Betrayal at Falador (runescape)

by T. S. Church

  He jumped when a guttural voice came out of nowhere.

  “Understand, young peon” the voice said calmly, “that I mean you no harm. But understand this also: if you do not cooperate, then I will hurt you.”

  The voice drew closer. Bryant could feel the hot breath on his face, and suddenly he was glad of the blindfold. A rough hand removed the gag.

  Bryant gasped for air before speaking.

  “What do you want?”

  “Nothing more than information,” the voice replied calmly. “I have been sent to your land to retrieve something that is precious to my master. For some months it has evaded me, always running. Then very recently I chanced upon your Squire Theodore. He knows the whereabouts of the thing I am seeking, but he is unaware of its nature.

  “It is a dangerous thing, young peon. It has killed several times and unless I can catch it, then it will continue to do so.”

  “The monster? Is that what you are hunting?” Bryant whispered in awe.

  “You call it a monster, but I have another name for it. Regardless of that, the truth is that we are after the same thing-we both want it gone from this land. Will you help me?”

  “Why then the subterfuge?” Bryant asked, at once curious and fearful. “Why not simply ask me?”

  A low laugh emanated from deep within his captor’s throat.

  “I doubt the servants of Saradomin would be so quick to aid one who looked like this!” In an instant his blindfold was torn off, and red eyes glowed savagely as the wolfish maw with its long teeth and longer red tongue breathed a rancid odour into the peon’s face. Only in his darkest nightmares had he ever encountered such a creature before-a werewolf!

  Bryant cringed back in abject fear.

  “Your kind are only legend!” he whimpered. A strong hand gripped his face, so hard that Bryant thought his skull would crack.

  “We are very real, boy! But we do not come into your lands often and you should be thankful for that. I have been tasked with bringing back a traitor. Theodore knows where he is. If you help me, I will spare your life and his.

  “But if you do not, you will suffer as none of your order has ever suffered.”

  “What guarantees do I have?” the boy asked, regaining a portion of his composure.

  The werewolf looked at him with something new in its expression-something akin to respect.

  “You are brave, peon,” he admitted. “But I do not seek your death, not unless you give me no choice. If I were to kill you I would be hounded by your knights, making my search all the more difficult. Logic is your guarantee.

  “All I wish to do is to call Theodore in your name, boy. I will write him a letter, telling him of an injury you have sustained, and you will make certain of its accuracy. Then, when he comes, I shall release you.”

  “I shall help you then,” Bryant agreed. “If you promise me you will act as you have said.” He bowed his head low in a defeatist gesture.

  The werewolf smiled.

  “You have my promise, boy. Now, the letter…”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Kara was looking out of the window.

  Theodore stood near the entrance to the ward. Both of them had been silent for a time, and when he spoke, she jumped slightly.

  “You should come away from there, Kara,” he said. “I would like to see you practise with your sword.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “Why are you armed, Theodore? You have never been armed before, on your visits to me.”

  “It is the rumour of the monster, Kara. Doric left a message at the guard house, saying that it might be inside the city. I just wish to be ready in case we are called.” He was getting better at lying, he thought grimly. He was armed simply to protect Kara in case the traitor decided upon a desperate attack.

  A loud thump at the door drew their attention. Theodore’s hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon, as if he expected to fight. But it was the same guard with whom Doric had argued that morning, and he saluted before handing the squire a rain-soaked envelope.

  “It’s just been delivered, Squire Theodore. By one of Emily’s boys from The Rising Sun” The owner of the inn kept several street urchins on her payroll to run chores for her around the city, and they acted as Falador’s couriers, at least for those willing to pay to have their messages delivered.

  Theodore took the message and read quickly. A look of alarm spread across his face.

  “It’s from a citizen writing on Bryant’s behalf! He’s been hit by a runaway horse on a street corner near the apothecary.” He continued to read. “Bryant has asked that I come to aid him.” He hesitated-what was he to do? Go to Bryant and abandon Kara, or remain at her side?

