Betrayal at Falador (29 page)

Castimir rose to intervene.

“Young lady, I must come to my friend’s rescue. He speaks only a few words of the common tongue, but you should know that guests of the barbarian tribes eat freely. As long as you do not abuse their trust, then you have nothing to fear.”

The young man’s round, smiling face disarmed Kara. Her flight from Falador and the theft of the horse had made her angry with herself. She was not a thief—she had never stolen in her life— but she knew she had to escape from the knights.

“Thank you,” Kara said, bowing her head to the man with the plate.

He smiled at her, and returned the bow.

“It is not appropriate for a young lady to be travelling alone,” the blue-robed man continued. “Forgive me, but I know my companions would be as happy as I if you would accept our invitation. Will you join us?” He extended his hand in exaggerated gallantry.

Kara accepted, and as introductions were made, she was confident that she had made a good decision. There was safety in numbers, they knew the tribe’s customs, and Kara felt less threatened than when she had sat by herself.

But there was more to it than that. Castimir’s joking and Ebenezer’s scientific speculations were second in importance to the one called Gar’rth. She felt a bond with him, as two outsiders might come together in the face of common hostility or danger. It was as if they alone shared a secret knowledge that barred anyone else from coming between them. He could not speak the common tongue yet his actions spoke for him and his gaze never left her face.

Kara sensed a great strength in him that made him stand out against the fiercest barbarian warrior. When he returned from fetching travelling blankets from the wagon, he pushed open both of the double oak doors to the hall without pausing to muster his weight or gather his strength. It was a feat that even the largest warrior found difficult, yet here was a youth who had done it without strain.

The barbarian chatter thinned as the men saw him enter, a cold gust racing into the hall from the darkness outside. Some murmured in approval of his obvious strength, while others stared darkly at the youth.

Kara noted one barbarian woman gazing admiringly at Gar’rth and fiercely at her. She felt the woman’s hostility from across the hall, cold enough to douse any warmth from the burning braziers.

She shifted her sword uneasily and tried her best to ignore her.

THIRTY-NINE

“How much longer?” Doric asked Theodore.

Theodore was not certain if the mare could go much farther. It had been a mistake to bring Doric at all, he thought, for the dwarf’s grumbling was wearing down his own spirits.

His only hope was that Kara would have to stop for food and shelter, allowing him to catch up with her. He was sure his horsemanship was better than hers, and he hoped that would count for a great deal.

“Do you see those fires ahead?” he shouted to Doric, nodding his head forward to indicate the flickering flames of the burning braziers that stood either side of the main road leading into the barbarian settlement.

“Aye,” came the reply. “Is that it?”

“It is. Only a few minutes now until we can rest for the night. We may even be lucky enough to find Kara here.”

“Please” he said under his breath as they galloped into the village and passed the wooden paling.

Please let Kara be here.

It was the woman’s jealousy that led to the fight.

She had watched Kara and Gar’rth for an hour, whispering enviously to her friends about the blonde-haired outsider who sat with the mysterious youth.

And the woman’s attention had not gone unnoticed by a young barbarian warrior who had worked hard to secure her affections. The barbarian’s angry eyes focused on Gar’rth. His anger was fuelled by the mocking smiles of his fellow tribesmen.

So he emptied his ale and strode over to the travellers, his every movement revealing his hostile intentions.

He would see how well this lanky youth could fight.

Theodore lowered Doric to the ground, then dismounted. The dwarf grumbled quietly to himself as the demeaning spectacle was watched by several of the barbarian people, but Theodore was too tired to care.

“We can arrange lodging in the hall at the northern end of the village,” he announced, handing the reins to the boy whose duty it was to look after travellers’ steeds.

As they approached the hall, they could hear the noise of a contest within—men shouting either approval or condemnation at whatever was occurring. Then, as Theodore reached forward to push one of the oak doors open, the shouting abruptly ceased.

Something had changed.

He pushed the door inward. His presence drew no attention from those inside, and immediately he could see why.

In the centre of a chalk circle stood Gar’rth. The firelight reflected off his feverish-looking skin, which was coated in a glistening sweat. His eyes were large pools of black, and his nose was just beginning to bleed.

And above his head he held his helpless opponent.

With a roar of anger Gar’rth hurled the man into a table on which stood several men who had sought to better view the contest. The table shattered beneath the barbarian’s flailing body and men and crockery fell about in disarray. In the confusion, the nearest brazier was knocked over and burning coals rolled onto the dry floor. That portion of the hall was plunged into a dull twilight, obscuring Gar’rth in the shadows.

A silence fell. Gar’rth’s breathing was heavy and he slowly backed away against the wall. Much to Theodore’s astonishment, Kara rushed over to him, her hand on her sword hilt, as if ready to fight anyone that dared to attack him. Beside her was Ebenezer, who placed his hand on Gar’rth’s shoulder and spoke in soothing words as a father might do to his young child.

Gar’rth let out a long moan as if he were about to weep.

“What is wrong with him?” Kara whispered in fear. But the old man didn’t answer her. Instead he turned to the young wizard.

“Castimir, run and find his medicine! Go!”

The wizard stood, and as he turned, he caught sight of Theodore standing at the entrance to the hall. Kara noticed his delay and followed his gaze to see the squire, illuminated by the torch that hung above the doorway outside.

