Vermin

Darkness parted ahead of Sir Baristan, like waters before a ship. The murk was sliced apart by the wondrous effect of his armour. Enchantments etched into the metal created the fortunate side effect of a golden, glowing light, which emanated strongly from the full suit whenever it touched against his skin. The effect was strong enough to illuminate much of the underground cavern, allowing the army at his back to see a good distance forward, where normally all would be lost to the stone above. He winced whenever his eyes drifted up to the oppressive ceiling, with its dagger points of jagged rock, all pointing down toward his neck. Each time, he absolved not to look again, only to find himself eyeing it warily. Forcing himself to concentrate on what was immediate, he gazed down the organised lines of men to either side of his back. All of them were far more traditionally armed with dull steel and leather. Just as his own light began to fade over the distance, other commanders were shedding their own, and holding back the absolute blackness and for another stretch. He shrugged his shoulders against the oversized pauldrons and twisted his wrists within the encasing gauntlets. The additional strength they granted him made the suit feel almost weightless, but so far no enchantment had been discovered by the royal mages to prevent chafing or sweating. Much to his irritation. There were other patterns burned, carved and forged over every inch of his protective garb. Each of which enhanced his already legendary fighting abilities. They were the only reason he could lift the enormous two-handed long sword strapped to his back. But with so much power, came the burden of leadership. One that he lamented. It had been a long march on foot down the hard-won tunnels under the earth. Close quarters and limited visibility had sapped at the men’s morale. He could sense the darkness chipping away at their bravery. It did its own work against him, even though he held the light. Despite it all, there they were, finally in the lowest reaches of the abandoned mines. Ready to eradicate the scourge of filth that had plagued the kingdom for almost a decade. He would see it done, no matter what toll it took.

Sir Baristan used clumsy armoured fingers to raise his helm visor and had to turn his entire body to look down at the man who had spoken inaudible words.

“Repeat that, squire.” He barked.

“Sir, sorry, sir! Commander Montgomery reports all units are in position and continue to hold the line, sir!” The young man sounded off, looking twitchy and more nervous of Sir Baristan than the surroundings, “He also wishes to convey that there is no sign of the enemy, sir, and with this being the last chamber of the mines…”

“They will come, soldier.” He said, as comfortingly as possible. The only thing worse than marching to face an enemy in battle, was arriving and not finding them where they were supposed to be, “Remember lad, these are vermin we hunt. They hide and crawl into the spaces that men cannot reach. We will flush them out and when we do, crush them under our heel. Tell Commander Montgomery, to hold.”

The squire overly professed his agreement before spinning in place and running back along the face of the gathered men. In truth, Baristan was just as worried. When the kingdom had first discovered this vein of gold, it had been heralded as a wonder. The wealth that would be dug from within the stone was supposed to bring prosperity for generations. It still could, as long as the current one paid for it with their blood, for the miners had unearthed something more than precious metal. They had disturbed a brood of monsters, ones that were all too happy to attack on a whim. The further they dug, the more violent and numerous the creatures became, until the damn filthy things had pushed them out of the mines completely. It had taken the past decade for Sir Baristan and his brave comrades to sway the pendulum, driving the creatures back into the depths. To think of all those years wasted made his blood boil. All he could have achieved with that time was delayed. Everything he had planned gone. His children, grown up without him. An entire chunk of his life lost. To pest control. It was unbearable. Now, on the eve of achieving freedom from his task, the dirty insects had gone and scuttled where they could not follow. He sighed and chose to ignore his despondent thoughts. The men were amassed wall to wall in the cavern, it was only a matter of time before the demonic things were forced to show themselves, and then, they would have nowhere left to go.

Hours. It took hours. Sir Baristan’s undergarments were itching and soaked through with his own sweat by the time the first chittering was heard. At least the discomfort would help fuel his battle rage. The faster he could kill the last monster, the sooner he could shed his armour for good. Except of course, when the opportunity arose to impress a certain wife that he had left behind. His children would undoubtedly be impressed with all their father had become as well. He would need to get his adornments repainted before any displays. The blood of the beasts had worn the royal blue from its accented panels. Although perhaps that would add a certain rugged look. Battle weary and in need of comfort. The nervous shifting of his men snapped Sir Baristan from his thoughts of home. The tell-tale clicking and rustling of the opposing mass was growing louder. It was probably for the best, dwelling on the surface was always a bad idea.

“HOLD, MEN!” He roared, using his inspiration enchantment to increase the volume of his voice, “They are but animals, in need of a culling! We shall see this done and return home as heroes of the kingdom! RICH IN GOLD!”

The slapping of shields with steel, stamping of feet and the deep guttural ‘hoo-rah’ of a thousand agreements brought a wide smile this his face. He cast forward with his light, twisting and searching through the darkness for something to kill. The far wall was lost to him, the cavern was vast, but they were there…somewhere. Eventually, movement caught his eye, and he felt that rush of excitement that had ignited his blood before every slaughter of filth that had come before. It was time to exterminate some roaches.

