Runescape: Return to Canifis Page 38

  They melted in his palm, the sensation reassuring. Then, when he felt his hand grow heavy, he pushed it forward. A compact ball of air, powerful enough to topple a strong man, rent a hole in the wall of smoke.

  But it bought them only a few moments reprieve.

  “How often can you do that?” Theodore asked him.

  “Not often enough, Theo. Not nearly often enough. But perhaps if I aim it closer to home it might work better.”

  He conjured the wind again, and this time he directed it toward the ground. The breeze hit him as it burst upon the grass, a cool wind escaping in all directions. He tried it twice more, but each time the smoke moved in quicker than before.

  Soon they were all bent double, crouching under the smoke.

  “Water... I should use water,” he wheezed. “Perhaps I can douse their fires.”

  This time, when he thrust his arm forward, a great globe of water flew from his hand, vanishing into the darkness beyond.

  It was greeted by vicious laughter.

  “Is that the best you can do, wizard?” The voices mocked from all sides now. “Our fires are too numerous for you to extinguish.”

  And then the drums started. A steady beat, marching around and around the cage as the smoke only grew denser.

  “We will... we will have to run,” Kara coughed violently. “Can you melt the lock?”

  Castimir shook his head. He was exhausted. His robes clung to his body, soaked from his sweat.

  “We wouldn’t get a hundred yards, Kara,” Theodore said, his eyes watering, his tunic held against his face to try and prevent the smoke from getting into his lungs.

  All this magic and I still can’t save us!

  “I’m sorry, Kara,” he said. “Theodore, I’m sorry. And you Gar’rth, I’m sorry... sorry for you as well...”

  And Arisha—especially you.

  “At least we won’t feel anything,” Theodore murmured. Castimir saw the knight’s grip slacken on his sword as he fell face down at the centre of the cage. Kara looked at him and smiled sweetly. She sat behind Gar’rth still, unwilling to be parted from him.

  Then Castimir was too weak even to cough. His vision swam again and he saw the world darken.

  29

  They headed south, into the vast swamps.

  Pia’s feet sunk ankle deep into the mire as they went, Jack behind her, holding her arm with both his hands.

  Still he won’t speak. Not since our capture.

  She gritted her teeth and fought her exhaustion before taking another step.

  “Come on, Pia. We have a long way to go before night falls,” Vanstrom said from in front of her.

  “You knew that Canifis was going to be attacked,” she spat at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  It would have given me hope. It would have given Jack hope too.

  Vanstrom gave a tight-lipped grin.

  “You could have been spies. The vampires use them often enough. Come on now, and no more talking. We must be silent.”

  On they trudged, for how long Pia couldn’t say. She stared at her mud-caked boots, and sought not to trip and fall. As they continued, she gradually realised that she could hear more noise than just the heavy trudging sounds of the three of them—the splashing became louder and louder. And there was something else...

  Looking up, she saw that their ranks had swelled to nearly a dozen individuals. They were armed with bows and clad in black cloaks, their faces coated in a foul-smelling paste. She covered her nose against the stench.

  “You should get used to that smell,” growled a man who saw her distaste. “It confuses their noses. Prevents the wolves from tracking us. Now, you will have to wear it, too.” They reached firmer ground, a small island in the swamp, and the group spread out to watch every approach. Some sat down, taking the time to rest.

  Two of them moved forward and applied a black, mud-like paste to her face, rubbing it into her hair. Pia was too tired to resist, and she saw that her brother was being subjected to similar treatment. One of the men who seemed to lead the small band held out a handful of the stuff, gesturing for her to take it.

  “Rub it under your arms, as well, and on your legs,” he instructed. “We have time now, so do it properly.”

  The group waited in silence upon the narrow island, with its small trees and some dense bushes. Vanstrom talked in a low voice with the leader, and every so often Pia saw their eyes fall upon her.

  Perhaps they will help us, she thought. But can I trust them? Or will they be like Kara-Meir. No. I can trust Vanstrom. What he did for me in cage saved me from madness.

