by T. S. Church
“To survive in Morytania you must be strong,.” Imre added with a cautious look to the embassy. “When old age comes to us, death is a blessed reprieve from such an enfeebled state.
“And remember, death is a far better option than undeath.”
Gar’rth turned to the nearest window—one that faced north onto the town’s centre. Through the cloudy glass he could just make out the crowd of people who had followed them. They stood, eerily silent, watching.
Half of Canifis must be gathered here.
He saw young mothers with weak children stand at the forefront of the crowd. Among them, one held a baby that was too ill to cry, its frailty obvious.
Kara was at his side, and soon the entire group looked out.
“What a poor people,” Doric said quietly. “Those children are starving.”
“And yet we can do nothing,” Lord Despaard advised.
Kara flashed him an angry glare.
“We can try to help, can’t we? Perhaps ask Malak—”
“No, Kara. Lord Despaard is right.” Theodore’s tone was soft but forceful. “We are a diplomatic mission. If we start interfering in Canifis’s governance, then we will have erred, no matter how unpalatable that governance is.”
Imre nodded, his eyes hungry as he looked at Kara.
“The knight speaks truthfully, woman,” he said. “Interfere in such a way and you will break the conditions of your embassy.” His eyes remained fixed on her. “I for one would find that quite welcome, for I would relish the chance to show you the skills of a real werewolf, and not a soft-heart.” He darted a look at Gar’rth.
“Have you taken care of our animals, as I asked?” Theodore interrupted sharply. “It would be unfortunate if Master Malak were to hear that they had been mistreated in any way.”
Imre growled and said nothing, then hastened to the door, pausing only as long as it took to cast a last look at Kara and Arisha. Neither woman flinched.
Yet they are scared. They have not forgotten the dream, and here in Canifis it could so easily become a reality, if we make but the tiniest mistake.
“One moment, Imre,” Lord Despaard called. “When are we to make the journey to Mieyerditch? How long are we to wait here in Canifis?”
Imre cringed slightly.
“Master Malak has left instructions that you are to wait here. He will send for you if he wishes to see you. Now my men shall find a place to secure your animals, for we don’t have stabling.”
The werewolf vanished, and the embassy was left alone. Through the window they could see the guard surrounding the inn, most likely to prevent any from getting too close.
“What a dreadful place,” Castimir said, watching as their steeds were led away.
Gar’rth smiled without humour.
“Welcome to Canifis,” he said bitterly.
24
Ebenezer dreamed.
From far away he heard Eloise’s voice telling him about the children, of how happy they were, of how proud she was of him. He stretched out and found himself in bed.
His bed, from many years ago.
He felt a weight rest on his chest and he breathed in the familiar lavender smell of Eloise’s freshly washed hair. She had always liked lavender.
“The children will have a sister to play with very soon,” she whispered. “I think to call her Sally, after my sister.”
“What if it’s a boy? Could we call him Erasmus, after Sally’s husband? Should we?”
“It will be a girl,” she replied. “I know it. She will grow up in a happy household and you can continue with your tinkering. And we will grow old together in comfort. There isn’t much more one can ask than that.”
Growing old. Together.
But I am old, aren’t I?
He sat up in bed, gently moving her head aside. The familiar cramps in his muscles were gone. He stood up easily, no stiff ness in his legs. The bone didn’t click in his hip. It had been a long time since that had happened.
Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
He was younger. His beard was dark with the vigour of youth, absent yet of any silver or white. His hair was characteristically dishevelled, but long ago he had given up trying to impose any control on it.
Tall, lean, with a face that rejoiced in the small happinesses of life. A face that had been made to laugh. That was what Eloise had said when they first met. He studied himself in the mirror with approval mingled with growing despair, for he knew all this would be gone when he awoke. He realised Eloise was speaking.
“...will be Gar’rth,” she concluded.
Gar’rth? That’s an odd name for a girl!
But no. Gar’rth comes later. After you and the children are... dead.
With him will come Castimir, Kara, Theodore and Doric and the war and the siege. I am in no rush to experience that again. No, let us take our time, Eloise, let us enjoy these moments again. Please.
He turned in his bed. This time the cramps in his muscles were there, returning to remind him that they were still very real, and that Ebenezer was indeed old.
It might have been minutes or hours or days later, he did not know. His head ached and he was aware of a dim light that he couldn’t escape. Voices filtered through to him—kind voices, and he was content to sleep for a while longer in the knowledge that he was safe.
But then it came to him.
Gar’rth, covered in blood, vicious, violent. He felt a sudden pressure around his neck as the werewolf squeezed and his old bones cracked under the force of that inhuman grasp.
Another dream. But this one different, more real.
Somewhere far away he heard Kara scream, and the triumphant howl of a werewolf.
Then it faded, and quickly, as if he had heard it muffled through a closed door and had decided to move on, rather than open it and face what was inside.
There is always tomorrow Gar’rth. We can talk then.
Instead, he opened his eyes.
The face of an elderly woman stared back. A familiar face, so like Eloise.
“Ebenezer?”
