Return of the Rat

Chapter One

Sharp waves cut into a makeshift boat headed towards Hydren's Isles, named for the God of air and sea.  A Lizard stood on the coast with a cello in his long-fingered grey hands. His scales shone in the pink rising sun and the melody which shook gracefully from under his bowstrings seemed to calm the very ocean before him.
The Beetle closing into the island on his boat rowed with two of his arms. The two that were free attempted to repair the cracked sail, but he was defeated. If he had a neck he would have hung his head. His long segmented arms got tired and he switched them around to give his dominant arms a break in favour of the non-dominant arms which sat underneath and had hardly done any work since he set off one hour ago.
The Lizard felt the cold morning wind stroke his back. For a moment he lost focus on the instrument and the notes from his cello squeaked and scratched. He hastily took his bow away, but not before a huge wave came pulsing forward through the ocean like a gigantic shark fin which toppled and shook the boat with unrelenting power. It was split into pieces. It became driftwood.
The Lizard stopped and stared out to sea to see what had happened to his friend. He hung his Cello over his back. He was wary to keep its pristine condition, but more worried about the Beetle. He dove in and swam out into the ocean. The Lizard held his breath under the clear salt water for five minutes as he hurriedly paddled and kicked his legs in imitation of a mermaid. He grabbed the Beetle by his horns and dragged him to shore, flipping him into the best recovery position he could manage on a patient with a thick rounded shell.
Eventually, the Beetle regurgitated a phlegmy lungfull of now yellowed water and cracked his two black eyes open one at a time.
"You're not a very good bard yet." He coughed and his voice shook.
There was a long silence in which the lizard looked very serious and sinister. Then he cracked a smile, and then he laughed; "'Thank you for saving my life' would have been nice."
His impression of the Beetle was one of mockery but it was clear to them both that no maliciousness was intended. These two knew each other well enough that all formalities were thrown out of the window and they communicated through snide remarks and backhanded compliments.
"Did you make that big wave happen? Was that supposed to be a joke?" The Beetle smirked, his mandibles scrunched shyly with his soft rising voice.
"Well I was trying to calm the ocean with my music," the Lizard recalled "and then I shivered and got distracted and then... There I am saving your ass!" He lightheartedly punched the Beetle in the shell. The Lizard wasn't particularly strong. If he had he tried to hurt the Beetle he may have succeeded in harming him, but may also have succeeded in hurting his own hand.
As the two began to walk, the mushy dirt road passed sluggishly under their feet. The shoreline is where the commoners of Hydren's Isles lived, but the Lizard's parents were both dignified lawyers who lived deep in the centre of town.
"Rozt," said the Lizard to the Beetle "Are you ready for our heist tomorrow? What was the cool thing you said you wanted to show me?"
Rozt's expression went from neutral to puzzled and then finally to almost mortified as he checked each all of his shoulders and exclaimed "Oh shit! My bag!"
Rozt and the Lizard stopped in their tracks.
"Was it on the boat with you?" Asked the Lizard
The Beetle thought for a moment. "Y-yeah! Yes it was! Come on we have to look for it!"
The Lizard was clearly less bothered. He asked another question: "Do you think it might have washed ashore?"
"I-I hope so!" Worried Rozt as he began to scurry back in the direction they came, his friend pacing behind him.
They spent around twenty minutes searching through the glass white sand before the Lizard almost tripped on a piece of black, wet driftwood which was obscuring a large leather satchel. The satchel looked as if it were clumsily hiding some sort of long pole.
"Is this it?" The Lizard inquired nonchalantly, holding up the wet satchel by the strap. The Beetle turned to him and gasped.
"Yes that's it! Thank you Gill! So much."
The Lizard smiled softly, trying to keep a cold front. He responded to the Beetle calling him this though name was not Gill at all. In fact his name was Rizt and his Father's name Gill. Gill assumes that it was because he bore such a striking visual resemblance to his father, but to his dismay the similarities were not only skin deep. They were both reserved, slightly antisocial and yet somehow very charismatic. In fact Rizt was so much like his father that everybody on the Island knew him by that name, and blamed it on his father's vanity.

