by T. S. Church
“Then you leave me no alternative.” The voice came from a different place again, though there had been no trace of movement.
What magic does she possess?
“We’ll take our chances with you,” Velko shouted, “rather than with the hangman.”
“So be it.” The woman’s voice was followed by the sound of someone scrambling up the ladder to the loft, followed by a moan of desperation from several feet above the combatants.
“Please…” the man stuttered. “Please…”
There was a swooshing sound ending with the thunk of a blade-most likely an axe-as it embedded itself in flesh and cracked bone. The man above gave a brief sigh as his body fell crashing through the rungs of the ladder.
Pia felt warm drops fall upon the back of her neck, and her stomach heaved.
Above her, Velko cursed.
“She can see us,” someone said. “Open the doors…”
The girl heard the desperate survivors run toward the barn door.
“It’s been wedged shut,” one cried, tugging frantically.
Each cry was punctuated by the sound of another death.
“Just smash it open! Get some light.”
“Help! Help me!”
A man stumbled as Pia heard a hay bale overturn. He screamed as he fell.
“No. No.” It was Owen’s voice. He ran from the door, toward her. “Kill the girl, Velko, kill her.”
Pia heard Velko pull a knife from its sheath, but instead af cutting her throat he thrust it wildly forward. She heard it crack against a rib and sever the flesh and muscle beneath.
“Velko… Gods… it’s me…” Owen’s voice transformed into a choking gurgle as he collapsed in front of them.
She felt Velko above her, felt him shake in the darkness, his spirit destroyed, his fear absolute.
“Please,” he said. “I surrender… Please…” He wept and she felt his grip relaxing. Finally he fell to his knees.
Pia crawled away, her hand slipping on the liquid that covered the wooden floor. It had a metallic smell that was sickly sweet.
“I won’t kill you,” the woman said coldly, her breath calm as if she had felt no exertion in slaying fourteen violent men.
“But you…” A hand gripped Pia’s wrist. “You have caused me no small amount of trouble. And it nearly cost you your life, impostor.”
She was dragged toward the door. There was the sound of a bar of some sort being pulled aside, and at the same time there came a knocking on the wood, followed by a voice from outside.
Another woman!
“Is it done?” the voice asked.
“It is.”
Another plank was removed on the outside, the door was opened and dim light flooded in.
“Wait for me outside,” Pia’s liberator commanded, her features hidden under her hood. Without waiting for an answer, the mysterious woman turned back into the barn.
The daylight made Pia squint. As she blinked, she spied a dark-haired young boy waiting anxiously nearby, a worn brown-leather satchel hung across his chest. His bare feet were red with dried blood, cut as if he had been running over stony ground, and his face was so pale and his body so thin he looked as if he was about to fall from exhaustion.
My brother! Alive.
“Jack! I thought Straven had taken you. I thought… I thought you were dead.”
Pia broke into tears as she ran forward, crushing him in her arms. Her brother hugged back, his pale lips quivering with emotion.
“I saw them take you, Pia,” he said. “I saw Straven and his men and what… what they did to you, and I hid, Pia, I hid, as you always told me to do if ever you were taken. I saw them put you in the barrel and I followed them in their wagon from Varrock out to here. My feet hurt but I couldn’t abandon you…”
“Oh, Jack. Where are your shoes?”
“I lost them when we hid from Straven, Pia. I’m sorry.”
“Shhhh, it’s alright-don’t be sorry.” She smoothed his hair. “Be happy. We are alive. Remember Jack, always remember, never a rope for us.”
Pia shielded her brother from the open barn door, not daring to look inside where the floor was slippery with death. Suddenly she felt weak.
I have come so close to losing everything. It could so easily be my blood in there.
“But Pia, listen to me!” Jack said forcefully as she staggered against his smaller frame. Heroically, he tried to hold her up. “Pia, we are rescued now, for they came after us. She was angry at our trick, and so she came after us!”
“What are you talking about, Jack?”
I am so tired now, so dreadfully tired.
