Pandaria offered little to a rat catcher.
The locals held peculiar beliefs regarding the rats–they, like all things, had their place in the world. Bits of food were left out as offerings, and some built special shelters for the rats in hope their own homes would be left untouched. The cultural practice held a certain beauty, Corvin couldn’t argue, but it offered poor comfort to his waning coin purse. Stormwind, for all its faults of corrupt nobility and incompetent guards, at least provided steady money. Sadly, rats were not the only things being hunted in Stormwind and Corvin was forced to seek stranger shores until things calmed. The pandarens did offer food and shelter, if not opportunities for coin, so at least the rat catcher wasn’t starving. They were, however, tight-lipped about more adventurous opportunities. Whether from their tradition or his foreign nature, he could not say.
So, Corvin spent his time wandering. Upon coming across a worn path, he would deviate from it and search for things less seen by the human, or pandaren, eye. Thus far, his search certainly rewarded him with beautiful vistas, beautiful plants and wondrous creatures. They fed his spirit, but not his need for money nor adventure.
The gazebo caught his attention like a bloodhound to a scent.
A brief flash of color through the thick trees, vines, briars and bushes hooked his eye. With the help of a machete, and the urging of thorns against his skin, Corvin made for the structure without hesitation. It sat in the center of a large clearing, a simple gazebo of fantastic designs, with large red pillars holding up a roof adorned with red pillars tinged with gold. A curious pattern flirted with his eyes from the base of the thick columns, and it reminded him of a turtle shell. Beneath the sheltering protection, pristine cobblestones, untouched by neither grass nor cruel vine, competed with pots of brilliant white flowers in a contest of visual delight. In the center of the stones, a game table sat expectantly. What manner of game he could not see, but two bleached skeletons offered a morbid contrast to the scene and hinted, perhaps, that the game had not been a friendly one.
Corvin circled the clearing like a curious bird, taking in the odd scenery which seemed so at-odds with the presence of death. He kept wide berth from the edge, which offered a dizzying view of the distant water and islands near, and surveyed the building. He noted, idly, how the brush at the edge of the clearing seemed to be giving a wide berth of its own. Branches curled inward upon themselves, like a maiden frightened by a mouse, and even the fallen leaves stayed within the wilderness. He also curiously pondered the immaculate state of the place. Not a single crack in the pillars, each stone perfectly square and unblemished, the shingles glinted brilliantly in the sun without hint of faded paint. Yet it sat, seemingly, in the middle of nowhere, behind yards of thick brush, out of reach of no one.
Well, almost no one. At least two people found their way here before him.
He spiraled closer to the gazebo, drawn nearer without conscious realization. Even the bones were immaculate; like dolls placed around the table, with polished plates, dew-kissed bottles, and tempting mugs. Corvin saw no sign of struggle. No weapons lay nearby, no bloodstains, no stray cuts from blade. The bleached skeletons themselves seemed unharmed as if, like the white flowers, they simply grew there. Perhaps poison, he considered. Lovers, perhaps? He faintly recalled an old tale about two lovers imbibing poison, but could not remember from where he heard it. Tavern tales bled together after a while.
Finally, at this distance, he could see the game. A chessboard, Corvin identified immediately. On one side, an army of red jade lay collected to one side of the board. Each piece carved by a master hand from perfect jade. Dragons, pandaren, cranes, tigers, ox, all creatures easily identifiable and, if Corvin were honest, he would not have been surprised to see them suddenly come to life. On the opposite side, an army of vague hunks of metal lay in collective blasphemy against the jade pieces. Barely recognizable as pieces, they were grey blobs of shame to even the crudest of amateurs. One would not expect to see them share an island, much less a game board.
In the center of the board, two kings rested on their sides, alone in the game. It was a welcome, less gruesome, parody of the rat catcher’s company. “I’ll give you guys this”, he said as he walked around the board. “You’re the first two people I’ve seen in Pandaria who aren’t fat.”
