Betrayal at Falador (30 page)

Ebenezer spoke, diffusing the tension.

“Thank you, my friends” he said. “Then let us return to the hall and take lodging near the fire, for it will be the last warmth we shall get under a roof for two nights.”

He led the way back toward the hall, eager to avoid any more questions. For he was certain of one thing: Gar’rth’s persecutor would not be far behind them.

FORTY-ONE

He stumbled through the night, oblivious to the rain and the cold, staying away from the road, stopping regularly to listen for any signs of pursuit.

He had left the hounds far to the west many hours ago, as they had picked up a false scent, following a path toward the great lake south of Taverley.

The wind had changed suddenly and he himself had picked up a fresh scent, the one he had been looking for. But it was going the wrong way.

In his hundred years of life he had grown to trust his sense of smell as a normal human trusted their eyes, and he knew at once what had happened. Gar’rth had come south, away from Taverley, passing along the very road where he had assaulted the gypsy caravan several nights before.

He cursed in his harsh language, aware that he was turning back into the country where guards and knights were still patrolling, knowing he was running back to face possible capture.

The cold taunted the stubs of the two fingers that the girl had severed. He was thankful that his body had healed itself, however. Her thrust had missed his heart and vital organs, and the stomach wound had closed, leaving a vicious scar surrounded by bruised flesh.

Again he promised to make her pay for that.

A breeze stirred the undergrowth and he stiffened. A scent reached him, driven up from the ground by the rain.

He recognised it immediately and it made him very afraid. At the same time it stirred his blood.

It was the girl’s scent, and she had left Falador.

He settled down into the darkness to think. He would follow Gar’rth, for the girl’s scent was too weak for him to track—no more than a taunting whiff on the air. Was he becoming obsessed with her? Was the fear of her making him jump at shadows?

“I am the monster!” he called out into the darkness, shaking his fist angrily. “They fear
me,
and I fear no one!”

His words faded as he lifted his gaze to the clouded sky, and then he hid himself amongst the protective bracken.

He knew his words were a lie.

It was dawn. A fine mist had entered the village from the River Lum that marked Asgarnia’s eastern border with the kingdom of Misthalin. The barbarians were forbidden by treaty to hunt on the eastern bank, for that belonged to the hunters of Varrock, the greatest human city in the world, which lay two days’ travel away.

Theodore was tired. He had slept little in the warmth of the hall during the night, unable to relax while only a few yards away from Gar’rth. Doric had been the same, and they had exchanged uneasy glances many times, their hands never far from their weapons. Even the fatigue of their long ride was not enough to grant them the peace to rest.

“The barbarian trader has a mule for you, Doric” Castimir called. “I am taking my yak with me while I ride a horse. He carries my saddlebags and my books—diaries I’ve made of my travels. We have a good understanding and he’s as sure-footed a beast as any other animal.” The wizard patted the animal’s flank with affection. The yak looked at him as if pondering just what trouble they were getting into this time.

“I, too, need a horse,” Kara said as she took the muzzle of the one she had stolen in Falador. “I wish to return him to his master with suitable compensation. It is the right thing to do.” Theodore nodded, approving.

But Doric spoke up.

“You have no money, Kara. You cannot pay for another horse, or for a man to escort this one back to Falador.”

“I was intending to walk as far as the monastery, anyhow, and maybe this will be enough to buy the favour of a traveller to return the animal.” She held her hand out and opened her palm to reveal the shattered remains of the Ring of Life.

“How did you get that?” Theodore asked.

Kara looked at him before replying, as if choosing her words carefully.

“A friend gave it to me, to ease my loneliness after he found me one night in the ward.” She bowed her head.

Theodore knew of only one man who would dare incur Sir Amik’s wrath by taking it upon himself to return the object.

“Bhuler” he rasped, but then his expression softened. “It must have been him. Saradomin bless him, for he is the true heart of our order.” Tears leapt to Theodore’s eyes as he contemplated the kindly valet who all took for granted.

“Kara, I shall not let you part with such an item,” Doric insisted. “For it is obviously precious to you. I shall pay for your horse to be returned, as well as for a new animal to bear you.” He tucked his hand into his belt, his pouch jingling with coins.

A barbarian guard strode forward before Kara could reply.

“We have chosen a guide for your journey.” He pointed to where a sole figure stood obscured by the mist.

The person stepped forward, leading a horse by its muzzle. Castimir gasped, for he noted instantly the deep blue eyes and the silver tiara which kept her thick dark hair in place. It was the priestess. He felt her eyes focus on his before briefly flicking away to observe the rest of his companions. A second later and they were back on him, however.

“The priestess is to be our guide?” he asked in awe.

“She, too, has business at the monastery,” the guard said. “Although Saradomin is not our deity, we respect the ways of our neighbours, and she is being sent there to learn how to write in the manner of the monks. The priestesses of our tribes are amongst the few who are capable of recording our histories and setting down our laws. She will spend the next few months learning their skills.”

“And what is the priestess’s name?” Castimir asked with reverence.

“My name is Arisha.” She spoke softly, her blue eyes intent on the young wizard. “And I am a worshipper of Guthix.”

