T. Church - Return to Canifis

“What was that place?” she murmured. “I have never felt the like.”

“Nor I,” Theodore agreed.

“It is the undead,” Vanstrom told them, wheezing. “The Barrow Brothers. Ancient warriors buried here so long ago that their origins are unknown to us. In Meiyerditch we tell legends of them. Some claim there is an immense treasure horde buried below, or magical halls in which the Brothers wait until the day they will be called. Until that time, they wander the Barrows, looking for living beings to take as their servants.”

Kara breathed deeply. The fear had gone now. She saw Doric look over her shoulder in confusion.

“Where is Gar’rth?” the dwarf asked anxiously.

She shook her head. Theodore looked troubled.

“He isn’t coming,” the knight explained. “It is the price for our freedom, Doric. But he was safe when we left him, and he didn’t seem frightened at all.”

Please don’t be angry, Doric , Kara said silently. I haven’t the strength left.

The dwarf gritted his teeth and bowed his head, and quietly he whispered something in his own language. But Kara knew what it meant.

“May Guthix protect him for his sacrifice,” he said, “and may we live our lives worthy enough to do his memory proud.”

Behind the dwarf two men emerged. Both were haggard and yet tough looking, clearly they weren’t strangers to hardship.

“Karnac, Harold,” Vanstrom nodded in greeting. “We are all here. Come, let us go to the boat without delay.” He turned to Kara. “Your friends Despaard and Arisha are guarding it.”

Kara sat in the bow, staring silently ahead.

For nearly an hour no one had spoken, and the stillness was broken only by the creaking strain of the oars in the rowlocks and their faint flash and dip in the stagnant black water. Ahead of her in the gloom, the view seemed forever unchanged and she could vaguely see twisted trees that stood half-submerged in the swamp on both sides. If there was a current, as Vanstrom suggested, she couldn’t make it out. The foetid air was suffocating, given form by the green mist that rose before them.

Was there anything I could have done, or said, to make him change his mind? Was there anything Theodore could have done, or Castimir?

She blinked away tears that she hid from her friends and turned to look back over her shoulder. Immediately behind her sat Castimir and Arisha. Even in shadow, she could tell that the wizard’s face was grim and resigned, and she knew his thoughts ran similar to hers. Behind them lay Albertus, his eyes half-closed. At his side sat Gideon, his face downcast. Then came the rowers-Despaard and the man called Harold, labouring away under the watchful guidance of Vanstrom, who half stood and half crouched above them. Behind him was Theodore and then Doric, the dwarf watching for any signs of pursuit from the stern.

“How are you feeling, Kara?” Arisha asked softly.

“I just wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye,” she said. “That is what I am most sorry for.” Arisha nodded, and Kara knew she understood.

“Gar’rth made the decision,” Castimir said. “He thought to spare you the pain of parting.”

Arisha must have seen something in her expression.

“I think we all know what he was always afraid to tell you, even when we spent all that time together in The Wilderness. Often, when you slept and he sat watch over us, I saw him and the way he watched over you. He loved you, Kara, because the feeling you inspired brought out the best in him. It saved his humanity and kept his werewolf heritage in check. He told me so himself, several times on our travels.”

“And now we have failed him,” Kara said miserably. “Had he told me then what he felt, about me, about his heritage, I would have done more to prevent him from coming back here.”

But I knew it. I knew how he felt. I was just too stubborn to say anything to him. Too stubborn, and too afraid.

“It might be that coming back here isn’t such an ill fate for him,” Arisha murmured. “He is from this land after all, and it now seems certain he will not be executed.”

“But what if he is forced to yield to Zamorak, Arisha? He won’t be able to resist the likes of Malak, and he will lose all that made him good.”

“It is what he is,” the priestess replied gently. “At least he should live.”

“She is right, Kara-Meir,” Despaard grunted from his position at the oar. “If he had somehow returned with us now, or had he remained in Misthalin, eventually he would have succumbed to his passions. And had he done that-and had you lived to see it-then it would have been far harder for you to bear.”

But he would not have done so. Not if he had spoken to me earlier and I had told him how I felt…

She faced forward and gritted her teeth angrily.

But did I love him?

The conversation ended and silence fell. The world passed by in a dreamlike state.

“There is one thing I would like to know, Gideon,” Arisha said behind her. “What happened to you two? We thought the werewolves had taken you.”

Kara shook herself from her thoughts and listened as the jester answered.

“It was Albertus,” Gleeman said. “He tricked me. When the fires started up he asked me to go upstairs to his room for some medicine, and when I was gone he ran out of the inn and attempted to exchange his life for Pia and Jack. He took with him two of his explosives, which he tried to use when the werewolves turned on him. I found him injured and beaten.

“After I was taken, I was told that his actions violated the terms of the embassy and that our lives were forfeited then.” The jester sighed. “We were taken by Roavar and kept by him until Malak and his Vyrewatch came for us. Then we slept, and awoke alongside the others.”

“You… you saved me, Gleeman,” Albertus moaned faintly. “You saved me… you killed that wolf…”

“Hush, old friend,” the jester said softly. “I did nothing.”

“No… no, you used magic Gleeman… it was magic…”

Kara turned to see the jester shaking his head affectionately, holding the old man’s hand. Gideon looked up and shared a tight smile with her.

“Sleep, Albertus,” Arisha advised him. “Save your strength.”

The old man nodded and lowered his head to the pillow. At once his eyes closed and he started to snore gently.

“He is confused, I am afraid,” Gideon whispered. “Perhaps he recalls your magic Castimir and attributes it to me?”

But the wizard said nothing, and no one spoke for some time after that. The swamp was a haunted place in the night, and Kara felt its animosity grow as they progressed, stroke by stroke, hour after hour.

The sooner we are out of here the better.

Pia returned to the groove atop the circle where she and Vanstrom had watched the dawn rise, yet it was too cold, even with her blanket, for her to find sleep. That, and she missed him too much.

I want to be the first thing he sees when he returns. I will look to the east, across the waters, and watch for him. And when he comes I will run to him and hold him and never let him go again.

Now, the east was pink again. The sun was rising. It was too young to warm her still-aching limbs, but she imagined Vanstrom was below her again, her head resting on his chest. Her hand brushed against the bottom of the groove, and came away with a fistful of earth.

She watched for an hour longer, glad of the sunlight on her face and arms. Below her, she could hear the people of Hope Rock busy at work. She knew they were preparing to leave.

Tomorrow morning at dawn. That is when we go, regardless of whether Vanstrom and Arisha have returned. But if they haven’t come back, then I will remain.