Runescape: Return to Canifis Read online

  “What’s going on Gar’rth?” Theodore asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. They reached the corner of the last building before the inn, and he raised his hand for them to stop. Tentatively he looked out.

  Fires were burning on all sides of the village now. To the north he could see a yellow glow above the buildings, to the south— nearer—he could hear the crackling of flames as they consumed wood. To the east, the roof of the House of Artefacts itself had been set ablaze. From all directions came the smell of smoke, the sound of wails. In the glow of the flames he could see his kin doing their best to fight the growing inferno, using buckets of water in a battle they were obviously losing.

  “It must be an attack of some sort,” he said finally. “There is no other explanation.”

  But who would attack Canifis like this? he wondered. The vampires would use more subtle and horrific ways.

  He gave the signal with his hand and ran across the small stretch of open ground to the inn. As they neared, Doric swore in his own language.

  For the door had been smashed open. Albertus Black and Gideon Gleeman were nowhere to be seen.

  Kara charged up the stairs to the first floor. Castimir looked for any disturbance to the saddlebags. Despaard searched the kitchen and the rest of the ground floor, while Arisha kept watch near the door.

  “They are not upstairs,” Kara announced from the stairway.

  “Can you track them, Gar’rth?” Theodore asked after a quick survey of the inn. The knight had buckled his sword belt about his waist, and Gar’rth noted the wolfbane dagger at his hip.

  “Two of Albertus’s explosives are missing,” Castimir reported.

  Gar’rth crouched closer to the ground near the door and examined the scents.

  They both left this way. Instantly he was outside, edging forward, testing the air.

  Toward the cages, he realised. Fear gripped him. Albertus, what have you done?

  He stood as his friends gathered around him.

  “Albertus left first. Gideon followed sometime after, for his scent is stronger, as if he stood here for a moment before deciding which way to go. This way...” He pointed toward the cage, and Theodore groaned.

  “But is this safe?” Castimir asked. “Are the terms of our embassy forfeit now?”

  “Castimir makes a good point,” Despaard said. “We don’t know what is happening. We should go back to the inn, gather our supplies, and make ready to flee Canifis at once.”

  He is right, Gar’rth reflected. If the werewolves believe these fires to be of our making, then Albertus and Gideon will be dead already.

  “Then you go back,” Kara told the nobleman. “I will go to Pia and Jack. If our embassy is forfeit, then I have nothing to risk in freeing them.”

  “I’ll come with you, Kara,” Theodore said. He looked to the wizard. “We could use your magic, Castimir.”

  The mage nodded, and the three stood separate from the group.

  “I’ll come, too,” Doric said.

  “I will not,” Arisha told them. “Despaard speaks wisely. I will go with him to the inn to gather our supplies.”

  “Two minutes, Kara,” Despaard said. “Don’t risk your lives if you can’t get to them. Come back to the inn and we’ll find a place to hide until we can better understand what has happened today.” He peered at her intently. “Good luck.”

  Kara nodded.

  “Two minutes is enough,” she said. “Come on!”

  Gar’rth led them quickly and stealthily, from shadow to shadow, west to east. The smoke from the fires caused his eyes to water and burned his lungs.

  “Gar’rth,” Kara hissed in warning. “We are seen!”

  A cloaked figure rushed out of a doorway nearby. In its right hand was a bucket of water. It stopped when it saw them and gave an angry shout, its red eyes narrowing in hatred.

  A woman. She was young and beautiful. She leapt forward, discarding her burden in her haste to be upon them. He shouted out in their werewolf tongue for her to stop, and he was aware of Kara, in between them, readying her sword.

  No! There is no need for this!

  “Kara!” Gar’rth shouted. “Wait!”

  He watched Kara step forward as the werewolf leapt upon her. Kara dropped to one knee, ducking her attacker’s wildly flailing arms. And then her sword darted upward in a single deadly thrust.

  “No, Kara—no!”

  The werewolf female gave a surprised gasp as she rolled free from Kara’s blade. She came to rest at Gar’rth’s feet, her eyes staring into his as she changed back to her human form. She reached out to him and he took her hand.

