Runescape

by T. S. Church

  And he knew of the danger. He knew the power fresh blood instilled in his kind, even if it did not belong to an innocent. He knew that Gar’rth might now have the power to break free from the restraining chain. With a challenging growl he hurled himself at his nephew.

  They spun viciously in a swift battle. Gar’rth attacked with a mindless fury, yet Jerrod was a far more experienced fighter and his movements were unhindered by the rage that consumed his nephew.

  But Gar’rth was strong. He ignored the blows that Jerrod heaped upon him. With a frenzied cry he seized his uncle by the legs, lifted him into the air, and hurled him into the Kinshra warriors who stood with their weapons drawn, afraid to enter the fray.

  Jerrod rose from the damp earth, his muscles already aching from the fight. Subduing Gar’rth was going to be more difficult than he had thought.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Doric hated hiding. He preferred to face his foes in open battle rather than jumping from one shadow to the next. But the three of them were no match for the Kinshra and their werewolf ally.

  The squire had decided that the dwarf should remove the Kinshra horses to buy them time enough to escape, once they accomplished their goal.

  If they accomplished their goal.

  The horses were tied near the entrance to the monastery, in the care of a single tired guard. Doric knew he didn’t have long until Theodore and Castimir launched their attack, but if the Kinshra still had their mounts then escape would be impossible.

  He held Theodore’s long knife in his right hand. He had left his heavy battle-axe with his friends, knowing it would be unsuitable for the task. He crawled forward, his movements concealed by the charred remains of the once-peaceful dwelling.

  Suddenly, from close by, a wooden beam fell into the rubble, kicking dust into his face. Doric held his breath, his hand tightening on the hilt of the knife, aware that the guard must have heard. Finally he peered out from between the fallen beams.

  If the guard had looked, he hadn’t seen Doric. No doubt he was tired of jumping at every sound the wrecked building made. Ignoring the sound, he had stepped away from his post, eager to see the outcome of the fray.

  Swiftly Doric jumped out of the ruins and ducked behind a horse. Still the guard’s back was turned.

  He took his opportunity.

  The two combatants smashed into the wall close to Kara and Jerrod broke away again. Twice Gar’rth had cut him, and both times it had been near his eyes. It was a sign that he was mastering his anger, for he was thinking tactically.

  “Gar’rth!” Kara hissed into his ear, uncertain whether he would understand her. She saw his eyes narrow. “Cut the ropes on my wrist.”

  Gar’rth lowered his hand, feeling his way toward her arm but never removing his eyes from his uncle. The Kinshra jeered, unaware of what he was doing.

  “I shall enjoy hunting her down, Gar’rth,” Jerrod growled, perceiving his nephew’s subterfuge. “I can smell her fear!”

  Gar’rth said nothing as he cut through Kara’s bonds. With a satisfying snap the first rope gave way and Kara’s right hand was free. Then he moved away—it would be up to her to try and free herself now. As he renewed the attack on his uncle, she turned her attention to the knots that still held her.

  Without warning, a bright ball of fire flew from the shattered entrance, and Castimir rode straight toward Kara at full gallop. A Kinshra warrior screamed as the fireball exploded on impact with his breastplate, sending flames to torment his nearest companions, who immediately fled to avoid the wizard’s deadly magic.

  As the men broke, Castimir threw a knife toward Kara, which she caught with her free hand. A second later and the wizard returned his attention to the Kinshra.

  Like all of his men, Sulla had been drawn to the fight and his guard had slipped. But it only took a heartbeat for him to recover from his surprise.

  “Get the horses!” he roared, knowing that on horseback their opponents had a great advantage.

  Kara watched as Theodore rode down a single red-robed chaos dwarf before reaching the artillery and the wooden crates that contained the explosive shells. Without dismounting, he bent down to reach inside.

  At the same time Gar’rth threw himself at his uncle, keeping him from Castimir, letting the wizard drive the Kinshra back, whilst Kara, both hands now cut free, knelt to sever the ropes that bound her ankles.