The clearing offered no commentary to his humor, which was the most common reaction even outside of clearings. Tilting his head to one side, looking at the board, his hand slipped into his breast pocket and retrieved two small magnets. Purchased from a pandaren’s stand, they were promised to improve circulation of the blood, reduce stress, promote thought–and, even if all that wasn’t true, rubbing them together and hearing the comforting clack of metal against metal was an easy way to pass time.
Further trips around the clearing offered no new revelations. Once, while passing the table, he half-extended a hand to one of the bottles to smell, but stopped himself. A strange sensation emerged in the back of his mind, where self-preservation reigned supreme, and he stopped. It felt like sacrilege, in a way, to disturb the scene. He was an outsider and, unlike every other place in Pandaria he had visited, he was not welcome here.
Yet, curiosity could not be denied. There was a mystery to be solved, perhaps some money to be made in identifying the bodies and providing closure to some grieving family. Perhaps, he thought, he needed to immerse himself, respectfully, into the scene. Maybe at eye level, sitting as the players once sat, he might discern the truth of this place. Awkwardly, carefully, Corvin sat down beside one of the skeletons.
“Finally! I feared you would never sit down!”
Corvin nearly jumped out of his skin, his knee slammed against the game board and only some strange act of balance kept him from tumbling off the bench.
He no longer sat in a gazebo. It seemed to be a smaller room of a larger house, with windows looking out onto the clearing, all blue skies and green leaves yet feeling more painting than reality. Across from him sat a pandaren woman, her two buns held in place by red jade pins. Her hands, placed gently on the edge of the board, held rapidly dancing fingers that played a gleeful tune. She wore a robe common among the Pandaren, yet Corvin’s self-preservation rang like the great bell in the Grand Cathedral.
He felt much like the fly caught in a spider’s web.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry! I forget how jarring the transition can be. I don’t receive many visitors, you see. No, not many at all. Even fewer actually find their way to my table. Years ago, a young elf woman would meditate near here but she never made her way to my clearing. Then two more women, one very short and one who looked much as you do, made visit to my humble home. Yet, they, too, declined to sit at the table. They made games about my table and the things which transpire here.” Her face fell, her lip curled in the barest hint of a snarl, before it snapped back to a wide smile. “A silly story of lovers and poison. Can you believe that?”
Corvin’s eyes, the color of blue balefire, widened and blinked rapidly. “Yeah, poison and lovers. That would be a silly conclusion.” He cleared his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’m a little confused. I was looking at a beautiful gazebo out in the middle of nowhere, trying to figure out why two skeletons were sitting in it, and then… well… now I’m here.” He looked around at the room, decorated with vases that cost more than he would make in ten lifetimes and more things he could not identify but wore heavy the weight of ages. “Where is here?”
“Here is my home, dear sir! And, I assure you, your presence is most welcome, as is your wonderful compliment of my work! The ‘gazebo’, as you call it, is, what is the word?” She made a circular motion with a paw. “Illusion? A precaution, you understand. I don’t want people stumbling into my home all the time. So, the outside looks a bit different from the inside. I confess, I was watching you wander about the clearing for some time. Forgive me, but I am curious. What made you sit down?”
“As I said, I was trying to figure out what two skeletons were doing around a game board. I couldn’t piece anything together, so I thought sitting with them and seeing what they saw might offer answers.” “And so it has, kind sir! You have immersed yourself completely, and now all may be revealed to you. I’m quite delighted. I hope my… giddy? nature is not off-putting.” “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. It’s your home, after-all.” He looked at the chessboard for the first time since the transition. All the pieces were arranged; the red jade waited in front of the pandaren, and the grey lumps in front of him. “Why did you put skeletons in an illusion to get people to sit down and play chess? Seems a little counter-intuitive unless you’re looking to play against morticians.”
“Hah! A talkative one, too! Ah, sir, you are truly a special guest. I admit, the comment about the skeletons being thin caused quite a giggle. But, they are not part of the illusion, and I am sad to say there is little mystery involved.” The closeness of the answer drew, like sewing thread. Her smile widened behind her ears. “I ate them.” “I’m… I’m sorry. You ate them?” He enunciated each word, hoping his ears failed him at a critical moment. “That is the word, yes? Eat? Consume?” She held her hands up to her mouth as if she were biting a turkey leg. “Om nom nom nom nom. Yes?” “Yeah, that would be the word.” His stomach sank deeply into a pit. “Why did you eat them?” “The same reason anything eats, of course! I was hungry! And, if I may be so bold, I’m absolutely ravished at the moment. I did mention how long it has been since someone sat at my table.”