They emerged into the light slowly, hesitantly. It was as if the presence of it hurt them. Baristan was glad for it. Let them suffer for what they had brought on him. For all they had wasted. Their huge, milky white eyes were ugly and strange, built for the permanent night of the deep. That was where their strength had been at first, in the darkness of night and mine, until the enchantments had been devised. The mages had more than earned the newfound respect that they now celebrated from the discovery. Long, pointed ears shot backward from the creature's pale, taut faces. Large mouths filled with razor teeth sat above small bodies. They were human looking, with two arms, two legs and a body. Capable of holding their crude stone weapons and stolen steel, which was now pitted and dented with use and no care. They moved on all fours more than standing or walking, but were capable of both. Beasts they were, but with enough intelligence to form bands and attack in groups, much like a wolf or a swarm of locust. But that was where the similarities to any living man or animal ended. They were naked, because who needed clothes in the dark and warmth of the earth? Their skin was tough and leathery. As strong as a peasant's home-made jerkin. It made them difficult enough to bring down, but far from invincible. Sir Baristan had mused many a time with his men about a name for the abominations, but in the end, all just called them vermin.

He yelled several more times for the line to hold. It was almost palpable, the fear and urgency with which the entire army wanted to move. But he needed the enemy in the open. It was no good charging the vermin down if there were more hiding in unreachable cracks and holes. That would just mean more battles, and he so desperately wanted this to be the last of them. He needed them all dead. So that he could go home. The enemy force surged stronger, their horrible nattering sounds growing almost deafening in the small space, until finally, Sir Baristan raised his enormous metal fist high and roared the charge. He launched forwards, tearing his body length sword from its mount on his back and swinging it in a dramatic arc to point toward the enemy as he ran. His heavy feet planted against the stone with the ringing of metal and thudding of weight, until he crashed hard into the grotesque mass of creatures. He sliced several fully in half with his first swing and crushed another’s chest under his boot after it fell away in fear. He slammed fist into face, swung blade through body and rent violence through the vermin. They all fell before his strength, and he laughed as he crushed them between metal and stone. After hours of killing, their blood painted his armour crimson, and he barely registered his own army, fallen far behind his single-minded advance. He was a one-man killing machine amongst insects and loving every second of his final victory.

Sir Baristan stood upright, pulling his sword from the body of a monster, his armour heaving from the labour of his breaths. He had struck down the last of the Vermin in sight, and cast around looking for any more that still lived. The dead piled atop one another around his feet in all directions. A mountain of rotting corpses, all extinguished by his hand and illuminated by his body. Several other commanders lit the cave floor, others, were dark and lifeless. Very few of the common soldiers remained and those that did wandered aimlessly, their eyes vacant. Say what you will about the creatures, they knew how to swarm and kill the vulnerable first. There had been so many more than they expected. It was if for their last stand, the vermin had sent all that remained of their kind. Exactly the plan. Still, he let out a relieved sigh and smiled. They had done it, at great cost, but the job was done, and those that still stood, could finally see the sun again. A silence had descended, the only sound, his own slowing breath. Meaning that from his forward position, apart from the other men, Sir Baristan alone was able to pick up the scattering of stones that fell from the back wall of the cavern. He looked up just in time to see the pale arm of one last monster, slipping through a hidden gap in the stone. He couldn’t let that stand. None were to escape. Baristan shed his armour as quickly as he could, revelling in the cold air that blessed his hot, clammy skin, but left one gauntlet attached. He held his glowing hand aloft and picking up a dropped sword that was not his own, squeezed through the tiny gap in the stone to pursue.

The commander stumbled out into open space, glad to be released by the cavern and not wedged in its grip forever. He held up his hand and rushed forward when he caught the movement of the escaping Vermin at the edge of darkness. He thundered forward, sword raised, and chased down the distant padding of soft, bare feet. He himself wore nothing but his saturated undergarments and a single metal glove and so felt every snagging prick of grit under his soles. He slid around fallen rocks and rushed down the tunnel, turning one last boulder, only to find the creature waiting for him. The animal was no match for his superior skill and intellect though, it was only a bug after all, and so he easily dodged its weak swipe and thrust his stolen sword deep into its chest with a laugh of joy. The hot blood pumped out over his bare hand, a sensation he managed to avoid when encased in his armour, and he had quite forgotten how vile it was. Focused on shaking as much of the stinking liquid from his skin as possible with a grimace on his face, Sir Baristan did not notice what his light was revealing. Not until further movement caught his periphery. When he eventually realised, he was startled into a fighting stance, but soon cocked his head in confusion. Ahead and all around, were constructed domes. All built with smaller rocks, stacked without mortar into dwellings of some kind. From the doorway of each, peeked more cloudy, white eyes, twitching heads and sharp claws. More Vermin.

“Why are there always MORE of you!?” He roared. To which they all shied away.

That was unusual, and he quickly noticed other differences in these creatures from the ones he was used to. They did not screech or chitter as the ones he faced on the battlefield. They were instead making a quiet clicking noise. Not toward him, but to each other. They shied back rather than charging forward with teeth gnashing. Some were much smaller and were held tight by the others. Or even pushed back behind them. He saw one holding what looked like tools and worked stone. Another with cuts of meat balanced on a flat rock.

“Oh no…” he breathed, “Oh no…what is this…”

The dust and hard rock of the floor scraped his bare skin as Sir Baristan fell to his knees. He lifted his bloodied hand and stared at the thick ooze that was beginning to dry between his fingers. The realisation had hit him harder than any weapon could have. This was the vermin’s home. These were their families. This was a society. They were using language, building dwellings and making possessions. They were not attacking the kingdom. They never had been. They were defending their own from a hostile force... his invading army. He had killed them all. Every last one of their defenders…he had torn them apart like they were offal in need of shredding. He had delighted in it. He was the powerful demon from above who had descended to decimate an entire civilisation. Tears began to run down his cheeks unbidden, and he did not look up as the Vermin approached. He could not have moved if he had wanted to. Instead, he held still as they closed in around him, ready to take whatever punishment they chose to deal.