  She noticed his sudden anxiety.

  “Well, Theodore?” she prompted. “What are you waiting for? Bryant is your peon, and he is under your care. You must go to him.”

  Sir Amik’s words came back to him. He knew guarding Kara was the most important of his duties, yet abandoning Bryant would be against every rule of the order, and an insult to everything he had pledged his life to. After what seemed like long, agonizing moments, he came to a decision.

  “Keep your sword close, Kara” he said firmly. “And do not leave the ward on any account!”

  “I remember my orders, Theodore,” she said, an irritated note in her voice. “I am to remain here until Sir Amik is satisfied about my health.” Her brown eyes lapsed into deep thought. “But if Bryant has been hurt, then perhaps I should accompany you.”

  “No, Kara. You will stay here-and you will not leave the ward” Theodore insisted. “I shall not be long, Saradomin willing.”

  As he closed the door behind him, Theodore could not help but feel that fate was following closely on his heels.

  Despite the promises made by his captor, Bryant was in pain.

  His tormentor had sunk his claws into his left arm, and several times he had passed out. It was during one of his fainting sessions that his captor had hastened out to The Rising Sun, passing along the message he had written in the guise of a concerned citizen.

  Upon his return he had splashed Bryant with cold water, waking the peon in order to find out more about Theodore.

  “So I shall become a werewolf?” Bryant asked him after a silence. His voice was taut.

  The creature looked confused.

  “Do you not pass on your curse to those you injure?” the peon elaborated.

  “Of course! I had forgotten about the fairy tales that you humans whisper to one another before bedtime. You believe that if I bite you, then you will change at the next full moon.” He laughed mockingly. “It isn’t true. A normal human being cannot be infected in such a manner. Maybe a half-breed, but I doubt if your ancestors deigned to marry into any of my race-not after Saradomin’s armies drove us back and cursed the River Salve to prevent us from leaving Morytania.”

  “Then how did you get out?” Bryant asked, growing bolder. “How did you cross over the holy river?” His voice was weak from blood loss.

  “Holy places can be defiled by sacrifices and powerful magic. But it was still very difficult for me to do it, and the dark lord of my realm had to have a hand in it himself. It has put me in debt to him, and that has put me in danger should I fail.”

  Bryant fell silent, and the look on his face bespoke the pain he was enduring. Finally he gasped for air as he blacked out once more.

  The werewolf was grateful for the silence, but he checked Bryant’s breathing to ensure that he was still alive. He wasn’t going to kill him just yet-for if Theodore proved to be as stubborn as his pupil, then threats would make little headway.

  He would simply torture Bryant instead, until the squire complied with his requests.

  Scant moments after Theodore rode across the moat, Doric rounded the corner.

  “Not you again,” the guard said, noting the dwarf’s breathlessness. “What do you want this time?” He moved to stand on the centre of the bridge, his arms crossed tightly as
if to dissuade the dwarf from any more nonsense.

  Doric was angry. He was wet from the rain, he had been on his feet all day, and he was certain the monster was in the city and that the old woman knew where. A feeling in his gut had made him afraid of her house, as if he could somehow sense the monster’s presence there. It was a feeling he would never forget.

  He needed Theodore, and nothing would deter him now.

  “I only want to speak to Squire Theodore” he replied.

  “Squire Theodore is not here” the man responded. “He has gone out in response to a letter that came from a citizen in the southern quarter.”

  Doric’s attitude changed at once. His face paled, and his voice shook.

  “Not Dagger Alley, not the Dens?” he said.

  The guard nodded. “It is in the Dens but I do not know the address,” he replied. “Why should he not go there? Every citizen is entitled to the protection of the knights, no matter what their situation of birth or wealth. Saradomin is not an exclusive deity.”

  “But he is in danger!” Doric insisted. “I trailed the monster there today.”

  “Why would the monster want Theodore?” The guard’s patience appeared to be at an end.