Theodore was about to speak when the brazier was righted and light returned to the hall. Then he saw Gar’rth’s face over Kara’s shoulder.

“In the name of Saradomin!” he swore, drawing his sword.

Standing by his side, Doric grasped his axe in readiness for a fight.

Kara knew it was not her they wished to confront and she turned to look behind her, following their gaze to look directly into Gar’rth’s bloodied face.

And immediately she knew why her two friends were so eager to arm themselves, for the blood on Gar’rth’s face was not red. It was black—the same black blood that she had wiped from her sword just two nights before.

Gar’rth was no human. He was a werewolf.

FORTY

Ebenezer was the first to react. Before anyone could make a move or utter a cry, he covered Gar’rth’s face in a wet cloth that he had held in readiness for such a task.

“Castimir! You must get his medicine at once!” The wizard, who did not understand the reason for Theodore’s hostility, ran to the wagon, knowing that only the medicine could help Gar’rth now.

The blue-robed priestess approached Theodore.

“Why are you armed?” she demanded, looking angrily at Kara and Doric. “The warrior was wrong to challenge the young man but you have nothing to fear from my people.”

“Did you not see his blood?” Theodore asked.

A murmur rippled through the barbarian onlookers. Gar’rth’s injury had been visible only in the confused light as the brazier had been righted. That and their appetite for strong ale had caused many to imagine that the black blood was just a trick of the light.

“He is unwell!” Ebenezer said loudly. The barbarians had turned to lift the unconscious challenger from the ruins of the table, pouring cold water onto his bruised face. It was an advantage the alchemist would not waste. He guided Gar’rth outside, ignoring the suspicious looks of the barbarian priestess.

Theodore was waiting for him.

“Gar’rth is not human, Ebenezer,” he declared. “He is an enemy of Saradomin.”

“He is no such thing, young man. It is his choices in life that make him what he is, and by virtue of those choices he is not an evil man.” Ebenezer gave the squire a contemptuous stare.

“He is a creature of Zamorak” the squire persisted. “He must be slain!”

Kara looked at him.

“Theodore!” she said tersely. “Do you not think he deserves mercy? He is no murderer—he is not like the other one.” She lowered her voice as she stepped between them. “It was not his choice to be born as one of them.”

“That means nothing, Kara” he said. “He cannot change his nature. He is evil, a creature from Morytania—a follower of Zamorak.”

“Do the knights not believe in free will?” Ebenezer’s voice was shaking in anger. “Are you nothing but simple zealots?”

“We
prevent
persecution” he protested. “We fight for the people of Asgarnia.”

“At what cost, Theodore?” Kara countered. “Your precious Sir Amik was willing to risk my life for his own ends, and two innocent people died because of it!” She spoke angrily, and the painful truth in her words made Theodore’s face pale.

“Now that I see Gar’rth,” Kara continued, “despite what he is, I am willing to give him a chance. If anyone thinks otherwise, they shall have to deal with me.” She levelled her sword at Theodore’s throat.

Silence held sway. Kara did not move. Doric’s eyes remained fixed on Gar’rth.

Theodore knew his principle goal was to bring Kara back. He remembered Gar’rth from their meeting in Taverley, remembered how helpful and faithful he had been to both Castimir and Ebenezer.

Slowly he lowered his sword.

“Very well, Kara,” he said. “But to encounter two of these creatures in as many nights surely means they are connected. He must know something about the monster.”

“You are right,” Ebenezer said quietly. “I found Gar’rth running from someone. He had been running for months, but he could never evade his hunter—not for long. I divined his true nature with the help of the druids in Taverley. Kaqemeex developed a potion that can keep his bestial nature from asserting itself, but it is not a permanent solution.

“Each time he uses it the beast returns stronger than before. Soon the potion will be entirely useless. We are heading for the monastery northwest of here. Gar’rth’s only hope is that the monks of your god can quiet the demon within him.”

“But why is he being pursued?” Theodore asked, returning his sword to its scabbard.

“I do not know. There are legends of Morytania that we’ve all heard, but we must wait until Gar’rth masters the common tongue and chooses to tell us himself.”

Castimir emerged from the darkness, breathing heavily. He was not used to running and when he did so he found that his long blue robes got caught beneath his feet. More than once he had tripped himself up in this manner and now he ran with one hand holding them up above his knees.

“Here is the medicine, Ebenezer. I hope I am not too late?” He looked in concern at Gar’rth, who stood silently, as if focusing all of his concentration on keeping the growing pain inside him under control.

Ebenezer gave Gar’rth the potion, and quickly it calmed him. His features were less contorted, and his skin coloured from its previous dusky pallor to a more healthy pink.

“Will you accompany us to the monastery?” the alchemist asked the squire as Gar’rth recovered. “Is it not for a worthy cause? A cause worthy of the knights?’

“I will come with you,” Kara said, stepping back from Theodore but still holding her sword close. “Our journey lies together for some of the way and I would like to look once more upon the monastery where I was blessed as a child. It is a memory that is precious to me.”

“Then I shall come also” Theodore said, resigned.

“As will I,” Doric growled. “I owe you a debt, young lady. And I always repay my debts.” He leaned on his axe. “But I will not take my eyes off your new friend, mind. Not for an instant!”