Runescape: Return to Canifis

by T. S. Church

  Yet as he read he suddenly grew cold.

  I read part of it last night, after the excitement with the Wyrd. But I am sure I didn’t leave the marker on this page...

  Or did I?

  Castimir felt the chill grow in his stomach. He had been too tired to remember where he had left it, but a sneaking doubt gnawed his innards.

  Has Aubury seen it? Did he move the bookmark?

  If he did, if he knows I stole these books, then my expulsion will no longer be in any doubt.

  It was a question he couldn’t answer.

  With a silent curse he gathered his belongings and made his way toward the stables to prepare his yak and horse for the journey ahead.

  As Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside, his mind was already building a list of all he had to do in the short time available. He knew his first duty, and that was to see to his candidates.

  He found Philip sitting up in his bed, his head wrapped in a bandage with a dried-brown stain upon his forehead. He was tended to by the knight’s own unofficial squire, Hamel.

  The youth moved to leave, but Theodore put his arm on the young man’s shoulder. “Wait, Hamel—I need to speak to you, as well.” Then he turned back to the wounded man.

  “Sir,” Philip acknowledged.

  “How are your injuries, Philip?” the knight asked. “I am glad to find you awake.”

  “The Black Boar’s bite wasn’t as severe as it felt.” Philip smiled weakly. “How is Lord Hyett?”

  Theodore shook his head.

  “No one has said anything, as yet, but from what I saw of the wound, he is unlikely to live.” The knight breathed out. “I didn’t mean for him to die, in truth, but when I saw what he did to you...”

  “Justice was done, sir,” Hamel muttered.

  “Yes, yes, I think it was. But that is not why I am here.” He looked at Philip, then at Hamel. “I am leaving, and shortly. I will send word to Sir Amik Varze of my intention, for I am to accompany an embassy into Morytania.”

  Neither of his two charges spoke, but both paled noticeably.

  The fear inspired by that realm is a magic in itself.

  “Hamel,” he continued quickly on. “I would ask you to go to Falador for me, to deliver a message to Sir Amik’s own hand. Can you do that?”

  “Me, sir? Go to Falador?” The youth’s excitement had him flustered. “Yes sir, of course. I will leave today.”

  “Good,” Theodore replied. “Now be about your duties while I write my letter to Sir Amik.”

  There was a desk in the room, and he moved to it in silence. Within moments, his quill was scratching the parchment, and it was the only sound. He didn’t have the time to write in code, and in truth, he did not deem it necessary.

  Who will come to take my place? he wondered. Will they perhaps send Marius?

  The thought made Theodore smile. Theirs was a friendship that had been forged as others had died, for many of their own friends had fallen to Sulla’s army, lured into a trap by treachery. He and Marius had been among the few squires to survive the war.

  He had just finished writing when he heard a small group of men gathering outside Philip’s room.

  It was Hamel, he knew. He had assembled the candidates for a final farewell, and now they entered. Theodore handed his aide the letter, and looked at the familiar faces with a feeling of pride. He was even prouder when he noted that none were without bruises from the tourney—all upon the front of their bodies, not on their backs.

  They didn’t run or cower. They took the Boar’s beating head on, and we prevailed.

  He was about to speak, to congratulate them all, to tell them how proud he was, when the door at the end of the passageway opened.

  It was Lady Anne.

  “Excuse me gentlemen,” he said as they perceived her.

  As he left them he was certain he could feel their smiles behind him.

  “So,” Lady Anne said as they found their way up a flight of stairs to the gallery level. Memory of their last time there made Theodore’s heart race quicker. “You are to go to Morytania,” she said, and she nodded to the tapestry depicting the fall of the four princes at the battle of the Salve.

  “How did you know I was going with the embassy?” he asked.

  Lady Anne gave a smile devoid of humour.

  “I am good at finding things out, Theodore,” she said coldly. “And you sought to leave me without saying goodbye?”

  “No, my lady,” he said hesitantly. “It has all happened so fast—”

  “Or is it Kara-Meir?” she said furiously. “Now that she has returned to you, and you have had your fun with me...” Her voice cracked and she turned angrily away.

