They hurried back to the town. The human was lagging behind, stumbling slightly where Erevan and Nalion passed smoothly. But the ranger didn’t have time to focus on that. Not while he was carrying a twinge of guilt in his heart. He really should have noticed the strange trio were wererats.
There were ominous dark clouds slowly gathering above them, dimming the world with a gray light as they finally made it to the edge of the town. A chill was in the wind as it blew down from the sky, its caress harsher than usual against Erevan's sun-kissed skin.
Despite the omens of rain, there was a different kind of hustle and bustle in the town than the previous times they’d been there. As if the people had more energy and were out celebrating. His gut clenched as a sense of foreboding overtook him. They were too late. He gritted his teeth and upped his pace.
His sharp blue eyes caught sight of a blissful Bobby, standing outside of his tavern with a small wooden bowl that had seen better days. The bowl was gently resting on his hand, filled to the brim with a steaming stew. He was lifting a spoonful of it into his mouth, slowly, as if he was relishing the feeling. Luckily Erevan was near. He closed the gap between them in a few long leaps and slapped the bowl, as well as the spoon, down in the dirt.
Bobby stared down at the warm food splattered everywhere in mournful shock. The stew was still steaming. The innkeeper then looked at him, face contorting in anger and frustration. “What’re you doing you idiot?!”
Before his insecurities could act up by literally being called an idiot, Ilias joined them. The human was a bit out of breath as he came to a stop next to him. Erevan scoffed. About time.
“You didn’t eat anything right?” Ilias panted slightly as he urgently rushed out his words. “That was your first mouthful?”
Bobby's features twisted in sudden distress as he noticed the blatant tension radiating from the other two. “Why?”
“It’s poisoned,” said Erevan bluntly. They didn’t have the time to beat around the bush.
Bobby paled.
“Balls,” the innkeeper whispered in trepidation. “I took one bite before. Oh Bamatah's balls. My family ate this shit!”
Damn it. Sometimes Erevan hated being right.
At that moment he heard Nalion shouting behind him. He was bellowing to the townsfolk, warning them not to eat anything and that the food had been tampered with. Erevan was impressed. For an elf his size, Nalion had quite the voice when needed.
It was also effective in dampening the festive mood, as there appeared to not be a soul who hadn’t had a bite. Apparently Bobby had been among the last to get his fill.
“What do we do now?” A glint of worry was visible in Ilias’ gaze.
“We find the rat. See what he knows, if there is an antidote,” Erevan decided. “Nalion, grab a notebook and start to toss around ideas how to fix this in case we don’t find him.”
Nalion nodded gravely and began to do as said.
“Bobby,” Erevan urgently turned towards the despondent innkeeper. “Do you know where the person who gave the food is?”
Bobby merely shook his head.
“Do you know where he went?”
“That way,” the innkeeper said weakly as he pointed towards the western edge of the town.
Erevan roughly brushed past him. Time was of the essence. Tracking was near impossible whilst still in the town, but when they got near the forest Erevan could begin performing his craft. While he had never been adept nor interested in the art of the arcane, he could track nearly anything if the conditions were right. There it was. He stopped abruptly. Nalion failed to notice this and bumped into him with a sheepish smile.
The elf soon buried his face back in a notebook, mumbling to himself as he made notes with a worn quill.
The blades of the moist grass were wilted where a foot had disturbed them. The perpetrator had gone that way. Yes, there, a small branch crunched into pieces. Erevan was on the trail. He guided them true, keen eyes gathering the smallest of evidence to determine the path the rat had taken. They were lucky he hadn’t turned into an actual, real rat as Erevan was acutely aware that they could.
He felt the slight guilt warring within as he once more thought of the trio he’d spotted in town before. He had known something was off.
Oh well. Too late now. What he needed to do was focus on finding the last of the trio.
They had been following the tracks for a while when they approached a clearing. The footsteps had been getting more and more careless, as if the creature thought it was safe within the forest. Erevan scoffed. Amateur.
Erevan stilled and made sure the others knew to be silent. Up ahead he could see a figure resting on the clearing, indiscreetly dozing off against a large trunk of a great willow. There was no mistaking the long nose and the slightly mousy features, now that he knew what to look for. Erevan shook his head slightly as he took in the sight. What an idiot, lowering his guard like that. He wondered if this was supposed to be some kind of rendezvous point for the creature to meet up with the other rats.
Well, they weren’t coming. Justice was. He drew out the small knife from his boot, a plan forming in his head.
