P-Catacombs Chapter 29

Read Table of Content | +Kyla Scurchio
======================================================================= Curiosity ripped through me as I made my way back to the stone steps that would lead me back to the sanctuary of the Mousoleum above. As I walked I came across different passageways, halls I longed to explore. Hundreds of hunters could explore down the ancient passageways and probably never break through the secrets of the Catacombs.
Having those thoughts reminded me of my journal. I pulled it out and in the dim light; below the flickering of tiny dying candles I drew a rough map. The steps that guided me down and then the passage I was in and the ones branching off of it. It was the only safe way for me to explore and not
get lost.
As I sketched I failed to notice the mouse that had snuck up on me. I jumped when I looked up from my book and saw it watching me. He was hunched over carrying a large book on his back and a mallet of sorts. A jagged blade was hooked by a strap to his leg. A melted candle sat atop his head throwing blinding light throughout the passages. Oddly enough it never seemed to melt down.
I tore my eyes away from the enchanted candle and saw a staff in the mouse’s hand. At first glance it was nothing more than an old piece of stick. But as I stared I became entranced by it; after a second of staring I saw runes engraved upon it, growing brighter as I watched. Similar to those found on the stone slab. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to take it.
I took a step forward and a brute of a mouse stepped from the shadows. I halted long enough to tear my eyes away from the staff. The mouse was huge, towering over the first mouse. He grunted and I stumbled back. Both of them blocked the stone steps that would lead to my safety. Keepers; they were keepers of the catacombs. Or at least the first mouse was. I noticed a set of keys in his paw; the other was perhaps an assistant of sorts, or a guard. And I highly suspected he was a guard to the Keeper.
I realized how much of an idiot I had been. I entered the Catacombs with no usable traps. These were ancient mice, forgotten mice. What use would my feeble traps have on them? I would have needed something stronger, something with powerful magic. My mind drifted to the onyx stones in my pocket. The mouse before me grunted in rage again and I focused back on him.
All mice still had one weakness; Cheese. I dug deep into my pockets and pulled out my radioactive cheese. Both the mice followed the bait as I held it in hand. They were hungry. Smirking I took the tiny morsel and chucked it down a side passage. Both mice stood staring at me then down the passage, torn at what they wanted most. It was only once the keeper’s assistant took off with a groan down the passage that the staff came back to the fore front of my mind.
The keeper dropped his keys into a pocket before pulling the blade from its strap. He shrugged out of his pack, and without it looked a bit more threatening. But I didn’t care about the mouse, just the staff. I charged after him and he swiftly dodged me, swiping at me with the jagged blade as I passed. I skidded to a halt before turning for another go. We clashed; the force caused the staff to fly in the air landing near the stone steps. I jumped for it. I felt my hand grip the staff and triumph coursed through me. It faded when I heard a ripping, shredding sound behind me.
When I turned I saw the mouse with my journal. Or what was left of it. He held the front cover in one hand and the pages and back cover in the other. My heart dropped, without it I’d be useless to the king; I’d have no map to guide me, no knowledge to fall back on. I dropped the staff into the never ending pit of my pocket before turning on the mouse again. I wasn’t as lucky this time.
When I charged him I was only focused on my journal. When I was close enough he dropped the back binding holding my pages, and instead gripped tighter the knife he had concealed from my view. It was too late, I was too close, and I had no time to react. The mouse jammed the jagged metal into my side. I felt the blade tear through my skin and warm blood began to pour from the wound. The mouse removed the blade before scampering off with my journal cover in hand.
I clutched my side in agony. I looked down, conscience long enough to notice the keeper had dropped his candle. I pocketed my book and slumped down next to the light. I put pressure on my wound before I passed out. My last conscience thought was of Zugzwang, I longed for his help now more than ever.