Castimir bowed, aware that she was important to the people who had shown them hospitality, and his friends followed his example. Even Gar’rth, clearly still fighting the inner agony that seemed to grow worse by the moment, managed to show his respect.

“Once we find Ebenezer we shall be ready to leave” Doric said, taking possession of his mule and watching Kara climb easily into the saddle of her new horse.

“Where is he anyway?” Theodore asked, anxious to begin their journey.

“Here I am,” the alchemist called, leading his own horse into the group. He was accompanied by a mule that he dragged behind, holding the reins firmly in his hands. The smaller animal was laden with saddlebags.

Castimir looked on despairingly.

“That’s where you’ve been?” The young wizard clapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation. “You’ve been sorting out which chemicals to bring with you. Do you think that’s necessary?”

“I have been sorting through my wagon for the last three hours, Castimir, as you lay dreaming in the hall. It is better to travel prepared.” His eyes focused on Gar’rth, then he turned to the others. “Are we ready to leave?”

Kara nodded and turned her horse to the west, watching with a slight smile as Doric scrambled unceremoniously onto his mule, which tolerated his efforts with a stare that could be nothing but sarcastic. As the rest of the companions prepared themselves, Arisha rode past them toward the western gate.

“Dig your heels in” Theodore called to Doric, as the dwarf was in danger of being left behind. Even Gar’rth, whom animals normally feared, had taken command of his horse and goaded it westward. The youth was heavily cloaked, shivering in the cold morn.

Doric’s mule had turned to face east. At a brisk trot it headed in the opposite direction to the others. The dwarf swore loudly in his native tongue.

“If he continues to shout like that, he’ll wake the entire village,” Castimir mused, passing Theodore on his horse with his yak’s lead held tightly in his hand. Theodore turned his mare and rode swiftly after the dwarf. He took the mule’s reins and guided the animal along behind him.

“He’s obstinate! He’s totally set against me, Theodore!” Doric protested. “No doubt he’ll try and break my neck on some mountain pass.” He fumed angrily as they trotted through the western gate.

“I think it a certainty if you continue to call her a he,” Theodore chastised him good-naturedly, to the laughter of their friends.

FORTY-TWO

Once they were on their way, the party travelled more than twenty miles over the course of the first morning.

The land was one of gentle grassy slopes and widely-spaced trees, with hints of spring beginning to show. But a quick glance north to the hills beyond showed that the way would get harder as they progressed.

When they stopped to rest, Theodore stood silently, looking to the southwest in the direction of Falador. He imagined he could actually see the sun reflect off the white walls of the city, but he told himself that he was too far away to make it out.

He’d sent word to the knights with the man Doric had paid to take Kara’s stolen horse back to the city. But still he knew they were alone, beyond any help, travelling into remote territory with a monster pursuing them.

As they took to the road again, Castimir made good use of the time by talking to the priestess. Arisha, Theodore noted, was willing to talk, eager to learn of different places and customs.

“But is it true, Castimir? Can the seers who live in Kandarin really see into the future?” she asked.

“I am doubtful, Arisha,” he replied knowingly. “I never actually visited them myself. But the fishermen of Catherby seemed to believe it so.” The wizard smiled. “But they also spoke of fish that could fly, and leviathans big enough to sink the largest vessel with a flick of their tail or a grapple of their tentacles.”

By midday the travellers were famished and they made a halt. Each of them took the opportunity to stretch their legs and eat.

“The land will change from here on” Arisha warned them. “The afternoon will be tiring for our beasts.”

It was during their break that Kara finally realised what it was that had caught Gar’rth’s attention in the hall. She had unsheathed her sword and immediately Gar’rth’s black eyes had focused on it. Curious, she handed it to him to see what he would do.

“It is very sharp, Gar’rth” she said softly as the youth raised it to his face, looking at the blade closely. Suddenly he lowered his nose to it and sniffed, his eyes widening in recognition.

It took her a moment to realize what that meant.

“Do you smell blood on the blade, Gar’rth?” she asked. “Is that what you recognised in the hall?” The blood of the werewolf had left a pungent scent that even she could detect, for she had not had a chance to clean her blade properly.

Gar’rth nodded.

“I wounded him, Gar’rth. He was hurt badly.” She saw his eyes rise to hers in wonder. “It might be that he crawled somewhere to die.”

The youth shook his head. He returned the sword to her reverentially.

The afternoon journey was as arduous as Arisha had said it would be. From the outset, the land rose steeply and the trail grew increasingly treacherous under the hooves of their steeds. Few words were spoken by the travellers.

Castimir felt weary now and spoke rarely, his concentration set on ducking his head from any low branches and ensuring that the yak was safe on the often-sliding rock paths. Others on horses fared less well still, and Kara glared angrily at Arisha, as if blaming her for the route she had chosen. Theodore had said more than once how he wished he had brought a helmet with him to protect his face.

The alchemist, too, said nothing, his concentration fixed on the mule beside him, its saddlebags filled with chemicals.

It was after several hours, when Ebenezer urged the beast on and pulled on its rein to guide it away from a steep drop, that Castimir’s patience finally snapped.

“Why on earth did you bring those things?” he demanded. “Our journey is not going to last us more than a week. Are they so important to you?”