  Her black blood flowed from a wound near her heart. She would be dead very soon.

  “I’m sorry,” Gar’rth said in their language. “I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled herself up with the last of her strength. Her once beautiful face now pale and grey. And then she spoke a single word.

  “Traitor,” she said, spitting into his face. Her eyes closed and she fell limply back to the earth stained in her black blood.

  “Well done, Kara,” Theodore said with obvious relief. “She would have killed us.”

  “Well done?” Gar’rth repeated, his voice breaking. “Well done? You killed a woman, Kara. You killed a woman who had a bucket of water in her hand.”

  Something inside Gar’rth snapped. He leaped up and pushed Theodore back, the force of his blow sending the knight flying.

  “She had done nothing!” he cried. “Nothing!”

  “She attacked us, Gar’rth,” Kara responded, her words betraying uncertainty.

  She knows she is wrong, he thought. And yet she won’t admit it.

  “She’s right, lad,” Doric growled. “She came at us first. Kara had no way of knowing what she would do.”

  Theodore stood, his face a mix of surprise and anger. His hand dropped to the dagger at his belt, the wolfbane blade. He drew it quickly.

  Gar’rth stepped back.

  “So this is it?” Gar’rth said warily. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, Theodore.”

  I can feel its power from here. Even now, in late afternoon, the world is a darker place already, no smell, fewer sounds, my limbs heavy.

  “Don’t make me use it, Gar’rth,” Theodore said. “But I need to know I can tru—”

  The dagger shot from Theodore’s hand and flew through the air.

  It landed in Castimir’s waiting palm.

  “Enough,” the wizard said firmly. “Now. Both of you.” His eyes were different, a steely glare that Gar’rth had never seen on him before. In his other hand he held a set of runes.

  “We can discuss this later,” Castimir continued. “We have no time left now. Lord Despaard will be leaving very soon—if he hasn’t already. A woman has been killed today, but bickering about it won’t help her, and it certainly won’t help us.

  “Even if it wasn’t before, we can now presume our embassy is most definitely forfeit,” he continued. “Our lives are in danger every second we delay. So let us make the most of what we have left. Let us at least try and save Pia and Jack. Gar’rth, you lead on. I will come behind you. Theodore, you watch our backs.”

  Gar’rth paused for a moment, then nodded and moved to comply. The wizard gave the knight an angry glare and followed.

  Kara followed behind Castimir. The woman’s blood had dripped onto her hands, and for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to wipe it off.

  She attacked me. I acted in self defense. Still, she did not feel better in any way.

  Ahead of her, Gar’rth raised his hand again.

  “I can see the cage,” he said flatly, “but it is empty.”

  Kara ran to his side to see for herself. The clearing around the cage was deserted. The door was open, the padlock hanging loose in the latch. To the north, a house was burning uncontrollably and in the distance, at the farthest extent of visibility through the fog and the smoke, Kara could see black shapes running to and
fro, trying to combat the fires.

  Reassured, she turned to look at the cage once more.

  “There are no remains,” she said, hope flaring inside her. “Is that usual?”

  Gar’rth shook his head.

  “No. Come on.”

  They ran forward, Gar’rth close to the ground, sniffing the grass. Kara jumped into the cage itself, staring through the bars at all points of the compass before examining the ground.

  “They were here, but they went this way...” Gar’rth pointed to the northeast.

  “Here,” Doric said, holding the padlock up. “There are faint scratches on the surface. It might be that Pia picked it.”

  “Pia, or perhaps Vanstrom,” Gar’rth replied. “He seemed to be unafraid when we spoke to him. Maybe he knew that this attack was going to occur. Perhaps it is a diversion to get him out.”

  “Gar’rth!” Theodore said urgently. “Look.” The knight pointed to a small figure, a boy, who stood over the woman’s dead body. As soon as Kara saw him, he began to scream.

  To him, I am no better than Sulla.

  “Get him, or he will give us away,” Castimir urged.