“Who else can see in the dark like her?” he said. “You’ve heard the tales. It’s her.”
Apprehension dawned in that second as her cloaked liberator left the barn, Velko shuffling in front of her as a captive. The hood was pulled back now, and Pia saw the long blonde hair tied in a ponytail that reached to her waist. Her skin was tanned from long days under the open sky. A crimson stain was splashed across her cheek.
But it was her eyes that held Pia most of all. Dark, angry pools, and Pia knew then that no matter what tricks she used, no matter how good an actress she was, she could never, ever impersonate the spirit that burned within them.
She swallowed once.
“Kara-Meir,” she gasped.
* * *
“Please my lady. Please let me go.” Velko wept. “They will hang me if I go back to Varrock.”
Kara shook her head as she walked over to a rain barrel that stood near the door. For Pia, it was like looking at an older version of herself, and she saw now how she had been able to fool everyone so successfully. Kara splashed the turbid water onto her cheek and cleared the bloodstain away. Then she washed her hands. Pia saw her purse her lips, and wondered whether she was contemplating Velko’s plea.
“I can help you my lady, my goddess,” he continued. “So beautiful you are, too much to be without mercy.” Velko knelt and began again to weep, making a great show of his misfortune.
“Stop,” Kara’s companion said. “It’s pitiful.” She was a black-haired woman in blue robes, tall and athletic, as if she had grown up with a man’s martial training. Yet her blue eyes were calm and observant. “Pia does not weep, and she has as much to fear in Varrock as you do.” At the sound of her own name, Pia tensed.
She’s right. If I am sent to Varrock I will hang too. She glanced around, considering for a moment her chances if she ran, for Kara had not restrained her. But she realised that she was just too tired.
“But I can help you!” Velko wailed. “I know things that will interest you. Things about a certain man who you chase. And his dog.”
You will not get away with this Velko, Pia thought grimly. I know about them, as well!
“He means Sulla and Jerrod,” she shouted abruptly, causing the two women to turn in her direction. “They were here only two hours ago.”
Someone cursed behind them. A third person emerged from the barn-a tall man wearing a hooded grey cloak and loose woollen garments. His face was sharp-featured and hard, his skin darker than most in this part of the land. His almond-shaped eyes were fierce, and his gaze was restless.
He’s not from this realm, she thought, as she realised that the sensation he evoked was strangely familiar. Not here, nor even so far as Kandarin.
Kara’s eyes remained fixed on Pia as she spoke coldly.
“Can you track them Gar’rth? Or is the impostor lying again?”
The man shook his head and when he spoke Pia knew for certain he was not from any land she knew. His accent was strange, and the words of the Common Tongue did not come easily to him.
“No. Too much blood,” he rasped. “The scent is lost.”
Pia shook her head.
“They were here. I swear it.”
“She tells the truth kind mistress-we have been hiding here for two days now,” Velko added. “Jerrod returned today from some errand in the east, and then he and Sulla a
nd another of our party called Barbec returned to Varrock. By the southern road.”
“Again we miss them by bad luck alone,” Kara spat grimly.
“So it seems,” the blue-robed woman said. When she brushed her hair back Pia saw that she wore a small silver tiara. Her cold eyes settled on Velko first and then shifted to Pia. “Tell me-you and Pia both-of what you know.”
“You waste your time, Arisha.” Gar’rth interrupted angrily. “I can find no scent of them.”
Pia felt Jack nudge her discreetly, and he murmured in her ear.
“It was Gar’rth who tracked me all the way from the Flying Donkey in Varrock. I don’t know how he did it, but they caught me when I had decided to return to the city for help.”
“They were here. Both of them,” Velko persisted. “But it ain’t bad luck that’s allowed them to escape you. I know, you see. I travelled from The Wilderness with them after Sulla took charge of our band, after he tricked Leander, which is something I didn’t think I would live to see.” The bandit stood and laughed eerily. “They have help, you see. Jerrod has visions.”
“What visions?” Gar’rth demanded.
Was that fear in his voice?