  “It followed us on our journey south! If it does not want me, then surely the only alternative is Theodore? Quickly, man, you must send help!”

  “I will not be ordered about like a common guard. I am a knight of Saradomin!”

  “Then Saradomin take you!” the dwarf roared, and before the guard could answer Doric turned and ran, heading south.

  For a moment the guard stood on the bridge, his mind racing as he wondered what to do.

  Dagger Alley, was that what the note had said?

  A deep echo of thunder rolled across the rooftops, prompting his decision. He turned and ran from the bridge, heading for the ward to retrieve the note he had delivered to Theodore, just a short time before.

  As the storm rumbled overhead, the kitchens of the knights were busy. The visitors from the almshouse expected the best from those for whom they had spent their lives fighting, and the cooks were eager not to let them down.

  Elise moved with purpose. She was keen to get out of the hot kitchens and return to the ward with Kara’s meal.

  “It is not ready yet, Elise,” the cook told her. “I have prepared Lady Kara’s drink. I have even mixed some chocolate into it for a treat. From the gossip going around the castle, I think she deserves it.”

  The woman sighed and looked at the retired knights. Eager to look in on the places where they had spent their youth, they had even invaded the domain of the kitchen. Two of them-Sir Erical and Sir Balladish-were standing close by, and as she waited she listened to their conversation.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” the one-armed knight said with fond nostalgia.

  “And for me, Sir Erical,” his companion agreed. “I was taught to cook on this stove as a peon.”

  “And can you remember what you learned, Sir Balladish?” a voice called from the stairwell. Sir Finistere ducked his head under the lintel and entered the room with a broad smile, his eyes looking eagerly over the food that was on display. He noted the chocolate drink and darted toward it with a suddenly greedy look, scooping it up.

  Sir Balladish laughed.

  “Hand’s off, Finistere. That is Kara’s drink.”

  Upon hearing who it was for, the old knight handed it to Sir Balladish, who placed it on the tray close to Elise.

  “I am surprised that Master Troughton isn’t here” Finistere said. “I have not seen him for some time.” Although he was not an actual knight, Master Troughton had served the order for many decades as a capable master-at-arms before handing the responsibility over to Nicholas Sharpe. He was not as friendly with the retired knights as they were amongst themselves, for he had not gone through their extensive training and had missed many of their shared experiences.

  “He will be here shortly, for he has a good appetite,” Sir Erical replied, laughing.

  The group of old friends remained in the kitchen for several minutes, each poking their deft fingers toward whatever food came within their reach as they relived their youth.

  Finally, Elise was called to take Kara’s meal to the ward. Her eyes hovered enviously over the hot chocolate. It seemed as if everyone in the castle was eager to please Kara, and she thought how beautiful the young girl was, how strong and capable she had proved in her battle with Marius. Not like Elise at all, who slept on duty and felt awkward shuffling around in her frumpy robes.

  Suddenly, in spite of herself, she was jealous.

  A few minutes later, Elise opened the door to the ward quietly, eager to avoid Kara’s attention.

  But the room was empty.

  “Kara? Where are you?” Panic gripped her stomach. She knew that Sir Amik had left the matron specific instructions that the girl should be kept in the ward. “Kara? This is not funny” she said, her voice high with alarm.

  She put the tray down and explored the ward carefully. Stepping around Kara’s bed, she saw a motionless guard on the floor. Her training took over as she knelt by the young man’s side. She saw instantly that he was breathing steadily, though there was a dark bruise on his temple.

  He moaned, his eyes fluttering open.

  “The girl” he whispered. “She’s gone after Theodore. She thinks he’s in danger, that he’s being led into a trap by the letter. She knocked me down to go to his rescue.”

  “What letter?” Elise asked.

  “I asked her for it when I came up-said the dwarf thought it was meant to lure Theodore in. But she took it and she’s gone… to a house in Dagger Alley!”

  The young man tried to stand, but as he did he fell back into unconsciousness, his head dropping to the tiles.