“So”, Corvin’s brow furrowed, “You sit up here, waiting for people to come by to play chess and you eat them. Then you leave their bones in the gazebo for… reasons?” “I must leave a warning for travelers; it is a rule, you see. Fortunately, I find that death has a talent of evoking a morbid curiosity among those who see it. I believe you can attest to that talent.” She folded her hands and rested her chin, like a tavern patron waiting to be served. “I suppose I can.” The quiet stretched onward, broken only by the increasing frequency of magnets clacking together in Corvin’s hand. “What happens now?”
“Ah, morbid curiosity reigns once more. As I mentioned, there are rules governing these things. I am not allowed to simply feast at will, as you will note by my presence here. My meals must come to me, of their own decision, and then we play a game. If I win the game, well, you lose significantly more than the game. If you win, you are free to go. In good faith, I must warn you I have never lost.” “I take it that game is chess, then.” “Indeed it is! I’m happy you’re catching on quickly. I do hate the explaining and questions and tears and begging. Takes all the fun out of it, you know. I hope you won’t be offended when I say I wish you were a bit more plump. I’m used to considerably larger meals. The fat hog sees the table, they say, but one does what one must.” She spread her fingers like a peacock’s tail to either side of her chin. “What if we tie?”, Corvin asked while ignoring the mention of his weight. “As it is my home, I win all ties of course. You must either win, or lose.” “Nothing to do but play then, I guess?” She clicked her tongue. “Such half-hearted eagerness. I confess I am rather eager to begin, but tradition dictates we must exchange names before we begin. As my guest, I ask you go first.”
“My name is Corvin”, he said without hesitation. “Just Corvin? Have you no family name?” “I surrendered that many years ago. It’s a long story; you wouldn’t want to hear it on an empty stomach.” “Hah! Indeed, dear sir! Very well, Corvin. You may call me Nivroc.” A curious look touched the rat catcher’s eye. “What a coincidence for us to have such similar names.” “Fate is a curious thing”, she agreed while bouncing in her chair. “Now, with all those boring rules out of the way, we can proceed. Oh! Yes, I almost forgot.” Her smile seemed to wrap around her head in a way that quivered Corvin’s bladder. “There shall be no magic allowed in the game. It is a game of wits, and wits alone. Breaking that rule will prove unpleasant for you.” She seemed to have held that rule for last–perhaps Pandaren wizards possessed a deep love of chess. “That’s a shame”, he said without a drop of magic in his soul, “I guess I’ll have to manage with my wits. Figures this is the one day I left them at home.”
The first moves went by quietly, with Red advancing first. Corvin was forced to look down at the board to identify the bland features of his pieces, while his opponent’s fingers caressed each breathtaking carving. She seemed so calm, while he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Beads of sweat crept into his temple and moistened his black mane. While he had played chess before, he was far from comfortable betting his life on his ability.
“You are not Pandaren”, she commented as she idly skipped her fingertip from one piece to another, “I take it you are not from here?” “No”, he said without looking up from the board. A knight pressed on. “I’m not from Pandaria.” “Where are you from, dear sir?” She held his eyes as her bishop threatened the knight. Her eyes were green, and deep, and if he looked at them too long he could feel himself drowning. “I’m from a Far Away Place.” He said with hesitant consideration. “A Far Away Place? You may not be Pandaren, but you certainly answer questions like one.” It did not sound like an insult, though her tone was whimsical at best. “If I may pry, what sort of work do you do in your Far Away Place?” “I catch rats for a living.” His knight pulled back, wary of the charge. “Rats?”, she leaned away from the table, “Did you run out of rats back home, kind sir?” “No, there’s still plenty of rats. I left after a disagreement.” “A disagreement of some magnitude to send you so far away, no doubt?” She seemed more interested in his talking than his play. Perhaps there was yet an advantage. “A smuggler accused me of blowing up his tavern and put a price on my head. I decided it was a good time for a vacation.” “Accused, eh?” A conspiratorial smile showed sharpened teeth as she leaned close, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Did you do it?”
