Runescape

by T. S. Church

  Doric’s head had been hastily bandaged, but he had not stirred since he had struck the rock-hard ice, so Theodore’s mare carried him on her back.

  “He will recover, Kara-Meir,” Commander Blenheim said, for of the remaining companions only she could speak the dwarf tongue.

  “We are aware of the Kinshra,” the commander continued. “The council has ordered our soldiers to be ready, for Zamorak is stirring again.”

  “Then you will go to the defence of Falador?” Kara asked hopefully.

  He shook his head.

  “There are some who would have us fight by your side. Others believe it would only endanger dwarf lives needlessly.”

  “And what do you think, Commander Blenheim?” Kara asked as they entered a large chamber.

  “If the Kinshra win, then they will turn their attentions to someone else—maybe Kandarin, maybe us, but do it they shall,” he answered. “And after that, it shall be someone else again” The dwarf warrior lowered his head. “Better to have an uneasy peace with Falador than deal with an ambitious enemy.”

  He spoke loudly enough that the entire patrol could hear, and a grim cheer went up, showing their approval. Kara knew then that his men all agreed.

  The dwarfs were ready for war. They just needed a leader.

  The summons instilled rising curiosity in Ebenezer, and he rushed to the guildhall. A group of men had preceded him, and he was surprised to discover that one of them was Lord Tremene, a wealthy merchant who controlled the city’s bank and enjoyed good relations with the knights. By his side stood a young man of Theodore’s age, wearing a squire’s armour.

  His inquisitive look prompted the armoured figure to speak up.

  “I am Squire Marius, sir” the young man said. “Your actions at the monastery are known to me, and have been widely praised. In this dark hour, such initiative is to be commended.”

  A silence fell and Marius looked uneasily at Lord Tremene, who in turn looked expectantly at Ebenezer.

  The alchemist did not know what to say.

  “Thank you” he stuttered finally.

  “I am instructed to offer you command of the city militia, sir” Marius announced slowly, as if unsure of how to proceed. A murmur of approval rippled around the room.

  At last, something that will make a difference, Ebenezer thought, his mind beginning to race.

  “Then I accept, Squire Marius,” Ebenezer said. “How many men does the city militia have?”

  Marius looked darkly at Lord Tremene, and his reply caused the alchemist’s heart to drop.

  “None, sir, for it is a new organisation.” He turned to face Ebenezer. “It is to draw upon the average citizens of Falador to bolster our defences within the city. The population of Falador is usually forty thousand, but it has swelled to nearer twice that now the refugees from the north have taken shelter here. Therefore there is a large reserve of manpower upon which to draw.”

  Ebenezer nodded, and shook off his concerns. This was an opportunity for him, and he was going to make the most of it. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the more he relished the challenge this presented. So he took a seat with the other men and began to pepper them with questions. When he was satisfied with the answers, he rose and shook hands with Marius and Tremene.

  The room cleared then, save for Marius and an older man. When the door shut behind the merchants, the newcomer stepped forward and introduced himself.

  “My name is Sir Tiffy Cashien, Master Alchemist.”

  Ebenezer had seen him before, when he had returned from the monastery with his captive. Sir Tiffy had sat silently at Sir Amik’s side, listening to his account of his journey. He was obviously an important knight.

  “We have a traitor in our midst, Master Alchemist,” explained Sir Tiffy. “We thought we had resolved the problem some time ago...”

  Ebenezer held up his hand.

  “This is not new to me, Sir Tiffy. On my journey north with Kara and Theodore I was entrusted with that knowledge, for it lay as a heavy burden between them. And the manner in which we were defeated this morning has indicated the possibility of further treachery.”

  “That is one of the reasons why we wish you to take charge of the militia. You are a new face in Falador and already beyond reproach. People trust you and they have faith in your science.” Sir Tiffy looked briefly to Marius. “In fact, many may be more inclined to place their trust in science than in Saradomin.”

  “And how can I be of help in locating this traitor?” Ebenezer asked.