Erevan leaped over the last bush, swift and elegant, tackling the villain in the soft and green grass. Startled from his sleep, the creature began to struggle against the weight of the ranger as Erevan pinned him down. At that very moment he realized that the wererat was starting to turn. This one appeared smarter than he looked, as he was beginning to shrink, clearly going for an actual rat-sized rat instead of the more combat-ready humanoid form. Unfortunately for him, Erevan had come prepared.
“Don’t even think about it,” he snarled in a low voice while digging the sharp edge of his knife on the creature's neck. The skin was nicked, splitting to show just a hint of blood. The wererat stilled, tense, but not stupid enough to try anything. Yet. Erevan wasn’t taking his eyes off this one, not even for a moment.
“Read his mind,” he barked at Ilias, staring at the wererat as he readied himself to plunge the knife at the slightest hint of further change.
He heard the tentative steps come closer, the fine leather boots appearing in his peripheral vision. Even the stitching on them was exquisite. He felt a bit offended by them somehow, as if the human was rubbing his riches on Erevan's poor, filthy face. Just like the bard had, in the end. The rangers face hardened.
The human was useful, for now. That’s all that mattered. If he had looked young and lost in the darkness before, well, that was surely also an act. Erevan wasn’t falling for it. He refused to.
Erevan heard more than saw Ilias sit down. He could hear a few incomprehensible words coming out from the human, making the few small hairs in the back of his neck stand up. He hated magic. Especially this kind. It felt so slimy. Yet he was a pragmatist. This needed to be done, as slimy as it was. He glared down at the back of the humanoid as he waited.
Then he could hear Ilias’ clear voice, colored by a tinge of remorse. “I’m sorry, I can’t find anything about an antidote. However, I do know the ingredients if that’s helpful?”
“It could be,” said Nalion kindly.
The corners of Erevan's mouth bent down slightly as he suddenly lifted the wererat's head up by its hair. He brought it down to the ground. Hard. So there wouldn’t be an easy way. Nalion was the town's only hope now.
The rat who was still in human form was lying on the ground, limp and unconscious. Erevan took advantage of this and carefully bound his hands and feet before hoisting him up on his shoulder. He began sullenly walking back towards the town without sparing a glance at the others. They would follow.
They made their way back with haste. Erevan could hear Ilias prattling the ingredients he’d managed to identify, as well as informing Nalion that wererats apparently were harmed by the mere touch of silver. Erevan rolled his eyes. Of course Ilias would mention such a thing so casually amidst other stuff instead of instantly informing them of this fact. Mages.
Regardless, that piece of information could be crucial. Erevan filed it in his mind for later use. At the very least he could chuck silver coins at them if he’d be caught unaware and without his weapons. Not that he went anywhere without his weapons. But it was always good to have a plan B.
By the time they reached the town Erevan could feel his muscles complaining. It was the opposite of relaxing, being stuck in an uncomfortable position for a prolonged amount of time. He deepened his scowl, angrily glaring at anyone who dared glance his way. All he wanted was to sit down, shake the strain from his arm and get a nice beer or five. Was that too much to ask?
Erevan upped his pace in irritation at his body's limits, making Nalion and Ilias speed up into a half-jog as they trailed after him. He beelined towards the inn, not bothering to knock as he kicked the door open. Bobby was standing in the middle of the room, sweeping glumly. The pallor of the innkeeper's skin was still paler than what it should have been.
Bobby merely glanced at them as they entered before resuming his dejected sweeping. Well, that worked for Erevan. He took a few long and determined steps forward, unceremoniously dumping the rat on a chair. He then crossed the area with a few large steps to lock the front door once everyone was inside.
“Nalion, any ideas?” he demanded.
The elf hastily lifted his head from the notebook, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I do have one...”
Nalion didn’t elaborate further as he pulled out an old leather book and began browsing it, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. Erevan slapped his forehead. Great. Now Nalion was going to be stuck reading for gods knew how long. Beer, give him strength.
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He sighed wearily as he sat down opposite to the wererat, who was still out cold.
“Beer me,” he grunted, directing his words towards Bobby. Poor Bobby. He did pity the man. The innkeeper didn’t deserve this.
Bobby stopped his sweeping and slowly trudged behind the counter, pouring a mug of ale. As he brought it back, he asked apathetically, “Is there any hope for us?”
Erevan took a sip, cherishing the faintly bitter liquid.
“Your hope lies with him,” Erevan said while tilting his head towards Nalion.
