A parliament of plague doctors filled the laboratory. Flicker Nicker, who stood in the doorway, was hesitant to go in further. It wasn’t because it was crowded, it was because everypony was staring. Piper bumped into him and Hennessy bumped into her, causing her to bump into Flicker again.
“Two untested apprentices have no place in here,” a grizzled looking pale grey unicorn growled.
“Shut it, Garland, my guild, my rules,” Wicked snapped in reply.
The room filled with murmuring and many soft-spoken words. Flicker could not make out everything being said. There was a griffon here, a griffon with only one wing, and Flicker gave him a cursory glance so that he would not appear as though he was staring. The colt’s rat sense was tingling in an unpleasant way, almost painful, and he didn’t like it.
“He’s the one…”
“We don’t know that.”
“He’s a bad omen, he is.”
“It’s funny how he shows up at the same time the new strange rats start showing up…”
Flicker’s ears perked at the soft sound of Piper whinnying with worry, but he didn’t know how to comfort her at the moment. He looked at Doctor Sterling, who stood silent, the blinking of his eyes was the doctor’s only movement. Almost squirming, Flicker wished that those present would remember good etiquette and stop staring.
“He’s the one, he has to be.”
Garland, big, bulky, covered with as many scars as he had muscles, took a step forward. “Quiet, all of you and show some respect. Wicked, I do believe we were promised a demonstration… if you could get on with it? I’d like to see your one-trick pony.”
“Aye… a demonstration. Doctor Sterling, if you will please direct Mister Nicker in what to do…” Wicked made a gesture with his wooden peg leg at the doctor.
Clearing his throat, Doctor Sterling addressed the crowd. “Mister Nicker has a rat slaying talent, as many of you know. His mark is currently missing due to some rather violent circumstances involving a rabid bear and two sticks of dynamite”—the crowd began to chortle—“but extensive documentation has been made about the subject.”
Moving through the room, his silvery-grey short cropped tail bouncing behind him, Doctor Sterling pointed to a glowing glass containment box. “Mister Nicker, if you please, we would like a demonstration of your abilities. We would very much like for you to examine this rat and tell us what your rat-sense has to say. Be descriptive, as this is going down in a scientific journal.”
Almost sweating, Flicker noticed that there were movie cameras set up to capture everything from multiple angles. He could hear the clicking, creaking contraptions as they caught everything on film, and there were large teardrop shaped microphones hanging from the ceiling. Looking around the room, he spotted Amber Harvest and she was smiling at him. It gave him courage.
Flicker moved forward, uncomfortable with the crowd, and brushed past Doctor Sterling. “My rat-sense feels uncomfortable and off… the sensation is unfamiliar to what it usually is.” His slow, careful mind began what he hoped was useful narration. “My insides feel like they do when I eat one of those burritos from a street vendor and I get the salsa de asesinato on it. I feel itchier than normal, given my current state. My frogs are sweating profusely and so is my scrotum.”
Doctor Sterling’s eyebrow arched, but he had no other reaction.
“Feeling a bit more aggression building up than usual and the accompanying feelings of anger are a bit more than I am used to,” Flicker reported, speaking in a slow, easy to understand voice. “I can feel the adrenaline response kicking in, and I do believe I am experiencing piloerection along my spine and neck.”
“Has the colt been coached?” Garland demanded.
“No, and do be quiet,” Piper responded, turning to look at Garland with a fearless expression. “Do they have no manners in Fillydelphia or do you have a mark in loutishness that excuses you?”
Wicked began chortling as Garland turned a very dark shade of purple.
Eyes narrowing, Flicker looked inside of the glass containment cell and saw a rat. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he didn’t like what he saw, it made his skin crawl. Something felt off about the rat. It’s eyes were milky and patches of its fur had fallen out, revealing greasy looking pale grey skin.
“Have a look, Mister Nicker,” Doctor Sterling said as he held out a mask to Flicker.
Taking the mask, Flicker put it on, glad to have a face again. It made him confident and the crowd no longer bothered him. Almost right away though, he noticed something was wrong. The rat gave off no red glow. He stared through the lenses in disbelief, looking at a rat that gave off no signature. This was worrisome and he didn’t much care for it, not at all.
“This rat is dead,” Flicker announced in a flat voice devoid of feeling or emotion.
“Aye, very astute observation, Lad.” Wicked came forward, his face wizened with worry.
“Undead,” Doctor Sterling corrected.
“Zombie rat?” Flicker asked.
“No,” Garland replied, his bluster gone, now he looked sweaty and nervous. “We’ve never seen anything like it.” The big unicorn crossed the room, drew his sword, and held it out to Flicker. “Go on, stick him. Run him through. See for yourself. Cut his ugly little head off and see what happens. A zombie rat would die with no head.”
Jaw muscles clenching, scowling, his whole face contorting into a grimace, Flicker took the offered weapon and watched as the glass cell was opened. The rat was held secure in the combined telekinetic force of several unicorns and Flicker raised Garland’s sword, which was a long straight rapier. There was a flurry of movement as masks went on and Flicker waited.
Piper was the last to slip on a protective mask offered to her.
