Runescape: Return to Canifis

by T. S. Church

  “Where are we?” she murmured.

  I am exhausted. My arms and legs feel empty.

  “We are leaving Castle Drakan, Kara,” Gideon’s voice explained. “Gar’rth negotiated our release, and we are hastening to meet Lord Despaard.”

  Kara opened her eyes. Her back was to a stone parapet, her head below the merlon. Looking down she saw a dark courtyard with roofed buildings cramped together. As the wind changed, she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the smell that wafted upward.

  Poverty and despair. The smell of hopelessness.

  “Gideon? Then you and Albertus are safe?”

  “We are, Kara,” the jester confirmed. “Though Albertus is barely conscious, and his mind is fragile.”

  Kara looked at Albertus. The old man was still, asleep on his litter, his face too pale.

  “Where is Gar’rth?” she asked, a dread cold gripping her stomach. Whoever sent Jerrod after him isn’t going to let him walk away again.

  But I might be wrong...

  Their silence indicated otherwise.

  “Where is he?” she asked again. To her, her own voice sounded brittle. “Just tell me.”

  “I am sorry, Kara,” Theodore said. “The condition of our release—and of our lives—was that he remain behind. He made his choice, and there was nothing any of us could do to change that.”

  “Why didn’t he speak to me before we left?” she demanded. “Why couldn’t you wake me?”

  Theodore and Castimir shared a glance.

  “Tell me!” she snapped angrily.

  “He woke me first, Kara,” the knight said. “It was a magical sleep over which he seemed to have some command. We buried our differences and parted on good terms. He said he wouldn’t wake you, for fear of being unable to part with you if you protested.”

  “Nothing more?”

  I know you haven’t told me everything, Theodore. You are a hopeless liar.

  “Nothing more, Kara,” he said. She didn’t entirely believe him, but Theodore didn’t offer to elabourate.

  “We cannot wait for long,” a harsh voice muttered.

  “We will be here a moment only, Georgi,” Theodore said. “I just want to see what they are building.” A brief silence, then he said. “Castimir, you have Ebenezer’s spyglass?”

  To her right she saw the wizard fumble in his belt pouch and pass the golden cylinder to the knight.

  “What do you see Theodore?” Castimir said after a minute.

  “They are building something of wood. A great ribbed structure, not unlike a ship’s mast. It’s a bridge of sorts.”

  Kara peered in that direction for the first time. Three huge contraptions were arrayed in various stages of completion. They looked like wheeled carts, each wide enough for twenty men to walk abreast, each over a hundred yards in length. Toward the front of each, level and on opposing edges, were two tall wooden triangles. From the top of those descended thick chains.

  “I think he’s right,” Gideon whispered.

  “I think the idea would be to line the contraption up in front of a ravine, and then use beasts or men to pull on the chains,” Theodore said. “This looks to winch up the upper layer, and once it is winched high enough, they can lower it or drop it across the gap.”

  The knight turned away from the embrasure and put his hands flat together. He held them horizontally.

  “This is the contraption as it is now,” he said, “more or less, without the wooden triangles. Now, when they force the winches up, the upper level folds over.” He raised his left hand slightly, still joined to his right at the palm but now with an inch wide gap between the tips of his fingers. “Then it is simply a matter of pulling further to raise the bridge to its apex and then letting it fall to the other side.”

  “But why would this Black Prince need bridges? What ravine has he to cross?” Gideon asked.

  “Not a ravine, Gideon,” Kara offered with a grim certainty. “A river. The Salve.”

  “But that’s impossible,” Gleeman responded. “The barrier—”

  “Come on!” Georgi shouted again. “We need to move. We haven’t long till nightfall and no sane man would walk the Barrows then. Even the Vyrewatch avoid it.”

  “Gar’rth gave us his word we would not be detained,” Theodore said in reply.

  Georgi shook his head. “His word is worth less than nothing in the Barrows, for no power controls them!”

  Kara felt chilled at their guide’s words.

