Ninth Interlude - Part Fifteen

As he finishes speaking, he realises the whole room has turned to look at him. Their eyes are suspicious, accusing even, making him want to flee as quickly as possible.

“What manor of assistance?” the fat man with the gold chain demands.

“Mister Mayor, I must protest,” a second dignitary at the top table, also considerably overweight interrupts, banging the table before he's had chance to respond. “We cannot be entertaining the notions of opportunist vagrants at a time like this.”

“Opportunist vagrant or not,” the mayor replies, “I would hear what he has to say.”

“But....” his colleague counters, only to be silenced by the mayor's gavel.

“But nothing,” the mayor admonishes, “Unless you have a plan to rid us of these vermin, I suggest we allow guest to speak.”

“Thankyou, your honour,” he says as politely as he can, “I believe I may know how to remove this burden from your town, before they can do further damage.” He pauses, suddenly mindful of his own situation, before adding tentatively “For a reasonable consideration, of course.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Fourteen

“Why has God forsaken us?” A large, stocky man with rosy cheeks, his clothes singed at the edges, demands from the centre of the hall.

At the far end a long table stands on the rostrum. Behind the table sit a group of middle-aged men. One of then is obviously a priest of some kind, dressed in brown habit, a crucifix hanging from his neck. A large, heavy tome sits on the table before him.

“The Devil walks among us!” several voices clamour together, their location in the crowd unclear.

Beside the priest, a fat man dressed in the finest cloth, an ornate gold necklace decorating his neck and chest.

“Order! Order!” he commands, banging a gavel repeatedly on the table before him.

“What are we to do?” A woman in burnt tatters demands, silver hair and cheeks smeared with ashes. “Why is this happening to us?”

He takes her question as his cue. Standing quickly, he claps his hands above his head, a sharp sound that momentarily silences the room.

“Gentle townsfolk,” he says loudly, before the clamour can return, “I confess I know not the cause of these terrible circumstances, yet I may be able to offer some assistance!”

Ninth Interlude - Part Thirteen

With a heavy heart he leaves the clearing, slowly making his way back toward the town. As he reaches the edges of the dwellings, he's sure the volume of rats has increased. They are, quite literally, everywhere: in every nook and cranny, every ditch and mound, often two or three deep, climbing under and over each other, an ocean of rats as far as he can see.

He walks slowly into the settlement, each step cautiously taken, mindful that none should get crushed under foot. By and large the rats ignore him: now and again they sniff at his legs, one or two scrutinise him from a distance, but he carries an air of familiarity that is beneath their contempt. He is, after all, essentially them.

He wanders past burning buildings, through lines of people passing buckets full of water, following the sound of human chatter, angry voices raised in fear and desperation. This sound leads him to the centre of the settlement, a church hall packed to the rafters with confused. terrified townsfolk. Unnoticed, he takes a seat at the rear, listening as they discuss their troubles.

Ninth Interlude - Part Twelve

“But...” he begins to say.

“No 'buts',” she snaps harshly, “There will be no Authority here, no genocide for European rats. Your instructions are clear. Get on with it.”

As she finishes speaking, the light around her begins to sparkle with the same hues as her dress. The air swirls, lights brighten, until her features are lost in a blinding white. Seconds later a deafening 'POP!' fills the air and she's gone: white light, sparkles and all.

He drops to his knees, deflated and lost, faced with a task he knows to be wrong. He takes a deep breath, holds it in, releasing the air in a resigned sigh as a steely determination takes over. Climbing to his feet he kicks over the mound of earth, stamping on the twigs to extinguish the flames.

“I'm sorry,” he says to the empty clearing around him, “The Forest has nothing for me now.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Eleven

“Exactly,” she says with certainty, “These rats will survive.”

“No,” he responds coldly, “These rats do not deserve to survive.”

“Rattus, be serious,” she barks, all traces of humour now absent from her voice. “You cannot destroy all the rats in the town, the consequences would be felt across the Warp for decades to come.”

He frowns, a little confused by her answer. “I'm not sure how...” he begins.

“Most of the rats from Europe are in that town right now,” she interrupts. “If you kill them, the Warp will be out of balance for a generation or more. Their number will only be restored as rats from Asia migrate, an who knows what troubles they will bring.”

“Troubles?” he asks.

“Disease, Chaos,” she says, “Whatever. We do not know, and therefore cannot take the chance.” She pauses. “No,” she continues, with a note of finality, “The way forward is clear. Destroy this 'King Rat' of yours, then let nature take its' course.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Ten

“Rattus,” she says with a hint of condescension, “You don't mind if I call you that, do you?”

“It is my name,” he replies tersely.

“Rattus, I think you may be over thinking this situation. Your species is acting out of character, which has upset you. I understand that. But you have to understand, that is what happens when the Weft touches the Warp like this.”

“Not out of character,” he snaps, struggling to contain his rage. “These rats are acting against their very basest nature. It must not....it cannot be allowed to spread.”