“No, I didn’t ‘blow up the tavern’, as such. He held me against my will, threatened the love of my life, and, by some coincidence, his tavern suddenly suffered heavy damage to a load-bearing wall. Also something knocked a rather large hole in his roof. And caused a small fire. With some casualties among his crew. But the tavern was still standing when I left so I think the reaction was exaggerated to say the least. Hardly my fault that karma paid him an inopportune visit. I’m sure if he had let me go, none of that ugly business would have happened.”
“Ah, karma. Of course.” She nodded in an unnecessarily wide arc. “You seem to lead an interesting life for a rat catcher, Corvin. You spin a wonderful tale; wonderful enough that I don’t even care if it’s true.” She laughed. “In fact, almost good enough that I could have missed your rook being exposed.”
Her bishop struck like a viper, the rook snatched from the board in a heart’s beat. Corvin never saw the opening until she pointed it out, too late. The magnets grew slick in his palm as his fingers worried at them. “Almost”, she said as she placed the rook to her right side. “But not quite.”
It became clear she was toying with him. Each move he made only offered two more vulnerabilites. Nivroc danced three moves ahead, smiling and giggling, her feet tapping on the perfect cobblestones. When he took a piece, her mood never faultered, and Corvin suspected he only won the battles she wished him to win. The game she played was not chess at all, but the game of a cat toying with a mouse before she eats it. Chess was merely the bait–a small hope to dangle as her jaws closed about his throat. He played to win, while she played to watch him squirm.
If the game continued this way, the rat catcher would suffer the indignity of lining a demon’s stomach rather than a bounty hunter’s purse.
“Why even catch rats?”, she asked as she added to her tally from the board. Corvin castled his king, his mind desperately seeking to buy time so an answer might present itself. He simultaneously cursed his curiosity, cursed himself for sitting on that damned bench, sitting upon a steed of hindsight as he confidently lectured his past self that the trap was obvious. “I’m paid to. I’m a simple man with simple bills, it’s steady work, and there’s not much competition.” “But why rats specifically? Why are you not paid to catch dogs or cats or squirrels or any number of vermin?” Corvin gave her a long glance, careful to avoid her eyes, as he considered the question. “I never thought about it”, he lied. “The city offered coin for each rat tail I brought in, but not any cat tails or squirrel tails.” His eyes drifted to the roof. “I’ve heard they carry disease. They eat too much grain. They piss on everything they walk over.” “Hm”, she mumbled into her hands. “Seems like you described people just as well.” “Yeah, but there are laws against hunting people. Big men with heavy armor and sharp swords don’t like it when you do that.” “Interesting”, she advanced her queen and threatened Corvin’s king.
“We don’t have those rules here.”
The game carried on for aching hours. Corvin discovered early his inability to stand from the bench. His back and thighs ached with the unrelenting pressure from his seat. Focusing on the game became a gargantuan feat, even as opportunities trickled away with each fallen soldier of his army of unremarkable metal. Death loomed from across the table. Every move became an appetizer to, what promised to be, a banquet worthy of wait. The only option left seemed to resolve himself to his fate. Dark feelings and darker thoughts settled on his mind. His magnets lay abandoned in his breast pocket, stained with sweat. Their clacking reminded him too much of a ticking clock.
“What do you do with the people you eat?”, he asked after sacrificing his last rook. He had whittled her down to only her king, no doubt by her good graces, yet her positioning was the better. The pawn would buy him one more turn, and the game would be over soon after. Morbid curiosity delivered him into the mouth of a ravenous beast. He might as well see it sated. “You mean other than tearing the flesh, cracking the bones for marrow, and consuming every last morsel?” Corvin imagined saliva pooling at the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t need to be that descriptive but, yeah, what do you do with everything else?” “You may be the first person to ask such a question. Certainly, most do not. The bones, you know, I leave as both warning and temptation. I have high hopes for yours. The soul, however, for that I do something special.” She picked up one of her pieces and smiled, caressing its face with the corner of a fingernail. “I like to keep them around. It helps in the long gaps between feeding. I can almost taste the sorrow when the hunger sets in.” Corvin wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Nivroc taste the jade with lips and tongue. A cold chill stabbed the length of his spine as he looked with fresh eyes on the pieces between them.