  “Lady Anne, that is not true.” His hands were on her shoulders and gently he turned her around to face him. “It has nothing to do with Kara. It is my sense of duty that impels me to go, duty to my friends and to Saradomin—”

  “Saradomin,” she spat. “You’re a fool, Theodore. A fool.”

  She broke away from him and once more turned her back.

  So be it, he decided reluctantly.

  “Lady Anne, I wish to part on good terms. I have much to do and my time is short.”

  She didn’t reply.

  Saradomin take you then!

  “Goodbye, my lady,” he said bitterly.

  Theodore turned toward the stairs and cursed under his breath.

  “Wait, Theodore,” she said softly. Her tone caused him to hesitate. “Just promise me one thing.” She ran over to him and looked up into his face. Her tearful blue eyes sparkled like dewy sapphires. “Just promise me you won’t be brave, Theodore.” Suddenly she balled her fist and beat it against his chest. “Don’t you dare to be brave!”

  And then she fled, running from the gallery.

  Theodore breathed deeply.

  I haven’t time for this. I can’t go after her, much as I would like to.

  He forced himself to remain impassive. After a moment, and with another look at the tapestry of the four long-dead princes of Varrock, he left for the armoury.

  Kara remained behind as Castimir and then Theodore left Ebenezer’s bedside to prepare themselves. She had arrived in Varrock with very few belongings, and although she knew she could ready herself for another journey in only a short time, she was painfully aware that she no longer possessed her own precious sword, thanks to Pia. The young girl had also stolen one of the wolfbane daggers.

  “Gar’rth,” she said, after composing her own short letter to Ebenezer, with its promise to look after the werewolf especially. “I must find myself a sword. I will go to the armoury and see Captain Rovin. Will you be all right here?”

  “I’ll be here for a while anyhow,” the dwarf told her. “Gar’rth can wait with me. We’ll meet you in the bailey.”

  The werewolf nodded from his seat at Sally’s side. He had already written a letter of his own, without any help from Sally or Kara, or from Simon who waited silently outside the door.

  Arisha taught him well, she thought as she made her way to the palace armoury. It won’t be long now before he can write as well as any noble’s son.

  “I knew you would come,” Captain Rovin said when she arrived. “Take your pick of these available weapons.” The man pointed to a rack along one wall, where numerous swords were arrayed.

  “What of the wolfbane daggers I took from the barn?” Kara asked. “I think we should each take one with us, only I would not want them to impede Gar’rth.” She noted his look of surprise. “It would limit his value to us in a way that would not be wise.”

  Captain Rovin shook his head with a grunt.

  “I was not aware that you had them,” he said with a combination of irritation and admiration. “You can take them in splitbark sheaths—that should prevent the silver blades interfering with your friend. But they are valuable. The bark is cut from trees in that realm, and they are fashioned by the Wizards’ Tower. I will have a man attend to that shortly.” He stared at her intently. �
�Where are they?”

  “They are in my room, in my satchel next to my bed.”

  At least Pia left me that. Suddenly angry at the thought of the theft, Kara took the nearest sword and gave it a quick swing, gauging its weight and balance.

  “No,” she said.

  She returned it and took another, trying out several different thrusts, followed by a hack and then a sudden block. This one, too, was returned to the rack.

  And so it went. It was only on her twelfth attempt did she find one that satisfied her. Even so, her face must have reflected her uncertainty, for one of Rovin’s men spoke up.

  “Could we not ask Sir Prysin for his blade,” he suggested. “The sword Silverlight?”

  Rovin ran his bandaged hand through his hair.

  “No, not even on a good day,” he said firmly. “And today is a particularly unfortunate day for him. His heir is very likely to die.”

  Nonetheless, the name Silverlight had caught Kara’s attention.

  “What is its history?” she asked the guard, putting the sword down before attaching its sheath to her belt.

  “Silverlight was used—” the young man began.

