RuneScape: Return to Canifis (39 page)

“But you will, Gar’rth. You will—and soon.”

He awoke with a cry, drenched in sweat, his heart bruising his ribs. As he yelled one of his guards stood, his hand on the wolfbane dagger at his belt.

“No. No...” Gar’rth gasped. “It was a dream. Just a dream...”

But it was so real.

He could even smell the blood that had stained his hands. Gradually the sensation passed.

Then a cry from outside in the passageway roused the remaining escort. Fists pounded on doors as people ran back and forth shouting. Drezel burst into the room.

“We have an answer! Morytania has answered us,” the monk said over the din. All of the escorts leapt up, and the group followed him to the eastern balcony—the one that overlooked the bridge where Kara had stood only a few hours before.

It was dawn. The sun rose from the east above the blurred landscape that lay beyond the river. It was a blood-red circle that coloured the dawn pink, and although Gar’rth had slept for several hours he felt fatigued and fearful.

That dream. What I did to Kara... and the voice.

He saw the worn faces of his friends, who seemed similarly sapped, and wondered what this meant for their mission. Then he heard Martin’s voice, and turned to listen.

“A mist came up in the night, covering the eastern bank entirely,” he said. “When it broke a few moments ago, as the sun rose, it was as you see it now.”

A skeleton lay impaled upon the bank, at the exact spot where Kara had stood. The stake was large, waist-height, and made of a pale wood.

“It is the ravenous that attacked Kara,” Drezel observed. “It wears the same clothing.”

“But where is the message?” Theodore asked groggily, rubbing his eyes to see more clearly.

Martin gave a nervous cough.

“When I first saw it I ran half-way across the bridge to see. There is a note clutched in the hand of the skeleton, though I could not bring myself to retrieve it. Surely it means that our attempt has been answered, one way or another. Doesn’t it?”

“We need to know for certain,” Gar’rth said. “I shall get it.”

“Then I shall call the blood mark upon you,” Drezel said firmly. “We cannot take unnecessary risks. Reldo, we must act quickly.”

I don’t know if it will have any effect, but it’s best to be cautious
, he thought.

Nobody tried to argue, and as they left the balcony Gar’rth was aware that Kara was staring at him in an odd fashion.

Is the guilt of my dream so obvious?

As the swift ceremony was performed, it seemed to him that it was not solely Kara who looked at him askance, but the rest of his friends, as well. But before there could be any questions, he was ready, and he made his way rapidly to the bridge. He advanced to
the very end, his right hand held up.

I am being watched now
, he knew.
Their scent is plain upon the breeze. Werewolves.

“I have the blood mark,” he shouted in the language of his people. “I demand safe passage. I seek an answer to the request of King Roald of Misthalin, who seeks a diplomatic—”

“You have that assurance, Gar’rth,” a voice said in the darkness. “And your answer has been given. It lies in the hand of one who broke its terms. Take it, if you dare set foot in your homeland.”

“You have given me the assurance I need,” Gar’rth said as he stepped out, crouching, ready to leap back to the bridge. He bent quickly and withdrew the note from its skeletal grasp. Somewhere in the darkness, concealed in the foliage, came malicious laughter.

“Don’t be too long in your consideration, boy. Our master won’t wait.”

And then Gar’rth ran—back across the bridge, to Paterdomus—to where his friends waited.

If they are still my friends.

Lord Despaard took the note as Gar’rth re-entered the temple. The nobleman read it quickly before staring up at the expectant gathering. Reldo stroked his beard, Theodore gripped the pommel of his sword. Castimir toyed idly with his runes.

“Well?” Doric huffed.

“They have agreed to meet us,” Despaard said. “We are to cross as soon as we are able, within the next few hours.” The nobleman looked warily to Gar’rth. “And it is signed by Malak himself. Come, we must prepare.”

Many of the escort vanished as the embassy—all save Kara—stood before the altar and Reldo administered the blood mark on each of them. As they stood together, Gar’rth knew he had to take the opportunity.

