Betrayal at Falador (24 page)

For a moment the guard stood on the bridge, his mind racing as he wondered what to do.

Dagger Alley, was that what the note had said?

A deep echo of thunder rolled across the rooftops, prompting his decision. He turned and ran from the bridge, heading for the ward to retrieve the note he had delivered to Theodore, just a short time before.

As the storm rumbled overhead, the kitchens of the knights were busy. The visitors from the almshouse expected the best from those for whom they had spent their lives fighting, and the cooks were eager not to let them down.

Elise moved with purpose. She was keen to get out of the hot kitchens and return to the ward with Kara’s meal.

“It is not ready yet, Elise,” the cook told her. “I have prepared Lady Kara’s drink. I have even mixed some chocolate into it for a treat. From the gossip going around the castle, I think she deserves it.”

The woman sighed and looked at the retired knights. Eager to look in on the places where they had spent their youth, they had even invaded the domain of the kitchen. Two of them—Sir Erical and Sir Balladish—were standing close by, and as she waited she listened to their conversation.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” the one-armed knight said with fond nostalgia.

“And for me, Sir Erical,” his companion agreed. “I was taught to cook on this stove as a peon.”

“And can you remember what you learned, Sir Balladish?” a voice called from the stairwell. Sir Finistere ducked his head under the lintel and entered the room with a broad smile, his eyes looking eagerly over the food that was on display. He noted the chocolate drink and darted toward it with a suddenly greedy look, scooping it up.

Sir Balladish laughed.

“Hand’s off, Finistere. That is Kara’s drink.”

Upon hearing who it was for, the old knight handed it to Sir Balladish, who placed it on the tray close to Elise.

“I am surprised that Master Troughton isn’t here” Finistere said. “I have not seen him for some time.” Although he was not an actual knight, Master Troughton had served the order for many decades as a capable master-at-arms before handing the responsibility over to Nicholas Sharpe. He was not as friendly with the retired knights as they were amongst themselves, for he had not gone through their extensive training and had missed many of their shared experiences.

“He will be here shortly, for he has a good appetite,” Sir Erical replied, laughing.

The group of old friends remained in the kitchen for several minutes, each poking their deft fingers toward whatever food came within their reach as they relived their youth.

Finally, Elise was called to take Kara’s meal to the ward. Her eyes hovered enviously over the hot chocolate. It seemed as if everyone in the castle was eager to please Kara, and she thought how beautiful the young girl was, how strong and capable she had proved in her battle with Marius. Not like Elise at all, who slept on duty and felt awkward shuffling around in her frumpy robes.

Suddenly, in spite of herself, she was jealous.

A few minutes later, Elise opened the door to the ward quietly, eager to avoid Kara’s attention.

But the room was empty.

“Kara? Where are you?” Panic gripped her stomach. She knew that Sir Amik had left the matron specific instructions that the girl should be kept in the ward. “Kara? This is not funny” she said, her voice high with alarm.

She put the tray down and explored the ward carefully. Stepping around Kara’s bed, she saw a motionless guard on the floor. Her training took over as she knelt by the young man’s side. She saw instantly that he was breathing steadily, though there was a dark bruise on his temple.

He moaned, his eyes fluttering open.

“The girl” he whispered. “She’s gone after Theodore. She thinks he’s in danger, that he’s being led into a trap by the letter. She knocked me down to go to his rescue.”

“What letter?” Elise asked.

“I asked her for it when I came up—said the dwarf thought it was meant to lure Theodore in. But she took it and she’s gone... to a house in Dagger Alley!”

The young man tried to stand, but as he did he fell back into unconsciousness, his head dropping to the tiles.

Elise knew it was up to her. She would raise the alarm. She would tell the knights that their beautiful and headstrong visitor was pursuing Theodore to Dagger Alley. She would be the hero!

Calm yourself, Elise,
she told herself.
Saradomin is the god of peace. I must be calm.

She walked to the door, noting the hot chocolate on the tray. She hadn’t had such a luxury since she was a child and the delicious taste came back to her in an instant.

She took a deep gulp of the hot drink,
to fortify myself,
she thought, and knowing that Kara was running from the castle she decided that she wouldn’t need the rest of it.

On the third draught she knew something was wrong. A stinging pain erupted in her stomach and she dropped to the floor in agony, unable to cry out for help. Her tongue began swelling up, choking her, and she knew that there was only one way she could become so ill so quickly.

“Poison!” she gasped. “Someone’s tried to poison Kara.”

She made it as far as the door before she gave in to the darkness.

THIRTY-TWO

Kara ran across the battlements in the gloom. Two more guards had tried to stop her and she had left them both unconscious. She knew Theodore was riding into danger—she had grown up amongst the dwarfs and she knew their ways better than any guard who might write off their warnings as drunken ramblings.

But first she had to get out of the castle. The gatehouse near the moat would be too well-guarded, so she chose the only other way she could think of in such a short space of time.

She stood atop the battlements and looked down into the darkness below. Light glinted off the dark water. She whispered a prayer to Saradomin.

Someone shouted something in the courtyard. A sentry had found one of the unconscious guards. Cries of alarm erupted from the men at their posts as they drew their weapons.

