Chapter 2 - The Halls Run Red

Perdita's sword sweeps aside attacks from two gnawers, and her dagger drives through the eye of the larger rat. She twists, sidesteps, and cripples a tail that whips toward her youngest soldier. Of the twenty men and women assigned to her when the warning sounded, eighteen still have life. Though neither arrogant nor a slave to ego, Perdita is pragmatic enough to realize this is largely due to her own personal combat ability.

The narrow corridors would normally give the advantage to gnawers, who are so much larger and heavier than humans. But Perdita greatly alters the dynamic. Much stronger than most women, far more lithe and agile than most men, and with precision surpassed only by ragers, she leads her squad from the front. They form a wedge two soldiers deep, with Perdita taking point and those with the greatest reach in the back. Perdita's blades flash and dart faster than sight, and she's already lost count of her kills. On a day like today, what matters isn't lives taken, but lives saved. The palace defenses rely entirely on keeping the enemy out, with the only ground-level entrance supposedly inaccessible due to the river. Now that the enemy has gotten inside, nothing but bodies, blades, and blood can slow them down. With wood such an ultra-rare resource, few rooms have actual doors. The swift, vicious, brutal gnawers have near total freedom of movement.

Perdita's squad currently blocks access to a particularly vital intersection, with hundreds of refugees sheltering in the rooms beyond. But there's nothing to prevent other gnawers from taking stairways to higher levels, then reaching those rooms from behind. Other than Ripred, no living gnawers have ever explored the palace to have a personal knowledge of the layout. But if their echolocation is good enough, or if spinner spies shared intel with the Bane…

A huge gnawer crashes into the line, too blood-crazed and frenzied to think of its own safety. Five swords pierce it, but those soldiers are still bowled over by its weight. With a cry of triumph, the other rats lunge toward the gap in the formation.

Without Perdita, and the heroism of a veteran named Lenwen, that breach of formation would have spelled doom for the entire squad.

Perdita lunges to the side, placing herself between the fallen soldiers and the surging gnawers, and she strikes with frantic intensity. Weight of numbers would have overwhelmed her, but Lenwen reacts almost as quickly as she. Shoulder to shoulder, they both plug the gap long enough for the five men to struggle out from under the dead rat and regain their feet.

It costs Lenwen his life. He and Perdita threw themselves into the deadliest role, but only she has the skill to survive it. Claws rake across Lenwen's throat, opening arteries, while Perdita suffers only a shallow gash to the left forearm. The battle-hardened veteran knows he can't survive this injury, so he makes his death count for as much as possible. Lenwen charges into the midst of the gnawers, shouting as best he can, stabbing, and slashing wildly, foregoing defense to do as much damage as possible. Perdita can only hope she'll be capable of the same commitment when it's her turn to take a deadly wound. A disproportionate number of gnawers turn to surround him, letting the other soldiers bring down the few that kept up the pressure on the squad. By the time the surging rats have torn Lenwen apart, Perdita's formation is fully rebuilt with her at the front. A pile of dead gnawers form a low wall in front of them. The squad raise their swords in salute of their fallen comrade, and the gnawers balk at the sight of the unshaken wall of bodies and blades. Turning, the rats scatter… and dash down multiple side passages.

Perdita's heart pounds, and her thoughts race. As she feared, the open nature of the palace gives the gnawers far too much freedom to avoid strong defensive positions. Unless many gnawers are given a reason to concentrate their efforts in one place, the soldiers won't be able to meaningfully counter them. With thousands of refugees housed throughout the vast structure, the invaders can inflict terrible slaughter simply by spreading out and hunting randomly.

There's simply no way to save everyone… Every man, woman, and child in the palace could face combat at any time… No matter what we do, today will likely drain more Regalian light than any other battle in our history…

But the soldiers of Regalia will still do everything in their power to prevent total annihilation. "Joan! Hold this intersection with five others! The rest of us will form three squads of four each! If the enemy scatters to hunt civilians, we will scatter to hunt them!" She leads her three best men in a charge after the rats, regretting how much faster gnawers can run. "Our people face extermination! Give everything you have to preserve Regalia's future!"

A riot of overwhelming scents flood the mind of Newton the nibbler pup. The reek of fear comes from every direction, especially from the other pups. A hot, harsh smell from the diggers and gnawers must be bloodlust. A weighty, solid scent from the fliers and humans might be their sense of duty. And the warm, almost luminous fragrance coming from many of the adult nibblers must be love.

Because the mice from which that scent flows strongest also display the least fear… despite being locked in brutal combat.