The last shreds of hope seemed to bleed out of Bobby's frame as he deflated slightly. “Oh gods.”
Erevan narrowed his eyes. He had not taken Bobby for a fool, yet here he was losing all hope when it was not warranted. Not when Nalion still had an idea.
“If it helps, Nalion is the smartest person I know. If anyone can solve this it's him.”
Bobby wordlessly shook his head, eyes closed in defeat.
All of a sudden a loud slam echoed in the room as Nalion abruptly shut the book. “OH!” he exclaimed, scambering for writing supplies. “OH, OH!!”
He quickly wrote down something and then locked eyes with Erevan. Excitement sparkled in the gaze of the older mage. As soon as he saw it, Erevan was instantly reassured. Nalion got this.
“Bobby, can you bring me a cauldron? I also need a sample of the food, some silverweed, though I already have some, as well as a pinch of -'' Nalion cut his fast paced rant, a guilty look overtaking his features. The elf awkwardly cleared his throat while glancing at Erevan, the guilt in his eyes growing. “Well, I already have that one too.”
And just like that, hope was rekindled in the eyes of the innkeeper. “Balls,” he said forcefully before springing into action. Both the cauldron and some of the tainted food were swiftly provided as they’d been lying within reach.
“I’m just glad I didn’t throw away this like I was gonna,” muttered Bobby as he dropped some of the now cold stew on the table. The bowl was small, but Nalion took only one look at it before proclaiming that it would be enough.
The bookish elf grabbed a simple wooden spoon from Bobby's extended hand and scooped up a small portion of the stew, dropping it in the pot. “Erevan, could you take the cauldron to the fireplace? Ilias, could you start a fire when the cauldron is in place?”
Ilias nodded, eager to help, as Erevan carried the pot into the now cold and empty fireplace. The human lit a fire underneath it as soon as Erevan had stepped back. “How warm do you need it?” he asked as the tiny orange flames hungrily licked the blackened sides of the cauldron.
“That’s good, keep doing that,” Nalion muttered absentmindedly as he stirred the contents. As the stew began spewing a little bit of steam, the elf crushed some silverweed in his palm. The remnants of the plant were sprinkled in the stew as Nalion stirred with his other hand. A sweet smell began to fill the room.
“Erevan, can you keep stirring for me?” Nalion asked, the guilty look returning to his face. Erevan grunted and grabbed the spoon. He stirred gingerly, cautious not to have anything spill. He still kept an eye on the rat though, not wanting to be caught unawares.
Nalion sheepishly pulled out a box from his bag, opened it gently and took just a hint of some gray powder which lay within. The powder was sprinkled on the stew, and then Nalion swiftly, yet with great care, hid the box within his bag once more.
They all stared at the stew.
“It’s done,” Nalion breathed out.
It was a bit anticlimactic. Erevan had been waiting for some kind of bang or a flash of light, or something, to signal that the brew was ready and would indeed work. His disappointment came out as a deep frown marred his face.
“How do you know?” Ilias asked tentatively.
Nalion shrugged, then squinted his eyes playfully. “How do you know how to cast spells?”
Not this again.
“Okay, fair. I trust you,” the younger mage gave a crooked smile. “How do we test it? Who goes first?”
“The rat,” said Erevan, leaving no room for argument. He didn’t want to have Bobby be the first test subject, even if Nalion seemed to be pretty sure he’d succeeded. Better to use one of the bad guys in case there were some unwanted side-effects. There was also some sense of poetic justice in it that was quite satisfying.
Nalion nodded dutifully and lifted a small spoonful of steaming stew out of the pot. Erevan walked over to the wererat and pinched the rat's nose so that the nostrils were shut. With his other hand he grasped the rat's jaw, forcing his mouth open. With that the wererat began to come to, blearily blinking its eyes.
“Nalion, now!” Erevan growled as Nalion hurried to shove the spoonful inside the open mouth. Erevan clamped it shut none too gently as soon as the spoon had gotten out so that the rat had no other option than to swallow. The wererat struggled in his hold, still in human form, but Erevan grip was firm. There would probably be some impressive bruises on the others face, yet if this worked then it would definitely work on the townsfolk as well. Even if some of them had begun to turn.
Now Erevan was not a very religious man. Sure, the gods were real and probably pretty badass, but they’d never seemed to care for Erevan. So Erevan didn’t care for them. Yet in this very moment he almost felt like praying. No, he wouldn’t put his hopes on the gods. But on Nalion? That he could do.
Not that he cared or anything.