  “—In legend. Never forget that,” Rovin interrupted.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry.” He turned to Kara and continued. “Legend has it that Silverlight was used by Sir Prysin’s ancestor to save Varrock from a demon. It is a sword famed in song from the dales of Lumbridge to The Wilderness sentries. But the present Sir Prysin is very protective of it.”

  “It has never been out of its cupboard, not in many a year,” Captain Rovin said harshly. “Tell me Kara-Meir, what was your own blade’s name?”

  “I never named it. The dwarfs, who gave me shelter as a child, don’t often name their weapons. They consider the weapon an extension of the body, of the warrior himself, rather than a separate being.” She looked at the blade she had chosen. “Does this sword have a name?”

  Captain Rovin smiled grimly.

  “It does. It was wielded by one of my predecessors, many years ago, and it is aptly named for the man’s duty to his monarch. It is called Kingsguard.”

  Kara sheathed it slowly as Theodore entered the armoury. She could tell by his demeanour that something was amiss.

  He is angry at something.

  The knight nodded to them, and didn’t speak as he gathered his own blade and checked his armour. Behind him she saw his aide, the boy Hamel.

  “I have some news for you, Sir Theodore,” Captain Rovin said respectfully. “The Black Boar died earlier today, no more than an hour ago. Lord Hyett leaves a six year-old son, and as he is under the age of the majority his estates—if you could call them that— will now pass to the crown. Well done.”

  Kara saw Theodore’s face blacken.

  “It is not a victory I am proud of, Captain Rovin. Nor one I was looking for.”

  Rovin laughed.

  “You should be glad of it, though,” he said frankly. “The Black Boar was an evil man. There are rumours—and I must say they are only rumours, as far as I know—that he even rode to war alongside the Kinshra against Falador last year, in the guise of a Kinshra knight. No, you should spare no sympathy for him, nor his son. For the boy’s life will be better without the influence of his father. And likely longer, too, I dare say. If you ask anyone about Lord Hyett, and they speak truthfully, you will only hear ill of him. Long has he been a thorn in King Roald’s side.

  “So I say again, well done.”

  Rovin left the armoury with the guard in tow then, and Kara watched as Theodore gathered his equipment.

  “Take the armour to the horses, Hamel,” Theodore said. “I won’t ride in it.”

  “Yes, sir. The others are readying your mare.”

  “Good. That will save me time.”

  The clubfooted young man left with Theodore’s breastplate and helm, and for a moment they were left alone. The knight strapped his sword belt around his waist.

  “Are you ready, Kara?”

  “I am, now that I have a sword.”

  “I am sorry,” he said, “about Pia and Jack and the theft. I know how much Master Phyllis’s blade meant to you.” He straightened his back and grimaced, then reached over his right shoulder with his left hand and probed gently.

  “They ran because they thought I couldn’t protect them, Theodore,” Kara replied. “Pia is wanted for murder in Ardougne, and Sir Cecil said he wanted them sent back to face trial. Little wonder that they bolted.”

  “You can’t protect them from that, Kara,” Theodore said slowly. “If they are accused then they must face trial, the rule of law and justice—”

  “King Lathas’ justice, Theodore,” she countered. “He is no King Roald, nor is he any Sir Amik Varze. Need I remind you of your master’s honour and dedication to law?”

  She saw his face twist uncomfortably.

  “No, you need not,” he said defensively. He shook his head and took a breath. “Oh, enough, Kara. I am sorry for what happened, of course I am—”

  “Three innocent people died, Theodore, because of his, and your, idea of justice. Among them your own peon, Bry—”

  “You go too far, Kara,” Theodore said coldly. “Not a day goes by when I don’t ask for Saradomin’s forgiveness for my failure. But I won’t stand here and be beaten with that stick. Not any more.”

  She let it drop, but it still preyed on her thoughts.

  It was your order that endangered me, Theodore. And you were a participant in that deceit.

  Neither spoke again, and after a moment Theodore strode from the armoury, leaving Kara alone.

  She cursed under her breath.

  I still haven’t forgiven him for that. I don’t think I ever will be able to, even though I know he acted under orders from Sir Amik.