  Elise knew it was up to her. She would raise the alarm. She would tell the knights that their beautiful and headstrong visitor was pursuing Theodore to Dagger Alley. She would be the hero!

  Calm yourself, Elise, she told herself. Saradomin is the god of peace. I must be calm.

  She walked to the door, noting the hot chocolate on the tray. She hadn’t had such a luxury since she was a child and the delicious taste came back to her in an instant.

  She took a deep gulp of the hot drink, to fortify myself, she thought, and knowing that Kara was running from the castle she decided that she wouldn’t need the rest of it.

  On the third draught she knew something was wrong. A stinging pain erupted in her stomach and she dropped to the floor in agony, unable to cry out for help. Her tongue began swelling up, choking her, and she knew that there was only one way she could become so ill so quickly.

  “Poison!” she gasped. “Someone’s tried to poison Kara.”

  She made it as far as the door before she gave in to the darkness.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Kara ran across the battlements in the gloom. Two more guards had tried to stop her and she had left them both unconscious. She knew Theodore was riding into danger-she had grown up amongst the dwarfs and she knew their ways better than any guard who might write off their warnings as drunken ramblings.

  But first she had to get out of the castle. The gatehouse near the moat would be too well-guarded, so she chose the only other way she could think of in such a short space of time.

  She stood atop the battlements and looked down into the darkness below. Light glinted off the dark water. She whispered a prayer to Saradomin.

  Someone shouted something in the courtyard. A sentry had found one of the unconscious guards. Cries of alarm erupted from the men at their posts as they drew their weapons.

  Kara leapt.

  She fell with astonishing speed and hit the ice-cold water. The shock forced her to fight her way to the steep bank. Voices shouted from the bridge. Her landing had drawn the guards’ attention and she could see in the dim light a small body of armed men rushing out to investigate.

  Kara was too far away for them to see, howe
ver. She climbed the bank, slipping twice on the muddy sides. She knew she had to get clear of the castle, aware that the knights had every advantage since the streets were unfamiliar to her.

  A heavy carriage rolled by as she stepped onto the road. The driver gave the wet girl covered in mud a long stare of disapproval. As he passed, Kara jumped aboard the carriage, clinging close to its side as it carried her past the guards running in the other direction.

  Within minutes the castle was in uproar. Sir Erical woke one of the unconscious guards by pouring a bucket of cold water over him. After a moment of sputtering he glanced around in alarm.

  “It’s Kara! She’s the one who attacked me!”

  “She must be found at once.” The master-at-arms bellowed his orders as he hastened to inform Sir Amik. “Wake every knight, squire, and peon available. Send men out to watch the city’s gates!”

  Soldiers rushed across the bridge, seeking to reach the city’s gates and to prevent Kara from leaving Falador. At the same time, a dozen guards rushed out to search the immediate vicinity.

  “Kara does not know the city” Sir Amik said, looking intently at Nicholas Sharpe and Sir Tiffy. “That is our advantage.”

  “But we don’t know where Squire Theodore has gone” Sir Tiffy observed. “One of our guards is missing, and two have been assaulted. Peons and squires have all poured into the city in a disordered mass. If we find her it will be by the will of Saradomin only.” The old knight shook his head in dismay.

  Hearing that Kara had fled, the traitor knew he had to take the opportunity. He gathered a weather-beaten cloak and headed across the bridge into the city, turning toward the Dens and Dagger Alley, to end the threat of Bryant once and for all.

  As he turned a corner his unease grew, however. Something was wrong.

  Was that someone following me?

  He hesitated.

  I cannot afford to be weak. I have lived so long and so dangerously. The boy and Kara have to die. Both of them.

  As quick as he could manage, the traitor ran on, his mind set.

  Theodore made no effort to conceal his presence, for he had no reason to be suspicious. He tied his white mare to the rusted strut in the wall, noting how everything in Dagger Alley seemed to reflect its reputation as a place of squalid destitution. Even the air seemed stale.