Chapter 58. Collision

Charging through their tiny, concrete camp, Kilik led a group of several lightly armed banshees.

Addressing a small group at the other end of camp, Viara turned at the sight of her comrade—surprised to see them back so soon.

“We may have lucked out,” said Kilik with a broad grin.

“What do you mean?”

“Word on the street is that there’s a war brewing. Some clan of wererats is getting ready to attack. This is the opportunity we've been waiting for. I say we wait it out and see what comes of this battle. With any luck, one side, or maybe even both, will be weakened enough for us to make our move.”

Viara’s low brow and stern gaze shot back as the clogs turned, “Alright then, let’s do it.”

The most experienced banshees gathered the youngest into squads, taking up leadership positions as they tested the edges of their steel and readied for battle.

Undeniably, doubt still lingered among the group—they had just lost a battle and their homes, after all. But they understood the importance of winning here. They might have been weak in the grand scheme of things, but at least they had lived a life of independence, and who knew what would happen if they were forced to bow to some unknown, undead lord.

*******

The wererats had started to gather hours ago, building up a defensive line in the street adjoining Abe’s alley. He eyed them from behind the wall, standing beside the trembling allies he had picked up, who no doubt regretted joining him for a few ducats now.

I could attack now while they’re still gathering their numbers, but it would require revealing myself. At least here, within the alley, the width of their attacking force will be restricted.

He glanced back over to the hole at the end of the alley, which opened up to the Vale. He could still escape, but how much difference would it make if these wererats were to follow? Escaping Lantern felt like taking ten steps backward, and he wasn’t ready to accept that.

The shuffling and squeaking army of wererats must have been at least a couple hundred strong, and they took flaming staffs and pressed them into the cracks that lined the brick-tiled floor—creating a mesmerizing line of swaying flames around their army.

The army of rats then parted down the middle and, marching down the center, came a hulking, pustule-covered brownish-gray rat. Bells chimed as it walked, and pleasurable shivers ran down its back as it sniffed the air.

“Make way for Grand  Flagran,” a staff-carrying rat beside it shouted, banging its staff against the ground as it walked.

“What a sight, my children,” Grand Flagran wheezed as he reached the edge of the army. “The eve of our vengeance, a truly breathtaking sight.”

The heightened pitch of excited wooing swept across the army as the massive rat spoke.

“Fat Boys, where are thee?” Grand Flagran said, and several huge, barrel-gut rats stepped forth across the ranks, taking position at the head of the army. “Marvelous, my fat and squishy children. Let our blessed Fat Boys lead this army toward glory!”   

The army cheered again as the mean-looking, obese rats roared, thrusting their rusty weapons in the air.

The echoes of a rhythmic march cut the wererat leader’s speech short, driving the army’s attention down the underground passage that acted as a street.

“What’s this?” Grand Flagran sneered, departing from the grandiose tone he used to address the crowd.

Within seconds, the formation marched out through the shadows, an army of walking mushrooms led by a hunched-over, hulking colony of shrooms. 

“Rat, why are your pestilent kind here?” Barked the giant mushroom.

“Dreamers?” Grand Flagran turned to the army. “You’re a little far from the surface, aren’t you?”

“In the name of Old Silveroot, I claim this place. Now, rats, clear out!”

Chuckling, Grand Flagran turned to the wererats at his side. “Do you believe this dreamer? Perhaps he is lost?”

“Do not test me,” said Ror’rel, marching his small army to only a few meters from the wererat line. “My lord Old Sliveroot is a true power of the Dreamscape. Unlike whatever you’re supposed to be. Now move!”

“Whatever I’m supposed to be?” Grand Flagrad placed a hand on his chest. “Insolence. Here, within Lantern’s Necropolis, I’m one of the great undead gang lords, and you’re a nobody,” he sneered, pointing his crooked, clawed finger at the huge shroom.

“Master Ror’el,” stammered a sporeking at his side. “We’re outnumb—”

“Shut up,” sneered the spore-emperor. “The will of Old Silveroot will not be bent by the likes of rats.”

Raglas turned his bent gaze to his master, “What shall we–”

Grand Flagran raised a silencing hand, and his second fell mute, “Fat boys, tear them apart!”

The entire wererat line jumped into action in an instant, leaping toward the shroom army and clashing without worry for self-preservation.

“What the…” Abe’s mouth slackened as he watched the unexpected development. 

“Maaster, it appeeers they aare fightinnng amonng themselves.”

“Yeah, thanks, I think I got that.”

*******

“So, these are the two fractions you spoke of?” Viara said, her figure hidden beneath shadow as they watched the battle commence from the far end of the street—focused on dampening their energy signals. “I didn’t expect dreamers to be fighting the undead for territory down here.”