  Pia curled her lip back as she thought of her abandonment. Part of her fought against it, for she knew in truth that there was nothing Kara could have done for her. Yet she had fled so quickly.

  Arisha is a true heroine. She sat out there with me. I won’t ever steal from a Guthix priest again.

  She caught Vanstrom smiling at her, and without thinking she smiled back. Without his presence in the cage, she knew, she would have been overwhelmed by fear.

  He was kind to me, and to Jack.

  Suddenly there was movement at one tip of the island.

  “Karnac, someone is coming,” a man warned. The group fell silent instantly. Bows and swords were readied as the black group hid as best they could, waiting.

  A minute went by, and then another. Pia fought the urge to speak.

  Finally she heard them. A small group, trudging through the mire.

  “Karnac!” a man called, his voice strangely calm.

  “I’m here.” The leader of the band stood and waved his hand. “How many of you are there? Did you get them out?”

  “Only three, I am afraid. The rest of the outsiders went back into the village.”

  Karnac cursed.

  “Then there is nothing we can do for them now. They must trust to whatever gods they believe in. Come onto the island, but beware, there is deep water to your left side.”

  The newcomers stepped into sight for the first time. Pia let out a sigh of relief when she saw Arisha, and Jack bounded toward her, hugging her tightly, yet still silent. Behind her were the man she recognised as Lord Despaard and the dwarf Doric.

  “At least you are safe,” Doric growled to her. “Kara went to look for you. I left them trapped in your cage, surrounded by werewolves.” He dipped his head. “I returned to the inn and caught up with Despaard and Arisha as they were guided out by these strangers.”

  The dwarf shook his head in despair, and clasped his axe.

  “She has got out of worse spots,” Arisha said.

  “Aye.” Doric nodded, but Pia could see in his eyes that he didn’t fully believe it.

  “What are your names, strangers? The spirit woman told us you would come and that we had to rescue you from Canifis,” Karnac said. “She often guides us with her gift. Without her none of us would be alive now.”

  “I am Lord Despaard, of Misthalin. Advisor to King Roald the Third. These are my companions, Doric the dwarf, and Arisha, priestess of the barbarian peoples. Tell me, do you have word of two other of our embassy, one a tall thin man and the other an old man?”

  Karnac shook his head.

  “No, they have not been seen by our spies.”

  Lord Despaard pursed his lips.

  “Then I think it safe to assume that they are gone.”

  Arisha nodded as Doric gripped his axe tightly, fire in his eyes.

  “But we are not free of Canifis just yet,” Karnac warned. “My men have planted many false trails in all directions from the town. If there is pursuit, it will most likely be led astray. Still, I would like to be sure. We will remain here for a few moments more.”

  Pia sunk down at Arisha’s side. As she did, others of the group moved to distribute the foul-smelling paste among the newcomers. Even Lord Despaard accepted it, though with a look of disgust, and as he applied it he talked quietly with Vanstrom and Karnac, the two asking the nobleman one question after another.


  “Will Kara be all right?” Pia asked hesitatingly.

  Arisha smiled slightly.

  “I don’t know, Pia,” she replied. “I just don’t know.”

  Something in her tone told Pia that the woman did not wish to speak of her friends, so she decided to hold her tongue.

  She offered me kind words when I needed them most. Yet I can’t find the words to offer her. Pia lay down next to Arisha, and she must have slept for a time because she was woken suddenly by urgent whispers.

  “Something is coming!”

  “It’s one of them!”

  “Ready... we must be ready.”

  Something stepped onto the island, something inhuman and powerful. Pia caught sight of the broad shoulders and matted hair that covered its body.

  It was a werewolf.

  Karnac’s men leapt from their places. Two arrows whistled forward as the creature leapt to one side.

  “Ready!” Karnac’s voice called out of the shadows. Three men jumped forward, forming a rough line before their one enemy. Arisha stood, her hand on her dagger.

