《The Crows and the Plague》Crows Hiding in the Nest
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There was no fighting the swarm of rats that had come pouring in through the windows, so Fitz and those with him fled deeper into the monastery.
"Seal those doors!" Fitz cried, and the Crows did as he bid. They pushed the wooden doors shut and frantically fixed a wooden beam in front. As they barred the door, Fitz took a quick look around the room to ensure that they were not near any more windows.
Those halls with outside-facing windows had been filled up with rotting, plague-filled corpses and brown rats.
"We hold here!" Fitz shouted. "None of them get one step further!"
"Yes, master," called one of the Crows.
Taking a second look at his surroundings, Fitz found that he and those with him had holed themselves off in a prayer room. Only twenty Crows had retreated into this particular hall, leading Fitz to use the room to silently entreat God to lead the others to rooms where they could hold against the attacking hordes.
"All this carnage... and the Vermin haven't even gotten in..." one of the Crows muttered.
Fitz rounded and seized the plague doctor by his collar, forcing him up against the nearest wall. "Hold your tongue unless it's to say something helpful! I swear by God and all that's Holy, next person who says a despairing word will get his fingers broken!"
Bang!
The wooden door jolted as something slammed against it from the outside.
Startled, the Crows all prepared their weapons, their dark lenses focused on the door.
Bang!
Bang!
Fitz held his sword in two hands. He opened his mouth to speak encouraging words, but nothing formed in his throat. Terror had choked all hope out of him. His arms shook, causing the blade to wobble in his hands.
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You are not a coward! he told himself. Stop that shaking, now!
But the trembling only traveled from his arms down to his knees. His guts churned with sick and his head swam in a sea of dread. Tiny pinpricks pierced his every nerve.
Bang!
If the door did not hold he had nowhere else to go. In that prayer room he was cornered, along with a handful of Crows who seemed even more cowardly than he was at the moment. He could hear their whimpers and wails, though they tried to keep them low.
"Down there!" one of the crows shouted.
Fitz cast his eyes down at the floor, where he saw the contorted, flattened body of one of the rats trying to squeeze under the door.
Fitz lifted his foot and brought his boot down hard on the rat's skull. A squeal and sickening crunch ended the rodent's life.
More snouts poked through under the door. More rats trying to get through.
"Get over here and stomp on the beasts!" Fitz cried.
The Crows in the room with him rushed over and stomped down. The high-pitched screeches, combined with the wet crunching noises soon turned into music in Fitz's ears. Each pop was the sound of success, and he found it strangely satisfying to crush a small creature's skull like a grape.
Fitz and the other Crows pressed their bodies up against the barred door as they continuously stomped on the rodents trying to break through.
A violent crash against the door sent Fitz and the other Crows sprawling backward. The wooden beam across the door bowed for a fleeting moment, making a cracking sound.
Deep, guttural laughter from the other side belayed Fitz's confusion. "Headless men..." he muttered. "The headless men are inside..."
"Holy Mary, Mother of God..."
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And other prayers uttered throughout the crowd.
Another loud crack, and the door pushed inward again, the wooden beam bowing further. Dust flew from where the hinges connected to the gray brick walls.
High, tittering laughter heralded the arrival of dozens of Vermin, followed by a chopping sound.
They're using axes to break through...
Fitz gripped his sword tightly and prepared himself.
An axe blade tore through the wood, showing its dull, iron sheen on the other side. The moment the Vermin pulled the blade away, Fitz rushed across the room and stabbed through the hole in the door. The Vermin on the other side cried out in pain as the sword sliced through fur, hide, and meat. Fitz twisted his blade and pulled it back, a stream of scarlet following his motion.
Through the door, Fitz heard the Vermin's scurrying footsteps and angry mutterings as they stepped back from the door. The small victory forced a smile onto Fitz's lips.
A loud screech as a rat leaped through the hole in the door and latched itself onto Fitz's beak.
Though he could not see, Fitz heard the other Crows cry out and rush across the room to assault the other rats who crawled through the same small hole.
Fitz thrashed about, trying to snatch the rat from the beak of his mask and toss it aside. The rodent proved surprisingly slippery, crawling up and down the length of the beak and onto the top of his head. Finally, Fitz seized it by the scruff of its neck, its teeth and claws feebly trying to tear his leather gauntlets as he threw it on the ground and stomped on it.
Crack!
The Crows at the door fell back again as another impact splintered the wooden beam across the door. Even the door itself was breaking now, the boards coming loose and nails falling out of place.
Even over all the cries of despair from his comrades, Fitz heard the rushing, pounding footsteps of the headless-man's charge.
The door and its bar gave way in a storm of splinters, and a hulking headless-man burst into the room, shoulder first.
The Crows stabbed wildly at it, piercing its leathery flesh and spilling blood on the ground. The headless-man swung his great stone club, the first strike crushing one poor Crow's head.
Fitz ducked low under the second swing and charged in, thrusting his sword into the headless-man's mouth. The blade cut through his tongue and pierced the back of his throat.
Another crow rushed in and stabbed the creature through the eye.
In a flurry of blood and violence, the Crows brought the savage headless-man to the floor. As its bulky body fell, swarms of rats scurried out of the way.
Fitz, his veins still pumping with rage and terror, peered out upon the Vermin down the hall. The vile creatures charged at him and the Crows, brandishing their rusty weapons.
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