Erevan subtly cleared his throat, trying to look tough as the rat finally swallowed. He let go of the creature as it gasped for breath.
“What… are… you… doing… to me?” questioned the rat in increasing distress.
“Helping you, hopefully,” said Nalion nervously.
The wererat groaned as his features twisted in distress. He took a few more gasps before groaning again, louder this time.
“What’s going on?” asked Ilias, slightly agitated.
“It’s burning,” gasped the rat, “My insides… They’re… On fire.”
Then he screamed. The wererat writhed on the chair, falling to the ground while continuously screaming in agony. Bobby took up his broom and resumed sweeping, looking very unnerved whilst pretending as if nothing was amiss. The louder the pained screaming got, the more fervently Bobby swept the exact same spot. Erevan could sympathize. Witnessing it was far from pleasant. Even the rest of his beer was looking unappetizing at the moment.
They stood where they were, barely daring to breathe as the rat screamed. The wererat's body kept convulsing, and Bobby kept sweeping. Nalion's fingers kept twitching as the druid clearly wished to go to soothe the pain. After some time, Erevan thought he could see the wererat's nose shrinking ever so slightly. Maybe the fire was playing tricks on his eyes. Or maybe it was working. Figures. Mages.
After what felt like an eternity, but could have been mere moments, the screaming stopped. The wererat, or maybe human now, went lax. Erevan took a few cautious steps forward, nudging the body with his foot.
“Is he alive?” whispered Ilias.
Nalion surged to the wererats side, fast as a lightning bolt. Erevan suppressed a dejected sigh. At this rate the elf was going to get himself killed sooner rather than later. An enemy pretended to faint? Let’s rush there to make sure they are okay! Ridiculous. Good thing he was there. The ranger drew out his swords as he came to Nalion's side, preparing himself to deliver the killing blow if needed.
Nalion’s long, slender fingers nimbly felt around the wererat's neck. After a while the scrawny elf sagged in relief.
“There is a pulse. It’s a bit weak, but it is there,” he said, still crouching by the now maybe human. Erevan took this as his cue to turn the body around. Yes, the nose definitely seemed a bit shorter, the features in general the slightest bit less ratlike. Well, if you knew what to look for. Which he did.
He turned his piercing blue eyes towards Ilias. “You said before that they were harmed by silver. In what way?”
“Um, well, according to his memories it burns their skin, often leaving a mark,” Ilias answered uneasily.
Erevan opened his coin pouch, pulling out a single silver coin. He could see Nalion frowning at him from his peripheral vision. The lack of trust hurt a bit.
“What?” he huffed defensively as he crossed his arms. “It’s the most effective way to see if it worked.”
Nalion grimaced, and then nodded. Erevan relaxed subtly. Good. He knew his logic was sound and this was not a time to be idealistic. Speed could be of essence to assure not everyone needed to have the process be as painful as it was for the perhaps former wererat. Or that’s what Erevan presumed would happen at least. Considering the amount of wererat to be purged would be much lower, the pain should also be smaller - right?
He crouched down as well, briefly touching the coin to the skin on the maybe person's hand. Nothing happened. He repeated the process, leaving the coin there for a bit longer this time. Still nothing. The skin was unblemished.
Erevan stood up and nodded, satisfied. “Bobby, grab a spoon.”
The innkeeper shook himself out of his stupor before walking over and taking a spoonful of the stew. He looked unsure, then visibly brazed himself as he took a bite. He nearly forgot to chew in his haste to swallow.
“How are you feeling?” asked Nalion, curious and a bit concerned.
Bobby shrugged as he inspected his hands. “Same as before.”
“No burning?” rasped Erevan.
Bobby tilted his head as he gazed ahead, taking stock of how his body was feeling. Then he shook his head. “It’s a little spicy but otherwise nothing.” A mildly panicked look passed over his face. “Does that mean it’s not working?”
Nalion waved his hand dismissively, as he simultaneously had started to write down something in a journal. Probably something to do with the formula as well as its effects.
“No, I think it’s more connected to the fact that you haven’t even begun turning yet. It must have been a shock to his system,” Nalion nodded towards the former wererat lying sprawled on the floor, “considering he was a wererat and the potion needed to undo everything.”
Erevan smirked slightly. He had been right in his presumptions. Which also meant that they should hurry to avoid unnecessary pain.
“Should we start giving this to others?” Ilias piped up.
Erevan rolled his eyes. Obviously they should.