  Doric was the closest, and he ran forward, with Gar’rth following behind. In only a few yards the werewolf had overtaken the dwarf. The boy turned to run, intending to put a house between them, and Doric altered course accordingly to cut him off.

  “It’s too late. We’ve been seen,” Theodore yelled. “Quickly, get into the cage. It’s our only hope.”

  Several powerful figures appeared and charged Gar’rth down. Some ran on two legs, their faces monstrously distorted in a hybrid mix, while others ran on four and in the shape of large wolves. The first leapt into him, forcing him to the ground. A wolf took his arm in its maw and bit him savagely, and Kara lost sight of Gar’rth as he rolled with his two attackers. Four others ran by, heading directly for the cage.

  Theodore closed the gate and snapped the padlock shut as the first of them crashed against the bars.

  “What about Doric?” Castimir whispered. “Kara, he has to leave us.”

  Kara nodded. She looked, and saw that the dwarf had ducked behind the house and now waited in the shadows, his dagger drawn.

  There is nothing he could do. Even with a wolfbane dagger, there are too many of them now. She shouted out in the language of the dwarfs, certain there was no one among their attackers who could understand.

  “Run, Doric,” she called. “Get back to Lord Despaard. Get out of here.”

  The dwarf lifted his hand in acknowledgement. Then, with a final look back, he vanished into the smoke-filled village. As he disappeared from sight, the werewolves circling the cage turned away and joined in the assault on Gar’rth.

  “What about Gar’rth?” Theodore asked.

  “I could risk a spell,” Castimir said. “But at that range, and with such movement...”

  Gar’rth was outnumbered by six to one. Two held him by the arms as a third heaped blows into his unprotected face. A fourth kicked him violently from behind.

  “They will kill him soon, Castimir,” Kara said. She winced with each blow they gave him, and fearfully she imagined the damage done to his face and body.

  Come on, Castimir!

  The wizard was concentrating, and she didn’t speak for fear of upsetting his spell.

  The runes in his hand evaporated as tongues of fire appeared in his hands. She felt her face flush from the sudden heat as Castimir threw his hands forward. The fire covered the distance in the blink of an eye and caught Gar’rth’s nearest attacker in the back as he readied himself to kick Gar’rth once more.

  They were lost to Kara’s sight as the fire seemed to burst in all directions. The werewolves howled and fled, running to the safety of the shadows. The one who had delivered the merciless kicks was now aflame.

  Only Gar’rth remained, lying still upon the ground.

  “Get up, Gar’rth!” she screamed. “Come to us!”

  “I can’t keep them at bay forever, Kara,” Castimir said, breathing deeply, his face sweating. “He is too far away for me to be sure of my accuracy.”

  But Gar’rth rose to his knees, swaying unsteadily.

  “Come to us, Gar’rth,” Theodore called.

  The werewolf crawled toward them, agonizingly slowly. A stone was hurled at him from the shadows, and Kara saw that they were surrounded now by scores of enemies. It missed by a wide margin, but she knew more would follow.

  “Hurry, Gar’rth. You must come quickly.”

  The werewolf staggered to his feet and veered to his left and then his right, then half-fell toward them. Finally, as stones clattered among the bars above them, he lurched so that his back was propped up against the side of the cage. Kara put her arms around him, holding him up. His clothes were wet, his face battered, his eyes swollen and lips cut. Black blood covered his chest, and his head lolled back onto Kara’s arm.

  Theodore winced. Castimir shook his head grimly.

  “Kara... Kara...” the werewolf said.

  “Shhh. Don’t try to speak, Gar’rth,” she whispered.

  Look at what they have done to you. Your own people.

  She couldn’t prevent the tears when they came. They dripped onto Gar’rth’s forehead and ran in little bloody rivulets down his face. But still she refused to let go—refused to let him fall to the ground.

  While all around them, the werewolves gathered.

  “They are coming, Castimir, no more feints.” Theodore stood close to Kara, his sword ready. From all sides the werewolves charged, too many too count.

