Chapter Thirteen: Forgotten Hope
“These rats are mere weak fodder, yet they march on so confidently as if they have something to show for it,” Yolotli said before his eyes narrowed. “We should temporarily retreat until we can form a defensive line.”
Tenx peered onward, confused as the vermintide widened in view. He thought hard on why they should retreat from such weak filth. It wasn’t until moments later, he gave Yolotli a gentle, reserving nod upon realizing what he meant.
Others voiced sharp hisses, piercing throughout the quietness.
“What do you mean? You suggest running away from these abominations!?”
Yolotli turned with grimace and anger stretched upon him.
“If we all want to see the sun’s rise tomorrow alive, we must stay vigilant! These weaklings advance fearlessly as if something is bolstering them; either from the shadows, behind, or somewhere else…”
The hissing lowered as if drifting away with the wind. Yolotli pressed on.
“Retreating is not an appeal to cowardice, but tactical and strategic thinking. We must seek out advantages no matter how weak these rats are.”
Many of the Skinks’ eyes which blinked alive with fury, now considered the reasoning. They studied the erratic horde’s movements with watchful stares. What seemed ridiculous and nonsensical, quickly flickered brightly inside their minds.
Nkachi, however, closed his eyes with a rough, guttural grunt.
“I agree, yet you speak like you're not from the worker caste like the rest of us.”
Yolotli’s guts dropped like rocks falling from a mountain. Wrenching shock shook his every vein within, for Nkachi glared upon him motionlessly. It felt as if the eyes’ intense gleam scorched throughout, making him wonder if Nkachi figured out who he truly was.
Suddenly, the aloof skink broke off his stare, smiling fanatically towards the ratty horde. “Doesn’t matter much. Whatever Kha’kor’s final word is, we’ll kill ‘em all!”
Yolotli silently let out puffs of air, relieved of the pressure that bore him down so ferociously. But soon, he gasped with worry yet again. Whether or not Kha’kor would take the rats’ trap and advance was uncertain. Kha’s centuries worth of battle hardened experience wouldn’t suggest such brazen naivety.
Surely… surely Kha’kor saw what these rats are truly for; their uncanny confidence towards marching upon certain death…
The scarred veteran bared his fangs excitedly and thrashed his tail about. He raised his horn like a carnosaur roaring to the heavens. Its howl reverberated throughout ear holes, shaking heads but never fazing the cold-blooded minds.
Legs, either comprised of fur or scales, started shifting towards each other with blades in claw. Undergrowth trembled as the opposing armies charged, and soon after, a singular purpose etched itself in nearly all lizards and rats alike.
Yolotli could hear this singular purpose enshroud all over him as skinks excitedly shrieked and cried, while the sauri ushered forth their guttural roars. An all too familiar purpose, for it single-handedly drove the ferocious charges into the rats ever since he was spawned; day after day, year after year.
However, something felt terribly amiss this time. Whether it was the darkness obscuring his sense of being, or not seeing the battle’s outcome clearly, were reasons Yolotli couldn’t discern between. His mind opened up into a bottomless pit - unconscious of the future that was starting to get bleaker with every heartbeat. Soon, the masses of rats, so weak and frail they were, took upon the resemblance of mighty beasts.
For in the darkness, anything can change. Or so Yolotli dreadfully mused to himself.
He turned to see how Tenx was taking in this. Surprisingly, in stark contrast to the skinks excitedly flailing all about, Tenx remained focused and silent. His face hardened like stone as he glared onto death itself.
His apparent resignation brought warmth into Yolotli’s heart. As wet and naïve Tenx seemed, he still had a tinge of wisdom - one that was distinctly noticeable when they first met, and has sprawled forth ever since.
In truth, Tenx had something Yolotli could only pray for: An unbroken mind.
And so Yolotli prayed and prayed. He prayed for Chotec to give all lizards the warmth and light to protect them from this numbingly cold darkness. He prayed for Sotek, a prophesized Old One in Lustria who wrought much destruction upon the ratmen’s numbers and his own mind alike, to show itself this grim night.
And most yearnful of all, he prayed in Tlazcotl’s name to give all lizards’ minds the strength necessary for keeping their sanity intact.
His heart slightly trembled when he thought that. Strength, after all, was something he had always sought after…
Yolotli shook his head. He was close enough to the rats so much so, he could see their whiskers clearly, and realized it was now time. His thoughts slowed to a halt; his mind beginning to sharpen like his club.
