he leaned in and found he could see through a thin crack between the barrels.
His vantage point was right at the end of the wine rows, giving him a view straight down the aisle. A dim glow still shone from the open door at the top of the stairs, visible at the end of the aisle. The aisle itself was lost in shadow. As he watched, a silhouette emerged from the floor near where he had imagined the dirt moving. He couldn’t make out any details, only barely discern the outline where it blocked the dim glow from beyond. The thing was almost like a little man, skinny legs and arms but an impossibly long snout. A whip-thin rat-like tail thrashed the air. The thing turned its head towards their hiding spot and sniffed loudly. Two glowing embers marked its eyes, which caught some bit of light and reflected it back to the terrified watchers. It took two tentative steps towards the wall of kegs, then another small creature emerged from the hole behind it. The newcomer chattered something unintelligible to the first, which replied with a low shriek and turned back towards the stairs. Another of the beasts scrabbled out of the hole, and then a fourth. They stood for a moment, chittering and barking to one another, then moved away.
Walter thought about the patrons left upstairs. They needed to be warned, but to warn them would surely mean the death of the two boys cowering beside him. He stayed silent and hidden as the evil little group rounded the corner and scurried upstairs.
All was silent for a moment, Walter trying to will his heart and his breathing to be quieter. Then claws sounded on the wood above their heads, racing across the floor. He heard a surprised shout, then the thud of overturned chairs. A mad scramble of furniture, claws, feet and bodies pounded through the ceiling. Shouts turned to curses, which turned to screams. All Walter could do was wait and pray.
After a moment the room above went quiet, followed by the sinister sound of something heavy dragging across the floor. Worse, the sound of more claws digging for purchase in front of them warned of another exiting the new tunnel. Walter saw the silhouette of the newcomer through the gap between the casks briefly, then it moved out of view. The dragging sound above them continued, along with the wet, meaty sounds of something that Walter did not want to imagine. Then it all went quiet for seconds, which stretched into minutes. He put a hand out, across both boys’ chests, holding them still.
After a time that was probably not nearly as long as it seemed, he leaned out very slightly, trying to see around their protective barrier. He stopped, transfixed. Staring back at him from inches away was a pair of glowing yellow eyes. The same dim light from above reflected on a row of needle-sharp teeth as the kobald opened its mouth and lunged.