Runescape: Return to Canifis

by T. S. Church

  BONG.

  The eerie sound seemed slow to Kara’s ears, as if the air through which it travelled tried desperately to hush it.

  BONG.

  “Come Kara. Let us go,” Drezel said behind her.

  BONG.

  She was halfway across when the darkness of the opposite bank began to clear. The shadows were unnaturally deep, as if there was something there, rather than the simple interruption of light. At the bridge’s end lay a small clearing from which extended a narrow road running eastward. Beyond that, the land was covered in dense foliage which hid the road as it rounded a bend to the north.

  BONG.

  There is little room for error here, she observed. If there is an enemy in the undergrowth, then I will have only seconds to avoid it.

  BONG.

  Then there was only silence, for the pounding of her heart made her deaf to any other sound. There was no rushing of water from below, no encouragement from behind her. There was nothing.

  Kara took a breath and waited for a moment more to allow her eyes to adjust. Finally, she took the last step that carried her onto the bank, into Morytania.

  The air was different. It tasted stale to Kara, and reminded her of mouldy bread. She felt as though she was a different country, as if she had travelled very far very quickly, for it was cold here, whereas it had been summer in Misthalin.

  “Speak, Kara. Declare you intention,” Drezel called from behind her. She knew he was barely an arm’s length away, on the bridge, yet the sound seemed to come from a great distance.

  “My name is Kara-Meir.” She tried to shout but her voice was faint. She took a deep breath and started again.

  “I am Kara-Meir. I am here at the behest of King Roald the Third of Misthalin. I wear the blood mark, which the inhabitants of your realm have in times past honoured. My companions and I seek an audience with Lord Drakan.”

  The trees nearby swayed in response, but there was nothing more.

  For a long moment Kara waited.

  “Is that it then?” she asked. “Are we to be ignored?”

  Still, only the trees swayed.

  “Very well, then,” she said. “I shall return tomorrow.”

  Kara turned her back on Morytania.

  She saw Drezel’s face break into fear as something crashed through the foliage behind her, something man-sized and hungry.

  Gods!

  Her heart pounded and a cold icicle ran up her spine. Never had she felt such fear. Something whipped overhead, a noise like tearing fabric.

  “Run, Kara, run! In the name of Saradomin, run!” Theodore’s voice carried over the river.

  She ran, not daring to look back, toward the thin sliver of light that poured out from the open doors.

  It’s too far away!

  Whatever it was snarled behind her, and something brushed against the back of her neck, but then her foot landed on hard stone and even as her legs gave way beneath her, she knew she was safe. She clutched at the iron railing as Drezel’s hand grabbed her shoulder.

  “You are safe, Kara-Meir,” he breathed. “You are safe. Look now, if you will, at what sought your blood.”

  Kara looked back over her shoulder.

  Undead eyes stared back from only two yards away, at the bridge’s end. It looked to be a pale-faced man, with shoulder-length hair, great clumps of which were missing. It was clothed only in a ragged knee-length shirt. An arrow pierced its shoulder. It was a shot that would have sent any mortal creature reeling. But its red eyes remained fixed on Kara, as if it had not even noticed the arrow.

  “Is that... ?”

  “It is one of them, the vampires.” Drezel nodded as he helped Kara to her feet. “One of the ravenous. They exist only to drink blood—they have no other purpose. You must beware, for they are faster and stronger than any human. Such creatures will not respect the blood mark.”

  “I have never felt such a fear as that,” she confided to Drezel. “Not even when I first saw Sulla. I have fought in battles, I have killed men and have been near death myself. But nothing was as frightening as that.”

  I was so scared I didn’t even reach for a weapon! I’ve never done that. Never.

  “There is nothing like fear of the undead,” Drezel explained. “It is something you never grow used to. But still... I have never seen one so close to the river before. We might very well have to destroy it, or else it will pose a risk to the embassy.”

  Drezel guided her back over the bridge toward the doorway. Inside she saw Theodore and Gar’rth waiting, the knight armed with his sword, Gar’rth holding Lowe’s bow notched with an adamant-tipped arrow.

  “Was that your shot, Gar’rth?” Kara asked him. But the werewolf shook his head grimly and nodded to Despaard.

  “It was mine,” the nobleman said. “I have had long and painful cause to be good with a bow. Even so it was a risky shot, and one I would not care to make again. Besides, with the ravenous, such weapons are next to useless.”

  Kara gripped him by the shoulder.

  “It probably slowed it down though. Another second and—”

  She shook her head, afraid to dwell on what might have been.

  “Are you certain we are safe here Drezel?” Theodore asked as the monk closed the doors.

  “I am surprised a knight of Saradomin questions his god’s power,” the monk replied. “Yes, we are safe here. The blessing has lasted for more than a millennia. It will not falter now.”

  “Are you so sure?” Lord William said. “I saw him step onto the bridge, when you had your backs turned and everyone else had come down to meet you.”

  Drezel shook his head. “You are mistaken, my lord. There is no way Saradomin would permit that.”