  “I can smell your fear,” the monster taunted. “How many of you are there?”

  The werewolf’s eyes found Arisha. He laughed again.

  “How fitting. So the embassy’s barbarian hides in the swamps,” he snarled. “Your friends are captured. You, however, will be mine now that you have broken the conditions of the blood mark. I will tell the wizard how you suffered so...”

  Doric jumped up from nearby, his mouth widening in a smile.

  “Imre?” he said with a strange delight. “It is you. Good.”

  The werewolf laughed even louder now as Doric walked to the front of Karnac’s three men. Casually, the dwarf readied himself.

  “If you fellas would give me some room to swing my axe, then Imre and I will be about our business.”

  The men looked at each other curiously before stepping backward, still maintaining their line. Despaard moved behind the dwarf, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Doric spat on his hands.

  He’s insane, Pia thought uncomprehendingly. He’s utterly mad. Then the dwarf spoke again.

  “Well, Imre? Do you feel up to it?”

  “I told you before that I have never eaten dwarf, so this will be a new experience. I will keep you alive as I devour you, one limb at a time, so before you die I can tell you how you compare with a human child—”

  Imre coughed suddenly. He swayed unsteadily and put his hand to his head.

  Doric took his opportunity. The dwarf ran in without a sound, and thrust the flat head of his axe into Imre’s stomach. Pia had expected the werewolf to avoid it, yet she found herself gasp in delight as he doubled over with a pain-filled grunt.

  “That ought to stop your boasting, I think,” Doric remarked.

  The werewolf growled in real anger now, his right hand flailing out with deadly speed. His claws rattled across the dwarf’s helm, but Doric stepped in close again, his axe swinging inward.

  This time, the haft crunched against the inside of Imre’s left knee. As the werewolf howled in pain, the dwarf pulled his axe toward him, the lower edge of his blades tripping his opponent in a neat move.

  “Reckon I could have broken your kneecap there,” Doric said. “No doubt painful. Take a minute if you like. Get your breath back.”

  “You... you taunt me!”

  “Aye. I suppose I do.”

  The werewolf came to his feet and jumped forward, but Pia saw how clumsy he was, how ill-timed and even she, without any experience in combat, saw how easy it would have been for the dwarf to take advantage of it.

  And Doric did so. His axe darted forward, a short stab that smashed Imre’s fingers into twisted shapes. The werewolf howled and kept moving. But Doric side-stepped, bringing the flat of his weapon against the same kneecap he had damaged a moment before. This time the crunch of bone was unmistakable.

  Imre collapsed in a heap.

  Doric held his axe over the werewolf’s head.

  “And I once told you I wanted a new coat, Imre.”

  The axe went up.

  “Wait!” It was Arisha. She advanced quickly, although Pia noted that she stopped a good distance from the wounded werewolf. She stared directly at him.

  “I will ask Doric to spare your life, if you swear to do something for us.”

  “Arisha, what are you—” Doric began, but she held up a hand to cut him off.

  “If you promise us, on the very name of your god, to help our friends in any way you can, then you will leave here alive.”

  Imre spat at the dwarf and tried to move away. Doric gave a wicked chuckle and rammed his booted foot down upon the werewolf’s chest.

  “I don’t know, Arisha,” he said doubtfully. “I really want that fur coat. The swamp’s a cold place at night.”

  “What is to be, Imre?” the priestess asked. “Death, or your promise upon the name of Zamorak that you will do all you can to help our friends, with the aim of returning them to safety. I warn you, he will know of your word, just as he will know of your deeds if you dishonour your promise. And you will promise not to tell any of your kind—or even Malak himself—of our presence here.”

  “Come on, Imre, you cur. I grow cold waiting.” Doric lifted the axe menacingly.

  “Very well,” the creature gritted. “You have my promise. I swear on Zamorak himself that I will do all in my power to aid your friends, with the aim of returning them to safety. And I will keep silent about your presence here.”