“Sally?” he said. “What happened?” The last thing he remembered was the Midsummer Festival. He had argued with Gar’rth and then the youth had run off to chase the Wyrd.
She hit me, I think.
“You were injured by the Wyrd,” Sally confirmed. “You have been asleep now for nearly a week, on and off. You have woken twice before, and talked coherently. Do you remember that?”
Ebenezer shook his head.
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Well, try and stay awake now,” she responded. “Father Lawrence said head injuries are nasty things and can have strange effects. He has helped tend you, along with Ellamaria and Lucretia, Lady Caroline’s maid. The King has even been to see you, although I think it was also because of his deSire to see Ellamaria.”
The words meant little to Ebenezer. His head ached and he struggled to sit upright.
“Where is Gar’rth?” he asked. “I remember now... he changed.” He went cold and turned sharply to Sally. “They know, don’t they? They know about Gar’rth.”
“Calm yourself, old friend,” she said gently. “I have told you this before, when you woke the first time. We talked for an hour then, and you seemed quite lucid. Evidently you have forgotten.” Sally sighed. “I do not know what you mean about Gar’rth, but he is no longer in Varrock. Nor are the rest of your friends. They have gone to Morytania as part—”
Ebenezer made a high-pitched wheezing sound. Her look kept him from speaking, though, and she continued.
“As part of an embassy, Ebenezer. To seek peace—not to fight. They will be there by now. They left the day after your injury, and Albertus went with them. They even left messages for you, which you read the first time you woke.
“They are on the floor by your bedside. Do you wish to read them again?”
He shook his head.
“No,” he replied, struggling to remain calm. “Not yet. I
have no recollection of waking before. Perhaps my mind is damaged.”
Gods don’t let that be so! Please, if you are listening now Saradomin, grant me the use of my faculties.
“I do not think so, Ebenezer,” she said. “Father Lawrence thinks it is a concussion and that you will recover in due course. Do you feel well enough to stand?”
Whether I feel well enough is besides the point. I won’t lie here like a decadent prince while my friends ride into danger. I must help, in any way I can.
He summoned his strength and twisted his legs from the bed onto the stone floor.
Muscle cramp, as expected. Hip joint clicking. All is well then, no changes there.
He thrust himself forward and tottered for a moment. His head ached, and the world about him spun slowly, as if he had had too much ale.
At least if I were drunk, I would have an excuse.
Somehow he held. He straightened his back and winced at the familiar twang of muscle.
Then, with an exaggerated flair and a smile that would have made Eloise proud, he raised his arms above his head, as if he were a giant awakening from an age-long slumber.
Back world! The Alchemist has returned!
He gave a wicked chuckle and took a step forward.
It will take more than a bat-winged horror to stop—
His left knee buckled, and he fell forward into Sally’s waiting arms. Gingerly, she pushed him back to his bed, where he sat with a flushed face.
“I shall find you a walking stick,” she said matter-of-factly. “Wait here, you silly old fool.” She smiled as she left him alone to think.
If I can’t march off to war, then I might as well unleash my greatest weapon.
He began to organize his thoughts.
Where do I start?
The Wyrd has killed a great number of citizens from all walks of life. She has kidnapped several people, children mainly, targeting some for a specific purpose. Those like the child Gar’rth was trying to save. The creature wanted her in particular.
And the tailor’s child, which Theodore failed to save.
Ebenezer sighed and put a hand to the back of his head. The bandages there were stiff and he was glad he didn’t have a mirror to hand.
Why? Why that child? There has to be a reason there.
The door banged open and Sally returned with a walking stick, her face in shock. Behind her Ebenezer could see Captain Rovin and Father Lawrence, and the blanched face of Lady Caroline.
Something is wrong.
“What is it?” he asked, a cold dread making him nauseous.
“We have just received word from Paterdomus,” Captain Rovin said. “I am afraid it is bad—several horses of the embassy, including Albertus’s mule and Castimir’s yak, have returned of their own accord, riderless. Drezel sent word by pigeon yesterday, and he thinks we should assume the worse. King Roald has sent command to The Wilderness garrisons to move to the east, for fear that this incident might provoke Morytania into futher action.”
No. This can’t be. Not with Gar’rth and Kara.
This isn’t right.
Ebenezer felt his eyes water. He groaned on the bed.
“Please,” he said, his voice broken. “Please leave me. I need some time. Just a little time.”
But it will take more than that. They were my friends.
He hid his face in his hands and didn’t hear the door close. But when he looked up a short time later, he found only Sally remaining.
She was crying.
How utterly selfish of me! She has lost Albertus, too.
“I am sorry, Sally. I am so sorry.”
She nodded and sat by his side, her head on his shoulder.
Sometime later, a knock at the door disturbed them. Ebenezer looked through blurred eyes as a man in a wizard’s robes stepped into the room.
“I do not know if you remember, but my name is Layte Aubury,” he said softly. “I am sorry to intrude on you like this, but I feel it necessary to tell you that all is not lost. Castimir, at least, lives still, and I believe he is unharmed.”
Sally rubbed her eyes.
“How can you know that?” she asked.