The harsh, frightening, metallic smell of blood threatens to send Newton into total panic. Hundreds of nibbler refugees surge and swarm around the invaders, and it is easily the worst thing Newton has ever seen. In terms of size and strength, nibblers fighting gnawers is horribly similar to human children fighting grownups.

Except, in combat between rodents, everyone might as well be armed with knives. It helps even out the odds a little… but not by enough.

Gnawer soldiers smash into nibbler parents, hurling them aside or pinning them to the ground. Nibblers pile onto the enemy, using numbers and grit to subdue the monstrous invaders. But every gnawer killed takes at least one nibbler with it. The diggers are even worse, with claws so disproportionately large that a single swipe can kill a nibbler outright. The smell of death floods Newton's mind and heart with sickening dread, and many keep fighting despite mortal wounds.

And each nibbler that dies triggers wails of grief from one or more of the watching pups.

These refugees have already suffered so much, and now the pups are seeing their parents die in a wild melee of teeth, claws, and tails. The smell of the pups' mourning is a heavy, suffocating aura that triggers Newton's tears to flow without letup. It's getting hard to see, but that barely matters. His nose is quickly becoming his whole world.

"Surgeons! Avoid combat as long as possible!" That command from Poseidon triggers a complex scent of tension and internal conflict from the surviving humans on the ground. "If this battle is won, many will need your treatment to survive!" Reluctantly, the remaining doctors and nurses back away from the horrible battle, sheathing weapons. They help to rush sick or exhausted pups to get farther from the danger. Deca and Ray, Newton's adoptive sisters, follow a nurse, but Newton still can't rise to his feet. The stands are now covered in only pups and the oldest adults, as every able-bodied nibbler has taken to the field in the center of the arena. Together, they fight with desperate fury against the far larger intruders.

Without the humans and fliers, there would be no hope. They dive again and again, concentrating their attacks on the diggers. The moles are so huge, their three-foot-long claws so lethal, that it would take the sacrifice of every adult nibbler to bring them down. Fighting the gnawers is already costing too many lives.

Poseidon shouts orders, and the soldiers shift their tactics. They now attack the diggers only from specific directions. They seek, not just to kill the diggers, but to do so in such a way that their bodies tumble back into the tunnels.

They succeed.

And it costs them.

The aggressive strategy makes it easier for the moles to strike back. More than half of the bats are killed by sweeping strikes from huge claws before the last of the diggers die. Giant mole corpses have blocked all but two of the holes, but gnawers continue to pour into the arena at those points.

Poseidon's bond is struck in the side of the head by a gnawer's tail, and she falls into the midst of the seething battle. She's torn limb from limb in seconds, along with so many nibblers, and the flier commander shrieks out a long, keening wail. Newton smells a complex mix of grief, anger, and finally cold determination. The big brown bat's voice rings out strong and clear. "Hundreds of our friends fell in the Firelands, defending these refugees! Those deaths must not have been in vain! The arena must hold! By the young Queen's will, the nibbler nation will survive!" The bat dives toward a gnawer that's trying to squeeze past a dead mole, deliberately crashing right into it with bone-breaking force. The rat's neck snaps, and its corpse is wedged in place, blocking the rats trying to come from below. But the impact also cripples Poseidon. He squeaks out a quick signal to the other bats. Then he sinks his teeth into a rat's leg, refusing to let go even as other rats savage him.

With reckless aggression, the last of the bats and humans fully commit to a final assault. They successfully block a tunnel with many rat corpses, but they all pay with their lives.

Only one tunnel remains open.

Newton smells the frustration and impatience of the gnawers down below, for they now have only one narrow path to get to their prey. But he also smells the upsurge of desperate hope from the embattled nibblers.

Cosine, the mother of Scalene, Euclidian, and Root, struggles out from under a dead gnawer. "Fight, nibblers! Fight for your pups! Our allies gave their blood for us! Finish what they started! Drive the gnawers back to their final tunnel!"

Newton sways, in danger of blacking out. The smell is finally to much, and he vomits so violently his jaw starts to ache. He heard somewhere that Overland mice can't vomit, and he wishes that were true for nibblers too. It soon feels like everything he's eaten in days has left him, and his body keeps trying to expel more. Whatever is happening with his nose, however he can smell location, movement, and even emotion, he wishes he could make it stop.

But then, something manages to reach him through the nausea, shaking, and misery.

His adoptive mother, Tetra, shrieks a battle cry as she rips off a gnawer's ear, then she sinks her teeth into the rat's shoulder. Howling, the gnawer tears Tetra free… and smashes her head into the claws of a dead digger.

Then again. And again.

As the light leaves his mother's eyes… Newton's senses shift and change… again.

