T. Church - Return to Canifis

“You shut up!” he roared. She choked and thrashed, preventing him from cutting off her breath entirely. But he was stronger than she, and if he found a better grip…

“Only twelve now,” the newcomer said from the left of the barn. Somehow, she had moved through the line of men, who clamoured with confusion.

She is like a ghost.

Thinking they had located her now, the thieves turned and charged, and the sound of full battle erupted.

The outlaws, fighting in the darkness, stabbed at the air and confused each other, while the assailant herself fought silently, the only noise being her blade as it parried and stabbed.

“My arm!” A man cried.

Shhhhhk.

Another screamed as he was disembowelled.

A third yelled as he hacked at a shape in the darkness, striking the wood of the beams. Pia heard the solid thud of his axe as it found a body.

“You’ve killed your friend,” the woman said. “And you have lost your weapon.”

“No! No!”

Shhhhhk.

Then came a lull in the fighting, and no one dared speak, lest they be found by this ruthless assailant. The sound of men panting in fear filled the darkness.

Finally, the silence was ended by the woman’s voice.

“Surrender. Please. You will be taken to Varrock as prisoners.”

“That would mean our deaths,” someone replied.

“Then you leave me no alternative.” The voice came from a different place again, though there had been no trace of movement.

What magic does she possess?

“We’ll take our chances with you,” Velko shouted, “rather than with the hangman.”

“So be it.” The woman’s voice was followed by the sound of someone scrambling up the ladder to the loft, followed by a moan of desperation from several feet above the combatants.

“Please…” the man stuttered. “Please…”

There was a swooshing sound ending with the thunk of a blade-most likely an axe-as it embedded itself in flesh and cracked bone. The man above gave a brief sigh as his body fell crashing through the rungs of the ladder.

Pia felt warm drops fall upon the back of her neck, and her stomach heaved.

Above her, Velko cursed.

“She can see us,” someone said. “Open the doors…”

The girl heard the desperate survivors run toward the barn door.

“It’s been wedged shut,” one cried, tugging frantically.

Each cry was punctuated by the sound of another death.

“Just smash it open! Get some light .”

“Help! Help me!”

A man stumbled as Pia heard a hay bale overturn. He screamed as he fell.

“No. No .” It was Owen’s voice. He ran from the door, toward her. “Kill the girl, Velko, kill her .”

Pia heard Velko pull a knife from its sheath, but instead af cutting her throat he thrust it wildly forward. She heard it crack against a rib and sever the flesh and muscle beneath.

“Velko… Gods… it’s me…” Owen’s voice transformed into a choking gurgle as he collapsed in front of them.

She felt Velko above her, felt him shake in the darkness, his spirit destroyed, his fear absolute.

“Please,” he said. “I surrender… Please…” He wept and she felt his grip relaxing. Finally he fell to his knees.

Pia crawled away, her hand slipping on the liquid that covered the wooden floor. It had a metallic smell that was sickly sweet.

“I won’t kill you,” the woman said coldly, her breath calm as if she had felt no exertion in slaying fourteen violent men.

“But you…” A hand gripped Pia’s wrist. “You have caused me no small amount of trouble. And it nearly cost you your life, impostor.”

She was dragged toward the door. There was the sound of a bar of some sort being pulled aside, and at the same time there came a knocking on the wood, followed by a voice from outside.

Another woman!

“Is it done?” the voice asked.

“It is.”

Another plank was removed on the outside, the door was opened and dim light flooded in.

“Wait for me outside,” Pia’s liberator commanded, her features hidden under her hood. Without waiting for an answer, the mysterious woman turned back into the barn.

The daylight made Pia squint. As she blinked, she spied a dark-haired young boy waiting anxiously nearby, a worn brown-leather satchel hung across his chest. His bare feet were red with dried blood, cut as if he had been running over stony ground, and his face was so pale and his body so thin he looked as if he was about to fall from exhaustion.

My brother! Alive.

“Jack! I thought Straven had taken you. I thought… I thought you were dead.”

Pia broke into tears as she ran forward, crushing him in her arms. Her brother hugged back, his pale lips quivering with emotion.

“I saw them take you, Pia,” he said. “I saw Straven and his men and what… what they did to you, and I hid, Pia, I hid, as you always told me to do if ever you were taken. I saw them put you in the barrel and I followed them in their wagon from Varrock out to here. My feet hurt but I couldn’t abandon you…”

“Oh, Jack. Where are your shoes?”

“I lost them when we hid from Straven, Pia. I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh, it’s alright-don’t be sorry.” She smoothed his hair. “Be happy. We are alive. Remember Jack, always remember, never a rope for us.”

Pia shielded her brother from the open barn door, not daring to look inside where the floor was slippery with death. Suddenly she felt weak.

I have come so close to losing everything. It could so easily be my blood in there.

“But Pia, listen to me!” Jack said forcefully as she staggered against his smaller frame. Heroically, he tried to hold her up. “Pia, we are rescued now, for they came after us. She was angry at our trick, and so she came after us!”

“What are you talking about, Jack?”

I am so tired now, so dreadfully tired.

“Who else can see in the dark like her?” he said. “You’ve heard the tales. It’s her .”

Apprehension dawned in that second as her cloaked liberator left the barn, Velko shuffling in front of her as a captive. The hood was pulled back now, and Pia saw the long blonde hair tied in a ponytail that reached to her waist. Her skin was tanned from long days under the open sky. A crimson stain was splashed across her cheek.

But it was her eyes that held Pia most of all. Dark, angry pools, and Pia knew then that no matter what tricks she used, no matter how good an actress she was, she could never, ever impersonate the spirit that burned within them.

She swallowed once.

“Kara-Meir,” she gasped.

* * *

“Please my lady. Please let me go.” Velko wept. “They will hang me if I go back to Varrock.”

Kara shook her head as she walked over to a rain barrel that stood near the door. For Pia, it was like looking at an older version of herself, and she saw now how she had been able to fool everyone so successfully. Kara splashed the turbid water onto her cheek and cleared the bloodstain away. Then she washed her hands. Pia saw her purse her lips, and wondered whether she was contemplating Velko’s plea.

“I can help you my lady, my goddess,” he continued. “So beautiful you are, too much to be without mercy.” Velko knelt and began again to weep, making a great show of his misfortune.

“Stop,” Kara’s companion said. “It’s pitiful.” She was a black-haired woman in blue robes, tall and athletic, as if she had grown up with a man’s martial training. Yet her blue eyes were calm and observant. “Pia does not weep, and she has as much to fear in Varrock as you do.” At the sound of her own name, Pia tensed.

She’s right. If I am sent to Varrock I will hang too. She glanced around, considering for a moment her chances if she ran, for Kara had not restrained her. But she realised that she was just too tired.