  As with their demonic ally, magic was something the Kinshra warriors feared. Castimir wisely kept his distance, and every time one of them rushed him, the wizard deftly directed his horse a few steps out of range before hurling a ball of fire at his attacker. Several of the Kinshra had fallen at his hand by the time Theodore reached his side.

  “Are you ready, Theodore?” Castimir asked with feverish excitement.

  “I am!” The squire held something out, and Kara saw that it was one of the explosives he had removed from the crate.

  Castimir leaned across with his fire staff. As soon as the wood touched the fuse it hissed into life. Theodore rode toward the nearest group of Kinshra warriors, brandishing the explosive. As soon as they caught sight of him they ran. Two of them fled into Sulla’s commandeered quarters, and Theodore knew by their concerned cries that there were at least a dozen others inside.

  Kara watched as he rolled the shell through the open door. Then he swiftly turned his horse back toward Castimir. He didn’t even bother to look as the explosion blew the door outward and silenced the men inside.

  “Where’s Sulla?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” the wizard shouted. “Pass me another one of the shells.” As he took it from Theodore, he reached into his pocket and drew his hand out with a set of prepared runes.

  “Gar’rth!” the wizard shouted. “Get Kara. Get her out of here.”

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Jerrod slammed his fist into his nephew’s face. Then he turned.

  “Wizard! This time I shall make certain of you,” he said, stepping toward Castimir’s horse and hunching low to leap at him.

  But Castimir showed no fear. With a swift action he hurled a ball of fire toward his enemy, forcing the werewolf to jump to one side to avoid it.

  The flames sailed harmlessly past him. Jerrod laughed.

  “How much strength have you left, wizard? How many times can you afford to miss?”

  But Kara saw that Castimir was smiling, for he had not missed his target. Behind Jerrod, the chain restraining Gar’rth had been blasted from the wall and lay idly on the ground. With a knowing growl, Gar’rth turned his attention to cutting the remaining bond on her ankle.

  Castimir didn’t reply to Jerrod’s taunt. Kara watched as he cast his next spell as soon as the werewolf renewed his advance.

  Immediately the werewolf halted, and visibly strained forward. He was unable to move.

  “This... won’t... hold... me...” he muttered, his voice restrained by the snare spell.

  “For no more than ten seconds I should imagine,” Castimir agreed as he lowered his fire staff onto the fuse of the shell he had taken from Theodore. “Kara. Gar’rth” he shouted, “run!”

  He dropped the shell directly at Jerrod’s feet.

  “But this will explode in no more than five.”

  Without looking back, he turned his horse and dug his heels deeply into the animal’s flank, goading it into a fast gallop. He reached the gates of the monastery where Doric was waiting for Kara and Gar’rth with the Kinshra horses. At the same time, Theodore helped the three monks who had managed to slip away from the Kinshra in the confusion, telling them to make for Edgeville.

  Kara looked back and smiled grimly at Jerrod. She needed to be sure that the werewolf would not walk away from this battle.

  For he was too powerful to leave alive.

  But Jerrod was not alone. Sulla had witnessed the deadly trap that the wizard had laid. He knew he had only scant seconds to act, and with a cry of determination he ran the short distance to his ally.

  The fuse h
ad burned out, disappearing into the shell.

  Instinctively he hurled the explosive into the nearest fountain, pushing Jerrod roughly to the ground. He heard the splash as the shell hit the water and then the sound of a great explosion followed, emptying the fountain’s pool and blasting apart the stonework.

  “You saved me,” the werewolf gasped, his voice restored.

  “Why?”

  Sulla shrugged. He didn’t know what force had made him save Jerrod—he rarely lifted a hand to save anyone.

  “Somehow I think you will be of extreme importance to me in the days to come,” he replied. “I will need a warrior of your strength at my side.”

  Jerrod stood first, extending his hand to Sulla and dragging the lord of the Kinshra to his feet in one easy pull.