“Neither did I,” Kilik nodded with a bent brow at her side. 

“The rats outnumber them too greatly. If we plan to take advantage of this situation, we won’t be able to wait it out long.”

“Yes,” Kilik agreed, rubbing at her chin. “Do you think we can take them, Viara?”

“Alone? Not a chance. But their flank is wide open, and those nasty big ones are distracted by those mushrooms.”

“Agreed. Should we issue the command to attack, then?”

“Wait,” Viara raised a hand. “Let them do a little more damage to one another first.”

They watched as the two armies slammed against one another, with the wererat fat boys carving a path through the shroomking line. Still, victory wasn’t so easily assured as the mushrooms began releasing their clouds of spores and countering with poisoned jabs of their spears.

Within seconds, wererats were falling to the ground as poison assaulted their veins, and sporekings were shredded apart in equal numbers.

“Viara, it’s getting close.”

“Agreed,” Viara nodded. “Order the attack.”

 With a wave of her arm, Elder Kilik sent the army of banshees descending upon the wererat army from their rear, and dozens of fiery beams shot out, cutting down dozens of wererats in seconds and causing panic throughout their line.

********

“What now?” Abe muttered as he watched the fiery display blast into the wererat's flank. “Those are…” his brows furrowed.

“Maaster?”

“It’s nothing. It's just that those attacks remind me of someone.”

The battle had evened out with the banshee attack, but it didn’t take the wererats long to reform their lines, and even battling against both foes, they still held the numerical advantage, and the sporekings were dropping fast.

“This isn’t good,” Abe muttered under his breath. He had seen enough evidence to know that he didn’t want to fight the wererats alone.

“You lot, keep the wall safe, okay?”

The trembling ghouls and skeleton nodded, but he knew they would provide barely any deterrence if attacked. Maybe they could take out a single wererat if it was weak.

“Well, no time like the present,” Abe grunted, sending his tendrils shooting for the closest wererats as he charged the battlefield.

He had picked up more standard bullets for his pistol when he sold the acorn and fired into the crowd of wererats in quick succession, using two of his tendrils to reload as he ran, simultaneously whipping his sword from side to side.

Every tendril that hit its target was filled with poison and dosed into the wererats, and by the time he had reached the chaos of the battle, Abe released clouds of spores one after another.

Bodies flew across the confusing melee as flying banshees descended to his side, shooting fiery beams before engaging with sharp steel.

To his left, a couple of sporekings broke the wererat line and stabbed deeper into their ranks, forcing Abe to cut them down with a flurry of slashes.

He knew the shrooms and the wererats were after him; that much was obvious, but for now, he avoided the flying creatures to his left. For now, he hoped he wouldn’t need to make another enemy today.

As the wererats collapsed around him, the tide had clearly changed, and the largest of them were backstepping—aware of this.

However, Abe knew that he hadn’t made allies with Old Silveroot’s minions just because he cut down a few wererats and used this as an opportunity to strike down as many sporekings as possible.

Within seconds of Abe’s slaughter, the remaining sporekings had been alerted, but between him and the crumbling line of wererats, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

Through the chaotic melee, he spotted the giant rat that had been addressing the army scurrying off as fiery blasts cut through their rear guard.

Well, at least we don't don't have to worry about him anymore.

Abe’s gaze then turned to the shroom leader battling two of the Fat Boys. Both sides had taken hits and were visibly slowing, but after one of the Fat Boys failed to dodge, it was pumped full of poison as a spear dug into its guts and fell to its knees. Before the shroom leader, Master Ror’el could finish the job; a rusty cleaver cut away a chunk of his flesh. Two sporekings rushed to his aid, distracting the huge rat long enough for Ror’el to teleport to its side and stab his poisoned spear into the giant rat's flesh, flooding it with poison.

The spores had won the battle as the remnants of wererats fled, but barely a half dozen still stood on shaky legs, and their leader looked as if it were about to topple over against a weak breeze.

Warm light flashed at Abe's side, and he was forced to dodge just in time to avoid a fiery blast. Turning his gaze toward the attack's direction, Abe spotted the hostile banshee flying toward him.

“That’s just great,” he groaned as he bounced back, avoiding more attacks. In Abe’s desire to avoid making yet another enemy, he allowed the banshee army to make it through the battle relatively unscathed, and now, he faced down dozens of furious battle maidens.

“Halt!” A voice shouted from behind their line.

Abe’s eyes widened at the unexpected sight of a familiar face pushed through.

“You’re alive?” Viara said as their eyes locked.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Abe’s brow twisted.

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