Aubury lowered his gaze briefly to the floor before raising his head again.
“I have been in contact with the Wizards’ Tower. In light of the message from Paterdomus, I asked them if they could discern news of Castimir. They have informed me that he is alive and unhurt. Thus far.”
Wizards and their magical ways, the alchemist fumed. Confound them all.
“But how?” Sally asked again. “So soon. I don’t understand.”
Aubury gave Ebenezer a long look. The alchemist saw how his hand dipped to the wand at his belt, and how he brushed it with his fingers.
“Magic exists that allows people to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye, Sally,” Ebenezer explained. “You know I once tried out as a wizard, years ago. I know that certain spells exist but such power was far beyond me.”
Aubury nodded.
“It is not a spell for the novice,” he said. “But just as individuals may travel long distances, so too can we commune. And that is what we have been doing. I have asked for Castimir’s yak to be sent on to Varrock, for it is not appropriate that his belongings may fall into the hands of someone who is not of our order.
“Castimir is alive, and it may well be that his comrades are also.”
Sally’s face lit up. Ebenezer’s heart raced.
Then there is hope still. And now is the moment when all our efforts must be put to the task.
Now.
“Thank you, Layte, for your consideration,” he said, his voice firm. “It has lifted my spirits. Now I must go and help where I am able. Please inform me if the situation... changes.”
* * *
Ebenezer’s sudden energy was turned to exasperation at the very first hurdle.
A palace guardsman refused to allow him an audience with the King. His pleas were for nothing, and with an angry turn he found himself walking hesitatingly into the eastern bailey, where only a few days before, the Midsummer Festival had been held.
There was no sign of the celebration now.
That seems like so long ago. And my body feels every minute of it.
He gripped the walking stick tightly, aware that he couldn’t manage without it. Once, he stumbled and cursed loudly as he guided himself down onto a step in a slow ignominious landing. He sat in the late afternoon sunlight, gritting his teeth.
And now Varrock refuses my help. All my fame, all my experience, for what? They see me as a tired old man who is in everyone’s way.
He hacked at a stone in anger, and as it flew across the ground a shadow fell across his face.
“Ebenezer?” said a female voice.
He couldn’t see her face, for the sun was behind her shoulder, blinding him.
This is all I need...
“I am,” he replied brusquely, wondering if he could reach her ankles with the stick.
“I know Sir Theodore. He is a good man,” the woman said. “My name is Ellamaria. I helped tend your injury as you lay abed. Tell me, is there any news of the embassy?”
Yes. And it’s all bad.
He mastered his frustration and marshalled his thoughts.
“There is some news,” he said with a sigh. “And it isn’t good. Some of their steeds returned in a panic to Paterdomus, without their riders. But there is still cause for hope. Castimir the wizard is alive, according to the Tower, which bodes well for the rest. However, there is nothing definite.”
She nodded in the sunlight, and then sat down on the step at his side. When her face was out of shadow, Ebenezer saw her clearly. She was an attractive woman, with long dark hair and high cheekbones.
He exhaled in an exasperated huff.
“I should have gone with them,” he said angrily, aiming his stick at a stone and missing it by a good margin.
“And what could you have done, had you been there?”
“Sometimes just to be there is enough. It was like that at Falador.”
“I have heard others tell of your part in Falador—in the siege, commanding your levies. They held the breach that night. They saved the city and the lives of all its citizens.” She peered at him intently. “You, master alchemist, were key to the victory.”
Ebenezer laughed bitterly.
“And now look at me. Only six months ago I was the saviour of Falador, apparently. Now I am turned away from the King by a simple guard, my words ignored without even being heard.”
He growled angrily and swung again at the stone, this time leaning forward. He overextended himself, however, and his leg slipped on the step. He fell to the one below with a grim snarl and a half-uttered expletive.
But Ellamaria seemed not to notice.
She hides her laughter well.
Then when she spoke, Ebenezer knew he had misjudged her.
“Sir Theodore showed me kindness in the dungeon that night,” she offered. “If you think you can help them in any way, and Varrock itself, then you must allow me to do you a service, for I am to see the King tonight. Privately.”
“Ah.” He felt himself blushing. “Oh, my.”
“It is nothing salacious,” she assured him, this time with a hint of amusement. “But a man of your reputation cannot be ignored. I feel that everything that can be done must be done.”
Her eyes took on a steely look, and her voice was determined. “I believe Varrock to be in danger. I believe in this prophecy, and any help we can have we would be wise to accept.” She stood quickly and gazed down at him.
“Goodbye, master alchemist. You shall hear from me tomorrow. Until then, you must be patient.”
She stood and left him alone on the steps. But somehow, he felt, a great victory had been won.
The morning came and went. Lucretia brought Ebenezer breakfast in bed, and as he ate the thick porridge flavoured with the King’s own honey, he realised just how famished he was.
“Don’t eat too much too quickly. Your body isn’t used to it just yet.” Lucretia warned him. Lady Caroline’s maid had already cleaned his wound and examined his injured forehead with a critical eye. Satisfied, she now sat opposite him as if she were guarding a dangerous felon.