“How, um, how many have you…”
“Many. I’ve lost count over the years. I attach one to each piece until all are filled, then I consume them all and start over. It’s deliciously rejuvenating. I think the closest word you might know is like wine. Refined with age, so many emotions steeped over the centuries. Then, I start fresh with a new board and empty pieces.” She advanced on Corvin’s king and threatened. “How many have you filled on this board?” He felt sudden trepidation at touching the pieces further. “I have one left to go. That pawn there.” She rested a finger atop his second remaining piece. “It’s actually quite funny that you kept it to the end. I hoped you would ask about it so I could share my little secret. Not many know until, well, they know. Oh, don’t be sad about it. You’re actually quite lucky, you know! You won’t have to wait all those years waiting for the end to come. It’ll be over quick and with hardly any suffering at all. Just a little. Improves the taste of the meat and the spirit. The others are practically jumping off the table waiting for it to be over. Look how excited!” Nivroc glanced between the pawn and the rat catcher. “Would you like to see it closer? I usually wouldn’t allow someone to take a piece from the board but we’re almost finished and since you appreciated my work outside my home I think you’ll appreciate your new home as well. Please, pick it up! Look! I can spare a few moments, I assure you. I’ve waited years; a few seconds won’t matter.”
Thoughts of a few more seconds of life motivated better than artistic interest, but Corvin took the piece all the same. A humble pawn, barely more than a vaguely rectangular piece of rock. It didn’t seem like much of a home, and part of him wondered how a soul could even fit into such a tiny vessel. His mind went off on a brief tangent, attempting to consider the dimensions of a soul and how large one could potentially be. Were gnome souls as large as tauren souls? Did tauren souls have horns? His fingertips mindlessly wandered the rough crevices of the pawn. A pulling sensation returned Corvin’s thoughts to the table, as if the pawn were already eager to claim its next resident. Something in his breast felt called to the piece, and he pulled it away quickly. He dropped to the board as if it had bitten him. Nivroc laughed and placed it back into its proper place.
“It’s still your move, dear Corvin.” The name rolled across her tongue like a savored grape. “Your king is threatened.”
The rat catcher pulled the magnets from his pocket with trembling grip. In his last moments, the sound of a ticking clock seemed somehow reassuring. They clacked in heavy deliberation between the fingers of his left hand, as his right pushed the pawn into the jaws of the beast. She took it without hesitation. Unceremoniously, it fell with queen and pawn alike, and with it Corvin’s expression. He performed the last move available to him, and pulled his king into the corner.
“I couldn’t help but notice”, she said as she looked over the board as if there were yet more moves to play, “You’ve told me of so many things. The tavern explosion, of courts of Beggars living in sewers beneath the ivory towers of nobility, of mad things in the dark places of the world.” She listed them off as she examined the graveyard of Corvin’s hopes. “But you never told me much of your wife. I wonder why that should be. Do you think she’ll come looking for you? Do you think someone will help her find your trail?” Her hand crept across the board like a spider, her nails clicking in tune with the magnets. “Does she like to play chess?”
The magnets slipped out of his hand and hit the ground. Corvin’s face paled, then reddened until it resembled the jade pieces. His suffering thus far represented nothing but an appetizer, but the killing blow, sunk deeply into his heart where he prayed his wife would be safe, was an early dessert for Nivroc. Anger played across his face, his fists bunched beneath the table, and he considered his chances at killing her. It was a short consideration. She held every advantage, he felt certain. In the depths of his soul, while it remained his, he prayed his wife would never find his bones in this terrible place.