“Kara, I am frightened,” he said.

“So am I,” she replied.

“Not of Morytania, Kara,” he continued. “Of myself. I had a nightmare last night...”

“I had one also. So did Theodore, Arisha, Castimir and Doric. We spoke of it very briefly while you were across the bridge. It was the same for all of us. You killed us all, Gar’rth, and then you...” Kara turned her grim face away from him.

It’s as if she is ashamed of me.

“I had it too, Kara,” he said. “I woke up screaming. Ask my guards, if you doubt me.”

“I don’t doubt you, Gar’rth,” she said angrily. “I’ve never doubted you,” she continued, more softly. “And don’t you ever start to think like that. It was a dream—that is all.”

“But a dream we all shared?” he replied. “There is more to it than that. What did Castimir say?”

Kara shook her head.

“If it was magic, he has never experienced anything like it, nor heard of such a thing save in legends and fairy tales.”

“But I have heard of such magic before,” he said. “In Canifis, where we are the vampires’ playthings. Sometimes they would send the entire town the same dream. It led to anger and suspicion, and even bloodshed, all to the advantage—or for the amusement— of the masters.”

“It makes your people easier to control, Gar’rth,” Kara said. “If you can’t trust your neighbour, then you are unlikely to rise up in rebellion alongside of him.”

“But what if it’s more than that?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “What if it’s a warning, a portent to tell me that I cannot escape what I am? I have tried hard, Kara—you know it. But maybe it is something I cannot accomplish. Maybe I am meant to embrace him.”

Please tell me you think I am wrong, Kara. I need to hear those words.

But Kara just gazed at him sympathetically and said nothing. The awkward silence was ended as the embassy gathered their equipment together and checked their packs. Their horses were brought from the stables, led across the nave, and all was ready.

Nine of us. Myself, Kara, Theodore, Castimir, Doric, Arisha and Albertus Black, along with Despaard and Gleeman. Varrock is hardly risking much in this embassy. But will any of us return?

As they moved to leave, there was only time to offer a handshake to those that remained behind, and most were done in grim silence, for it was not the time for idle pleasantries. Gar’rth passed them all. Lord Ruthven, Reldo, Drezel, a collection of monks led by Martin, all gave him a cursory farewell, until he reached Lord William.

“Go with my blessing, Gar’rth,” William whispered, leaning forward to embrace him. “You and I are not so different, you know, born with a nature that sets us apart from others, and that forces us to act sometimes against our will. I know you are not an evil man, so I wish you good fortune. If you cross the river again, then you can count on my friendship.”

And then he stepped back to greet Castimir, leaving Gar’rth with no time to reply to the unexpected sentiment. Still his mood was sour, for Lord William’s kind words were the only warm ones in an otherwise cool farewell.

They have what they want. I am gone, no longer King Roald’s problem. And he has been cunning, ensuring that Kara came with me. He knows I will not desert her. He has used her life to guarantee my obedience.

Theodore took the reins of his mare and led it toward the bridge, followed by Castimir leading his yak and horse, the rest falling into
line behind them in order to negotiate the narrow crossing.

“Are we certain this is safe?” Gideon Gleeman said as he led his horse to the opposite side.

“As much as it can be,” Despaard replied. “Malak has given his word.” Nevertheless, his hand was clenched around the hilt of his wolfbane dagger.

Gar’rth sniffed the air.

“We are being watched now. I can smell them.”

“Is it a vampire?” Albertus Black asked with excitement.

“No. Vampires give off no scent. It is one of the reasons why my people fear them so much. No. It is my kin. Several of them.” He saw the unease ripple through the group and several hands fell to their daggers.

He looked back to Paterdomus. Upon the balcony he saw those that had travelled with them, Lord William and Lord Ruthven, Reldo and Drezel. Of their escort, all but Drezel would be travelling back to Varrock within the hour.

“Well,” Doric remarked bitterly after a moment’s silence. “Is this how Morytania treats its guests?”