  If I am surrounded, I suppose I can attack in any direction, Castimir realised with grim humour. Runes melted and dissipated in his hands. Fire flew from his fingers, striking and burning the oncoming terrible mass that approached from the east, forcing the attack to withdraw. Several of his enemies fell, rolling in the dirt, as the others turned and fled back into the gloom, beyond his range.

  “I’m not sure if I can do that again,” he said, staggering back against the bars, his heart crashing against his ribs. He sank to the floor of the cage and watched as those he had burned picked themselves up and retreated, one still aflame. Two others lay still, one a burning corpse for certain.

  “I don’t see what they hope to gain by such a frontal assault,” Theodore mused.

  You haven’t had to do anything save watch out for stones, Castimir thought. “They might be seeking to exhaust me,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Once I am done, they will be able to attack at their leisure.”

  Theodore nodded.

  “How many runes do you have?”

  “Enough to fend off a few more charges like the last. But I could do with a rest.”

  He felt his eyelids drop, and as they did he noticed that a calm had descended where only moments ago there had been the clamour of chaos. When he opened them again, he saw a single werewolf walk from the west, approaching the place where Kara held Gar’rth. He held a white cloth in his hand, and waved it for a moment before he shouted.

  “I seek to parley,” the newcomer called. He was a big wolf with light-grey hair, his clothes tight about his bestial appearance. He took another step forward.

  One of the town elders then. Talk as long as you may, for I will be glad of the rest.

  “Then you and you alone may advance,” Theodore replied.

  Castimir remained seated, his back to the farthest edge of the cage, opposite the advancing werewolf. Kara stood in front of him, while Gar’rth—miraculously still conscious—watched him from outside the bars.

  “A young woman of child-bearing age was slain before her son’s eyes,” the newcomer said. “Her loss is felt by all of Canifis. We demand justice. Hand over her murderess, and the rest of you will be dealt with mercifully.”

  “You cannot trust him,” Gar’rth mumbled.

  “We are sorry for your loss,” Theodore replied. “But we acted in self defense. The woman attacked us. We will not hand
over our friend to be killed.”

  “Don’t be a fool, knight,” the elder hissed angrily, hurling the cloth to the ground. Castimir looked to his right and left. His head ached and his vision swam, but he could see that the werewolves had advanced.

  They are getting ready for a charge. But what are they waiting for?

  Kara and Theodore faced the newcomer steadily. Gar’rth, leaning against the bars, faced him also.

  Castimir went cold.

  The east. No one is watching the east!

  He heard the sound as soon as he dived away from the bars. A clawed hand shot through and tore at the satchel that held the runes Aubury had given him. A second hand aimed to claw his throat.

  “Kara!”

  She reacted before he had finished speaking her name, stepping over him and stabbing with her adamant blade. Castimir heard a growl and a cry, followed by the drenching patter of liquid bursting from an artery. The hand on his satchel went limp.

  He looked up to see Kara, her arms and cheek covered in black blood. Beyond the bars, the body of his assailant fell silently to the ground outside.

  Kara spat in disgust.

  “You come to us in the guise of parley while your assassin sneaks up on us,” Theodore fumed. “Go now, and don’t bother to return. Your words are meaningless, your guarantees fraudulent, and your promises empty.”

  It was one of the bodies. One of the werewolves must have advanced with the rest, and then pretended he was dead, only to sneak up on me when the elder advanced.

  I have to be more careful in the future.

  “We should stay away from the bars if we can,” Kara warned. “Who knows what they will try next.”

  When the next attack came, it wasn’t a charge or a deceit, but something they couldn’t fight. A wall of smoke drifted on the breeze. In the distance, Castimir could see the werewolves arranging the fires to shroud their prison in smoke.

  “I didn’t know werewolves liked their meat smoked,” he joked, coughing.

  For the first time in what felt like days, he saw Theodore smile.

  “Can you conjure a wind to blow this aside?” Kara asked, her eyes watering.

  “I am not fond of wind or air magic, but I think it would serve us best now.” He readied the runes he needed for his spell. There were four of them, one with a skull etched upon its surface, a death rune. The other three had a primitive white depiction of the air element.