Nivroc watched as Corvin reached under the table and squirmed to reach the magnets. She drew a deep breath and relished in the cocktail of fear, regret, and impotent fury. A shame she wouldn’t have the opportunity to save this one through the centuries. She would simply have to take her fill now and glutton herself between this one and the ritual. Maybe she could make an exception and keep Corvin’s spirit for a while. His wife finding his resting place would be a small miracle in itself, but if she could feast on them together…
The rat catcher sat up in his seat. A shame he lost his toy, she mused.
“My wife’s name is Eve. How I met her is a story in itself, and I suspect I don’t have enough time left to tell it.” The hungry grin from the pandaren woman answered quietly. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, with black hair and blue eyes and a heart as soft as down feathers. She saved me from a life of loneliness. She picked me up, as filthy and sewer-scented as I am, and kissed me and said she loved me for all the things I am and all the things I never thought I was. I didn’t know her long before we married, but I didn’t need to. My heart sang like the birds in spring when I was with her, and the depths of the earth know no darkness like that I felt when I was away from her. She… I didn’t want her to be kidnapped and tortured when the bounty hunters came. I brought her here, to Pandaria, and told her it was a honeymoon. I didn’t have the heart to tell her how much danger we were in. How much danger I put her in. And now…”, his reddened eyes stung harsher than the bench’s cruel attentions and a lonely tear pushed through the grime of his face. “Now I’ve put her in danger again.” He sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and set his jaw. “But if you lay one hand on her, if you ever trick her into this wicked game, I swear by all the gods I don’t believe in that I’ll crawl out of whatever hell you send me to and tear your throat out with my teeth.”
Nivroc nearly fell out of her chair. “Hah! All that rage and nowhere to direct it! Dear Corvin, as I’ve said, I don’t hunt anyone. They come to me. If your wife were to find the clearing and sit at my table, by her own choice, as you did before her, then…”, she trailed off, opening her hands with a weak shrug, “One does what one must. Still, as entertaining as you have been and as thankful I am for your wit, sadly it was not enough. A shame such a beautiful bride will so soon become a beautiful widow. I do hope she can manage to recover herself and find love again.”
“If she gets married again”, he blew his nose onto his shirt, I’ll haunt that bastard until his dying day."
“Then in the interest of speeding you along your haunting way”, Nivroc moved her king forward into the final threat. Corvin’s king lay pinned with nowhere to move. He didn’t look up from the board, his glassy-eyed stare fixated on a single pawn across the table. “Finally! Good conversation does feed the appetite, don’t you agree? Now, we must follow one final custom. In the event of a tie, which I will generously remember this as, the players must turn their kings onto their side in a show of defeat. I believe you noticed the two kings laying in the center of the board before you graciously sat at my table. There they will stay until the next player visits.” She gave a sly wink. “Perhaps someone you know? Perhaps not, it doesn’t matter. Now, we’ll turn our kings over and begin the feast. I assure you this part, at least, will be quick and painless for you. The ritual later, well, I can’t offer any guarantees there. I might have to take my time with you, but you understand.” She placed her finger against her king, and urged Corvin to do the same. “There you are. You can close your eyes if you’d like to avoid seeing anything unpleasant. One… two… three… and done!”
The red king fell to its side and rolled a gentle arc over the board. Nivroc cast eager eyes to Corvin, the culmination of the game’s delicious courses finally played out.
Corvin’s balefire eyes met her gaze across the table as his king teetered, then snapped to an upright position. “Oh my, that’s awkward.” Nivroc’s face contorted into a cocktail of mixed expressions. Confusion, realization, fear, and hatred boiled to the surface of her features. It was a delightful sight for the rat catcher.
“You cheated!”, she shrieked in a voice unknown to Pandaren throats. Corvin covered his ears and winced. “You lost! Magic is forbidden in this house!” Her arm lashed across the table, growing to alien proportions, and swatted the king to the table. It nearly touched the clean wooden surface, then retreated to a standing position with a brief jostle. Her shriek became a hellish scream. The house shook around them like a coastal shack in a fierce storm, and Nivroc’s body bulged and contorted in her fury. A second sweep of the arm sent the table crashing to the ground, the red and grey pieces scattered over the cobblestones like fresh blood and old flesh. Corvin’s king went sliding across the floor.
