บท 116: Chapter 116 - Rat Hunters, Part 9
Dhalthar's heart rate quickened to speeds he would not have thought bearable. His heart was pounding madly in her chest, and his breathing became rough and choked. He knew he was losing control of the spell and fought to stem the flow of energy before it destroyed himself.
Brain-shattering visions raced through his mind, and he knew his abilities as a spellcaster had been taken to incredible new heights by the unprecedented amounts of manastone he had consumed. For a brief moment, his consciousness apparently left the body, and the scenes flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
Then his spirit floated above the city and he had a panoramic view of everything that was happening. Beneath him, the streets burned with fire and violence, and a river of ratfolk rushed through the city, killing everything in its path. There and there he found pockets of armed resistance where human garrisons or simple mobs of citizens had taken to the streets in defense of their homes. He caught a glimpse of wild skirmishes and giant rats devouring the corpses of men and ratfolk alike. He observed burning buildings and dismembered bodies. He beheld the entirety of the great human city of Bergheim in flames.
Dhalthar's attention was drawn to one melee in particular, which came into sharp focus when he recognized two alarmingly familiar figures.
The armored warrior and his female companion, followed by a disciplined pack of human warriors, hacked their way through the throng of ratfolk warriors toward Izak Grottle's massive personal guards. From his trance-like state, Dhalthar could see the roaring orc-rats, and the horrified look on the face of the Tongue henchman betrayed him as he contemplated the prospect of impending violence. He saw Caldovil's insane eyes staring into space as if the pontiff sensed the presence of the disembodied observer. It seemed to the Black Magician that his plan was working very well, and that this meddling duo was about to destroy his most bitter enemies.
"Good." He thought. "they do!" Dhalthar would not bear to see anyone else claim an undeserved share of his glory.
He saw One-Eyed Heskit barking instructions at his personal guards armed with snipers, long-barreled rifles trained on the armored warrior. "Nope! Nope!" Dhalthar thought furiously. "Nothing of that!" With an almost imperceptible oscillation of his thoughts, he touched the shooter's mind.
His fingers tightened on the trigger, but the enchanted metal bullet deflected to strike the head of an orc-rat he nearly killed. The creature snarled and, maddened, charged at the rearguard ratfolks, slaying them as it went.
Dhalthar felt dizzy and realized that he was losing himself in the spell. Power poured out of him as he bled to death, and if he wanted to achieve what he had set out to do he had better do it soon. With a jerk he ordered his spirit to fly back to the castle; he made it whirl into the stone that connected with the one he had and looked once more at Chang. Suddenly, with a snap, he found himself back inside his own body, from whose mouth came the words of the spell.
He focused with the full force of him, calling on all the relentless discipline of his many years as Black Magician, and the spell was quickly back under his control. Ahead of him, in the air, the dark cloud shimmered and parted, revealing a rift in space that ran from the point directly ahead of Dhalthar's place to the ground surrounding the spygem of Dhalthar. Chang.
"Hurry! hurry up advance!" he yelled at the elite warrior guard from him. They advanced into the black cloud, shimmered and vanished, to reappear (Dhalthar truly expected it!) in the very heart of the palace of the brooding female Emilia.
♦ ♦ ♦
Ahead of them, Elysia could see the rat-orcs, their heads and shoulders looming above the crowd; they were monstrous creatures shaped like human beings but with the heads of huge rabid rats. Huge boils ruptured on their mangy fur, and the stigmata of various mutations disfigured their bodies. Each had talons the size of shovels ending in dagger-like claws. Huge pointed fangs from which she dripped saliva filled their mouths. Her howls were audible even above the din of battle.
At that sight of her, Elysia felt the urge to stop and run, and she was aware that the mercenaries following her felt the same way, for the urge to charge dissipated as they gazed at the terrifying appearance of Elysia's enemies. she.
