Just before the rats appeared, a new swarm of swarmers swarmed over the walls to attack the defending defenders while the tentacled terrors’ bigger cousins, the grabbers, fell upon the wall in droves, many quite literally, grabbing those fighting on the wall and tossing them into the swarms below, sending everything into a chaotic chaos.

A new tier of horror quickly dubbed the flingers had collected beyond the effective range of most archers and mages, flinging boulders, tree stumps, and any grabbers within range at the walls, occasionally missing and sending their payloads deeper into the city. Considering their maws seemed wide enough to consume buildings whole, their thick tentacles able to span well over a city block, the flingers’ desire to remain at range was for the best, as most defenders could do little to defend against the sheer power of the massive tentacled monstrosities.

After four days of fighting the city’s manasphere was well and truly drained, their stocks of emergency mana crystals depleted. The city had long prepared for singular ancient beasts and human acts of aggression, not a continuous onslaught of unprecedented proportions coming from the depths of the sea. The sea was a dangerous place, everyone knew, but typically one didn’t have to fear the denizens of the depths while standing on solid ground.

With squads dispatched to deal with the dangerous grabbers flung far across the city, the warriors on the walls despaired, knowing their commanders held no more resources in reserve. The walls had been nearly breached too many times before, requiring those with powerful elemental Bonds to blast the swarms back. Bonded beasts had defended well against the waves, but most were now dispersed. They required time and mana to reform, of which the defenders had neither.

Pockets of resistance held, places where those with physical Bonds had more stamina yet to spare, yet more and more the defenders became overwhelmed.

From his post on the wall’s second tier, above and behind those fighting the things coming over the wall, Luitfridus the archer-poet, Chanter Lou to his squadmates, did his best to rally the resilient defenders lest he sing his final song today, unwilling for his bloody corpse to be fodder for some foul creature without so much as a funeral dirge to be sung in remembrance of his time upon the rock they called Rimsa.

“Hold fast! Make them bleed! Toss them off the walls!” he shouted. That had been their strategy for the past day, using the swarmers to kill their own injured brethren. It seemed a good plan at the time, yet all now noticed how each subsequent wave of attackers became a smidge more powerful than the last. Yet, all they could do was hold and hope the higher ups held some powerful artifact in reserve, perhaps a secret defensive array, some fantastic plan to yet save the day, some final card the royals had yet to play.

All knew for the city to survive this Troublesome Trial, it required a feat fit for the storybooks.

Luitfridus very much hoped such a plan would come to fruition soon, else he would never again have the chance to sing of such fantastic feats at his family feasts. He always planned on seeing the world one day, to go on a fabulous Adventure to forsaken places of old when the time felt right, when he saved up enough funds, when he found the right friends, fateful traveling companions, when he convinced the most fair, most fetching girl in all the world to marry him, when their kids felt old enough to fend for themselves, when their grandkids stopped being so frustratingly cute.

His Bond helped his voice carry further than it should, for all within range to hear him as if he stood before them when he spoke, should he desire it. If the ability had a cost he’d never before hit his limit, it being more likely he would lose his voice first. Today might be the day he learnt his limits, however, with a sack of lozenges to sustain his voice, given to him by his lovely, loving wife.

Captain Sky assigned him the uncommon role of Chanter, to relay orders in the chaos of battle, though never before had it been necessary on such a scale.

When a runner found him, the soft-cheeked boy seeming far too young to be wearing a trainee’s uniform, and delivered new orders for Luitfridus to call out, he thought for sure a new plan had been formed, one to save the city. Yet, reading over the message, he had to wonder if the child thought the middle of a pitched battle was a good place to play pranks.

Yet the boy hadn’t waited around to laugh and hand him more realistic orders, instead scampering off back to the command post, signs of a smart lad, and so Luitfridus had to assume the orders genuine. And if they weren’t, well, they’d all soon be dead anyway. Death by rat might be preferable to death by tentacles, perhaps. He’d started to consider those who fell from the wall the lucky ones. It was the possibility of getting torn limb from limb which had haunted his nightmares of late.

Taking a deep breath, he shouted out. “Allies incoming! Don’t attack the rats! They’re on our side.” He loosed another arrow dipped in a mana-burning poison, a substance Luitfridus knew quite well was illegal for the danger it posed to the afflicted, handed to him and many other archers by a masked alchemist no Guard would dare question today of all days. The poison seemed to spread beyond the initial target as the swarmers ate their own dead, making it quite effective against the swarms.

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Looking for his next target, he wove the new chant in with the old. “Make them bleed! Toss them off the walls! Don’t attack our allied rats! Make them bleed! Toss them off the walls! The rats are on our side!”

