Story by Charles Hawkmoon. Translation Victor Schmidt.
This short story is part of the Fantasy Storm series. All stories in this series are inspired by randomized prompts, ensuring that each tale is unpredictable and utterly unique. Here are the random seeds for this story:
Temptation – Undermine – Cheese – Volcano – Sigh – Anger – Gasp – Draft – Hesitate – Strange.
“Deliver me from this temptation! Deliver me from this temptation!” whispered the rat-khelib, his eyes fixed on the red jewel set in the eye of Sith’el’hazar, the cyclopean serpent, goddess of good fortune. The serpent was a twelve-meter jade statue covered in golden scales, coiled at the base of the altar, its long neck rising up to nearly touch the high ceiling of the temple.
His small stomach churned, and the thick, long hairs of his whiskers bristled. His tail stood rigid, signaling his total apprehension. The gleam of the Ruby of a Thousand Lives reflected in his small, black eyes, foreshadowing the ecstasy of the heist. His twitching nose moved up and down nervously, and his mouth watered as if he were about to devour a generous portion of the firm, delicious lilac-coated cheese produced in Mirrethen. Minussim stood on his hind legs, mimicking the stance of humans, and drew from his satchel a polished steel chisel and a small hammer with a hard rubber head.
Minussim was small for his race, barely forty centimeters tall when upright. His black fur made him ideal for disappearing into the dark, and his size allowed him to slip through holes and cracks. His strong paws, equipped with long nails, were perfect for the most difficult climbs. His larger, fatter cousins, with their white fur and red eyes, would never stand a chance of completing such a daring feat.
Of course, if anything went wrong, his fate would be to end up as dinner on the tables of the detestable saurimites. Khelib criminals were especially prized when fried.
“There is always time to retrace your steps and make a better choice,” he could hear the melodic voice of his uncle Funiley advising him to give up. He glanced downward at the corner, spotting the hole that had taken him days to dig. When the whole plan was nothing more than a draft in his mind, months ago, he never imagined he would find himself here, in the dead of night, in the most heavily guarded temple of Hallan’ak’nassar, standing atop the statue, ready to claim his prize.
Uncle Funiley and his mother, Tíria, had always been calm rats, devoted to honest work and good manners. Minussim’s grandparents had raised them that way. His father, however, came from a different stock. He had the temperament of a volcano, with courage and anger to spare for the whole world. His father, who bore the nickname Cat-cape, was a large and powerful brown rat-khelib. A pirate who traveled the world commanding the gangs that roamed the cargo holds of human ships. Minussim had inherited the calm and gentleness of his maternal side, along with his father’s adventurous and exploratory spirit. This strange combination, which often made him hesitate before embarking on great adventures or significant feats, was overwhelming him at this moment. He stared at the ruby for three long minutes, the chisel and hammer in his paws, his entire life flashing before his eyes. His uncle and mother urged him to turn back, while his father and his father’s friends encouraged him to be bold, unique, exceptional, brilliant!
Minussim gave a resolute sigh, driving away the voice of his uncle from his mind. Nothing could now undermine his determination. He began tapping softly, as if buttering the blows, to ensure the chisel penetrated the edges of the socket without risking even the smallest scratch on the precious jewel. He would become rich, and famous—the most renowned thief in the world! Little by little, he gained enough space within the jade circle to finally extract the ruby.
The rat gently blew the jade dust away and confirmed, “It’s ready! It’s going to come out!”
He stowed the tools in his satchel and took out a small measuring tape and a velvet pouch. He had to know immediately! Yes, yes! A perfect circle measuring one hundred and twenty-three millimeters in diameter! By far, the largest ruby in the world! After measuring, he covered the top of the jewel with the velvet pouch and gently pulled the stone into it. He tied the drawstring and felt the weight—what a delightful weight to hold!
His fur stood on end as he placed the stone into his bag. The ship would set sail in an hour, just before the temple opened. After that, they would never see the Yakut’alaf’al’araua again.