“I don’t know. But twice in The Wilderness he told us how to avoid trouble. The first time was the very afternoon we left Leander behind. A group of Kinshra horsemen, about two dozen, would have run straight into us if we hadn’t followed Jerrod’s instructions.” Velko laughed. “They must have found Leander though. I wonder what they did with him?”
“We saw them,” Arisha said. “They did have someone with them, but they were too far away for us to identify them. Whether this was Leander or another captive, I cannot say.”
“He’s had dealings with them before. Perhaps they spared him. Perhaps he’s bargained with them for what he knows about Sulla. You see, I know a bit more, as well.”
Pia felt Velko’s eyes fall upon her. The mutilated man drew a hand across his throat in a clear warning to remain silent.
Sulla’s blackmailing, she knew. That is what he wants to trade.
“These visions of Jerrod’s concern me,” Kara said. “I never knew he could do that. Did you?” She looked to Gar’rth, who shrugged.
“Maybe Lord Drakan is helping him. From Morytania. Guiding him.”
“But why now?” Arisha asked. “Why not six months ago?” Kara motioned, and the three companions strode back next to the barn to converse in secret. Pia saw Gar’rth shrug again, and shake his head. Finally, Kara sighed.
“Arisha, Gar’rth, find out from Velko the names of his dead companions,” she said resignedly. “I don’t think we can catch up with Sulla-he’ll be in Varrok now, and we are already late. I promised Theodore we would be there for the Midsummer celebration.”
“Do you have paper, Kara?” Arisha said. “For the names?”
Suddenly Pia felt Jack move at her side.
“I have some, in my bag,” he said eagerly. “You can have it if you would like?”
Jack took the parchment from his bag and handed it to Arisha.
“Where did that come from Jack?” Pia asked her brother.
“You gave it me at the inn. It was the message that was passed on by the innkeeper.”
Pia gasped.
From the squire, Theodore, who so nearly ruined my plan.
Arisha took it and read the first line. Coldly, her blue eyes fell on the siblings.
“Explain this,” she said. “It is addressed to Kara.”
“What? What is it?” Kara strode back from the barn and took it. Her eyes passed over the short message and then fell back to Pia. “It’s from Theodore. You must have read this.”
“I…” Pia looked at the ground. “Neither of us can read,” she admitted.
“What does it say?” Gar’rth asked, his eyes narrowing visibly.
Kara looked at him steadily.
And coldly.
“He is most concerned with you and Arisha. He received Arisha’s letter telling him that we had gone into The Wilderness, and he wonders why neither of you are with me.”
“Is that all?” Gar’rth said.
“He also writes how worried he is that we are pursuing Jerrod, even all three of us.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else, Gar’rth.” Kara folded the paper and put it in her satchel.
Suddenly Velko laughed, and he nodded in Pia’s direction.
“Jerrod? You should ask her about him. You cut him, didn’t you, girl? You made him bleed his black blood.” At his words, a look of absolute surprise appeared on the faces of Kara-Meir and her two companions.
“You cut him?” Gar’rth said. “How?”
“I found a dagger in the cellar. A two-bladed one. There is a cupboard there, and I used the knife to cut my bonds, and when I tried to run, Jerrod caught me.”
“And you are still alive? That is a miracle,” Kara said.
“Something happened to him, to Jerrod,” Velko offered. “The dagger made him ill.”
Kara’s eyes fell eagerly upon Pia.
“Show me.”
The girl led Kara back into the barn, but when the smell of blood hit her she wobbled. She felt Kara’s hand steady her.
“Take a moment,” she said calmingly. “It is a horrible sight, even to me, and I have fought in many battles.”
“I have never killed anyone before, Kara,” Pia responded. “How can you do it? They say you killed a hundred men in the siege of Falador.”
But Kara-Meir said nothing.
“And how could you see them, in the dark?” Pia asked as she recovered.
“I grew up with the dwarfs under Ice Mountain,” Kara explained. “My younger years were spent in very dark places. My eyes became attuned to see in such.” She gave Pia another moment to steady herself. “Now, are you ready?”