  They moved quickly after that, across stone bridges and down stairwells as the daylight faded. Finally, when the last burning embers lit the western horizon, Georgi halted.

  “We are here,” he said. “This is as far as I go. There is still time, if you hurry. Head west, between the Barrows, but do not delay, and do not stop—no matter what you see do not stop.”

  Then he was gone, back the way they had come.

  A shadow moved from the west, a man running. As he saw them he gave a cry, and Theodore drew his sword while Castimir readied his runes.

  “It’s Vanstrom!” Kara hissed. “The man in the cage.”

  And if he’s alive then perhaps Pia and Jack are too?

  The man ran up and stopped. He spoke with a fearful agitation.

  “Come,” he said. “We must go. Right now. This place isn’t safe after dark.”

  “Wait, Vanstrom. What of Pia and Ja—”

  “They are safe, Kara-Meir. But we cannot linger here. Come on!”

  Now Theodore took Castimir’s place with Albertus, and the wizard jogged alongside Kara, gripping some runes in one hand. The knight questioned their new guide.

  “What is this place?” he asked. On both sides, small mounds surrounded them. Ill-coloured grass covered the hillocks, growing long and twisted, as if poisoned from below the earth. For a reason she couldn’t explain, Kara felt trapped.

  “It is the Barrows,” Vanstrom hissed, as if that explained everything. Even though she ran, she felt the warmth seep from her limbs into the ground.

  “This is unnatural,” Theodore said behind her. “No matter how hard I run, I grow colder.”

  “We must go faster,” Vanstrom said urgently. “It is not far now.”

  The golden stretch of light to the west had gone now, and with the darkness came the smell of death, rising up from the ground. The terrible coldness made Kara’s limbs feel icy and stiff.

  Suddenly Castimir cried out.

  Upon the summit of the nearest barrow stood a ghostly figure, holding an immense axe. A purple haze surrounded it. The apparition remained still, while the scent of death gradually became overpowering.

  “It’s them!” Vanstrom yelled. “It’s the Brothers. Don’t stray from the path or you will be lost.”

  They will kill us! They will take us! We can’t fight this!

  Kara sprinted. She fled past Castimir, ignoring him as he dropped his runes in fear, her only need was to be away from that place. Never had she felt like this—not even on the icy island as Sulla pursued her. It was all she could do not to curl up and bury her face in her hands. Behind her she heard Theodore stumble, but she dared not turn around. Even her adamant sword, suddenly in her hand, seemed heavy, as if it tried to slow her down.

  Leave it. Leave it behind and run, just run! But somehow still she gripped it.

  “Kara! Where are the others?”

  Doric’s gruff voice cut through her fear. She felt tears cold on her face, her breath came in gasps, and her heart pounded so hard she felt faint. Suddenly she saw that there were no more Barrows ahead of her, that she was free.

  “Behind...” she stammered. “They are coming.”

  The cold disappeared suddenly, and clinging warmth rushed in to replace it.

  She turned to look back. Theodore was there, his face ashen, still with Albertus carried between him and Gideon, the jester with his eyes closed. Castimir ran at their side, his hands shaking, breathing quickly. Vanstrom came last.

  “What was that place?” she mu
rmured. “I have never felt the like.”

  “Nor I,” Theodore agreed.

  “It is the undead,” Vanstrom told them, wheezing. “The Barrow Brothers. Ancient warriors buried here so long ago that their origins are unknown to us. In Meiyerditch we tell legends of them. Some claim there is an immense treasure horde buried below, or magical halls in which the Brothers wait until the day they will be called. Until that time, they wander the Barrows, looking for living beings to take as their servants.”

  Kara breathed deeply. The fear had gone now. She saw Doric look over her shoulder in confusion.

  “Where is Gar’rth?” the dwarf asked anxiously.

  She shook her head. Theodore looked troubled.

  “He isn’t coming,” the knight explained. “It is the price for our freedom, Doric. But he was safe when we left him, and he didn’t seem frightened at all.”

  Please don’t be angry, Doric, Kara said silently. I haven’t the strength left.

