Chapter Nine – The Dragon's Tongue
Once the economic and social heart of the town, since the plague started Taalagad's docks were little more than deserted wasteland. No barges docked along the sprawling piers, no shipments entered or left the sprawling warehouses, no labourers hunted for work among the offices and taverns. Only silence and death ruled there now, interspaced with the odd crack of gunfire as desperate folk tried to swim out to passing ships and were turned back with violence. Their corpses floated limply in the shadows, drifting to and fro with the waves amid the sodden baggage they had hoped to escape with. Gritting her teeth at the sight, Elriza walked on.
Given his supposed profession, she'd been expecting Eladio to be quiet and hidden, occupying some secluded alleyway or a shadowed corner in some waterfront tavern where prospective clientele could find him. Instead he was one of the few businessmen still operating along the waterfront, his small stall proudly displaying a handful of sickly looking fish hung out on racks for perusing customers, and when she arrived the man himself was in the middle of screaming imprecations at the top of his lungs.
"By Myrmidia's blessed teats I will find you, road-maker, and when I do, I will beat you with your own cobblestones!" he roared, kicking angrily at a loose stone in the road outside his shop before wheeling to glare at a small band of raggedy looking urchins lurking on the far side of the road, "And you! Do not think that you will be spared my wrath, you little thieves, touch my sardines again and I shall drown you in piss-water!"
Bemused, Elriza wondered if she had perhaps heard the name wrong, or if the innkeep she had asked for directions had steered her wrong. Well, there was only one way to find out, and after a moment to brace herself, she crossed the street and approached.
"Ah! And good day to you, madam!" the fishmonger said with oily enthusiasm, turning to all but bow and scrape as she drew near, "What can Eladio do for you this fine day? A fish to grace your plate, perhaps? I assure you mine are the finest you will find in this town, all imported from upstream, far away from our blighted waters!"
"Nierhaus directed me your way," Elriza said quietly, a touch uncertain but pressing on regardless, "I am to say that… I need to ride the dragon's tongue?"
"Of course, of course," Eladio replied, nodding cheerfully, "And how many will be dining, one? No… three? Excellent! I have just the thing, and if you like I can arrange delivery… wonderful! Ten bells tonight, outside the Crooked Shoe. I shall have your delivery packed and ready, on my word as an Estalian!"
Elriza, who had not in fact spoken a word in response to any of those questions, could only nod slowly. The fishmonger was already turning away, bustling over to a small table set out with his scales and accounting books, and after a moment's hesitation the Warrior turned and walked away. The encounter was not what she had expected, but then perhaps that was in itself predictable; if the man really was a smuggler or some kind of covert agent for the local government, as Nierhaus had implied, then he would have strong reason to look like virtually anything else. Not everyone thrived on being so outrageously and undeniably shifty as Hancock, after all.
Memories of the free-wheeling merchant were driven from her mind a moment later, as she passed a heavy wooden wagon going the other way down the length of the street. The crew were priests, black-robed servants of the death god that she had seen assisting in the hospice, and their cargo was a pile of corpses stacked so high as to be almost overflowing. Elriza stepped carefully out of their path, and as they passed her eyes came to linger on the calloused hand of an old dockworker hanging limply from the side.
"What am I doing here…" she murmured to herself, shaking her head in quiet regret. This should have been an adventure, a voyage of exploration and diplomacy in the company of dear friends and allies. Not this hellish trial of cruelty and pestilence. Yet now that she was here, could she really turn her back? No. She might not know what motivated the ratmen in their war, but no history of transgression justified such indiscriminate desolation, nor the sadism she had seen in the memories of Rudolf Nierhaus. It had to stop, even if that meant doing it herself.
She just hoped she could find a way that did not result in greater misery for the future.
-/-
Taalagad by night was a vision of madness, the streets choked with dead bodies and the shadows overflowing with chittering rats. Bands of roving madmen staggered from one door to another, dragging those they deemed tainted or unworthy out to burn on makeshift pyres, and everywhere the sound of misery echoed into the uncaring night. Elriza was hardly the stealthiest of souls, but against such a backdrop even her towering frame was easy to lose track of, and with Raha to bring up the rear and Kristiane to guide them with a local's knowledge they made good time through the gloom-choked streets.
The Crooked Shoe was a tavern on the edge of town, one of the dingiest and most run-down looking establishments Elriza had ever encountered, and by fortune it seemed the place had been left all but abandoned by the crisis wracking the town. There was nobody to see them slip into the back garden and take shelter behind a low wall, nor to hear the way Kristiane panted for breath in the aftermath of their hurried flight. Nobody, that was, until the shadows themselves seemed to come alive and level a pistol at Elriza's head.
"Who are you, and why do you seek passage?" Eladio the Fishmonger said in a deadly quiet voice, the pistol in his hand unwavering as it tracked her every twitch and motion, a second one in his free hand ready to cover her companions should they flinch. Distantly, Elriza noted that his voice had entirely lost the exaggerated accent from earlier, adopting instead one more befitting of a local.