  From far off, the bells of Father Lawrence’s church rang the first hour of the afternoon. Kara gripped the hilt of her sword and left the armoury to gather with the embassy. She hadn’t meant to wound Theodore so, but part of her was savagely happy that she had.

  A few minutes later she walked out into the bailey where the group was assembling. A collection of horses and mules were being laden with supplies. She saw Doric clapping his hands in joy in response to something that his companion had said. It was someone she vaguely recognised from the dance. The King’s fletcher, a man called Lowe. Not too far away, standing on his own, was Gar’rth, sorting his pack. Kara noticed that even here Simon was keeping a watchful eye.

  Doric noticed her gaze and waved her over.

  “I was keeping this as a surprise,” the dwarf said with a wink. “Ah, Theodore, you will want to hear of this, too, for it was what I hinted at the first night I was in Varrock. The thing that took me many hours of hard labour.”

  Lowe smiled as Kara watched Theodore approach. The knight gave her only the briefest of glances as Doric held an arrow up for their inspection.

  “Look at the tip, my young friends.”

  Kara leaned forward and saw green-tinted light reflect off the metal’s surface.

  “It’s adamant,” she observed. “You’ve forged adamant-tipped arrows!”

  Theodore gave a slight smile as he took a second one from the dwarf to inspect more closely.

  “It was Ebenezer’s idea,” Doric said. “Remember those adamant bars that you helped me cart all the way from my burned cabin to Falador, Theodore? The ones you thought would give your mare a heart attack? Well, I melted one of them down last month and Lowe here kindly fitted them for me. Fletching isn’t a skill with which I have any experience, truth be told.”

  “Doric told me of your adamant blade and the injury it did to Jerrod, Kara-Meir,” Lowe said in a deep voice. “It was the least I could do, fixing these dozen arrows for you, and Lord William paid me generously. With luck, they will pierce wolf flesh soon enough.” The fletcher looked to Doric quickly and Kara saw the dwarf nod. “And I have this for you also.” Lowe reached to the horse at his side and took a longbow from its flank. I
t was taller than Doric himself. The bow had attracted the attention of several onlookers, and now Gar’rth strode toward them.

  “That is a fine bow,” Theodore said. “It will take a strong man to draw it.”

  “It is a yew composite bow, with a coating of tallow to protect it from the weather,” Lowe explained. “Would you care to try it?”

  Theodore took the bow and drew back the flax string with obvious difficulty.

  “Let Gar’rth try it,” Doric said, waving him forward.

  “He is no stranger to the bow,” Kara said. “I taught him how to shoot in The Wilderness.”

  Responding to the dwarf’s wave, Gar’rth stepped over and took the composite bow from Theodore. He drew the string back in a single easy move.

  “That would fell any werewolf,” Lowe promised. “With Doric’s adamant arrows, you need have no fear of such demons. Make sure you bring back a few pelts!”

  Gar’rth released the string with a grim look at Lowe. The smile had frozen on Doric’s face, and Theodore pursed his lips. Not far away, Simon grinned. Lowe frowned, aware he had spoken amiss, but not entirely sure of exactly how.

  “Thank you, Lowe,” Kara said quickly. “With luck we won’t have to use it at all. This is, after all, a diplomatic mission.”

  The unfortunate man bowed and left.

  “I will take the bow and the arrows on my mare, if you like,” Theodore volunteered. Gar’rth nodded and handed the bow across as the knight returned to his horse, which stood among three busy young men who checked straps, saddle packs and horseshoes.

  “I am sorry, Gar’rth,” Kara said quietly. He nodded, accepting her sympathy.

  The bailey was busier now. Albertus Black arrived from Ebenezer’s town house. He rode upon a horse with a pack mule behind him. Seeing him, Kara heard Castimir sigh in exasperation as he readied the packs upon his yak.

  “So we have another alchemist now,” the wizard chided. “Have you brought any sodium, Albertus? Or that phosphorous? That one could be useful in dark places.”

  “I have brought those and more,” Albertus replied excitedly. “And several of our black-powder tubes. That will wake Lord Drakan, if our embassy does not stir him.”