Pia nodded and found her way to the cellar. Stepping off of the ladder, she moved to the cupboard, where six of the two-bladed daggers still sat on a shelf.
“I heard someone say that Jerrod was a werewolf, Kara,” she said. “Is that true? Do such things truly exist?”
“It is true, Pia. Jerrod is a dreadful enemy, and I don’t understand how you could wound him with such a weapon as this.” Kara examined one of the daggers in detail.
“I saw his face, Kara,” Pia replied. “It was horrible. But then I saw it a few seconds later, and it was human. I thought I was imagining it. He said the dagger was cursed by Saradomin. Even being close to it seemed to make him sick.”
“Interesting, Pia.” Kara said. “Very interesting.” She sniffed the blade, and then, with a wary look up the ladder into the barn, as though she didn’t want to be seen, she tucked one of the knives into her satchel. Then, after a moment of consideration, she took four of the remaining five and did likewise.
“Tell no one of this, Pia. No one. Do you understand?”
“Yes. But Kara, what will happen to me?” Her voice was pleading. “And Jack? He has done nothing wrong. Please Kara, he’s not even nine years old.”
Kara pursed her lips.
“You committed a robbery, Pia, although it seems as if you lost all you gained when Straven caught you.” Pia frowned and Kara saw her look. “Jack told us everything he knew when we found him, bleeding and exhausted on the road. But as for you I have not yet decided what to do. Now, come on.”
“Wait, Kara. We are alone here, and I trust you, for you had no reason to come to my rescue after I abused your reputation,” she said, and she paused a moment to remember. “Sulla has a plan-it was what Velko is keeping to tell you in exchange for a pardon. He’s extorting money from a noble with documents that only he can understand. He said the noble was the first of many.”
“So Sulla becomes a common thief,” Kara said scornfully. “He was a warlord when I first encountered him, and since then I have reduced him to scraping a living. When I next meet him, Pia, I will do what I should have done six months ago. I shall make him a corpse.”
“I have the names of Velko’s friends, Kara,” Arisha said. “Gar’rth found a scrap of parchment on one of the bodies, and that was enough for me to write them down.”
“Very good,” Kara said. “Then let us start our walk back to Varrock. We should still be in time to enjoy the Midsummer Festival, and at least now we can present King Roald with the gift of justice.”
Never a rope!
The thought echoed through Pia’s mind the nearer they came to Varrock. From the east, the land was pastoral, where dry stone walls divided it into the fiefdoms of influential noblemen.
“It’s a fertile country,” Arisha mused. “But it is quiet. I know my people of the tribes would find life pleasant here.”
Velko laughed derisively from the front of their small group. Of the captives, only he was bound. Pia saw that his subservience had vanished, to be replaced by anger now that his pleas for mercy had been ignored.
“So you are a barbarian?” he asked. “This is the east, woman. Nothing here now except open country all the way to the Salve. That’s why few live here. Even your uncivilized race surely has stories of what goes on across that river.”
“My uncivilized people don’t hang others,” Arisha replied. “The most common punishment for all crimes save murder is for the offender to be ostracised. Perhaps, in the few hours that remain to you, you should dwell on which of our societies is truly the more uncivilised.”
Velko mumbled under his breath. Pia could see that the barbarian’s words had chilled him. And she shared the feeling.
They paused to rest in the shadow of a tall yew tree. Velko began to weep again, shaking his head, as if refusing to believe that he’d been captured.
Perhaps his mind is going.
She took Jack’s hand and moved farther away from the thief. She had seen men hanged before, and knew the sudden burst of strength they could possess when faced with the gallows.
As she sat down, closer to Gar’rth and Kara, she saw that the heroine’s eyes rarely left her prisoner.
“I am unwell, Kara,” she heard Gar’rth say bitterly. “I feel light headed and I cannot smell anything, anything at all! It’s as if I’ve lost my sight.” He lowered his hood to reveal his face, pale and drawn. He breathed deeply, and every time nature made a sound his head would dart toward its source as if in paranoid surprise.