  “We are certain he is a high-ranking knight—one of only three possible candidates. He could be more dangerous to us than a thousand Kinshra outside the walls.”

  Sir Tiffy rose and rested his fists on the table, leaning close to the alchemist.

  “We cannot allow him to continue,” he said grimly. “We must uncover him while there is still time.”

  “Then why not just lock all three up?” Ebenezer replied.

  “These are senior knights!” came the reply. “The hopes of the people rest on my order. If word got out, then the citizens would abandon all hope. Their faith is already waning, but if they knew their betrayer was...”

  He could not utter the words.

  So Ebenezer finished his sentence for him.

  “... If they knew it was one of you” he muttered in disapproval. “Then the knights would lose their trust, perhaps never to regain it.” The knights were risking everything, just to protect their reputation. Ebenezer wondered if they had deserved it in the first place.

  But as he looked into the old knight’s eyes, he knew Sir Tiffy Cashien had a plan. Thus, with a resigned nod, he sat down at the table and listened.

  As the dwarf commander led them on, the sounds of activity grew. Soon the rock caverns reverberated to the noise of hammers and picks, punctuated by the hiss of steam as smiths cooled their metal in ice-cold water taken from the underground streams.

  “I was raised here,” Kara said wistfully, looking across the immense cavern that was as big as any room Theodore had ever seen. “Tell me, Commander Blenheim, how is Master Phyllis?”

  The dwarf’s face darkened as he led them south through the cavern.

  “Master Phyllis is old, Kara-Meir. He is too old to leave his bed. From what I have heard his illness has worsened.”

  “I would like to see him,” she said, “for I owe him much.”

  “You shall see him in good time, but first you must address the Council of Elders. We must make a decision.”

  Though he could not understand what was being said, Theodore listened to their conversation with deep interest. He had not realised that Kara was so skilled in their language. After a time, he spoke up.

  “Kara, you must make sure they attend to Doric. He hasn’t stirred at all since he fell, and I fear for him.”

  Kara nodded and spoke briskly to the commander. He gave a brief nod, and three dwarfs took the reins of the surviving horses. Swiftly they departed, leading the horses west with an unconscious Doric still balanced on the saddle of Theodore’s mare.

  Commander Blenheim noted the concerned expressions on the faces of the travellers.

  “He will receive the best of care, and you will see him again soon,” he promised in the common tongue. “But now we must advise the council.”

  The Council of Elders was made up of the most experienced dwarfs in the mountain, Kara explained to her friends. It represented all aspects of dwarf society. Although the settlement was a recognised part of Asgarnia, neither the Knights of Falador nor the crown prince wielded any political power over their internal policies. Interaction between the two races was severely limited.

  As part of the dwarf nation, the colony under Ice Mountain was allowed to take action to address any threat to their realm. It was because of this that the Council of Elders had met several times in recent weeks, even issuing orders to enlist all able fighters into a standing army. A request had been sent to the nearest colony, which was located under Whi
te Wolf Mountain to the west, beyond Burthorpe and Taverley. Two hundred additional dwarf warriors were expected to arrive, travelling via the secret passages beneath the earth, away from any spying eyes.

  The dwarf council knew of the destruction of the monastery, the siege of Falador, and the burning of Taverley. They knew how the chaos dwarfs had stolen their own technology and delivered it into Sulla’s hands. Such acts were not to be tolerated.

  As the council meeting continued, all eyes turned to Kara-Meir and her companions, for she was known to them as a fearsome fighter and an equally skilled smith.

  “What say you, Kara-Meir?” an old dwarf croaked from his chair on the plinth. “Should we intervene?”

  Kara stepped confidently toward the chairman, and spoke the words she had rehearsed in her head.

  “The walls of Falador were not built to withstand such weapons,” she announced. “If Falador falls, then the whole of Asgarnia will become enslaved to Sulla, and he will have far more resources to use in future conquests. How long will he ignore the lure of the wealth that comes from these mines? With the help of the chaos dwarfs he will come for you. He will know your ways and your secrets, and you will be enslaved here to mine coal for his furnaces and gold for his treasury.”