As Yolotli’s thoughts slowly dissipated, the rats and lizards’ battle lines clashed, its impact killing a handful of rats. Sauri viciously slashed on across the front, blood and fur lining their blades. Rats frantically tried weaving in and out from the trees’ cover, while others sought to become one with the undergrowth. The fighting grew desperate as were the cries accompanying every swing.
Yet to be thrown into combat, and with Kha’kor’s horn blaring his orders throughout as he fought, the cohort of skinks shifted to the frontline’s left flank. Ratmen twitched and shook, noticing the flanking lizards. Many of them there broke off from fighting sauri, only to find the chittering reptiles were already upon them. Whatever hopes the furred warriors had of retreating were cut away mercilessly, for their bodies convulsed onto the jungle floor.
The nimble skinks pushed onwards, butchering any of the rats who now found themselves sandwiched between lizards. They were finished off as the night’s coldness settled upon furs, while blood began pouring. Their sought after escape finally found, albeit submerged in complete darkness.
Skinks cheered on the rats’ defeat; hisses and growls resounding throughout. They briefly conversed with sauri before reforming their ranks in preparation for more combat.
One of the skinks, Tenx, observed what was happening elsewhere as his club dripped with blood.
Ratmen across the front were losing decisively, and soon enough, their bravery fled them. The teeming masses of fur turned tails and ran away from the fearless lizards they charged themselves into. Sauri abstained from their predatory instincts of giving chase; tongues flicking out into snarls. Kha’kor reigned them in along with a few saurus musicians beating and thumping his order to halt upon their drums.
Tenx understood fairly well why pursuing Skaven can sometimes spell doom for whatever lizard did so. The rats’ cunning and guile went on unmatched, even whilst running away. The novice skink turned his attention, and looked all around him, noticing the skinks cheering aloud with hisses, chirps, and clicks. It looked as though they had already emerged victorious.
Interestingly, and yet predictably at the same time, Yolotli’s expression was blank as if victory was nothing more than a passing gust of air. Seeing years upon years more of war seemed to do that to a skink’s mind, Tenx thought.
Many moments of excited cheering passed by, until it was interrupted by the bellow of a few roars. The shouts were some among the rear guard which were running hastily towards Kha’kor with news undoubtedly ready to burst forth urgently.
Soon after, the excitement - the cheers that had so encompassed the skink regiment greatly was instantly blown away. The rear guard’s revelation that started to travel amidst all lizards present, brought with it shocked gasps of air and wearied looks all around.
It appeared there was another Skaven army approaching fast roughly south-southeast. The reality occurred in the lizards’ minds that they were encircled by their foes.
The thought of such made Tenx’s heart beat even faster as he saw the recently routed rats rally forth whatever remained of their forces. He tightened his grip upon his weapon like the darkness that enshrouded the lizards…
***
Conquil’s tears from his earlier episode of crying dried upon his fur, but the eyes still watered.
He and the rest of the rats ran as the winds blew upon their faces. Hearts thumped ferociously in all of them, for every rat knew what was to come and why they were running. The lizard-things’ formation was spotted close, stirring all rats into a charging advance towards their cold-blooded foes.
Conquil felt the ground trembling from other rats running alongside him, and saw other regiments of foot soldiers far off in the distance doing the same. His stomach welled with a strange sensation as he looked all around. He was amazed how every rat - different from each other in their mindsets and personalities - ran with a singular purpose ingrained in them. Most were visibly excited for combat, some had grim faces, and few looked on in fear. All of them, including Conquil, still ran on for one singular purpose. To die.
Such a realization ached to his very core. He wondered why he had to die, and how he ran so far away from death, only for it to come rushing towards him yet again. His life was but only a gust of wind, occurring and fleeting with no one around to give a damn.
Amidst all the coldness, a flickering warmth emanated from him. Anger burned within, for he questioned why everything he believed in was swept away. The strain from it all threatened to drive him insane, but he still tried digging deeper - still pushed harder for this answer he so desperately sought after.
Conquil looked behind in hopes of finding a reprieve from the coldness and darkness enshrouding him. But all he found was more of the same. Ratty faces like his own, all running the path of death. Eyes shriveled; tears welled.
“They are here. It’s time to kill-kill.”
Those words hung like the cold winds. Conquil turned to Gingkin, expecting more elaboration from the sudden remark, but nothing came of it. He looked forward far ahead until he saw what the tall rat meant. Saw what was to be their deaths…
Beyond in the darkness were figures standing side by side like a wall, shining forth a gleaming blue from their immense forms. Conquil could see them clearly - see the gleam of blue enlarging ever so slightly amongst the dull foliage, and hear the roars inviting their charge. The slave rat’s heart hammered on as he looked ahead, towards his sides, and all around him.