  “I tell you I saw it!” Lord William snapped suddenly. “Maybe Saradomin isn’t as strong as you would like us to believe. Perhaps the prophecy is true, after all.”

  “My lord,” Reldo responded immediately. “The prophecy is not true. I am certain it was composed by Papelford’s predecessors a century ago, for it does not appear in any texts save those of Varrock.”

  “Never mind about the prophecy,” Despaard said. “Did the blood mark actually work? Can we tell if it did?”

  Drezel shook his head.

  “We cannot. We shall have to try again tomorrow.”

  “Then I suggest we all get some sleep,” the nobleman said. “We have had a very long day, and it looks as if we might have another one tomorrow.”

  “Very well,” Drezel agreed. “Rooms have been prepared upstairs. In previous centuries they were intended for the royal family, but none have visited Paterdomus for many years. The last time was when King Roald came as a young man.”

  As the embassy and its escort dispersed to follow the monks to the sleeping cells, Lord William took Theodore by the arm, his face earnest.

  “I know what I saw, Theodore,” he said urgently. “I tell you it was on the bridge!”

  “We are safe here, William,” Theodore replied. “Drezel said so, and he has been here for several years without incident.”

  “I hope you are right, Theodore,” William said stiffly, his eyes falling on Kara.

  He is sincere, she realised. And afraid.

  “Ah, you worry too much,” Doric said as he patted William on the back.

  Unprepared, William jumped suddenly.

  “Don’t touch me!” he said angrily. “Just don’t touch me...” The nobleman calmed himself, gave a sigh, and fingered his silver brooch.

  “I am sorry, Doric,” he said. “I am. Please, forgive me, but I am very tired. I am not used to such long rides. I shall go and take a wash. Goodnight.”

  At least I’m not the only one with fraught nerves, Kara thought as she followed Martin up the stairs. She was aware of Theodore behind her.

  “Kara, we need to talk,” the knight said gently as she entered the room offered her by the monk. Gar’rth waited in the passageway, his escorts nearby.

  Even now they don’t trust h
im, she observed. And neither does Theodore. I know him too well.

  “What about?” she asked bluntly.

  “About you and Gar’rth, Kara. I—”

  “There is nothing to say, Theodore.” Kara cut him off. “And it is childish and stupid, this obsession of yours.” She nodded to Gar’rth in the passage. “And so is his.”

  “It is not that, Kara!” Theodore protested angrily before stepping forward and lowering his voice. “I know you were planning to run today, both of you. I am surprised you didn’t after what Arisha did to the horses.”

  “Arisha? What did she do?” Kara frowned at him. “She has nothing to do with this, Theodore. It was my decision—and Gar’rth’s. I will not leave a friend to face certain death. But he has made his choice, Gar’rth has decided to stay. He will not run, and nor will I, which is what you are really worried about.”

  Theodore drew a sharp breath and his eyes grew cold.

  I have hurt him, she knew. Yet I am glad of it. He thinks it his duty to watch me, as if I am a possession. He has always thought like that, ever since he found me. Always judging, always protecting.

  “You think ill of me, Kara,” he said finally. “You are wrong.”

  Theodore left the room, his hand across his face. Kara exhaled loudly, frustrated, her sudden elation turned to anger and guilt.

  We are all tired. And afraid. It makes everyone ill-tempered. I need to sleep.

  She reached into her satchel and pulled out two pieces of a broken golden ring with a diamond still whole at the break. It had been her father’s most precious gift to her, for it was his Ring of Life, that had spent its power sending her to Falador, even as her life ebbed away.

  She knew she would sleep better with it by her side.

  21

  Theodore’s eyes widened and he dropped his sword with a cry. His hand closed around his throat as blood flowed unchecked from his rendered flesh, a crimson jet shooting down over his white breastplate.

  “Kara...” He fell to his knees, too weak to fight.

  Gar’rth turned his attention away from the dying man and back to Kara. She crawled away from him, her adamant sword broken as his feet.

  “No,” she said. “Theodore.”

  Gar’rth reached down and took Kara by the hair as she screamed. She lashed out, kicking and punching, but her strength wasn’t sufficient to fight back. When she finally stopped, it was his turn.

  And when he had finished, the girl that was Kara-Meir, heroine of Falador, lay still on the ground, her blood mingling with the mud, her breathing slow and weakening by the moment.

  Gar’rth revelled in the power. He had never felt its like before. Then he turned as the scent of blood threatened to drive him into a frenzy.

  They were all there.

  My keepers!

  Castimir’s corpse lay with Arisha’s head on his chest, her face even more pale in death than it had been in life. Doric’s head was sickeningly twisted, his neck broken. Theodore had slumped back into the mud as his torn throat had allowed his life to flow away, a life haunted in its final moments by the image of the ferocious attack on Kara.

  And then his gaze came to rest on Ebenezer. Suddenly the blood lost its sweet smell, his frenzy died, and a great weight settled upon him.

  “No!” he cried in spite of himself. “No, I won’t, I didn’t...”

  And a voice replied.

  “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 Morytani
a, 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.