A few fighters glanced his way, but all shrugged or shook their heads and continued fighting. If rats were on their side, rats were on their side. They had monsters to kill.

A ripple of concerned shouts had him repeating the order, “Command says to not attack the rats! They’re on our side! Focus on the enemies from the sea! Make them bleed! Toss them off the walls! The rats are on our side!”

Then he too could see the swarm of rats as they swept across the walls, shredding the swarmers, gnawing the grabbers, gnashing and clawing anything with tentacles, but only screeching and hissing at their humanoid ‘allies’ who thought to preemptively defend themselves against this new, unexpected threat and possible ally.

If the rats turned on them the defenders would go down in moments. There were just too many rats. The defenders were all too tired to fight against these smaller threats which seemed to outnumber the tentacled monsters on the wall at least ten to one.

Rats began epic fights against their much larger foes, dodging heavy tentacles only to leap on and run up their length to the source. The grabbers had difficulty grabbing onto the not-so-tiny rats, flailing wildly as rats the size of dogs began chewing and digging their way inside to sample the creatures’ vital organs.

Those the rats didn’t kill rolled off the wall to get away from this new, unexpected menace.

Soon a weary cheer went up from the exhausted defenders as they rested, many collapsing where they stood. The rats held the wall, forming a furry line on the very edge while their brethren ate the non-poisoned corpses, seeming to detect the danger with a single whiff, leaving those corpses for a few still-energetic soldiers to toss down to the swarms below.

The mass of rats swarmed and churned, rotating out those who bit whatever crawled up the wall with those who ate their fill of tentacles, leaving behind only piles of what seemed like shark teeth in their wake, the horrors having no other bones, or at least no others inedible to rats.

“Tripping rats,” muttered a voice beside him.

Luitfridus turned to see Captain Sky standing there. He quickly saluted. “Sir,” he acknowledged.

“At ease, Chanter. You think the Hero knew?”

“Sir?” What did anything have to do with the Hero? Hadn’t that seeming battle maniac fled like the tripper she truly was, not even bothering to take a load of non-combatants with her on her stolen vessel? If he had a way to get his entire family out he might have taken it, but he couldn’t fathom someone with her strength just abandoning the city in its time of need, taking one of its only liferafts in the process.

Truly a tripper like no other, willing to trip an entire city just so she might save herself. Word had already been sent to the Teudsindians, he knew. He had to suppress a grin, thinking of the reception the ‘Hero’ would receive at the end of her journey.

“He’s been fattening up these rats since he arrived, feeding them conjured cheese, solidified mana. Think he knew we would need their help?”

Luitfridus considered. He’d forgotten that other Hero, the one who hadn’t done much since arriving, called the conjuring Hero by some. “If he didn’t, then he’s an idiot, sir.”

The captain grunted. “Indeed. Yet here we are, saved by rats and the actions of a Hero who dared to squander such a precious resource on a horde of rats. Did he bring us this Trouble, or solve it?”

Luitfridus looked down. “Might have just traded one for another, sir.”

“Indeed. Yet they’re smart enough to parley. I fear what will happen when word of them reaches the King.”

Luitfridus nodded, looking down. “We can’t fight that, sir. Not cleanly. Not if they scatter and hide, attack us where we’re weak. Certainly we can’t right now. Maybe not ever. If they’re not aggressive…” He watched the rats tear into another grabber flung onto the walls. “…Not hostile to us, a peaceful solution might be for the best. Sir.”

“They want more of the Hero’s cheese.”

The odd statement took a moment to parse. “Maybe we just send him elsewhere, then. Let someone else deal with them all, sir.”

Captain Sky turned to Luitfridus, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Now that, Chanter Lou, is thinking like an officer. Now if only we knew where he was. Off with Headmaster Ainsley, yes, but where? And doing what?

That headmaster had always been a crafty fellow, everyone said. “Maybe he already left, sir?”

The Captain turned his pale blue eyes in the direction of the Academy, towards the highest tower at its center. “Not yet. He wouldn’t flee until he knew there was no reason to stay. Man can blip around the world with just a bit of preparation, I’m told. No, he’s still somewhere, hiding like a—” He coughed. “Well, the rats aren’t hiding now, more’s the pity.”

Luitfridus grunted an acknowledgement.

The two of them stood and watched as rats defended their home from tentacled invaders.

After a time Luitfridus started composing a new epic in his head, the tale of The Dark Tides, of the dark tide which swarmed out from the sea, and the second dark tide which pushed them back, created either by a Hero’s foresight or folly.