  She paused to allow her words to sink in, then continued.

  “If we act today, then victory can be ours. If we delay, then Falador will fall, and we will follow.”

  A murmur ran through the chamber. Unused to being the centre of attention, she had to force herself to keep her head held high and her expression stern, to show the dwarfs she was sincere in what she had said.

  Yet not everyone agreed, and a small cry of disapproval sounded. The chairman called to the leader of the dissenters, asking him to explain his outburst.

  “If we fight, then what will the humans of Falador give to us in gratitude?” he demanded. “The earth under their city is rich in resources, but for many years they have opposed any attempt by our kind to exploit them. I say that our efforts and our blood should be rewarded—in an agreement with the city to open our own mine there!”

  “And why should we care if Sulla dominates the surface?” a second voice cried. “More likely he will wish to trade with us, rather than engage in another costly war.”

  A number of voices rose in heated debate. Leaning in close to Theodore, Kara quietly exchanged a few words with him. Then, as the argument threatened to grow out of control, she held up her hand.

  “Listen to me!” she said as the voices eventually stilled. “My companion, Squire Theodore, is highly regarded by the Knights of Falador. He has the ear of Sir Amik himself. He has pledged to recommend your proposal to the highest authority, but this will only be possible if Falador can be saved. You know enough of the knights to know that his word is his bond.”

  The members of the council exchanged uncertain glances. Kara knew they needed more.

  “Sulla would not trade with you, even if you offered him the fairest bargain. He is a conqueror, a worshipper of chaos! He will permit no other government to exist under his rule—and you will find yourselves slaves to the chaos dwarfs, who will give him whatever he needs to further the goals of their deity.” Kara felt her face redden from the effort of her debate and she had to calm her rising anger before she could continue.

  “I know this because I know Sulla,” she added grimly. “He is the man who destroyed my home and killed my family.”

  In the sudden silence, an old dwarf priest stepped toward Kara, his quarterstaff bearing his weight and his free hand stretched out to guide him, for he was blind. The reverence the council showed him prevented any from shouting out. All waited for what he had to say.

  “Guthix weeps, for the world is in flux and the balance is threatened” he said. “You, Kara-Meir, have been touched by the gods. It is you who must seek his guidance.”

  A murmur of surprise ran through the chamber. Never had a human been selected to attempt such a task.

  Kara’s eyes widened at the thought. Before she could speak, he continued.

  “If you have been chosen by Guthix to lead us, then you must prove your worth. You know how Guthix favours the chosen—his words are spoken in the smith’s hammer and his wisdom is revealed to us by the wielder’s skill.”

  Kara knew what the priest referred to. Dwarf culture prized the skill of metalworking above all others, and in dark times it was customary for a leader to demonstrate his skill and thus reveal the will of Guthix.

  She had no choice.

  “What is the task?” she asked, aware that Falador’s fate now depended on her.

  “The amulet of King Alvis’s queen must be repaired. For centuries it has been kept in our sacred care, waiting to reveal the mind of Guthix in a time of great adversity. The hands of a leader must be deft and skilful, for a leader must be a healer and not a destroyer.”

  The priest bowed and turned away, his proclamation complete.

  Murmurs rippled throughout the chamber. None could doubt the ramifications of what had been said. Finally the chairman raised a hand and spoke loudly, quieting the assembly.

  “Go now, Kara-Meir,” he said, “and prepare for your task. When the priests are ready you shall be called. If Guthix so wishes, then you shall lead our armies.”

  SIXTY-TWO

  At dawn, the southern gate of Falador opened and several wagons rolled out, escorted by thirty men.

  “I hope this works, Sir Tiffy,” Ebenezer said as he watched them go.

  “One way or the other,” came the reply, “we find out which of the two remaining suspects it is.”

  “You are certain Sir Pallas is not the traitor?” Ebenezer asked.