“I don’t know any magic”, he answered with ringing ears. “Unless you consider magnets to be magic. Personally, I don’t.” She followed his pointed finger to one of the table legs, where two magnets lay attached to one of the other grey pieces. “This is a game of wits!”, she advanced on him, a hundred cacophonous voices making the room feel cramped. Corvin struggled against the bench, yet he failed to elude its grip.
“I don’t know, I felt pretty witty when the thought hit me. I’m so grateful you told me to pick up that piece. I thought you had me for sure and I was a goner, but when I accidentally got the pawn too close to my pocket I could feel the magnets pulling in my shirt. That’s when I got the idea. I had a good scare when I dropped them, but luckily I caught them with my boots.” Her hot breath washed over his face as she picked up the bench. Her petite frame belied a monstrous strength. Still, he pushed his fortunes. “Did you like that tear? Had to pinch the hell out of my leg to get it out. Pretty good performance, I’d say. Solid seven of ten, at least.”
“You dare!” The bench snapped with a squeeze of her fingers. “You dare come into my home and play your tricks! Mock me with jokes! I was old when the stars were young! I saw you pitiful mortal races crawl amid the dirt and filth of the world! I have feasted on those whose languages were forgotten by the first stones! Yet you treat me like some common fool in my house?!” Her mouth opened as she spoke, gaping unnaturally wide. Behind the white, pearly teeth, Corvin beheld a nightmarish tunnel of flesh, jagged fangs, and dripping saliva which seemed without end.
“Like you said, lady”, Corvin looked into oblivion, hoping he could at least choke the fiend to death. He hoped whatever songs were sang of this moment would remember he bravely held his bowels. “One does what one must.” Blackness swallowed Corvin as the maw closed around him, black mist filling his nostrils. He felt himself tumbling blindly, clutching his hands tight to his ears as agonizing screams filled the rat catcher’s world. It wasn’t the end he hoped for. He hoped to at least die rich.
His head dropped hard onto cobblestones, forcing his eyes open to an unsteady blur. Rain soaked his clothes, though he distinctly remembered the sun shining brightly when he stumbled across that damned gazebo. Above, he could see large patches of sky through the decrepit remains of what once was a roof. A few shingles clung desperately to memory. As his own memory flooded back to him, Corvin fought to his feet and his hands sought anything for a weapon. He barely recognized the form of the gazebo through the thick growth. Pillars, deeply cracked, slouched like old men beneath their burden. Cobblestones were only partially visible through the thick weeds, with weathered faces slumbering beneath the detritus of time.
Among the remains, Corvin caught a glimpse of a rotten table leg. Climbing over brush and navigating between young trees, he grasped the leg and gave it a gentle tug. The wood crumbled in his hand, breaking from the post without ceremony. Beetles, ants and worms swarmed in protest. He threw it as far as his weak arm could reach then began his search. Beneath the weeds he found the rest of the table, the bright paint and varnished wood he remembered resembled precious little of the brown thing resting in the grass. Old bottles, long-since emptied, lay scattered and broken with rusted plates for company. It took several minutes to find the chess pieces. Corvin’s nails were darkened with black dirt by the time he discovered the first. As he watched, the pieces slowly crumbled away. Stark features dulled, cracked, and fell in rust-colored flakes between his fingers. He remembered the demon’s words, and shivered from a cold more primal than the rain. Only a single piece remained unravaged by aeons so long that stone forgot its shape. A grey pawn, vaguely rectangular, which even an amateur would be ashamed to claim. Corvin, however, felt no shame as he plucked it from the ground and rolled it between his fingers. Two magnets clung to either side. He kept them together as he dropped them into his shirt pocket.
“There might be something to that business about reducing stress. I definitely feel a whole lot less stressful.” He wiped the rain from his eyes and glanced around the thick wilderness. “But how the hell do I get out of here?”
A long hike and drenched clothes would eventually bring the rat catcher back to familiar huts and the smell of cooking fires. Still, the experience wasn’t without merit.
He managed to catch a rat after all.