“We-we really doing this?!”
“Guess so,” Gingkin replied.
“But we all die-die!” Conquil desperately shouted. “We all run-running towards death!”
“Everyone is. That’s life for you.”
Conquil turned away from Gingkin before sneering angrily. The meaning behind his running and everyone else’s dulled from his mind. The trees, the wind, all of it escaping the grasp of his comprehension. He felt his entire body shake - not from charging - but the lingering feeling of hopelessness tearing him apart. Before he could despair any further, something rested upon his shoulder.
“Skavenblight…” Sniplit uttered, patting Conquil’s shoulder. “Do you still believe in Skavenblight?”
“How can we when we’re about to die?”
“Hope…” Sniplit’s eyes glistened with tears. “If we-we have hope, we-we can make it!”
Conquil’s eyes stared at the ground before them, contemplating the place he sought for so desperately. The slave rat hungered for Skavenblight’s touch to relieve him the misery that encompassed him entirely. Yet Skavenblight seemed only a mere grain of dirt; so far away and tiny. Just as he tried reaching out towards it with claws and tears when he cried before, his mind pondered how he’ll get there. If ever.
“We-we better hope we sur-survive then,” Conquil said, his grip upon his sword loosening. “I don’t think we will, though.”
“We WILL!” Sniplit screeched. “We will fight-fight! We will kill-kill! We shall survive!”
Conquil’s entire body flinched from the sudden scream. He could see Sniplit’s form heave and tremble furiously before continuing railing on about the menacing foes.
“We haven’t ran so far only to accept death, have we? Ran on so long just to give up? These blue-blue bastards have chased us to the ends. Now it’s time for us-us to give it back-back to ‘em! Hard and bloodied!”
Conquil quivered as he turned his gaze onto the ground before him. The rapid rhythm of running feet beckoned forth memories of his escapes from death’s claws. He vividly remembered the ferocious blue creatures whose virulence pumped his heart to run evermore faster. Such reminisces welled the rage inside him, for the meaning behind it all - be it the hatred or violence he experienced - went beyond his understanding.
His only hope was for a refuge. And it seemed only to grow smaller and smaller. Tinier and tinier.
“Even if we survive this-this, what then?” Conquil’s throat swelled in fear and hopelessness as he spoke. “What if Skavenblight isn’t what we dream-dreamed of?”
“So what if it isn’t what we wished? Its promise of hope is what’s worth living for,” Sniplit said, smiling at the foes’ immense forms appearing closer. “Always has been, always-always will be.”
Conquil felt that last utterance sting fiercely upon his heart. Memories of running for this promise land whose name was Skavenblight once again flooded his mind. Back then, it had seemed the only shining star of the night skies - the only place worth thinking about amidst the clutter of darkness. Even now as he ran towards certain death, he could still feel it shimmer beyond the obscuring clouds; as if a dream having the visible consistency of the omnipresent winds, and an ideal that was a part of him as was his blood and bones. Between dying and killing, what else was to be done besides believing in the unbelievable?
Conquil’s heart increasingly thumped to the rhythm of his dashing run. A fleeting moment of clarity enveloped him.
“We-we’re totally go-going to die, but… I feel-feel at peace some reason.”
“Yeah… me too.”
The two slave rats exchanged deep gazes, pondering this strange feeling their minds spun upon. Rats all around looked at them with such curiosity and awkwardness, the usual battle cries and screeches were drowned out by silence.
“Well that whole tirade was motivating…” Gingkin said whilst smirking. “And cute-cute!”
“We are NOT cute-cute! We fight-fight! And we bite-bite!” Sniplit shouted.
“Sure you two do. Reminds me of what I once was long ago.”
Conquil’s gaze turned onto Gingkin. “What? What do you mean? What-what were you long ago?” he inquired, expecting answers to his questions which waxed and burned inside him with such intrigue.
But the tall black rat never responded. Never showed a smidgen of indication he would ever do so. Instead, his eyes locked onto the lizard foes ahead, reading every movement there was to read from them. Conquil did likewise when he turned away from Gingkin, but keeping what was just said to the forefront.
The thudding of feet continued echoing throughout the teeming ranks of the rats, and moments more, the faces of their foes appeared clearly before them.
None present on the battlefield - either rat or lizard - could understand each other besides the hatred that roared and screamed. Hearts jumped, and the blades started flying.
