Emily Rodda: Deltora Quest #3: City of the Rats

The crossing of Broad River was a strange, frightening journey. In all their minds was the thought of what would happen if the trembling walls that held back the river should fail. The great press of water would close over them. There would be no escape.

The swollen Water Eaters blocked their view as they crept along, twisting and turning, their feet sinking into the soft mud. Lief was just beginning to worry that the crystals in the tin box would run out before they reached the shore, when suddenly the shore was before him, and he was clambering up onto a harsh, dry plain.

He stood with Barda and Jasmine, staring.

The plain lay in the bend of the river. It was encircled by water on three sides, and should have been lush and fertile. But not a blade of grass softened its hard, baked clay. As far as the eye could see there was no sign of any living, growing thing.

In the center was a city whose towers shone dark red in the last rays of the setting sun. Though it was so far away, a feeling of evil and menace seemed to stream from it like vapor.

They left the river and began to move over the bare plain. The sky arched over them, red and lowering. From above, thought Lief suddenly, we must look like ants — three tiny, crawling ants. One blow would kill us all. Never had he felt so exposed to danger.

Kree felt it, too. He sat motionless on Jasmine’s shoulder. Filli was huddled inside her jacket, only his small nose visible. But even their company could not help Jasmine. Her feet dragged. She began to walk more and more slowly, and at last, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, she shuddered and stopped.

“I am sorry,” she muttered. “The barrenness of this place is death to me. I cannot bear it.”

Her face was white and set. Her hands were shaking. Lief and Barda glanced at each other.

“Only now I was thinking that we should soon stop for the night,” said Barda, though Lief doubted this was true. “We must rest, and eat. And I do not think the city is a place to enter in darkness.”

They sat down together and began unpacking their food, but there were no sticks to make a fire.

“Now is a good time to try Tom’s fire-making beads,” said Lief, following Barda’s lead and trying to be cheerful. In the failing light, he read the instructions on the jar. Then he put one of the beads on the ground and hit it sharply with their digging tool. Immediately, it burst into flames. Lief added another bead and it, too, flared up. Soon there was a merry blaze that apparently needed no other fuel. He pushed the jar into his pocket, well-satisfied.

“Instant comfort. Amazing!” said Barda heartily. “A villain Tom may be, but at least the things he sells are worth their price.”

It was still early, but Barda and Lief spread their supplies around them and made much of deciding what they would eat. They added water to one of the flat white rounds of No Bakes and watched it swell quickly into a loaf of bread. They cut the bread into slices and toasted it, eating it with some of the dried berries, nuts, and honey they had carried from Raladin.

“A feast,” said Barda contentedly, and Lief was relieved to see that Jasmine’s tense face was beginning to relax. As they had hoped, the warmth, light, and food were giving her comfort.

He gazed over her shoulder at the distant city. The red light was fading from its towers now. Hulked on the plain, it stood silent, grim, deserted….

Lief blinked. The last rays of the sun were playing tricks with his eyes. For a moment it had seemed as though the earth around the city were moving like water.

He looked again, and frowned in puzzlement. The plain was moving. Yet there was no grass to bend in the wind. No leaves to blow across the clay. What …?

Then, suddenly, he saw. “Barda!” he said huskily.

He saw Barda look up, surprised by the fear in his voice. He tried to speak, but his breath caught in his throat. Waves of horror flooded through him as he stared wildly at the moving plain.

“What is it?” asked Jasmine, turning to look.

And then she and Barda were crying out together, leaping to their feet.

Spilling from the city, covering the ground, surging towards them like a long, low wave, was a scurrying, seething mass of rats.

Rats in the thousands — in the tens of thousands! Suddenly Lief understood why the earth of the plain was bare. The rats had eaten every living thing.

They were creatures of the shadows. They had remained hidden in the ruined city while the sun glared down on the plain. But now they were coming, racing towards the scent of food in a frenzy of hunger.

“The river!” shouted Barda.

They ran for their lives. Lief glanced over his shoulder once only, and the sight he saw was enough to make him run even faster, gasping with fear.

The first rats had reached their campfire. They were huge. They were surging over the food and other belongings left scattered upon the ground, gobbling and tearing with needle-sharp teeth. But their fellows were close behind, leaping on top of them, smothering them, fighting one another for the spoils, tipping into the fire in the haste, squealing and shrieking.

And in the thousands more were scrambling over them, or wheeling around the struggling pile and scuttling on, sharp noses sniffing, black eyes gleaming. They could smell Lief, Barda, and Jasmine ahead — smell their warmth and their life and their fear.

Lief ran, the breath aching in his chest, his eyes fixed on the river. The water gleamed in the last rays of the sun. Nearer … nearer …

Jasmine was beside him, Barda close behind. Lief plunged into the cold water, gasping, and waded out as far as he dared. He turned to face the land, his cloak swirling around him.

The squealing, dark grey tide that was the rats reached the riverbank. Then it seemed to curl and break like a wave, and surged out into the water.

“They are swimming for us!” Barda shouted, struggling to draw his sword and pull it to the surface. “By the heavens, will nothing stop them?”

Already, Jasmine was slashing with her dagger, shouting fiercely, and dead rats in their dozens were being swept away by the tide. Beside her, Lief and Barda swept their blades across the water, back and forth, gasping with the effort of the task.

The water around them swirled with blood and foam. And still the rats came, clambering with bared teeth over their own sinking dead.

How long will our strength last? thought Lief. How long will it be before they overwhelm us?

His mind raced as he fought, his hands numb on the hilt of his sword. They would be safe on the other side of the river. The water was too wide for the rats to swim. But it was too wide for him, Jasmine, and Barda also. They would never survive if they cast themselves adrift in this cold, deep water.

And the long night was ahead. Until the sun rose again, bringing light to the plain, the rats would attack. Thousands would die, but thousands would take their places. Gradually Lief, Barda, and Jasmine would weaken. And then at last the rats would swarm over them, biting and clawing, till they sank beneath the water and drowned together.

The sun had set, and the plain had darkened. Lief could no longer see the city. All he could see was the campfire, flickering like a beacon.

It was then that he remembered that he had put the jar of fire beads in his pocket.

He took his left hand from his sword, plunged it under the water, and dug deep into his jacket. His fingers closed around the jar and he pulled it up to the surface. Water dripped from it, but the beads still rattled inside.