  The dwarf gritted his teeth and bowed his head, and quietly he whispered something in his own language. But Kara knew what it meant.

  “May Guthix protect him for his sacrifice,” he said, “and may we live our lives worthy enough to do his memory proud.”

  Behind the dwarf two men emerged. Both were haggard and yet tough looking, clearly they weren’t strangers to hardship.

  “Karnac, Harold,” Vanstrom nodded in greeting. “We are all here. Come, let us go to the boat without delay.” He turned to Kara. “Your friends Despaard and Arisha are guarding it.”

  Kara sat in the bow, staring silently ahead.

  For nearly an hour no one had spoken, and the stillness was broken only by the creaking strain of the oars in the rowlocks and their faint flash and dip in the stagnant black water. Ahead of her in the gloom, the view seemed forever unchanged and she could vaguely see twisted trees that stood half-submerged in the swamp on both sides. If there was a current, as Vanstrom suggested, she couldn’t make it out. The foetid air was suffocating, given form by the green mist that rose before them.

  Was there anything I could have done, or said, to make him change his mind? Was there anything Theodore could have done, or Castimir?

  She blinked away tears that she hid from her friends and turned to look back over her shoulder. Immediately behind her sat Castimir and Arisha. Even in shadow, she could tell that the wizard’s face was grim and resigned, and she knew his thoughts ran similar to hers. Behind them lay Albertus, his eyes half-closed. At his side sat Gideon, his face downcast. Then came the rowers—Despaard and the man called Harold, labouring away under the watchful guidance of Vanstrom, who half stood and half crouched above them. Behind him was Theodore and then Doric, the dwarf watching for any signs of pursuit from the stern.

  “How are you feeling, Kara?” Arisha asked softly.

  “I just wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye,” she said. “That is what I am most sorry for.” Arisha nodded, and Kara knew she understood.

  “Gar’rth made the decision,” Castimir said. “He thought to spare you the pain of parting.”

  Arisha must have seen something in her expression.

  “I think we all know what he was always afraid to tell you, even when we spent all that time together in The Wilderness. Often, when you slept and he sat watch over us, I saw him and the way he watched over you. He loved you, Kara, because the feeling you inspired brought out the best in him. It saved his humanity and kept his werewolf heritage in check. He told me so himself, several times on our travels.”

  “And now we have failed him,” Kara said miserably. “Had he told me then what he felt, about me, about his heritage, I would have done more to prevent him from coming back here.”

  But I knew it. I knew how he felt. I was just too stubborn to say anything to him. Too stubborn, and too afraid.

  “It might be that coming back here isn’t such an ill fate for him,” Arisha murmured. “He is from this land after all, and it now seems certain he will not be executed.”

  “But what if he is forced to yield to Zamorak, Arisha? He won’t be able to resist the likes of Malak, and he will lose all that made him good.”

  “It is what he is,” the priestess replied gently. “At least he should live.”

  “She is right, Kara-Meir,” Despaard grunted from his position at the oar. “If he had somehow returned with us now, or had he remained in Misthalin, eventually he would have succumbed to his passions. And had he done that—and had you lived to see it—then it would have been far harder for you to bear.”

  But he would not have done so. Not if he had spoken to me earlier and I had told him how I felt...

  She faced forward and gritted her teeth angrily.

  But did I love him?

  The conversation ended and silence fell. The world passed by in a dreamlike state.

  “There is one thing I would like to know, Gideon,” Arisha said behind her. “What happened to you two? We thought the werewolves had taken you.”

  Kara shook herself from her thoughts and listened as the jester answered.

  “It was Albertus,” Gleeman said. “He tricked me. When the fires started up he asked me to go upstairs to his room for some medicine, and when I was gone he ran out of the inn and attempted to exchange his life for Pia and Jack. He took with him two of his explosives, which he tried to use when the werewolves turned on him. I found him injured and beaten.

