Giradin and the other plague doctors approached a building made of white bricks. The windows were tall and all smashed in. The roof was shaped like successive steps, each reaching higher and higher into the sky, until they came to a highest point in the center. Scorch marks spread across the outer walls as if they'd been spread by a hyperactive child with a paint-brush. Across the front of the door were two boards nailed to the walls on either side.

Each plague doctor held in one hand a mallet or sledgehammer they'd borrowed from the people of Elekvaz.

"What is... or... was this place?" Giradin asked.

"According to the locals," said Fulk, "it used to be a synagogue."

"She still is," said Shlomo, his voice betraying a hint of sadness. "Even if she's been abandoned."

"Why is there an old synagogue in Elekvaz?" Giradin asked. "The people here are Christians, aren't they?"

"I can confirm that," said Mu. "Yesterday I didn't see a single circumcized dick."

"There used to be a ghetto here," said Fulk. "At least, that's what the locals told me. Then there was a pogrom."

Shlomo shivered at the sound of the word. Giradin felt the same chill crawl across his shoulders like a spider.

"So, why are we here?" asked Giradin. "To chase away the ghosts of the past?"

"No, we're here to kill the rats," said Fulk. "You saw that rat-king last night, didn't you? Those things only come about when there are many many rats tightly packed together in an enclosed space. There aren't many places in Elekvaz where so many rats can gather without the citizens noticing. This abandoned synagogue is one of them." Fulk adjusted his grip on the hammer and turned his beak toward Shlomo. "Do you have any qualms about entering a synagogue with the intent to do violence? If so, you can stay here while we go in."

Shlomo shook his head. "No qualms in this case. These rats have desecrated this sacred place and need to be destroyed."

Fulk returned his attention to the synagogue's front door. "Fine, then. Let's be ready for the worst. If you see anything, from a simple mouse to a damn vermin, don't keep it to yourself."

Mu and Fulk bashed away at the boards crossed over the door. Splinters and sawdust flew with every loud crack, until the door broke inward. All four doctors raised their hammers high, ready to crush the beasts inside when they rushed out into the light.

But nothing emerged from within.

"Shit... they're gonna make us go in after them..." Fulk shook his head. "Someone has to give up their hammer and hold the lantern so we can actually see what we're doing..." He looked up at the three other plague doctors, his lenses passing from to the next, then back again. "Giradin, you carry the lantern."

Fear struck Giradin's heart at Fulk's command. He was to enter the synagogue more or less unarmed, but holding a lantern so his fellows could see. "Why me?"

"Will you accept 'because I said so?'" Fulk asked. "Or do I need to explain about how Shlomo and Mu are better warriors than you are?"

"No, because you said so is fine," Giradin sighed, set his hammer against the synagogue's outer wall, and picked up the lantern. With flint and steel he lit the oil inside and the flame shone through the panes of glass surrounding it.

Shlomo patted Giradin's shoulder. "Look at it this way: we now have more motive than ever before to make sure you get through this alive."

The four of them entered through the front doors of the synagogue, stepping from dull, gray light into utter darkness. The lantern's flame spread out orange illumination through the building.

Pews were broken in half, scorched skeletons lay on the ground, and old blood stained the stone floor brown. Dust and ash hovered in the air, and every step the doctors took echoed through the vast expanse.

"Rat droppings." Mu's voice split the silence, and the moor crouched down to get a closer look at the stone floor. "There are rat droppings wedged between the tiles. The scum have been here... no, they're definitely nesting here."

Giradin shivered.

Shlomo nervously whispered under his breath, "Mah tovu o ha'lecha Yaakov..." followed by more words Giradin did not recognize.

The ceiling creaked overhead and the wind howled through the broken windows, whipping around the sharp shards of glass. Giradin peered up at the elaborate symbol of a tree carved into the wall above archways on the left side of the synagogue's sanctuary.

"Hey! Cast that light over here!" Fulk hissed. "We're not here so you can admire the beautiful artwork, we're here to kill rats!"

Giradin lowered the lantern and held it out toward Fulk. "Sorry!"