Instantly, those of the first ranks in Conquil’s regiment were cut down. Rats began dispersing wherever they could, trying to survive.
In the ensuing chaos, Conquil tripped. He looked ‘round hastily as he saw rats and lizards engaged in deadly combat. He couldn’t find Sniplit nor Gingkin amidst it all.
The tripped sack of fur sat there, watching as rat and lizard tore into each other. He saw a horde of rats overwhelm one of the lizard blue-things - its entire body riddled with stabbings moments later. A slight turn of his head, and he saw more rats sliced apart. Some of them still moving quite alive as they screamed to end the pain.
And Conquil sat there transfixed by the sight going on all around him. It was as though the world he was just in transformed into something entirely different and terrifying. The cries. The blood. The bodies…
Just then, Conquil heard a roar directed towards him. He turned and saw one of the humongous blue-things stare down upon him. Its jaws were lined with numerous teeth and was as sharp as his own sword. Its immense form held aloft a blade and shield - both of which almost the slave rat’s entire size. Conquil thought it mad a rat such as himself should fight this. It was unreal. It was impossible.
Before Conquil could fathom his situation, the massive lizard charged. The blade grazed him as he jumped away, strands of fur gliding mid-air. He regained his footing - heart thumping heavily - before the lizard bellowed another roar.
Conquil frantically looked behind and all around, trying to find an exit from this madness. But there was no exit. Lizards and rats were still engaged in violent combat, and his looming foe still stood, ready as ever to kill him. Seemingly unwinnable fight it was. Part of him wanted the senseless struggle to just end. Part of him wondered if he’ll ever see Skavenblight. Hopelessness enshrouded him like the sounds of battle all around.
The massive lizard charged again. Conquil questioned how death would feel. He questioned how quick it’ll come. He continued questioning on what seemed an inevitability waiting to happen, until he realized death would never carry him towards Skavenblight…
The blue-thing’s blade crashed upon the dirt, missing Conquil by mere hair lengths. The deadly dance of powerful swings and hasty dodges continued, but the lizard never struck true. Exhaustion settled in, and the aggressive attacks worsened as time wore on.
Conquil noticed this deficiency. Each lunge and swing still seemed a gateway towards death itself, yet the sense of its inevitability felt like it was pushing away. Every second he stayed alive brought with it a heavy significance, and he began savoring every bit.
Amidst the battle, Conquil gazed at the blade intently. He remembered what Gingkin said long ago on how to survive fighting this. It went something along the lines of:
‘While they are strong fighters, their moves are sluggish-slow. Focus on dodging their attacks, and they won’t hit-kill you.’
Conquil’s eyes widened upon the thought. He realized that was the reason he was still alive - he was simply too quick.
The lizard desperately kept on lunging and swinging, only receiving wafts of fur in return. Meanwhile, Conquil’s erratic movements continuously improved, every dodge and swerve a blur as the thoughts of death began escaping.
So enraged was the lizard, it put forth all of its strength into one blow. A blow surely to end this. But it too only clashed violently against the sheer weight of the air. And Conquil saw his foe very much strained from such an attack.
Without even thinking, Conquil rushed in. He slashed one of the lizard’s legs before quickly retreating. He looked back - his heart thumping hungrily for air - and saw a deep red streak etched upon its scales. He lowered his head and was met by his sword dripping with blood.
The sight bewildered Conquil so much, he simply stared. The rat never thought he would draw blood himself, but here it was, leaking onto the ground and reeking into the air. Its thick red presence alone shuddered him to his core. Drawing blood seemed so menacingly mysterious as if his entire being recoiled from the thought.
And yet… he wanted more of it.
An empowering feeling ascended within Conquil as he stared at his bloodied blade. It felt like he scaled an entire mountain - like he persevered through something he shouldn’t have. If he could injure that which was uninjurable, what spectacular thing can he do as well? Skavenblight was so far away, but the matter of reaching it didn’t feel like a question no more…
A roar not like the others cried from the lizard. It swelled with brimming anger, charging with all its resolve and might left to kill.
But Conquil resisted, dodging and slashing with unprecedented ferocity. Time passed between the two as if a confusing blur as they fought. And before the rat realized what he had done, the hulking lizard fell and laid down, bleeding profusely.