  “The traitor who slew Sir Balladish had to be able-bodied. I have watched Sir Pallas discreetly, arranging some tasks for which he has needed to use his strength” Sir Tiffy shook his head. “The old man is not strong enough to be the traitor, and he could not have defeated Sir Balladish. That’s not the case with the other two suspects however—even with one arm, Sir Erical is still a strong man.”

  “So you have leaked the story of the gold to just one of them?”

  “That is correct” the knight said. “If the wagons are attacked, we shall know who the traitor is.”

  Perhaps at the cost of the unfortunate men who drive them, Ebenezer thought, but he held his tongue.

  Their attention was drawn by a cry from the sentry above the gate. A hundred Kinshra horsemen had appeared on the crest of a hill, levelling their lances before charging down toward the wagons.

  “Send out your riders!” Sir Tiffy barked to Captain Ingrew.

  For the second time, the southern gate opened and two hundred armed city guards rode out to defend the wagons.

  The skirmish was short and brutal. The Kinshra warriors had expected an escort, but as they rode toward the wagons the covers were ripped off, revealing a dozen crossbowmen in each. Their powerful bolts penetrated armour and felled horse and man alike.

  Then, as the surviving Kinshra lancers reached the wagons, they were forced to discard their lances and use their swords, for the wagons had been modified with wooden slats to prevent lances being used effectively.

  Captain Ingrew and his two hundred surrounded the attackers, as many of the crossbowmen in the wagons resorted to swords. Swiftly, the Kinshra were overcome. It was a minor victory for the city of Falador.

  Once the skirmish was over, the men abandoned the wagons and retreated back to the southern gate, with Captain Ingrew’s cavalry guarding them.

  The men on the southern wall cheered and Sir Tiffy smiled grimly as he signed the document that rested on the battlement.

  “Here is an arrest warrant,” he said to a soldier who stood nearby. “Find Sir Erical and bring him to the castle immediately. He must not be allowed to see anyone until I get there.”

  Doric was sitting up in bed, grumbling to an exasperated Theodore about the dangers of horses. Castimir slept nearby.

  Gar’rth sat
next to the squire and Theodore examined his injured hand. The wound had nearly closed. The squire shook his head in envy of Gar’rth’s regenerative powers. Though a look into the youth’s sad black eyes made him dismiss such thoughts, for he knew that the turmoil Gar’rth suffered far outweighed the benefits of his inhuman nature.

  “Those goblins were stronger than any I have fought before,” Theodore said, interrupting Doric’s complaining.

  “Ah, squire, that’s because the only goblins you’ve fought have been pitiful creatures driven from their homeland by their more vicious brethren” the dwarf explained. “You must think of them as beggars and thieves, mere nuisances throughout Asgarnia.” He laughed bitterly. “No, my young friend, the goblin warriors are more deadly, although they aren’t any more intelligent than their troublesome exiles.”

  A loud knock at the door disturbed a slumbering Castimir, who awoke with a start. Theodore looked up to see a breathless dwarf gesturing wildly for them to follow. Without a word the companions jogged behind him, wondering what could be so urgent. After several minutes, they found themselves in the company of Commander Blenheim and several of his soldiers.

  “Squire Theodore,” he said, bowing. “An army of soldiers is encamped in the foothills, nearly six hundred strong. We think they are a gathering of the Imperial Guard. Our scouts report they have little food and are debating what to do, for it appears the Kinshra have already siezed Burthorpe and have ordered the Imperial Guard to stand down. But they are still equipped for war.”

  Theodore glanced at his friends, unsure of what this could mean. Then he looked back to the dwarf.

  “Get me my horse!” he said, and the elderly dwarf motioned to a soldier. “I shall ride down and speak with them.”

  As he said it, he wondered at the wisdom of his words.

  Kara sat by Master Phyllis’s bedside, listening to his weak breathing.

  “Please don’t die,” she whispered, holding back the tears. “I don’t want to be alone. There is so much I want to tell you!”

  She had said these words many times, yet they had not stirred the old dwarf from his deathly slumber. But this time he gave a start and his eyes fluttered open, the orbs clouded with age. He watched her intently for a minute, and then he laughed carefully, though doing so seemed to cause him pain.