Amara stopped a few paces away from the inn, as she realized she needed a weapon if she was going to slay a rat. With Salamander in tow, she veered towards the nearest alleyway. When she reached the opening between the two buildings, she peered down its dim length. She didn’t see what she was looking for, so she headed towards another lane across the street.
The next alley was strewn with trash, and after gingerly picking her way through it, she found a length of wood that resembled a staff. She still didn’t quite understand how this world worked, but the rules seemed to mimic a roleplaying game. And since she only had staffs and darts listed in weapon proficiencies, she didn’t want to risk going into combat with anything else.
Her makeshift stave in hand, she returned to the Dancing Gnome Inn. When she reached the front door, she tried the handle, but it rattled against a latch. Were they closed in the middle of the day?
She lifted her hand and rapped on the wood. As she did, a stream of dust drifted down from the overhanging roof. When the door opened a crack, she was still busy coughing and waving her hand to clear the air.
An old woman, with wiry gray hair gathered up in a shawl, poked her head out. She looked Amara up and down. “We’re closed. Come back when we’re done with renovations.”
When the woman tried to slam the door shut, Amara shoved her foot inside to block it. She ignored the woman’s glower and said, “I’m here to deal with the rat problem.”
Once again, the woman looked her up and down and then chuckled. The deep lines on her face twisted up into a ghastly smile. “It’s your funeral.”
“I think I can handle a little rat.”
This only made the woman laugh harder until she wheezed, which turned into a hacking cough that rattled her bones. After she’d finally caught her breath, she opened the door and allowed Amara inside. But she held out an arm to stop Salamander.
The woman’s smile faded. “If she wants to throw her life away, that’s her business. But I can’t abide letting a girl go face that monster in the cellar.”
“I’ve seen twelve winters, and I’m a mage!” Salamander said indignantly.
“Fine,” the woman said, dropping her arm. “The gods know I tried to stop you. We’ll have to take down the barricade to let you through. And it’s going back up the moment you’re down those stairs, so don’t try running to us for help.”
A barricade? Amara thought to herself with alarm. I don’t think this is going to be as easy as I thought.
“What haven’t you told me?” she whispered to Salamander. “Why do they have a barricade to keep out a little rat?”
“It’s… not so little,” Salamander whispered back. She stretched her arms out until they were wide enough to fit a large dog between them. “They’re about… this big, usually.”
“Why in the world are the rats so big here?” Amara exclaimed in a hushed tone. “How can something like that even exist?”
As they moved between the long tables filling the main floor—the straw on the floor whispering under their feet—several men emerged from the back and dismantled the barrier made of lumber and heavy barrels. By the time they had arrived, a breach had been opened that led down into darkness.
Amara stopped at the top of the stairs, having second thoughts about the quest. Maybe she could find an easier way to make money. Surely, there had to be someone out there who would pay for healing services.
But before she could change her mind, the old woman shoved her through the opening, and Salamander stumbled through a moment later. Then pieces of the barricade slid back into place, cutting off what little light there was in the staircase.
“Good luck,” the old woman called out from behind the barrier. “You’re going to need it.”
Amara fought down the urge to hammer on the wood until they let her out and instead turned to peer down into the dark cellar. Now that she knew the size of the rat, her spells and makeshift weapon felt terribly inadequate. But they needed the money desperately.
“New plan,” Amara said. “You stay here where it’s safe and I’ll go fight this stupid rat of unusual size.”
“I can fight!” Salamander protested. “See?”
The young girl held up her hand, and it was immediately wreathed in tongues of flame. The fire gave off a soft glow and made the shadows dance.
“Alright, keep doing that and don’t move,” Amara said, grateful for the light. “I think I have an idea. Wait a few seconds and then make the flames as bright as you can. But don’t get involved in the fight.”
Amara placed her precious pie down on the stairs, and then hefted her staff as she cast Cloak of Shadows. Once again, the world shifted, and her vision turned gray. She crept down the steps, taking care to make as little noise as possible, and then stopped at the bottom.
The cellar shared the same footprint as the building above, and the walls were constructed of round field stones. One side of the room was filled with enormous wooden casks; the barrels nearly reached the ceiling, and she suspected they held alcohol within. The other wall had stacks of crates and clay jars. Something had chewed through many of the containers, and their contents were scattered across the floor.
