There were a total of five kerosene lamps that hung on the wall. After using a ladle I found in the kitchen, I was able to gather half a bottle of kerosene. Would this be enough? It would have to be. I sprinkled it on the wooden floor, soaked it in the rug that sat there, and watched as the liquid soaked into the wood, and dripped between the slats...if it dripped between them, wouldn’t that mean that there was some space underneath? A crawl space, perhaps? Or a cellar? I looked around the bottom floor for a moment before spotting something underneath the dingy rug: a lifted portion.

Dust came off in a choking mist as I pulled the rug up. Hidden underneath it was a hatch. I pulled at the iron ring and it lifted up with a sickening hiss as rotten air flooded out from the sealed room. I shook my phone to turn on the flashlight and stooped my head to avoid bumping my head against the low-hanging floor.

The body of a catman and a ratman sat entangled in eternal conflict here: a spear pierced through the chest of the Catman, and a sword pierced through the skull of the ratman, who was slumped over the white stone rim of a well it had seemingly crawled out of.

I pulled the spear loose from its dead grasp, and its body fell into pieces and with a loud splash into the still, stagnant water below. As the white light swept across the room I caught sight of rickety shelves that stretched up to brush against the floor above filled with pickled fruits and vegetables of all kinds: now rotted and done in by age. Sitting on the bottom shelf were three large jugs of the same prismatic liquid that I had found in the lanterns. I opened one of them and took a quick whiff, whipping back my head as the pungent, oily aroma assailed me. Yep. What a lucky find.

I brought them up, one by one, and set them on the floor so I wouldn’t accidentally knock them over. After that, I closed the hatch and put the soaked rug back over it. Now there was a second problem: how do I saturate enough of this into the floor to make it effective? At this rate, it’ll all drip down to the bottom. The rug was soaked in a lot. It’d probably burst to life at the slightest bit of heat. Ah, that’s it. I walked back upstairs, stopped to catch my breath at the stop, and stretched out my aching back before pulling the blankets and sheets off the bed.

“Back down,” I grumbled, as I wiped the sweat from my brow.

My throat burned. Ah, if only there wasn’t a body floating in the well in the basement, I might have gotten a drink. I’ll make a reminder to myself to always carry water with me wherever I go. Neska, help me.

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I laid the blankets and sheets over the floor in the middle of the room, a few feet away from the glistening caltrops, to block the kerosene from dripping down into the dust of the basement. Once that was finished, I walked over to the pantry pulled out the rest of the bottles, set them up on the blanket: even spaced across, and began pouring the gallon jugs into them.

The overflow soaked into the blankets, as I filled the six bottles with the three jugs, and saturated the blankets with the foul-smelling fuel at the same time. I stuffed the six corked bottles into the satchel and closed the flap.

“Now...back up.” I sighed as I glared at the staircase as if it were an old enemy.

Perhaps learning water magic wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I thumped up the stairs, one step at a time, and glanced around. Could I fit out the window? No, but the braiding of the wood by it was pretty thin and flimsy, and there was only one layer of plaster. I could probably burst through it if push came to shove and I needed a way out, so I grabbed hold of the bed and moved it out of the way of the escape route, when another thought came to my mind...I left the spear downstairs, though. I sighed, set the jugs down in a safe place, and thumped back down the stairs to grab it and bring it back up.

Wait...no, if they’re on the roofs, they probably have ranged weapons of some kind. So this wouldn’t work. This particular plan only works if I drew in some of the melee fighters...for now, I would have to be on the first floor to make ambushing these guards possible. I hang my satchel up by the window, so I could quickly grab it if I needed to flee, and sighed as Ithe spear and all of the jugs back down to the staircase.

I took a small break to catch my breath, and to swallow some saliva to quell the burning in my throat. I checked my phone: 8:00 PM.

“I suppose it’s time to make myself known,” I said with a heavy sigh.

“You that bind the all, protect me from all those that might bring me harm.”

Repel glimmered to life, and I waited for the howling winds to die down and lifted one of the jugs over my head before smashing it against the ground in the middle of the room. The crash was loud and was like a siren to the silent night, letting them know that I was there. I do the same for the other two as well before stepping over the broken glass and peeking out.

The two guards on the roof looked in my direction, before barking out orders to one another. I pulled out my wand and aimed it at them, while one fidgeted for something on its belt.

“I allow the breath of the salamanders to flow through me.”

The triangle carved into the deadwood wand glowed a bright red, as a snaking streak of orange flicked through the night and crashed into the thatch of the roof the two guards stood on. The dried thatch quickly caught fire as bright orange lights, and billowing smoke rose to join the everfog in the skies.