Frey was the only one who did not manifest fear. He kept going, unintentionally or unimpressed by the fearsome nature of his opponents. The rat-orcs were no more disturbed by the arrival of the dark hero than he was by their appearance. With a deafening roar, they charged like rabid beasts to meet them.
It seemed unlikely to Elysia that anything could survive the insane onslaught of such massive creatures. It was like expecting someone to withstand the charge of a herd of Nordic mammoths. Nothing could have been able to hold up against the onslaught of those huge masses of muscle, tooth, and claw. For a moment, all heads turned, and even the ratfolk stopped their relentless advance to watch.
Completely undaunted by the fact that his opponents were slightly larger than him, Frey entered the fray. His greatsword gleamed red in the light of the fire consuming the buildings, and an orc-rat crumpled forward, its legs severed at the knees. As she fell, the dark hero's sword struck her again, cutting off her arm. The creature gripped its stump with its good paw and began to roll on the ground, writhing and screeching.
Another of the massive creatures reached out a paw to seize the dark hero, razor-sharp nails digging into his mighty armor. Frey's shoulder heard the sound of flexing metal as the mighty beast lifted him high above his head. Its jaws opened wide, as if intending to drop Frey's head inside and devour him in one bite, but Frey slashed at it with a powerful slash.
Driven by all the awesome force of the dark hero's mighty arm, the blade cleaved the rat-orc's head in two, sending blood and brains flying in all directions. The dark hero was sent flying backward through the air, propelled by the reflexive action of the rat-orc's death spasm.
Seeing the remaining rat-orcs begin to move towards Frey's recumbent form, Elysia mustered all of her courage.
"Charge!" she yelled. "Charge! Let's send these disgusting vermin back to the hell that spawned them."
Not daring to look over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him, she ran into the fray.
♦ ♦ ♦
Chang watched in amazement as the air shimmered before him. For a moment, it seemed as if a small glowing hole had been torn into the fabric of the world itself, and through that hole she began to seep a foul black gas that smelled of dark magic. As the master ninja watched, the cloud expanded and shimmered until it was taller than any ratfolk, then parted to reveal a doorway linking the toilet he was in with the Black Magician's place.
Chang heard a sudden sound behind him and turned around to see a human in ornate clothing enter the toilet, fumbling with his breeches as if he intended to urinate. The human, who reeked of alcohol, stopped with a puzzled expression and looked at the crouching ratfolk, then shook his head as if he wanted to clear it.
"Oh." he commented he. "That's a really good costume! Where did you get it?
Then his eyes widened further as he took in the ranks of elite warriors that began to pour out of Dhalthar's magical portal. He opened his mouth and had time to let out a single warning yelp before Chang's throwing knife plunged into his heart.
More and more ratfolk warriors poured into the outhouse and out into the palace corridors.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia se agachó, se lanzó al suelo y rodó por debajo del golpe que le habría arrancado la cabeza de cuajo en caso de haber acertado. De cerca, las ratas-orcos resultaban, en todo caso, más aterrorizadoras de contemplar. Sus músculos eran como los cabos que se usaban para amarrar los barcos y daban la impresión de que podían atravesar una pared de piedra sin mucho esfuerzo. La enorme cola de la criatura restallaba en el aire como un látigo. Peor aún era su olor: una combinación horrible de hedor animal, pelaje mojado y sustancias químicas apestosas. A Elysia le recordó a un queso muy viejo y rancio, pero mucho más fuerte, y sintió que le lloraban los ojos.
Rodó a un lado y un puño del tamaño de su cabeza, se estrelló en el suelo donde ella había estado antes. Lanzó una patada a una pierna de la rata-orco con la esperanza de hacer que perdiera el equilibrio, pero lo mismo habría dado que pateara un tronco de árbol. De la boca de la bestia goteó saliva caliente, que le cayó sobre una mano, y Elysia resistió el impulso de retroceder y continuó avanzando, pues sabía que su vida dependía de ello.
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