"Over here!" Mu shouted and gestured with his hand for the others to draw closer. The other three walked over, craning their necks to see what he had discovered. Mu stepped aside, and they all peered at a rug he'd kicked aside and a trapdoor in the floor with holes chewed through it.

When Giradin's lantern shone through the holes in the trapdoor, he saw countless, glimmering eyes staring back at him from the darkness below. The shapes and shadows squirmed about beneath the wooden door, and Giradin heard the squeaks and cries of the creatures underneath.

"Well, look at that," said Fulk, his voice smiling. "The nasty little shits all gathered themselves into one place for us."

"Indeed," said Mu. "So, what do we do?"

Fulk turned to Shlomo. "You've been in synagogues before, right? Are the cellars typically made of wood or stone?"

"Stone," said Shlomo.

Fulk nodded. "Good good. And is your God likely to bring his wrath down on us if we start a fire in an abandoned synagogue?"

Shlomo shrugged. "How should I know what The Lord's going to do?"

"Then I think we'll chance it," said Fulk. "Mu, you have anything that can burn these bastards?"

Mu nodded, reached into his coat, and produced two vials full of black liquids. "Same stuff I used on the vampire."

Fulk reached into his own coat and produced a bottle marked with a picture of a lantern. He uncorked the bottle and poured the black contents down through the holes in the trapdoor. The shining eyes underneath scattered away from the spill. Fulk knelt down and slipped his fingers through a metal ring on the trapdoor.

Fulk looked up at Shlomo. "Pull one of those broken pews over here. Be ready to block the trapdoor."

"Yes, master," said Shlomo with an overly-dramatic bow. He set his hammer against a pillar and dragged one of the smaller pieces of a broken pew over to rest beside the trapdoor.

Fulk turned to Mu. "As soon as I fling this trapdoor open, set the fuckers on fire. I'll slam the trapdoor shut again and Shlomo and Giradin will push the broken pew over it so they can't escape."

Giradin set his lantern down on the floor and walked over to the broken pew Shlomo had pulled over. He placed both hands on the side, ready to help push.

Once everyone looked ready, Fulk threw back the trapdoor, exposing the swarms of rats below to the lantern's light. The rats below had many heads, tails, and legs. Giradin's stomach turned, thinking of what manner of natural laws had created them into the twisted abominations they had become.

Mu chucked the two vials into the cellar. They broke on the stone floor and instantly errupted into bright orange flames.

Fulk slammed the trapdoor shut again and there was a groan of wood dragging on stone as Shlomo and Giradin barricaded the door with the broken pew.

All four of them jumped back as flames leapt up through the gaps in the trapdoor, engulfing the pew in seconds. The rat-kings down below shrieked in terror and agony, a thousand tiny voices ringing in Giradin's ears.

"Burn, you shits!" Fulk bellowed, before breaking into laughter. "Filthy beasts!"

Crack!

The flaming pew jolted upward as something slammed the trapdoor from underneath.

The plague doctors exchanged nervous glances with one another. Shlomo grabbed his hammer from the pillar and held it tightly in both hands.

Crack!

Crack!

The broken pew toppled over and snapped in two. The trapdoor was a gathering of splinters, barely holding together anymore.

Giradin picked up the lantern again and drew his seax.

"Vermin..." Fulk whispered. "That's got to be vermin... mere rats could never--"

The trapdoor burst open and the flames underneath were the first thing to leap out. The plague doctors fell backward to avoid the tongues of fire lashing out to taste the air and whatever fuel they could feed upon. Giradin tripped over a tile sticking up out of the floor and tumbled backward. He crashed into a broken pew and it crumpled under his weight.

The lantern flew from his hand and rolled across the synagogue floor, casting strange shadows across the ceiling.

The rats' screeching grew louder, followed by the sound of thousands of little paws on the steps leading up out of the cellar.

"Oh, God!" Fulk shouted.

Giradin craned his neck to see a wave of countless flaming rat-kings charge out of the cellar. Fulk swung out with his hammer and crushed one, but the swarm pulled him under.

The rats moved like one burning cloud, a storm blown in by unholy winds from the pits of Hell itself.