“I think you'll find it takes a little more to change the nature of a species than that.”

“Does it?” he spits, “Does it really? Today I have witnessed my kind sacrifice themselves for the greater good. That's not rats. What does a rat do, first and foremost, before anything else?”

“I don't know,” she replies with an irritated sigh, “Why don't you tell me.”

“I will,” he says with certainty, “A rat survives.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Nine

The woman pauses, frowns. “Explain,” she commands.

“I believe this situation requires the attention of an Authority,” he replies.

“You would have us make structural changes?” She asks. “Why?”

“This creature,” he tells her, “It calls itself King Rat. The others, they follow it, obey it, like a leader.”

“Then surely the solution is simple,” she says, “Destroy this King Rat, and the rest will return to their usual patterns of behaviour.”

“I fear the consequences of such a short sighted response,” he says earnestly. He can't help but feel he's not being taken seriously.

“Consequences?” she asks with a laugh, “What consequences could there possibly be?”

“With so many of them here,” he begins to explain, trying to be patient, “The idea of rat leader could take root, could spread as they encounter others. In time, that could change the nature of us all.”

He's not certain, but he's sure he hears her stifle a laugh before she replies. “Would that really be so bad?”

His growing frustration explodes into anger at that. “RATS DO NOT FOLLOW LEADERS!!!”

Ninth Interlude - Part Eight

Watching the rats spread fire throughout the town, his rage tells him he's seen enough. Returning to his neatly folded clothes, he once more adopts his biped form and dresses quickly. Ever alert to his surroundings, ensuring he's not being watched, he follows a path into the woods until he finds a clearing near a stream.

Working quickly, he builds a small mound of earth and stones then digs a channel from the brook to allow running water to surround it. Setting a small bundle of twigs alight, he places them on top, then sits back to wait.

Before long he hears movement somewhere behind him. “Is there a problem?” a female voice asks. He turns to see a woman of indeterminate age, dressed in a gown of white linen and sparkles.

“The trouble in the town,” he replies, pointing in the direction of the settlement. “I believe the best way to restore the balance is a little more drastic than our usual remit would allow.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Seven

As he watches, he can hear the fire spread. It's not long before its' tongues are licking at the windows and stretching for the thatch. The snap and crackle of wood splintering herald the appearance of a middle aged woman, ushering her children out through the door into the rodent infested night. Her cries for help are soon attended, other townsfolk appearing in the street among the rats, to form a line from the well to her door. In a mere matter of moments water is being moved to combat the flames.

The rats, however, have other ideas. A large group breaks away from the main body, engulfing the well: biting the extremities of all who approach, gnawing at the ropes a pulley, leaving a wake of havoc and sabotage. A second group sets itself the task of spreading the flames, running into the fire, only to emerge seconds later, all ablaze and stampeding towards other buildings.

Ninth Interlude - Part Six

When another large group of rats break off from the main pack he follows them. Scurrying through a myriad of twists and turns, tunnels and runways, he sticks with them, until the pack emerges into the night. A quick glance at the stars tells him they're on the other side of the town. The rats move as one, nearing a single hut at the edge of the dwellings. Like a liquid, the rats flow to surround the building in a great circle, a moat of rodents. Once they're all in place the circle begins to contract, as the creatures approach and enter the house from every direction. They crawl under the doors, find holes in the walls, climb the outsides to amass on the window ledges and thatch, gnawing and scratching to make their way in.

He hears shouts and screams coming from within, cries of “Get back,” and “Away dirty beasts,” mixed with the sounds of crockery breaking and before long, fire spreading.

Ninth Interlude - Part Five

He makes his way slowly forward through the....he's not quite sure what the correct term for so many rats should be. “Mischief” and “pack” hardly seem adequate when applied to such numbers, yet he knows of no other. “That's because this many rats should never be in one place,” he thinks to himself, then “The Bible would call it a plague.” That causes a chuckle, which he stifles so he doesn't draw any more attention, focusing instead on the message being espoused at the far end of the cavern.

It's nothing he hasn't heard before: safety, security, homeland, unity, strength in numbers. Nothing remarkable, until a reference to the 'two-legged predators' reminds him he's among rats, and an angry fire begins to burn in his belly. “This is not right,” he thinks, “It has to be stopped.” He pauses, caught by a passing thought. “No, not stopped. Eradicated, before it can spread.”

Ninth Interlude - Part Four

Hundreds of rats, thousands maybe, all looking intently at the same thing.

He follows their gaze, intrigued to know what could possibly hold their collective attention like this. At the far end of the cavern, almost at the limit of his vision, on a raised platform, stands a single rat. Large than average, much larger in fact, even compared to a mature buck, it stands on its' hind legs, squeaking and chittering away to its' silent congregation. Every so often it pauses while a large group of rats breaks away, heading silently but in unison down one tunnel or another, before it continues.