"Breathe, Princess Code-breaker. Slowly now… breathe…"

Lizzie tries to follow the gentle bat's instructions. The paper bag she brought from home is badly banged up at this point, and she hopes it'll last long enough to get her through this latest panic attack. Daedalus has his wings wrapped loosely around her, trying to comfort her. But it's very hard to stay calm when she knows people are dying.

The heavily bandaged mouse, Heronian, is the only other creature in the code room. The three of them are huddled in the mouse alcove, behind a closed curtain, so Heronian can lie more comfortably in her nest of blankets. A few minutes ago, at the sounds of distant shouting, the mouse asked the bat what his superior ears could detect. Without thinking, Daedalus answered in English… triggering Lizzie's current panic attack.

Fighting in the corridors. Screams as people die…

No matter how scary this dark world is, no matter how dangerous, the people living down here… are still people. Her brother and sister have faced deadly peril in the Underland many times.

But that's not the fault of the families hiding throughout the palace. There are moms and dads out there. Sisters, brothers, and grandmas. They probably love each other as much as Lizzie's family does. And with Regalia so much smaller than New York City, they might all know most of their neighbors.

If rats are out there, attacking everyone they find…

"Remember my promise, Princess," Daedalus purrs, his voice a comforting mix of gentle and strong. "If I hear rats approaching, I will carry both you and Heronian to a nearby window. I won't let them hurt you."

Lizzie clenches her eyes shut, and tears overflow. No one understands. All my fear… it isn't just for me. Getting me to safety won't stop the real problem.

The bat Hermes was wounded bringing Lizzy to the palace. The rat Twitchtip got captured and eventually died because of helping Boots escape. And before all of that, the cockroach Tick gave her life saving Boots from certain death.

This dark, scary world… it still has so many good people in it. Some of them human. Some of them not. They're all so much braver than me… and they keep getting hurt.

She might not personally know the Underlander families huddling in fear throughout the palace. But that just doesn't matter. They're still people. Families like her own. And many smart talking animals, not just the code team, but the injured creatures in the hospital, or the nibbler pups in the nursery. All of that fear combined, that is something she just can't handle. If Daedelus carried Lizzie and Heronian to safety, that would still leave all the rest of that fear flowing through her.

She's not just scared of one thing, or for one person. She's scared of everything. For everyone. And that's not something she can handle. At least, her body can't. Her heart still pounds, her breathing still comes too fast, she's quivering, and sick.

I broke the code… but it isn't enough. That alone can't end a war. At least they're not making Gregor fight right now. He, Boots, Hazard, Nerissa, and Temp currently hide in a room that actually has a door. They might be safer than anyone else in the whole fortress. While doing all she can to regulate her breathing, Lizzie tries to focus on that fact. With Mom at the Fount, and her siblings behind a locked door, maybe her family… is safe…

Despite her many injuries, Heronian gently strokes Lizzie's forehead with her tail, trying to imitate something Ripred did earlier. "Whatever happens today, know you that it would have been far worse if not for your efforts. Your genius. Because you broke the code, because you saw the flaw, this attack didn't catch us completely by surprise. Soldiers and extra doctors were assigned to the Arena. Every weapon in the palace has been distributed to the people. And our forces were able to attack the gnawers in the river."

"Yes," Daedelus whispers. "Do not blame yourself for those who lose time today. Instead, know that all who live will owe that to you."

Gradually, her suffering fades. Heronian winces as she wriggles close, so that now the mouse and the girl are curled up together, wrapped in the bat's wings. "War is tragedy," Heronian says. "But because of you, this one will end. Trust the brave hearts defending this place. Weep for those who are lost… but be ready to rejoice for those who live. If peace comes, and endures, the Underland will not only thank your brother… We will thank you."

As Lizzie's tears flow, as she quivers and shakes, she manages to return Heronian's hug.

Shaking blood from her shaggy fur, Rendwelt the gnawer dashes back out into the hallway, leaving the room behind her empty of all life. Fighting room to room is dangerous, and costly, as even the human pups are often armed. Many of the gnawers that survived the disastrous river crossing have since succumbed to the accumulating gashes of so many fights in a row, with little opportunity to rest. If the palace is completely scoured of all humans, fliers, and nibblers, there will be plenty of rest, food, and drink after. But for now, safety exists for no one. The sprawling, open labyrinth makes anything possible… except successfully hiding. Just as patrolling humans cannot stop running gnawers from finding other victims, gnawers can never be sure when a squad of soldiers might stumble upon them. With the smell of humans–both living and dead–coming from every direction, and voices echoing throughout the vast structure, Rendwelt's nose and ears can't be fully trusted until a threat is quite close.

