Day 59 continued

(Little Rat POV)

I wait and watch as the bastard I crippled is dragged on a stretcher to the home of someone important.

I follow at a distance, taking a loose brown rag as a cloak to cover the assorted weapons I carry from prying eyes. I still have the short-bow slung over my torso and a quiver I took from the slave-guards. The hatchet and knife are held on a borrowed belt. Added to this is the bronze short-sword of my latest victim, retrieved from where I dropped it at his windowsill.

I follow the wall of the luxury home and meet a window. Waiting the required moments until the non-detection kicks in. I stand up and survey the home, with a clear view.

The smell of plants and strange things is strong. I also smell a great deal of blood.

“Oh, how brutal! Please place the poor fellow on the table.” [Doctor]

The man has his stumps bound with cloth and more covers his eyes, stained black by blood. He staggers, his every step agony.

“I've never seen a man worse than this! What kind of person could do such a cruel thing?” [Doctor]

“We will leave him in your care Apothecary. Take care of him properly, we will be with the others sweeping the city for this maniac.” [Intended to be Victim #2]

“Aye, he will live but the injuries... they are nearly impossible to treat.” [Apothecary] “But I have my ways. I should have him back on his feet in a few days.”

Oh... interesting. He does have some skill that can cure. I didn't think it was likely but caution is always necessary.

Hmm... he's talking again. To the blind man.

“Someone certainly wanted you to suffer, you rascal. I wonder what you did. Well no use in asking now.” He took a clay bowl from a set and fed it's contents to the injured man. “That should numb the pain and cause you to slumber like a babe.”

He waited until the man slumped and snored loudly.

“What marvelous wounds, I must study them.” [Apothecary to himself as he fishes around for a knife]

I enter the room and stand away from the table. I wait.

“Mmm. Yes. Oh, the eyes they are ripped so cleanly. I see the lens there...” [Apothecary] “Hmm. I will need to bring out my special medicine after all. I see whoever did this really wanted to destroy you as a person... no... as a male.” He added glancing down.

“Well can't have you giving the genius me a bad reputation...” [Apothecary shuffling off]

Huh? Isn't he supposed to use a skill?

He returns several moments later with a stone in hand... medicine? No...

He takes the knife and opens a vein on the sleeping man, placing the stone on a tray positioned to catch the blood. Why would he... ?

The stone displays red lines crawling and writhing across it's surface.

“Hoh... this is very peculiar... I have never seen a wound heal so slowly under the effects of my Bloodhaze Crystal.” [Apothecary]

An artifact! A healing artifact! So I needn't kill the old man, just take his rock. I let him finish his work. He seems pleased when my maim skill inevitably is broken by the healing, displaying a proud smile. I wonder how long he will keep that expression?

While he checks the condition of the victim I palm the stone and duck around a corner soundlessly.

It is longer than I thought. Ten minutes or so later he finally realizes his treasure is gone. His face looks pale as death.

He looks around confused at first, then realizes it has been taken.

He runs out of the room and down the street, chasing the thief... who is still casually watching from ten yards away.

When he's finally gone I fix my ruined work. As an after thought I scrawl in the sleeping man's blood on the wall: 'Shame on you for trying to correct my efforts. I have taken your bloody treasure as your recompense. If we cross paths again you too shall know his suffering.'

There, threat out of the way. If he's the best healer in this city it is because of this rock. If another had a healing skill he would be much less important. After all a skill can be used immediately while the rock takes time. It does seem stronger than Niala, but not by much.

Hmm. Problem solved. The slaves should be setting out tomorrow, in the early hours.

For now I need to sleep. And Chanti is waiting.

I stash the weapons and the rock in a stack of hay outside town, wrapped in the cloak.

As I walk in the door I already know something isn't right. I hear sounds of a struggle.

Chanti is being held by a guard, one I know hurt her. He has her by the hair, tossing her around. As I  run at him everything suddenly fades to black. I don't remember a thing after that.

Day 60

Cold.

Ugh... my head hurts. I try to focus but the room spins slowly.

I'm lying on stone. A tiny window and a wooden door are the only things in here.

A cell again. It's actually roomier than the last one.

The door opens and a large man in heavy armor walks in with fury on his face.

“You did it, didn't you Beast?” He kicks me in the ribs.

I roll across the room and fall against the wall. Guh...

I cough up blood, clutching my chest.