It had only been moments since she cast Cloak of Shadows, but already her mana—or whatever they called it in this world—was running low. She wondered if there was some trick to regaining it, but she knew now wasn’t the time to ponder the inner workings of her magic.
As she stood there, a shape detached from the dense layer of shadows surrounding the casks. The creature that slunk out from hiding was so much worse than she’d feared.
Beady, dark eyes swept the room, and then locked onto Salamander’s burning hands like a hyena spotting an injured antelope. It opened its mouth, and long strands of saliva drooled out. The mangy grey fur covering its body coiled and then rippled as powerful muscles launched it towards the light on the stairs.
“It’s coming!” Salamander cried out, taking a step back. “Where are you?”
Amara didn’t dare answer, as any noise would give away her position, and she prayed the rat wouldn’t sense her before she attacked. She waited at the bottom of the steps, staff raised and ready to strike the approaching beast.
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She held her breath as the rat bounded forward, and the moment it reached her position, she brought down the staff with all her might. The heavy wooden weapon cracked against the rat’s skull. The beast stumbled and then slammed face-first into the earthen floor, where it skidded for a few paces before coming to a stop.
A cry of triumph died on her lips as the beast shook its head and then staggered back to its feet. It lifted its head and sniffed the air. Then the rat spun around and lunged towards where she was hiding.
It can smell me, she thought in a panic as she hurled herself to the side.
But she wasn’t fast enough, and the rat crashed into her hip. The force of the impact sent her tumbling to the floor, where her legs became entangled with her staff.
The rat seemingly sensed her nearby and snapped at the empty air until its mouth found her calf. It clamped down hard and squealed with rage. Blood sprayed out as its teeth punctured her skin, and the crimson liquid coated the beast’s maw, giving it a ghoulish appearance.
Amara screamed in pain and lashed out with her good foot. She felt it thump against the rat’s face, and for a moment, its grip loosened. With a fierce tug, she ripped her leg free and tried to ignore the throbbing agony that followed. She didn’t dare look down at the wound, but she knew it was bad.
A shout from the stairs made her glance up to see Salamander rushing down with both hands ablaze. The young woman chased after the rat as it tried to skitter away from the fire. But it couldn’t escape fast enough, and Salamander pressed her burning fingertips against its side.
The rat shrieked as its fur burst into flames. The pain maddened beast bucked around wildly until it struck Salamander and knocked her back onto the stairs.
As the young woman fell, her hands extinguished like a candle being snuffed out.
Amara dropped her Cloak of Shadows as she tried to draw the rat’s attention away from Salamander. “Over here!” she shouted, waving her hands as she staggered up to her knees. “Attack me, you big dumb rodent!”
The beast rounded on her, its fur smouldering. Then it scurried forward, its eyes filled with a murderous rage.
As if it wasn’t bad enough fighting a giant rat, now I’m fighting one that’s on fire, she thought sourly. What god did I piss off in this world?
Amara lifted her arms and braced for the rat’s charge. The beast slammed into her forearm, and she struggled to hold it back as its mouth snapped at her. She accidentally brushed her hand against its burning fur, and agony lanced through her fingers. For a moment, the pain made her grip loosen, and the rat sprang forward; its slavering mouth found her shoulder and bit down hard.
The rat worked its jaws, ripping open her flesh while it clawed at her stomach.
She groped for her weapon on the nearby floor. When her fingers grazed the wooden stave, she clutched at it desperately. The moment she had it in her grip, she bashed it against the rat’s head. The staff’s length made it difficult to handle from her position on the ground, but she continued to strike the rat until it finally stiffened and keeled over.
With the last of her strength, she pushed the limp rat’s body off her chest. Then she took a moment to pat out all the glowing embers on her robes. After a minute to regain some energy, she crawled over to check on Salamander. The young woman was sitting at the base of the stairs, looking dazed.
As she edged forward, writing appeared in her vision.
Congratulations Adventurer!
Through skill and bravery, you have driven the heinous beast off, freeing the inn from its rat infestation.
Collect the quest reward from the proprietor of The Dancing Gnome Inn.
Amara dismissed the notification and then sank down next to Salamander. “Are you alright?” she asked, as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She had lost a lot of blood and felt nauseous—which was probably not a good sign.
“That was amazing!” Salamander exclaimed as she roused from her stupor. “You killed a giant rat all on your own!”