Kara leapt.

She fell with astonishing speed and hit the ice-cold water. The shock forced her to fight her way to the steep bank. Voices shouted from the bridge. Her landing had drawn the guards’ attention and she could see in the dim light a small body of armed men rushing out to investigate.

Kara was too far away for them to see, however. She climbed the bank, slipping twice on the muddy sides. She knew she had to get clear of the castle, aware that the knights had every advantage since the streets were unfamiliar to her.

A heavy carriage rolled by as she stepped onto the road. The driver gave the wet girl covered in mud a long stare of disapproval. As he passed, Kara jumped aboard the carriage, clinging close to its side as it carried her past the guards running in the other direction.

Within minutes the castle was in uproar. Sir Erical woke one of the unconscious guards by pouring a bucket of cold water over him. After a moment of sputtering he glanced around in alarm.

“It’s Kara! She’s the one who attacked me!”

“She must be found at once.” The master-at-arms bellowed his orders as he hastened to inform Sir Amik. “Wake every knight, squire, and peon available. Send men out to watch the city’s gates!”

Soldiers rushed across the bridge, seeking to reach the city’s gates and to prevent Kara from leaving Falador. At the same time, a dozen guards rushed out to search the immediate vicinity.

“Kara does not know the city” Sir Amik said, looking intently at Nicholas Sharpe and Sir Tiffy. “That is our advantage.”

“But we don’t know where Squire Theodore has gone” Sir Tiffy observed. “One of our guards is missing, and two have been assaulted. Peons and squires have all poured into the city in a disordered mass. If we find her it will be by the will of Saradomin only.” The old knight shook his head in dismay.

Hearing that Kara had fled, the traitor knew he had to take the opportunity. He gathered a weather-beaten cloak and headed across the bridge into the city, turning toward the Dens and Dagger Alley, to end the threat of Bryant once and for all.

As he turned a corner his unease grew, however. Something was wrong.

Was that someone following me?

He hesitated.

I cannot afford to be weak. I have lived so long and so dangerously. The boy and Kara have to die. Both of them.

As quick as he could manage, the traitor ran on, his mind set.

Theodore made no effort to conceal his presence, for he had no reason to be suspicious. He tied his white mare to the rusted strut in the wall, noting how everything in Dagger Alley seemed to reflect its reputation as a place of squalid destitution. Even the air seemed stale.

The mare was reluctant to be tied and he had to force her to the wall in order to secure her. It was unlike her to be so jumpy, he thought as he walked toward the shadowy door of Bryant’s rescuer.

He knocked loudly.

“Who is it?” a man’s voice called out.

“Squire Theodore, sir. From the knights. I received a letter regarding Bryant, a peon of mine?”

The door handle turned and the lock was opened from the inside.

“It is good of you to come, Squire Theodore.”

The door opened, and before Theodore could react, a huge hand seized his shoulder and dragged him inside, forcing him to the floor as if he were a child’s doll. He glimpsed Bryant tied to the chair, his arm bleeding.

Rolling free, he rose to confront his attacker, his hand on his sword.

A tall figure stood before him and Theodore could sense the power of his assailant.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his will faltering in the face of this enemy.

His foe made no attempt to answer. With a speed that confounded him, he hit Theodore in the stomach. As the squire cried out he saw red eyes glow deep within the hood, eyes that delighted in inflicting pain on others.

A monster’s eyes.

Theodore drew his sword and lunged, the tip of the blade cutting deep into the red robe and glancing off something underneath.

Animal hide
was Theodore’s first thought as he pulled his arm back to deliver a second strike. But this time his enemy was ready for him. He sidestepped the blade and retaliated with a punch that Theodore could not hope to avoid. His vision blurred and his grip loosened on the sword hilt. With a groan, he knew he couldn’t remain conscious.

Doric had tried hard to memorise the location of the house in Dagger Alley, knowing that he could not afford to waste any time in leading Theodore back there to confront the monster.

Now he ran through the dark streets, aware that each passing second reduced the chances of him finding the young man alive.

“If only my legs weren’t so short,” he muttered angrily to himself as he paused to read the street names carved into the stone walls. He ran as swiftly as he could, hopeful that he knew where he was going.

If he was right, he was less than a minute away.

The carriage driver was fond of Falador. He liked the white city’s wide streets and clean thoroughfares, and he always felt a certain peacefulness settle upon him whenever he saw the castle at the city’s centre.

He didn’t like the city at that moment, however. The mud-stained urchin girl, dripping wet, had appeared next to him out of the darkness as silently as a wraith. She had forced him to change his route and to carry her to a part of the city about which he knew little. He prayed that his prestigious passenger, the daughter of a Varrock noble, didn’t get curious and open the cabin’s curtains.

“How long?” the little thief asked him.

He flogged the horses harder.

“We should be at the end of Dagger Alley in a few more minutes.” He swallowed as he spoke, trying to sound calm.

“Be sure you are right this time! I cannot afford any more mistakes.”

The glint in the girl’s dark eyes scared him, and the sword that she held with a deadly assurance made him decide against any attempt to resist her commands.

“Yes, ma’am!” he said automatically, whipping his horses all the harder.

THIRTY-THREE