  “After I was taken, I was told that his actions violated the terms of the embassy and that our lives were forfeited then.” The jester sighed. “We were taken by Roavar and kept by him until Malak and his Vyrewatch came for us. Then we slept, and awoke alongside the others.”

  “You... you saved me, Gleeman,” Albertus moaned faintly. “You saved me... you killed that wolf...”

  “Hush, old friend,” the jester said softly. “I did nothing.”

  “No... no, you used magic Gleeman... it was magic...”

  Kara turned to see the jester shaking his head affectionately, holding the old man’s hand. Gideon looked up and shared a tight smile with her.

  “Sleep, Albertus,” Arisha advised him. “Save your strength.”

  The old man nodded and lowered his head to the pillow. At once his eyes closed and he started to snore gently.

  “He is confused, I am afraid,” Gideon whispered. “Perhaps he recalls your magic Castimir and attributes it to me?”

  But the wizard said nothing, and no one spoke for some time after that. The swamp was a haunted place in the night, and Kara felt its animosity grow as they progressed, stroke by stroke, hour after hour.

  The sooner we are out of here the better.

  33

  Pia returned to the groove atop the circle where she and Vanstrom had watched the dawn rise, yet it was too cold, even with her blanket, for her to find sleep. That, and she missed him too much.

  I want to be the first thing he sees when he returns. I will look to the east, across the waters, and watch for him. And when he comes I will run to him and hold him and never let him go again.

  Now, the east was pink again. The sun was rising. It was too young to warm her still-aching limbs, but she imagined Vanstrom was below her again, her head resting on his chest. Her hand brushed against the bottom of the groove, and came away with a fistful of earth.

  She watched for an hour longer, glad of the sunlight on her face and arms. Below her, she could hear the people of Hope Rock busy at work. She knew they were preparing to leave.

  Tomorrow morning at dawn. That is when we go, regardless of whether Vanstrom and Arisha have returned. But if they haven’t come back, then I will remain.

  Master Peregrim was fussing as the gnome supervised the metal device he called the burner being put into place. Vanstrom had explained to her that he had retrieved it from his first balloon—the one that had carried him across the river—and how it would provide the heat needed to lift them into the sky.

  It’s insane. Man was not meant to fly. If Zamorak had meant
it to be so, he would have given us wings.

  She became aware of several angry glares cast toward her. Everyone on the plateau was busy. Even the blind old creature they called the spirit woman was pulling on a rope, with Jack behind her, obeying the instructions of a young man, whilst the few children of the settlement ran about with handfuls of cordage.

  Everyone was helping.

  Everyone but me.

  Embarrassed, she climbed down the scaffolding and stood by Jack, to help heave the heavy burner into place.

  “You brother is gifted, Pia,” the old woman said once they had finished. “We are blessed that you came to us.” But before she could explain further, a cry went up from the lookout above the windlass on the northern side of the circle. It was the pregnant woman who cried out.

  “I see a boat,” she called over. And then, a moment later she added, “It’s them! It’s them! And they have brought others!”

  The work was forgotten as everyone crowded to the top of the circle to watch the boat draw near. When the rowers finally heaved into the small lagoon, Vanstrom waved and shouted.

  Pia saw Kara-Meir, too, but it didn’t look as if she was pleased about their rescue. Her companions all wore the same expression.

  Yet they are alive, she said, peering from one to the other. All of them, I think. It was only when they drew closer that she counted, and realised that one of their number was missing. It is the tall one—the frightening one.

  Still, Pia couldn’t restrain her excitement at seeing Vanstrom again. As soon as the group was lifted to the plateau she ran to his arms, uncaring of what others might think.

  “I knew you would come back...” she said breathlessly. “I knew it... I knew it.”

  The bearded man embraced her for barely a second before pushing her gently aside. Yet she saw his smile and the shine in his dark eyes, and she was certain they were meant for her alone.

  “How long until we can make our flight, Peregrim?” Karnac called from behind.

  “We will be ready at dawn tomorrow,” the gnome answered, “but we have a great deal of work to do before then. The envelopes have yet to be filled and—”