“Confess you little vermin!” He kicks me again, with his metal boot. I expect this one will really hurt, as I'm now pressed against the wall.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Huh?

…

Why doesn't it hurt more?

Sure the actual hit was quite nasty, but the wall behind me doesn't seem hard. No actually it seems soft. Weird. This cut the force of the blow somewhat too. It was not nearly as bad as the first. I wonder why?

He seems taken aback by this development.

“What was that? You little puke, what did you do?!” The man screams. He lays into me with several more, trying to crush me against the stone of the wall and then stomping, trying to use the floor.

However this is futile. He actually isn't hurting me much. When ever he does this the corresponding surface takes the brunt of the force lessening the blow greatly. How is this happening?

He stomps my face into the stone and before my eyes the floor turns green. Plants?

Could it be? No... it must be.

The ring. The ring of moss and ferns sitting on my finger.

It absorbs attacks... no, it cushions impacts with the ground.

Hahaha...!

I look at the man as he pants, exhausted by the effort he used trying to destroy me. I chuckle.

His face turns bright red. He storms out yelling.

Hahahahahahaha!

He returns with five men.

He returns to find an empty cell.

He immediately shouts an alarm, rushing to search for me in the dungeon. Stupidly leaving the door open.

HA!

I walk out, silencing his alarms from leaving the building.

There are many tools of torture in the main room. I take a hooked blade. (A sickle).

Glancing in each cell one by one I see horrible sights.

I smell ancient and endless layers of blood and fear. This place has seen a lot of use, it smells almost as old as home.

If I had any doubts about my course, if I had any second thoughts about my plans they withered and died as I walked past victims of hatred that made my own vicious acts seem like trifles.

The first guard didn't hear me coming, for obvious reasons. I cut his throat from ear to ear from behind.

The second rushed into the room sweeping the area again for me. Instead he saw the dead man. The edge of the sickle tore out his throat as he stared, my movement still temporarily invisible. He only lived long enough to gaze into my eyes for a moment.

Neither of them has a key. At least I know what keys look like now.

Slowly I slaughtered my way outward. We're not in that tiny little guard house like before. This building is fortified similar to the things Chirrik does, heavy gates. Locks. A fortress. Whatever that means.

The cells I pass, behind them people beg.

“It wasn't me!”

“Let me go! I have money... wine...”

“You'll get yours, you slimy...”

“I'm sorry! I'll confess so...”

Then a thought hits like a ballista bolt. They did this to Chanti yesterday...

My fur stands on end.

They did this to anyone they suspect.

I just escaped, which means I've confirmed their suspicions.

They'll try to force Chanti to tell them where I am. She can't. If she does she dies. If she doesn't they'll still kill her!

Shit!

I run, like the wind up the stairs. I keep going up. Guards and a locked gate bar my path. I follow a second flight of stairs and onto a parapet. Below me, some thirty or forty yards lies the ground. The guards, several cut off my escape. Turning I give them the finger as I leap out, to test my theory about the ring.

The fall is quite scary, but the actual landing on my back is softer than anything I have experienced, beyond Chanti's caresses.

The guards all stare at me slack jawed from the window.

They didn't expect me to live, much less run away unharmed.

Chanti isn't at home. They dragged her away!

I follow the scent to that old guardhouse. I can hear them in there.

“Why are you doing this, for the slave beast?” [Man]

No response.

“Speak. I'll let you live if you just tell me: where is he?” [Dead Man]

“It's funny. I don't mind the fact I'm going to die. How crazy is that? I used to think of nothing but my own survival.” [Chanti]

“I'm going to rip out your guts now. You can't imagine how sad I would be under normal circumstances; to do this to one of my own people. I suppose in the end you are a beast too. Betraying us to filth like that, you really deserve this.” [Torturer]

“Wait... I'll talk. To tell you the truth...” [Chanti]

Wait, no! Don't tell him anything!

A moment before I burst through the door...

“I don't have a clue!” [Chanti laughing]

I kick open the door, as she slumps chained to a chair.

The lone man hovering over her, I bite out his throat before he can react.

As the taste of blood fills my mouth I see Chanti twitch and convulse, her eyes going white.

No! Don't die!

What we learned:

The ring was surprisingly quite useful.

Chanti broke a geas. Will she die? Cast your votes.

Do you want her to live and become Little Rat's ass-kicking girlfriend?

Or do you still hate her for all of her flaws and mistakes up until now?

You have a week to decide. Choose wisely...