Curious, Flicker poked the rat with the needle-sharp tip of Garland’s rapier, and no blood came out. No, instead of blood, a foul looking black miasma curled out of the puncture wound like smoke. With cold, calculating cruelty, Flicker stabbed the rat again, right in the stomach, driving the sword clean through. Already, the first wound was closing up, and when he pulled the sword out, the second wound began closing up even as he watched.
This disturbed him a great deal.
With a flick of the blade, Flicker cut the rat’s head off and that should have been the end of it—but it wasn’t. The head landed with a splat and then, much to Flicker’s horror, pale, putrescent tentacles wiggled forth from both the neck hole and the severed head. The wiggling, writhing tentacles reached for each other, extending, grasping, and grabbing one another, and as Flicker stood there watching, the head was pulled back onto the body.
“No,” Flicker murmured in disbelief.
“It’s no zombie,” Doctor Sterling said in a low voice. “I’ve dispatched quite a number of zombies… none of them have ever done this.” His body trembling, the doctor drew his sword. “This sword has a refined silver edge and has a few minor enchantments to keep the silver hard and sharp.” The doctor stabbed the rat and it sizzled on his blade.
When the doctor pulled his sword out, the wound was much slower to heal.
“Silver, as I am sure all of you should know, is an anathema to the undead. It will also conduct aether, it is one of the few metals that will, along with copper, gold, and platinum. Now, as you can see, I have stabbed the rat and the wound is healing.” The doctor held out his sword to Flicker and his eyes burned with a fierce intensity. “Flicker has a rat slaying talent. A magical talent. Now, if this talent has any significant strength, if he is ‘the one’ as some of you keep saying, then my sword when held in his magic should transfer his magical aether through the blade, along the silver edges, and we should see some kind of reaction on contact. Mister Nicker, do not kill the rat, but do open a wound.”
Taking the doctor’s sword into his magical grasp, just as he had done so many times before, Flicker studied the rat and felt a new hatred burning into his heart. He passed Mister Garland’s sword back to him with a bow of his head, and then returned his attention to the rat. With a quick thrust, he obeyed, and opened a wound. On contact, the silver edged sword caused silvery flames to manifest as the rat sizzled like hot fat dripping onto a hot stove. When Flicker pulled his sword away, the wound didn’t seem to be healing, or it was healing so slowly now that it was difficult to observe.
“Well then,” Garland said in a deep, raspy voice, “I think that proves it. New rats start appearing and now a pony with just the right mark shows up. It’s providence—”
“And just five minutes ago you were speaking down to him and treating him with the contempt normally reserved for unloved dogs who fart in the parlour.” Piper strode forward, her eyebrows an aggressive ‘V’ above her eyes, and she came to a stop beside Flicker. Then, with bold defiance, she gave Garland her best Pie family glare.
“As far as apprentices go, this one has promise,” Garland muttered as he eyeballed Piper.
“With the beginning of almost every new plague, there has been a herald,” White Pepper said in a smooth, cultured voice, “a pony uniquely suited to dealing with it. There are always others though… we live in a new era, a modern era… we have the telegraph, we have the means to cross the continent in mere days, and we have mass empire-wide media in the form of newspapers.” The soft spoken pony looked around the room at his colleagues. “We need to begin an aggressive recruitment campaign. We need to visit schools of all types and look for promising apprentices. We need to go to remote villages and hamlets that are cut off from the world and see if they have any promising talent. We need to be proactive as we deal with this new plague that is coming.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but one pony with a rat killing talent and an undead rat does not a new plague make,” a dark mossy green unicorn said as he looked around the room. “We should not waste resources until we know something a bit more definite. I know it is very fashionable to talk about Grogar, but this probably has more to do with some mad wizard and their crazed experiments.”
“Scheele, that’s enough out of you!” Garland barked. “While I appreciate your over-cautious nature, now is not the time.”
The room erupted into too many voices to hear at once and Flicker just tuned them all out so he could focus on the rat instead. He had the overwhelming urge to decapitate the undead rodent. Instead of buck teeth, the rat had two large pointed fangs. The wound he had inflicted with the doctor’s silver sword still had not healed and a foul, greasy looking miasma trickled forth from the seared looking opening.
“QUIET! ALL OF YOU!” Garland barked. “Wicked and I don’t always see eye to eye, but he and I have always been able to work together because we respect one another! And right now, we need to defer to his experience in this matter, as I myself do not have a good, well informed opinion, other than I try to follow the signposts that destiny tries to leave for us.”
Flicker turned about to face Wicked, who looked thoughtful.
“I try not to rush into anything,” Wicked said to the now quiet room. “The last time I was too ‘asty I lost my leg. I will agree, all of the right signs and portents are starting to show. Now is the time for caution, and I think we can all agree, an aggressive recruitment campaign can’t ‘urt anything.”
“I would advise an elevated state of alert.” Doctor Sterling’s eyebrow raised. “More sewer raiding and the plundering of trash heaps. Begin a bounty program to look for live specimens. Offer promotions. We need to better understand what we are dealing with.”
“And what of the colt?” the one winged griffon asked.
“What about ‘im?” Wicked replied.
“Fillydelphia is buried in rats while Canterlot seems to manage!”
At this, the room descended into chaos once more and Flicker very much wanted to escape.