Down, hole, tunnel, ship, glory! Down, hole, tunnel, ship, glory! He repeated those words like a mantra as he carefully descended along the neck of Sith’el’hazar.
His uncle Funiley had never said the phrase, but Minussim’s conscience often made his uncle’s voice echo in his mind.
Sith’el’hazar is the goddess of good fortune, but stealing from her will bring bad luck—a misfortune never before seen!
Then, a small golden scale dislodged. Minussim slipped and fell three long meters onto the body of the statue, tumbling down until he hit the floor, scattering the entire contents of his satchel—tools, his blowpipe, and trinkets clattered on the polished stone floor, shattering the silence of the night. Of course, this awakened the saurimite guard, who had been dozing off at the temple’s entrance. What a nightmare, all his belongings strewn about! But the worst of it—the heavy ruby had slid across the floor, bouncing down the steps until it reached the lowest part of the temple, where the faithful gathered to worship Sith’el’hazar.
When Minussim tried to run on all fours towards the ruby, he realized he couldn’t put weight on his right hind leg. He hobbled as best he could, descending the steps.
“Thief! Thief!” cried the guard, raising his lantern and spotting the little rat-khelib descending the steps. The saurimite guard wore only an asadat’kufat, adorned with small ceramic tiles. A traditional saurimite garment that covered only the shoulders, with a hood attached to shield the eyes from the harsh sun. Apart from this, he wore a loose belt to which his scimitar was fastened. His scaly, tough skin was as effective as light human armor. Someone with Minussim’s strength could never dream of harming a saurimite without a good bow, blowpipe, or steel arrows. And at this moment, Minussim’s blowpipe and poisoned darts had been left behind, scattered on the floor near the altar.
He should have killed the guard while he was asleep, but his uncle’s voice had told him, “Taking the life of an innocent is not right. Besides, why take the risk? Any mistake could be fatal…”
Minussim retrieved the bag with the gem. That delightful weight in his forepaws. He placed it back into his satchel and ran to a dark corner. The guard lost sight of him for a moment, but Minussim squeaked when he landed too heavily after leaping onto a shrine at the side of the temple. The rat raised his snout and sniffed. More saurimites were on their way. He jumped from the shrine to a higher ledge, grimacing once more from the pain. The saurimite was right behind him, scimitar raised above his head.
“I’ll kill you, you filthy rat!” he hissed.
Ignoring the pain as best he could, Minussim ran and leaped into the hole. The curved blade came whistling down, striking the ground with a spark. The tip of Minussim’s tail narrowly escaped harm.
Panting, the rat sped through the tunnel, alert to the vibrations in the ground. Saurimites were already running everywhere, searching for the thief. But his plan was sound, and the new tunnel connected to the sewers, and the sewers, of course, led to the docks.
A few minutes later, Minussim reached the hold, his heart racing, his legs throbbing—but alive.
“I did it… I stole the ruby!” he declared.
“You didn’t accomplish anything, you little twit!” snapped his father. “All you did was get seen! Look at the mess out there! Those damned lizards will scour every inch of this city, every ship—including ours! You need to get rid of that blasted ruby right now, or we’re done for! Literally…”
The image of criminal rats being fried alive in the giant vats of boiling oil made Minussim’s fur stand on end.
“But I… we could hide…”
“They’ll use their damned sorcery, boy! Don’t you see? A group of them is already on its way here,” his father pointed out through the hatch.
“Alright, alright!” Minussim growled in response. “I’ll take care of it!”
The rat climbed the stairs as quickly as he had descended and, once on deck, hurried to the other side. He removed his vest and gnawed at the seam to release a strip of fabric. He took the ruby out of the black pouch and caressed it for a few moments.
“Goodbye, my precious!” he kissed the red stone.
Then, he placed the ruby in the fold of the fabric strip, twirling it quickly over his head, improvising a sling. He flung the stone, which shimmered in the air, caught by the first rays of sunlight before it vanished into the waves of the sea.
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