  “Then I shall join you. Until such time as my revenge upon those adventurers is complete.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  It was midday when Theodore signalled to his companions to slow their pace. They had taken nearly all the Kinshra horses, turning them loose when they were far enough away to make any pursuit worthless for their enemies.

  “We have no food, Theodore” Doric muttered. It was a feeling they all shared, for every one of them was hungry and exhausted.

  “A day’s journey should bring us into more civilised lands where we can beg or buy something to eat,” Theodore said. “It will take us at least three days to get back to Falador if we cut across country to the southwest, and then we can have all the food we can eat.”

  “I cannot last three days, Theo” Castimir lamented. “The magic has exhausted me for now, and I feel faint.” The wizard’s miserable face drew concerned looks. He was paler than usual, and he sat uncertainly on his horse.

  “We could rest for a while,” Kara suggested, and she wheezed, still in severe pain from her beating. “The Kinshra are unlikely to catch us now.”

  Theodore looked at Doric and the dwarf nodded. They could afford to rest.

  “Very well then,” he said reluctantly. “We shall stay here for an hour—but no more. I shall keep a watch along the trail behind us.” The squire directed his horse back to the north, to keep an eye out for any sign of pursuit.

  Both Kara and Castimir fell into a deep sleep as soon as they found themselves a suitable spot amid the warm ferns, while Gar’rth curled himself up with his knees beneath his chin. Doric did not want to examine the youth too carefully, for although he was no longer in his wolfish form, nor was he back to his human self either. His eyes were still dark pools devoid of hope, his jaw distended too far, his skin an inhuman grey.

  The dwarf sat watching his companions with a sudden affection. They were so very young and yet already in their lives they had seen so much violence. It was not right, he thought as he tightened his grip on his axe. It was not right at all.

  His thoughts turned to the artillery that the Kinshra had used. He imagined Falador besieged, the knights powerless against the technological advantage of their enemy. He knew the walls of Falador, built to protect the city in previous decades, would not withstand Sulla’s guns.

  Doric had thought on this for twenty minutes when a high-pitched screech sounded in the forest. His body went cold, for he knew it was a creature in its final moments. Looking north toward Theodore, he was comforted to see him come galloping back down the path.

  “What was that?” the squire asked. “And where is Gar’rth?”

  Doric glanced nervously about him, but Gar’rth had vanished into the forest.

  “He was here a few minutes ago,” Doric said, amazed that anyone could have crept away so silently through the dense undergrowth.

  A loud crackle sounded nearby and the thick vegetation shook, betraying the signs of a large animal moving underneath.

  “Gar’rth?” Theodore asked, his hand tight on the hilt of his drawn sword.

  The undergrowth parted and Gar’rth crawled out from the shadows. In his clawed hands he held three dead rabbits, a gift to assuage the hunger of his friends.

  It was on the third day of their journey that they crossed the grassland that lay to the north of Falador. Theodore knew instinctively that something was wrong. He had travelled along the east road many times, but never before had he seen the country folk so worried. Not even when the monster was at large had they been so dismayed, and it was not long before they found out the reason why.

  They stopped to let their horses rest before making a concerted effort to reach the city. Theodore listened to the conversations of two ragged travellers who looked woefully to the north.

  “It’s the Kinshra,” one said, and Theodore noted immediately the northern accent of the dour forest men. “They are driving everyone south, seizing people as slaves and burning property.”

  “It is not just the Kinshra,” the other said bitterly. “I have heard that large groups of men are heading out of The Wilderness, bandits and murderers. And some of the men are talking of unrest in the goblin tribes—another new leader promising change and glory.”

  “It is an ill wind that blows in the new season,” the first man added. “I will head south and put Falador between my family and the north.”

  “Aye, I shall do the same,” the other remarked, raising his cup in response to Theodore’s inquisitive stare. But he did not look welcoming.

  Within a few hours, the companions passed through the high gates of Falador and over the bridge to the castle. They were unchallenged, for all recognised Theodore and Kara, and Doric’s hard stare dared anyone to try to bar him as before.