“No.” A gravelly voice said from beyond the darkness. The foliage crashed as something moved toward them. A cowled man, tall and lean, stepped onto the road. “Usually we eat them.”

Castimir clutched his runes as he stepped back in preparation to conjure a ball of fire. They began to heat in his grasp.

Even as he raised his arm, the bush broke as several more figures surrounded the embassy from every direction save the way they had come.

“Wait,” he heard Gar’rth shout. “We are protected.”

Ambush and trickery! We were fools to have trusted this.

Arisha leapt to his side and grabbed his arm.

“No, Castimir. Not yet.”

The first cowled man stepped forward.

“So you are. So you are,” he said. “And we will not harm you, unless you break the conditions of our parley. That means you must cease your spells, wizard.” Castimir fidgeted as their eyes locked. “Any attack on us, either by magic or steel, unless provoked, will end your immunity. I need not tell you what that means for you if you are within our realm.”

Castimir relaxed his concentration and the runes in his hand cooled. Slightly behind him stood Gideon Gleeman, both feet back on the bridge.

“I have the King’s Seal,” he stammered. “It demonstrates that we are agents of the King himself, and that our will must be respected.”

The cowled man laughed, a deep and inhuman growl.

“Your will? Oh, that’s good, that is. That’s very funny. Very funny indeed.” He walked toward the jester, who scurried backward. “I wonder if Master Malak will laugh so much?”

“But I wonder if you dare tell him, Imre,” Gar’rth said as he stepped toward the man. Castimir saw that they were of equal height. Gar’rth had always been the tallest of their group, a head taller than either him or Theodore. Now the two stood so close as to be butting heads.

“So Gar’rth chooses to return to us,” Imre said scornfully. “And of his own free will.”

I would hardly call it that
, Castimir mused.

Imre lowered his cowl to reveal a human guise. His head was shaven, whilst a small beard ended his narrow face in a point. But it was his eyes to which Castimir was drawn. Greedy and hungry, and very, very dark.

“You are a coward and a traitor, forfeiting our ways,” he said to Gar’rth coldly. “I am surprised that Jerrod was not able to bring you back sooner.”

“Jerrod,” Doric spat contemptuously. “He was lucky to escape with his life! He fled from us, leaving two fingers and his ear behind. And in battle he was beaten by a knight of Falador. You’re lucky we abide by the rules of the embassy, else I’d be stitching a new fur coat, wolf.”

“Calm yourself, Doric,” Despaard commanded. “This is not the way for an emissary of King Roald to speak.”

Imre moved closer and towered over the dwarf.

“Listen to your master, dwarf,” he growled. “We will honour
the blood mark, for we have our instructions. However, I have never eaten one of your race before. Should your embassy fail, and your lives become unnecessary, I shall take great pleasure in consuming you. And I shall do so slowly. A leg first, then an arm...”

As he spoke, his voice became distant, as if he was savouring an imaginary meal. He glanced around, his eyes rested on Kara and Arisha. He crouched, and Castimir stepped between them.

“Unless we are provoked,” the wizard warned. “Your own words, Imre. Your flesh will burn as easily as Jerrod’s, and his burned quite nicely.”

“So Jerrod is dead?” Imre asked.

“He lives,” Theodore replied. “But he is an outlaw now, wanted in Asgarnia and Misthalin. He murdered women and children when they were alone and unprotected.”

Imre laughed.

“That sounds like Jerrod. So the legends are true. Such prey is common in the lands across the river. Perhaps Jerrod will never return.”

“Jerrod will be destroyed,” Theodore said angrily. “His crimes are unpardonable.”

“Are you the knight who defeated him?” Imre asked, looking at Theodore’s white-polished armour with a pained expression.

“It was a better man than I,” Theodore said.

“I thought so,” Imre sneered, and then he turned his back on the knight. “But come, we are expected in Canifis.”

“How long will the journey take?” Albertus asked, clambering into his saddle.

“That depends on how fast you ride and how quickly you tire, old man. Without a stop we can do it in a day.”