  Doric removed his foot.

  Imre sat up and scowled.

  Finally, he stood and limped from the island. He gave a last look back at Doric before vanishing into the swamp.

  “How did you do that, Doric?” Karnac asked. “I thought he was going to kill us all but you bested him by yourself, and with ease. How?”

  Doric shared a look with Lord Despaard and Arisha. The nobleman nodded and Doric revealed a familiar two-pronged dagger. He explained its origins, then sheathed it quietly.

  The onlookers gazed at the three strangers in wonder.

  “Well, I am glad of it,” Karnac said, and he looked longingly at the weapon. “But it is time we were moving. We must reach Hope Rock before midnight. Come.”

  And with that, Pia forced herself to stand, her caked boots an unwelcome reminder of the journey ahead.

  Pia lost count of the miles and the hours. She lost count of how many times she stumbled and fell, of how many times Jack staggered behind her, or of how many times Arisha pulled them up and encouraged them to walk ahead of her.

  The land was against them, too.

  From the island they set off through another swamp where what seemed to be an old road, long since broken into stepping stones, made their way less treacherous. Once, they had to wade across a foul-smelling river, their belongings held over their heads. The water had risen to Pia’s chin, and although told not to drink anything she was sure she had swallowed a mouthful or more.

  For Doric it was even worse. Lord Despaard waded through with the dwarf upon his back, and Vanstrom did the same for Jack.

  “If you tell anyone of this, Despaard, especially that wizard,” Doric said from his perch, “then I will likely have to kill you.” The lord nodded solemnly.

  When they emerged from the other side they found their bodies covered with black leeches, each the size of Pia’s thumb. She cried out in disgust, and it took them several minutes to remove the wretched creatures.

  Her brother remained silent throughout.

  But at least Canifis is behind us now.

  She kept her eyes on him, for she could tell that he was weak and exhausted, hungry and cold. They all were.

  “Never a rope, Jack,” she said. “Not us. Not for you or me.”

  “What does that mean, Pia?” Arisha asked. “Why do you say that?”

  Arisha had lasted the journey better than most. She had swum across the river, her clothes bundled above her to keep them dry, and although
she was obviously tired, she did not seem exhausted like the others. Now, her dark hair was slick, the silver band that held it more brilliant than usual, and her blue eyes shone in a face that was reddened from exertion—a face that had been challenged but not beaten.

  Pia’s respect for her had only grown, and she responded to the question.

  “We were born and raised in East Ardougne. We were thieves. There, ‘never a rope’ is a saying. You are trained as a thief by one of the guild-masters. You trust your brothers and sisters absolutely, and you can never steal from them. If you betray them, it is certain death. The rope is what we are taught to fear—the hangman’s noose. Any other death is to be welcomed, for it means you didn’t get caught by Lathas’s Justice, and you haven’t told on your brothers and sisters. Anything else is a death with honour.”

  Arisha looked at her curiously.

  “So you think anything other than hanging is an honourable death?” she asked.

  “To hang you have to be caught,” Pia explained. “If you are caught by the Justice you will be tortured into telling on your brothers and sisters. Therefore, we are told it is a dishonourable way to die. That it is the way of cowards and traitors.”

  “You have been told that by wicked men who would use you,” the priestess said, “to ensure that you are so afraid of hanging that you would throw yourself into an army of swords rather than give yourself up. It keeps them safe.”

  She turns what I say into questions and uncertainties. But there is something in her words...

  “I don’t know,” Pia whispered, embarrassed by her ignorance. “I don’t understand.”

  “The world is not just, I’m afraid,” Arisha said. “Even an honourable person can hang. That does not undo the good work they have done in life.”

  Ahead, Karnac called a halt and stared into the distance.

  “There it is,” he said. “Hope Rock.” He pointed south, to a mesa that stood above the swamp like a pointed finger, barely visible in the darkness. “That is our home. It is a natural fastness surrounded on all sides by water.