It was a short walk back to the Lizard's home. His parents were absent, as usual. Rozt and Gill sat in the comfortable warm light of the fireplace, an aromatic log sending the scents of exotic flowers through the air.
"I'm scared it's going to rust now..." Rozt mumbled as he pulled out an old silver rapier from the satchel. Its handle was ornate and silver. Carvings of vertical waves and lines danced their way along the blade. "I found this at home. In my grandfather's room. I thought it might help us when we go to the temple tomorrow. See these lines? That's Beetle for Wyrmslayer."
Gill took a moment to study it. He was mesmerised by the beauty of the blade. He then stood up from the couch and took a sleek longsword off of the mantle. Unsheathing it with both hands on the handle he said "Fight me!"
Rozt looked at him curiously for a moment before finally scrunching up his mandibles in place of a smile. "No thanks." He looked to the floor, and then at his blade again. His eyes widened as if a lightbulb had been switched on in his head. "Oh! And this!"
He reached into his satchel again and produced a thick, rusty Harmonica. He held it within his mandibles and drew a long, warbling note. "Maybe I can learn music like you..." he blushed as he removed it from his mouth. A long string of spit coming with it.
"Not overnight," Gill replied softly "It takes practice and a long time to learn bardic magic."
Rozt looked a little bit offended. "I can try at least!"
"Yes of course you can!" Gill tried not to talk down to him, "I just mean-"
The door swung open. A voice like Gills but more mature and demanding piped up: "Are you home Rizt? Your Mother's working late."
"Hide the sword!" Gill whispered hurriedly to Rozt who followed his instructions with haste. Gill put the long sword back in its sheath and hung it back on the mantle. "I'm home yeah," Gill mumbled "Rozt is here"
"Oh hello!" Smiled Gill's father as he came under the arched doorway into the fire-lit living room. His words towards the Beetle sounded patronising somehow, like he thought he was taking to a child. Rozt rolled his eyes out of Gill's father's sight. He hadn't been a Larva for five years now and had almost reached full maturity.
"Hi" replied the Beetle politely.
"Long day today," said the Lizard to his son "I'm working on the case of some bloody Warlock." He walked over to his cabinet and took out a tall bottle. He began to pour some sludgy green liquid into a small round glass and sip from it disdainfully.
Gill tried to humour his father. "Warlock?" He asked, knowing exactly what a Warlock was already.
"Warlock yes." The old Lizard took a sip. His face cringed slightly. "I think this potion is off. It's supposed to help you sleep better but it tastes like..." He took a sniff and thought to himself "It tastes like Basilisk meat." He dryly joked.
Rozt obscured his satchel behind him on the couch. Gill inquired: "Wait! Back to the Warlock?"
"Oh right." Said Gill's father as he set his drink back on the counter, presumably not to touch it again "A Warlock is like... Like a Wizard! But instead of learning how to use magic normally they sort of make a... pact! They make a pact with a demon or a fiend or something in order to gain magical powers." His voice switched into lawyer mode as he tried to make a convincing explanation.
Gill was surprised. This was the most attentive his father had been in years. It had been several months since they'd had a conversation which lasted more than three sentences. Gill was about to inquire more before Rozt, dumbfounded by all of this magical talk, piped in with "And what did this Wizard do?"
"Warlock." Gill's father corrected him "This Warlock was subdued for using dark magic against innocents. He was saying he 'bore the spirit of The Rat' and was taken to court today in magic-proof shackles. Quite dramatic. He said that he wanted all Lizards dead for 'wronging his spirit in the past.'" He spoke down to Rozt.
Gill thought back to his early childhood and fairytales he had heard about The Rat. A weedy Lizard boy who was shunned for his ugly, rat-like appearance who's soul was sealed away in the space between dimensions never to return, only after possessing the bodies of unsuspecting Lizards and Frogs for generations. Using them as a host for his parasitic needs. "The Rat? Like the old stories?" He asked.
"Yes exactly like that! Just some... crazy person. They ought to be more careful with who they let use magic I think." He peered at his drink again. "I'm going to bed." And then he turned to leave, tired feet struggling up the winding staircases.
"The Rat..." Rozt pondered "Sounds real to me." His affliction was sarcastic.
That night passed slowly overhead. Gill and Rozt stayed in Gill's bedroom on the 3rd floor of the house. Out of the window a million identical buildings could be seen, three rows of windows both horizontal and vertical and arched double doorways. This was quite unlike Rozt's hometown — Though the Beetles covered the most ground in all of Mondwelt in terms of how much land they owned, their society was humble- Most people working in laborious jobs for a living, and sleeping in large underground burrows shared by many generations of families.
He thought to himself about the big plans he and his friend had for the next day, restless while Gill slept soundly.