"Good smugglers don't ask questions," she replied, carefully measuring the distance between them. He'd get a shot off before she could close the distance, but she wasn't terribly worried about the risk to her. Kristiane was far more fragile, however, and currently cowering in her shadow.
"These are strange times," Eladio replied, unrepentant, his aim unwavering, "and for Herr Nierhaus to send me foreign goods stranger still. So. An answer if you please."
Elriza considered that for a moment, then nodded. There seemed no harm in telling him, and they could not afford to waste much time.
"This plague is unnatural, the work of the rat men," she said carefully, tilting her head to indicate the suffering township beyond, "We have proof, and information that could fight it, which must get to those inside the city."
"The Skaven? Bah, I should have known," Eladio shook his head, spitting to the side in disgust as he holstered his pistol, "You know the captain turned his pistoles on himself?"
At Elriza's side, Kristiane gasped as if struck, seeming to fold in on herself. Elriza laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and shot a baleful look on the smuggler, who seemed briefly confused. Then understanding came and he growled a curse in a voice too quiet for even the keenest observer to pick up.
"His daughter?" he asked, and when Elriza nodded he shook his head in regret, "My condolences, young miss, but if the Skaven are hunting us then we have no time for grief. Follow me and stick close."
The smuggler set a punishing pace as he led them out of Taalagad, slipping through a gap in the old stone walls and heading into the dark forest beyond. Elriza and G'raha were more than used to hard marches when the circumstances required, but Kristiane was not, and in the end Elriza resorted to carrying the trembling young woman on her back while G'raha took a greater share of their supplies. Eladio himself was carrying several heavy looking satchels across his broad shoulders, but when she thought to ask, he just shook his head and muttered something about later. The pace did not allow for much conversation, and what little opportunity they had seemed gauche to take in the face of Kristiane's silent, shuddering grief.
After perhaps an hour they drew close to their destination, a small copse of trees that touched the very edge of the crater walls. Eladio paused there, producing a pair of hooded lanterns from within his pack, and after handing one off to G'raha he seemed to touch one of the trees and disappear entirely from view. It wasn't until Elriza retraced his steps exactly that she saw the hidden passage dug between the old oak's roots, leading swiftly down a narrow flight of stairs cut with economical focus into the bare rock.
"The stone is worn smooth," G'raha murmured as he followed them down, placing each step with care and holding the hooded lantern aloft to illuminate the sheer walls and twisting stairs, "how long has this passage been in use?"
"Centuries," Eladio replied tersely from his position near the front, one hand trailing along the wall as he led the way into the darkness, "Old dwarf work, this. Old as Talabheim itself, maybe even older. The authorities leave it open, for when they need to move something or someone past the eyes of the High Watch."
Such a use would be why the passage was fit to hold a Roegadyn, Elriza presumed, an unlooked for but welcome consideration born of the desire to move large quantities of goods or perhaps even units of troops. In truth she was rapidly beginning to suspect that these 'dwarves' had rather grander purposes in mind for their work than a mere smuggler's path, especially as they began to pass branching tunnels and side chambers in quick succession, all dark and seemingly abandoned. It almost seemed like the foundations of a city, hidden beneath the ground, but whatever the architects had intended they had clearly been forced to abandon the place unfinished, and now the remnants of their work were put to other purposes. At the third such crossroads they finally paused for a break, Eladio shepherding them into a small side chamber off main intercourse and breaking out flasks of water and small loafs of bread.
"These Skaven," Elriza said, leaning against the doorway and studying the dark passages that radiated out from the chamber beyond, "tell me of them."
"What's to tell?" Eladio shook his head, chewing at a crust of bread, "They infest the ground beneath our feet, ever gnawing at the roots of the world. It is said they have cities of their own, dark mirrors of the ones above. In this land they are often thought of as legend, but the dwarves know better. I've fought them myself, a time or two, as a dog of war in service of fair Miragliano."
"Father used to tell me stories," Kristiane murmured, hunched up against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing, "I never thought they were real. That such evil could exist in this world…"
Elriza nodded, frowning in thought. A subterranean civilisation, one that built its settlements in the shadows of those who lived above – or was it merely that the only such settlements the surface races had found were those close at hand? Either way it suggested that some degree of coexistence was possible, without an obvious conflict over resources beyond that inherent to any independent polities. Ideally, she'd be able to track down one of the Skaven themselves and ask them for their own perspective, to get a better grasp on the source of this conflict. Was it a religious conflict, as with the Ixal and their grudge against the Elementals of the Twelveswood, or one rooted in territorial concerns, as with the Amaljaa and the monetarists of Ul'dah?
"In my homeland, they are known as the Kobolds," she ventured after a few moments, "and for many years they warred with the other races of Eorzea for land and mining rights. Yet they have also lived with us in peace, their industrial prowess the backbone of trade and manufacturing on Vylbrand."