Relieved that her young companion wasn’t injured, she flopped onto her back and brought up her character sheet. She wasn’t sure if she had enough mana left, but she needed to try to cast a healing spell on herself.
She mentally selected the spell, and after she wove the threads of power together in her mind, a brilliant white light enveloped her body. Motes like glowing stars drifted down onto her open wounds. She watched with awe as the flesh knitted shut. A dull ache still remained, and the rat bites had merely scabbed over. But at least she wasn’t losing any more blood.
Amara pushed herself up, using her staff as a walking stick, and then hobbled over to the stairs. She stopped and stared in horror at the remains of her pie on the floor. During the fight, Salamander must have knocked the pastry over and pieces of it were scattered all over the stairs. She let out a long sigh. She’d planned to finish it off it after fighting the rat. “Let’s go collect our reward. And I hope food isn’t too expensive around here.”
Salamander nodded and then limped over to join her at the stairs. As she walked, she rubbed her side. “That stupid rat really hurt me. Do you have another one of those spells for me?”
Amara tried to cast her healing spell again—even though the girl's wounds seemed minor—but then grimaced as she had the feeling of trying to draw water from a dry well. “Sorry, but it looks like I can’t cast one at the moment. If you’re still hurting later, I’ll try again.”
“That’s not fair,” Salamander pouted. “How come you got a healing spell, but I didn’t?”
“Maybe because I was on the verge of death?”
“I’ve seen adventurers with way worse wounds just walk them off,” Salamander continued. “This one time I saw a wyvern bite a woman in half, and she was fine by lunchtime.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Amara arched her eyebrow. But then she thought about how her wounds had been miraculously healed by her spell. With magic, who knew what was possible?
They slowly ascended the stairs in silence until they reached the barricade. She rapped on the wood. “The rat is dead,” she called out. “You can let us out now.”
“Did you really slay the rat?” a muffled woman’s voice replied. “Are you certain?”
“I’m pretty sure,” she called back. “Now open up before I remember that you almost pushed me down the stairs.”
The old woman’s face appeared as the barrels were pushed aside. “No need to get testy. I just couldn’t believe you two actually killed that horrible beast—even when I got the quest completion notification. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, I understand,” she said drily. “Now, about my payment?”
“Right.” The woman reached into the purse hanging from her belt. “It was one copper, right? How does that sound?”
“If you try to cheat me, I’m going to go out and find another rat to put in the cellar. And I promise it’s going to be bigger and meaner. How does that sound?”
The old woman grumbled and then pulled out a second copper piece. “Why are all you adventuring types so grumpy?”
Amara took the money from the woman and then paused. “How much for room and board here? And before you say the price, remember that business about almost pushing me down the stairs?”
“One copper a day for both of you,” the woman said. “Though I suppose with business being a little slow, I can let you stay for a half-copper.”
“She’s not with me.” Amara said, without thinking. But then she watched Salamander’s face crumple. She exhaled and shook her head. She’d just spent the last few years taking care of her father, and she wasn’t ready to become anyone’s caretaker again.
But the girl looked emaciated—and dirty—and Amara had been in her situation before. She wished someone had taken the time to help her back then. Plus, Salamander had known about quests, so she might be helpful in other ways.
“One half-copper for both of us?” Amara asked, ignoring the look of relief flooding Salamander’s face. “If so, I’ll take a room for the night.”
Amara suspected she could find a better deal elsewhere. But right now, she was injured, exhausted, and starving. She didn’t have the energy to wander around the outskirts of the city.
She pressed a copper piece into the woman’s hand. “I don’t suppose you have a bath available for guests?”
The old woman scowled. “That’s extra.”
“Of course it is.” She looked longingly towards the kitchen. “Do you have anything I can eat right now? My meat pie met an unfortunate end in your cellar. "
“I’m sure I can rustle something up for the rat slayer.” The old woman tugged on her shawl. “And my name is Frieda. I thought you should know if you’ll be staying here. I’ll have one of my sons dispose of the rat. "
Salamander pushed herself forward and lifted her chin to stare up at Frieda. “Don’t you dare touch it. That’s ours!”
Amara glanced down at her diminutive companion. If Salamander wanted to keep the carcass, then there must be some value to it.
“What she said.” Amara crossed her arms. “Now about that food…”