“That's not right,” he mutters to himself again, “Not right at all.” He turns to leave, gathering the suspicious attention of his neighbours as he does. “Okay, maybe not,” he whispers, turning back. He waits until those around him are once more facing the platform, then slowly begins to make his way forward.

Ninth Interlude - Part Three

Finding a quiet corner at the end of a dark alley he quickly disrobes, abandoning his bi-pedal form for a more natural state with four short legs and a hairless tail. He returns to the throng, listening closely to their squeaky chatter, blending in with a large group as they dart into the hole. Once into the tunnel, the group moves with purpose, all headed in one particular direction. Left here, right there, straight on past other openings, then left, straight on, right. The group moves as one, and he moves with it, following wherever they lead, trusting he'll find answers wherever it is they're going.

Where they're going turns out to be a large, underground cavern, centred around what appears to be a natural spring. Here, there are rats everywhere: hundreds certainly, thousands possibly. Rats of every size and shape, young and old, bucks, roes, dams and pups, for as far as his eyes can see in the dark.

And every single one of them appears to be facing the same direction.

Ninth Interlude - Part Two

He makes his way slowly toward the township. As he does, the number of rats he sees increases dramatically. By the time he reaches the outskirts they are quite literally everywhere. Scurrying across the road, amassing by the road, climbing over each other in the drainage ditches, running up and down the trees, in and out of the dwellings, sitting on rooftops, spilling into gardens, amok in vegetable patches, disturbing livestock. Everywhere he looks, there are rats. Too many rats.

Entering the town, he pauses, studying their activity as best he can, trying to discern any kind of pattern. It takes him a few minutes because there are so many of the damn things, but slowly he comes to the conclusion they are acting with purpose. Acting together, towards some unknown common cause.

“That's not right,” he mutters, spying a hole in the ground where their activity is particularly frenetic, “Not right at all.”

Ninth Interlude - Part One

He arrives in woodland on the outskirts of a hilly region. Already it is dusk, which annoys him more than it should.

“Always night,” he mutters to himself, “Would it be too much to ask, just once, for a day in the sun?”

There's no reply of course, not that he's expecting one. Once he's gathered his bearings he finds a road and follows it downhill, towards a settlement of some kind in the distance. From the look of it, it's a town of some kind. The light of candle and hearth flickers through windows, plumes of smoke dance in the breeze above various chimneys, the road itself improves with every step he takes.

He knows he's going in the right direction. He can see it in the air, a thin cloud of sparkling dust, draped like a cape across the whole area. He takes a long sniff, tasting the air, drinking in the atmosphere.

It's not long before he sees them. Still more than a mile from the hamlet, a mischief of rats circling an unidentifiable carcass. A few paces more and he spies a second group.

“This one wont end well,” he shudders as he continues his journey.

Episode 9 - Chapter 100

 NOW....

So many plans were once set in motion

So many seeds were scattered around

Start with a place, the simplest notion

And wait for those germs to root in the ground.

A place full of stories, sadness and woe

A home for the tragic, the root of a song

Such fertile ground to help those seeds grow

Then let nature work, it wont take too long

Along came the child, after a while

A vessel to groom, a mind to shape

Stroking her dreams with cunning and guile

All to ensure she'd fit the landscape

Now all these seeds are reaching fruition

Branches so full of ripeness to choose

No one can say that bird lacked ambition

Touching the Warp with nothing to lose.

Episode 9 - Chapter 99

 Robert's seizures finally shuddered to a halt. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth to wipe away any remaining drops of phlegm. “What...?” he began to say but I stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh,” I told him, “Just sit quietly, get your breath back. There'll be time for questions later.”

“I'm not so sure there will be,” Raven said as that colourfully dressed midget approached his side. I was about to ask about this new arrival when I caught a meaningful glint in Raven's eye. His gaze flicked between me and, seemingly, the legs of Robert's chair. Looking down, I found a short arm protruding from beneath the seat, shortly followed by a diminutive shoulder and head.

“Oh, I say,” was all I could manage to say.

“That's enough,” Oak commanded from the far side of the room. Looking at him, I saw he'd managed to mend his branch, which he was once more waving threateningly at the room. Behind him, the wall began to shimmer like the surface of a puddle.

“No,” Raven told him, “No it's not. There is a war in the Weave, and this house may well be its' battleground.”

Episode 9 - Chapter 98

 Fiona, trapped by her own eyelid, fighting a darkness that feels like it's swallowing her whole. She can't move forward, nor wriggle back, with a burning that lives in her lungs but fills every atom of her whole body. She wants to give in, just let go and let the black take her, but a voice, distant yet solid and confident, keeps pulling at her. As much as she'd like to surrender, that voice wont let her, wont let her do anything in fact but search for it with her mind. And so she does, listening carefully, letting it grow until it fills her mind. Now she's caught between the voice that fills her head, the gloom that fills her body and the eye that traps her legs. She feels like she's being pulled in a thousand directions all at once until this world ends with a deafening pop!

Fiona opens her eyes, gasping with shock as she realises she's somehow returned to her body.