"Assuming that they are, in fact, the same species as the Skaven," G'raha pointed out with a wry smile, "Though if so, it is cause for hope. The Chrystarium knew them as the Mord, roaming traders and scavengers who could find a use for even the strangest relic. That would seem a far better relationship to forge than the one that currently exists in this land."
"Mm. You will forgive me my scepticism, I hope," Eladio said dryly, shaking his head, "it seems impossible to imagine. Though, one does hear strange tales of Cathay…"
Elriza turned, some unspoken instinct pricking at the back of her neck, and without another word Eladio fell silent and moved up behind her. In the silence they listened, trying to track the sudden source of their unease, and… yes, there! The sound of claws on stone, echoing strangely in the empty tunnels, approaching at speed. Grimacing, Elriza stepped into the doorway and hefted her axe, planting herself between the approaching sounds and the people at her back. That was all she had time to do before the Skaven arrived.
There were three of them, scampering and sprinting down the hallway on all fours with long tails swishing violently in the air behind them, and even swathed in heavy fabric robes it was plain to see that there was something terribly wrong. Sharp red eyes were clouded with cataracts, wiry limbs were covered in sores and pus-matted fur, and from between yellowed fangs spilled strands of bloody foam. For a moment, Elriza hesitated, even as the ratmen skidded to a halt and stared at her in shock. Were these the architects of the disease ravaging Taalagad, or more of its victims?
"Sacred Myrmidia preserve…" Eladio rasped from behind her, lifting his pistol, and that was all it took.
"KILL-KILL!" screamed the first rat, brandishing a heavy blade slicked with ooze and speckled with rust, and with shrieks of verminous rage the whole gaggle threw themselves into a headlong charge. Eladio fired, the roar of his pistol deafeningly loud in the stone chamber, but the shot went wide and there was no time for a second.
The first of the skaven leapt at Elriza with a whistling shriek, its red eyes glowing madly, and with a grunt the Warrior turned her axe sideways and batted it out of the air. She didn't know what cocktail of diseases it was carrying, but getting soaked in such blood seemed a terrible idea anyway, and the stench when it hit the far wall and burst into bloody chunks was enough to validate the idea by itself. Light flared from behind her, bright and pure, but she had no time to check what G'raha was doing, for the next opponent was already on her.
"Skyre-magic! Die-die!" it cried out in a shrill voice, and she realised to her shock that this one had no eyes at all, only dark pits covered by strips of ragged leather. Even blind it seemed to know precisely where she was, and there was uncommon strength behind those withered limbs as it tackled her. Elriza grunted, bracing against the charge and jamming an armoured gauntlet into that snapping maw before it could close on flesh, and then Eladio's rapier took the rat through the throat and sent it toppling to the floor.
Throwing the corpse aside, she turned just in time to see G'raha drive a blade of purest light through the heart of the final Skaven, shadows playing madly across the walls as it thrashed and died upon his sword. Her lover let out a soft sigh as the ratman finally collapsed, banishing the blade again a moment later, and silence fell once more.
"…strange magic, that," Eladio commented, wiping the blade of his rapier down with a cloth that he discarded on the floor, "effective, though."
"Not my best work, I'm afraid," G'raha commented vaguely, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head, "the ambient aether here is… more volatile, even in low quantities. A simple blade is easy, especially drawing on internal reserves, but anything more complex… well, thoughts for another time, perhaps."
"They were fleeing, I think, not attacking." Elriza commented, nudging the body of her second attacker over with a boot. "This one yelled something about 'Skryre'."
"In-fighting? Possible. The rats are as fond of treachery as any Tilean," Eladio said, shaking his head as he sheathed his rapier once more, "Fortunately, their path here is not our path onwards, so with a little luck we will not need to find out. Come now, quickly."
There were no more words from there, only hurried footsteps and straining senses, following Eladio's twisting path as he led them deeper into the warren of tunnels and rooms beneath the Taalbaston. As they advanced, Elriza found her thoughts returning again and again to the skaven. There had been only three of them, and the exit beyond her had been far from the only one in the chamber, yet still they had attacked. No posturing, no pleading, only an immediate lunge for furious violence. Even the Tempered were not usually so single-minded, yet if they were only mad berserkers, how had they come to be fleeing in the first place? There was more to this story, something she was missing, and she had to find it.
"We are here," Eladio said, breaking her out of her reflection and indicating a small side passage from their current tunnel, "At the end of this passage, there is a small stone panel. Press it and the wall will open, but only for a few heartbeats. You will come out near Dorner's Dyes, where the evening shift is just ending. Nobody will notice another face or three in the crowd."
"Our thanks," G'raha said solemnly, touching one hand to his heart, "Will you be returning by the same route?"
"Hah. Worried for me, outlander? Be worried for yourself," Eladio chuckled, shaking his head, "Talabheim is a dangerous city at the best of times, and these are very much not. Still, we can but try, no? Myrmidia bless you. Myrmidia bless us all."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness beneath the mountain, and the travellers were alone.