  “I am aware of your news, Squire Theodore” Sir Amik said as the companions stood before him and several senior knights. In the corner Bhuler stood quietly, away from the others. “Just last night we received a missive from a priestess of the barbarian people, Arisha, in which she recounted your actions in the monastery. She made it through to Edgeville with the monks and immediately dispatched a messenger to Falador on the fastest horse. You have all acted courageously.”

  A murmur of approval sounded from the knights.

  “Your friend the alchemist is also here.” Sir Amik turned his head to meet Bhuler’s gaze, his face reflecting some brief exasperation. “Somehow he got back with your prisoner intact. I do not know what magic he wields, but I have never seen a Kinshra soldier so humbled.” The knight shook his head in bewilderment. “He has taken a room at The Rising Sun, where you should go to meet him after you’ve made your report.”

  He turned to address the entire group.

  “You should each take the opportunity to be with your friends in the days to come, for soon such happiness will be scarce in the world.”

  The knight knew his ominous words would darken the hearts of the companions, and blunt their happiness at knowing that both Arisha and Ebenezer had made it to safety. Yet he saw no sense in presenting the situation as any less dire than he knew it to be.

  Sir Amik and the knights listened intently to Theodore’s report. When Gar’rth’s true nature was revealed to them, they looked at the youth with a mixture of concern and awe. Before them stood a being from the unholy realm of Morytania, and yet he had been able to enter their sacred fortress.

  They nodded in understanding when the squire told them of Abbot Langley’s belief that Gar’rth would remain pure unless he consumed innocent blood.

  “His control over his true nature will make him an invaluable warrior” Theodore added, placing his hand on Gar’rth’s shoulder. “He possesses strength akin to the greatest of our order. If the Kinshra are coming south, then we can ill afford to turn away such help.”

  “This is true,” Sir Amik agreed, aware now that the Kinshra artillery was unlike anything the knights had faced before. “And that reminds me—I have something for you, Kara.”

  The old man motioned to Bhuler, who held an item wrapped in a blue cloth in his hands. He stepped forward and held it out.

  “Take it, Kara,” the valet said.

  “My sword!” she gasped. With a swift movemen
t that seemed to drive the aching pains from her arm she seized the hilt and raised it above her head, as if it were a symbol of everything she believed.

  “You must take care of that blade, Kara” Sir Amik said. “And I must insist that you remain in Falador now, for if the Kinshra do come south, then there is no need for you to run to meet them. Do I have your word?”

  “I will remain in Falador at your request, Sir Amik, but on two conditions” she said, looking him in the eye. “The first is that I train with the knights, for I am not arrogant enough to believe myself beyond the need for learning. The second condition is that I take a room at The Rising Sun, for the remembrance of your hospitality is still bitter to me.”

  “I will accept those terms if you will allow me to impose one of my own—upon Gar’rth. I believe that he has so far refused his nature, that he has fought against it with a temerity that can only be praised. But I cannot let him loose in the city, amongst a scared and suspicious population made more fearful still by the threat of war.

  “Thus he will remain here in the castle, where we can keep him safe and secure. Do you understand?”

  Kara and her companions shared angry glances, and when she turned to Theodore, the squire avoided her gaze.

  “If my friends agree then it will be so,” she replied. “But I insist on having unrestricted access to him.”

  Sir Amik nodded. He had no wish to imprison Gar’rth, but rather to separate him from the bustling city and customs that would be totally alien to him.

  “I would suggest that you all return to The Rising Sun tonight. You may go too, Theodore, but you shall return here with Gar’rth when your revels are concluded. Some of the castle guard shall wait for you at the tavern to escort you both back.

  “There are many new faces in Falador now—refugees, travellers, and vagabonds. If the Kinshra come south, then no doubt they will have sent their spies before them, and the streets may no longer be safe for anyone of our order to walk alone, squire or otherwise.”