So far, Rendwelt has survived largely by feigning absolute loyalty to her commander. General Flayer and his ferocious bodyguards have thus far obliterated all opposition with relative ease. By sticking with them rather than splitting off to hunt with the others, Rendwelt is far less likely to face an unwinnable fight. Unless they have the immense misfortune of encountering Ripred, this force represents the closest thing to safety in the heart of this enemy stronghold. And if we do encounter the human-loving traitor, I should be able to escape while he focuses on reaching the General.

If the rampaging rats finally kill off everyone except Ripred, things will grow simple. The palace will fall mostly silent, and all hunters will unite in seeking out the last remaining foe. As with the battle between Ripred and the Bane's army in the Firelands, the rager can fall to overwhelming numbers. More specifically, if he realizes he can't win, he might surrender without a bloodbath. Rendwelt estimates that several hundred gnawers survived the river crossing. With swift aggression, and the efficient execution of the masses of refugees, such a scenario should be possible.

And since anything less would mean death for the entire invasion force, the only choice is to direct all possible efforts toward that goal.

Human shouts and rat laughter around the corner catches everyone's attention, and Flayer orders his vanguard to head toward the sound. Staying right behind him "to guard his flanks," Rendwelt soon gets a clear echolocated mental image of the fight ahead. A small squad of humans is being hit from three directions, suggesting that gnawers are converging on this area from multiple locations. Then Rendwelt understands why. A large, interconnected series of rooms beyond the soldiers is positively filled with humans, fliers, and nibblers. And many smell sick or injured.

A hospital… So, this is where those that survived our earlier attacks have gathered. They should be easy to finish off. Maybe I'll even get satisfaction against that little human that Ares snatched away from me. She enjoyed the first taste of his arm. Hopefully she can have the rest of him soon.

The doomed soldiers are scattered across the hall in many pieces, and General Flayer gives orders in the gnawer language. His small army follows the gathered gnawers in a combined assault. It's hard to be sure, but Rendwelt's echolocation suggests there may be no other exits to this hospital. Meaning the invalids and unworthy survivors will have no means of escape.

The front line of rats crashes into the first room, meeting surprisingly fierce, coordinated resistance. Soldiers, doctors, and nurses have formed a dense crowd, and though many of them are actively shedding tears, none try to flee. Even as claws and teeth shred human flesh, swords and daggers bite back. An astonishing number of gnawers have died by the time Flayer's bodyguards reach the front, and Rendwelt sees that the crowd is very deep. Bandaged humans, fliers, and nibblers are packed in behind the soldiers and doctors, clearly prepared to fight as well.

But the Bane's champions will not be deterred by half-dead weaklings, especially children, the elderly, nibbler scum, and bats that have no room to fly.

General Flayer seizes a female doctor and shakes, sending the woman's two daggers flying from her grip, then he hurls her into the crowd, knocking over many. Powerful tails smash faces, claws rake at throats, and aggressive tackles send many defenders sprawling. Despite the determined defense, and the gnawer losses already taken, victory here is certain. This is by far the single largest battle within the palace at this moment, and Rendwelt can smell more gnawers streaming in from many directions.

A small boy with only one arm slips through the crowd, driving a rusty dagger into Rendwelt's left leg. She rears back, shrieking in pain, rage… and sudden recognition. This is the boy she failed to kill in the city streets. And in his current state… he doesn't stand a chance against her.

As other gnawers swarm past her, ripping into the crowd, Rendwelt briefly backs off. She waits for the fight to develop, for the human formation to break apart, and for chaos to go in the gnawers' favor. Then she gathers herself and springs…

A wounded bat behind the boy knocks him to the ground, and Rendwelt crashes into her, instead of her preferred prey.

Good enough… for now.

The one-armed boy hits the ground hard, the crack of skull on stone audible even in the wild melee. If that hit knocked him senseless, it will be easy for Rendwelt to finish him off once the fighting is done, and feeding is safe. Even as Rendwelt savages the flier that interfered with her kill, the bat whispers, "I save you… as I save my life..."

Absurd. This flier bonded a useless maimed child? How could our enemies have withstood us for so many centuries… when their hearts are so weak? And what good is it to delay that boy's death, when there's only one way this fight can end? Maybe the bat only wanted the boy unconscious, so he won't feel his final moments. That's... acceptable. What matters is that he die, not that he die screaming.

As Flayer's bodyguards smash through the defenders, as doctors and patients fall en masse, the General's roaring voice echoes down the halls, calling for ever more gnawers to join the fray.

Streaming in from corridors and stairways, more and more gnawers answer the call.