Conquil stepped back and gasped. Seconds later, he wanted to scream and celebrate his survival. He went against the odds that were so stupendously stacked against him and came out of it alive! A weakling like himself ascendant! But as he stood there, all he could do was gaze at the sight that was his doing. It felt exhilarating to kill, yet strangely menacing as if his heart was irreparably torn. Much like before when he inflicted that first wound. Even then, the lizard was still alive - still squirming in its own growing pool of blood.
As Conquil looked on, he saw something shocking. It wasn’t readily apparent, but he saw the strong, mighty lizard shake feverishly and almost cry. The lizard feared what was to come. It feared death.
Such a realization prickled his fur; his tail swerving uneasily, for he too feared death…
Conquil’s mind was in a trance, wondering how two opposing fighters could fear the same thing until he suddenly felt a pat upon his back. He turned and saw Gingkin along with Sniplit - their blades as bloodied as his own.
“You-you’re alive!” Gingkin shouted, a wide smirk on his face. “What are you doing? Wait-waiting around to get killed?”
Conquil still gazed on at the squirming lizard. “Just think-thinking.”
“On what?”
“Death.”
Gingkin noticed the lizard whose growls of pain grew. He never imagined Conquil - the slave rat whose fear shadowed him entirely - could’ve ever survived this, let alone win over a saurus. Yet here was the rat, towering over his kill.
“Seen death too many times to even think about it,” Gingkin said.
“But-but it’s all-all I can think about…” Conquil turned away from the bleeding lizard.
“You’ll get over it soon. Kill-killing is often like a head-headache. The feeling of it all is inevitable. And then the pain passes.”
Conquil grimly scowled as he lowered his head towards the ground. He saw spots and splashes of blood - each of them almost telling a tale how they got there.
“Um…” Sniplit interrupted. “That blue-blue bastard of a lizard is still alive!” He shrieked before pointing with his claws. “See-see, it’s moving.”
“I reckon it will bleed out in a couple of hours. That is until Conquil finishes it.”
Conquil turned to the lizard again. With blade held high by his side and with his foe beneath him, he looked upon the mighty warrior who wanted him dead. Silence followed, and the victorious slave rat spoke.
“Can we save it?”
Sniplit and Gingkin shook in utter surprise at the unexpected, maddening question. Their faces drowned in confusion.
“What-what do you MEAN!?” Sniplit exclaimed. “This thing-thing wanted to kill you!”
“But—”
“Damn lizard thing-things only want to kill. To kill-kill us!”
Conquil opened his mouth, but the words never came. He tried defending himself - tried to convey what he felt when he gazed upon the lizard - but his will to speak vanished with every passing second.
“He’s right,” Gingkin said blankly. “The kill-killing won’t stop until all of them lizards are wiped out. Or us rats.”
Conquil whimpered from the hopelessness such words espoused. It was maddening that such killing and massacring should continue indefinitely. His guts trembled from inhaling the cold air as Gingkin continued.
“Luckily for us rats, we’re win-winning. And the lizards are lose-losing ground. The fight-fighting is nearing a close.”
“Perfect time to kill-kill more blue-blue bastards!” Sniplit shrieked.
“Not me-me…” Conquil lamented. “I want far-far away from this wicked place. Far-far away until I reach Skavenblight.”
Gingkin slightly frowned. He imagined such hopeful desires of reaching Skavenblight would fade away in face of the harsh, brutal reality that laid clearly before them. But they still held those desires close. Still hinged their lives entirely upon them. The slaves’ foolishness reminded him of his past self. He smiled.
“So desertion it is?”
The slaves stood as their mouths held shut. They never knew what Gingkin meant as the ringing sounds of battle enshrouded them all. Finally, the assassin rat spoke again.
“Desertion it is then. And now-now’s the best time. Every rat fighting is a confused mess, except for the dead ones. We’ll be able to escape easily.”
Sniplit felt his heart shiver at that. Fighting seemed the only option that was thrusted upon him - the only thing remaining sensible. But the running thoughts of escaping began appealing to him.
“We… we won’t get caught-caught?”
“Then-then let’s go!” Conquil eagerly shouted, his tail beating excitedly.
The three rats ran away with Gingkin leading the escape. Sniplit was annoyed he wouldn’t be able to avenge what the lizards wrought upon him. But he was tired and the allure of searching for what he had always desired overwhelmed him entirely.
Conquil noticed the corpses of rat and lizard strewn all about as he ran. Except these
corpses weren’t dead. They still lived, and with every moment living, they screamed and cried, begging for anyone or anything to help them. But Conquil knew all too well help won’t come, nor does it even exist.
So he ran on, the screams and cries chasing him into the darkness…