“Yes, can you start doing that please? I’ll need to make a larger batch,” said Nalion absentmindedly.
Ilias and Bobby busied themselves with scraping the rest of the antidote into an empty bowl and getting more of the tainted food. Suddenly, a gasp was heard from below. Erevan looked down at the former wererat. He was lying down on the worn wooden floor, his eyes wide open in fear and disorientation as he tried to take in his surroundings. Erevan tensed, getting ready for action in case the human was going to be hostile.
“W-, wh-, what?” he stuttered weakly.
“Oh, hello,” said Nalion awkwardly, glancing away from his notebook. “How are you feeling?”
“I,” the former wererat lifted his still bound and faintly shaking hands in front of his face, staring at them in trepidation. “I feel… Different...”
“You’re human again, maybe that’s it?” said Ilias gently.
“WHAT!?!” the human screeched despite the hoarseness of his voice. “No, that’s not true! You’re lying!”
He then shut his eyes tightly and tensed his body. Nothing happened. He tensed his body again. Was he trying to…
“I can’t turn, I can’t - WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!?!” the former rat wailed, fear coloring his words as he tried to turn to a wererat again. He gasped for breath, trying again and again to no avail. Erevan almost felt a bit sorry for him. Almost.
The human kept trying until all his strength was spent and he let his muscles relax.
“W- why?” he breathed out from the floor, tears suddenly pooling in his eyes.
Erevan felt instantly uncomfortable. He had no problem handling threats of death and dismemberment, he wouldn’t bat an eye to kill a person if it was deserved. Yet being trapped in close quarters with someone emotional… Erevan shuddered, now extremely uncomfortable. Feelings. He could barely handle his own, how was he supposed to handle others?
Ilias did not seem to share his reluctance as the teen nodded with a sad smile. “Yeah. Sorry about that, but you were hurting people. What’s your name?”
Erevan scoffed. Why was the kid apologizing? It was the rat that should apologize.
The former wererat pressed his palms to his eyes, despite his wrists still being bound together. He took a shuddering breath. “Just kill me now.”
Erevan considered the option, only to dismiss it - for now - as he saw the expressions on Ilias’ and Nalions faces. Ilias quickly recovered.
“I really am sorry, but we’re not going to do that. What’s your name?”
The former wererat sighed, looking away. “Nick. My name is Nick,” he said monotonously.
“Do you think you could at least try to live as a human Nick? I know the future seems bleak right now but you never know what the next day will bring. It might not be that bad,” Ilias persuaded gently.
“It might not be that bad? Are you seriously expecting praise for ruining my life?!” Nick scoffed and then continued sarcastically with a sneer on his face, “Thank you for stripping me from my powers, my position, my family. Thank you for making me into a puny, pathetic human.”
Erevan frowned. That was just outright rude, considering the rat had probably not even batted an eye before purposefully ruining the lives of an entire town.
“You’re welcome,” said Nalion, seeming just as awkward as Erevan had felt before. “Um, Bobby, can you help Nick so we can focus on this?”
“If you try to hurt anyone, even a little bit, the kid’s going to read your mind again. We won’t kill you, but he’ll find your worst fears. And then you’ll truly wish you were dead. That, I can promise you,” Erevan growled the threats, looming intensively over the squirming creature. Or former creature.
He stepped away satisfied, giving way to Bobby as he saw the glint of fear in Nick's eyes. Bobby would be safe now. Nick was tired, and probably dehydrated and hungry. Erevan would finish the job later if needed.
Bobby gave Nick an uneasy look as Nick seemed to give up on resisting. The rat looked tired, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. The innkeeper glanced at him before taking a deep breath. He nodded to Bobby who nodded back, determination etched in every wrinkle on his face.
“Come here lad, you can get a room for the night,” the innkeeper said as he started to slowly untie the ropes with the help of Ilias.
“Leave them,” Erevan rasped. Ilias turned to look at him with large eyes, silently pleading him to reconsider. It was useless, as it would be far too dangerous to let the former wererat run about as he pleased. Bobby nodded after hesitating a moment. He gathered a non-responsive Nick in his arms and then walked upstairs.
“Erevan, do you think you could find me some more silverweed?” asked Nalion, quickly disappearing into his work again.
Erevan grunted affirmatively. It was almost tolerable, at least he would get to be by himself in the forest while looking for the plant. A brief respite from everything would do him good. It wouldn’t be that hard either as Luccan forests were practically littered with silverweed. He’d just have to find a meadow or look on the side of a road. Easy peasy.