“Who are you?” She found herself staring at a diminutive figure swathed in red robes. His eyes gleamed cunningly and his bent frame caused him to look up at her, a smouldering orange glint in his pupils. The man’s face was misshapen, his forehead swollen, and red sores were prevalent over his pale skin. He drooled somewhat, as if he were a fool.
Yet Kara feared him.
“Just an old friend,” the hunchback replied. “You do not know me, but I have watched over you for a long time. Since the day you were born, in fact.”
“Are you saying that you knew my parents?” she asked, hope in her voice.
“Alas, I did not,” came the answer. “But I do not wish to speak to you about the past. It is the future I am interested in. Look, there, to the east.”
The man pointed, and she followed the direction of his hand. Then she gasped.
The entire horizon was swarming with an army encamped. Never had she imagined such a mass of men and weaponry with their thousands of campfires, more numerous to her than the stars in the night.
“Who are they?” she asked, awestruck.
“They are your followers, Kara-Meir. If you wish them to be.”
“Mine?” Suddenly she was afraid.
“Yes, my dear. Yours. Think, Kara, about the past.” The voice was seductive, compelling. “The world cannot go on as it is. You feel hatred against the Kinshra for what they did to your family, and rightly so. But where should the true blame lie?”
“With Sulla?” Her voice was faint, unsure.
The small figure in the red robes shook his head patiently.
“No, not with Sulla-for he is just a man. A victim like yourself. No, who has waged war on the followers of Zamorak for generations? Who strives for domination in the world at this time? Think, Kara-who has betrayed you?”
Realization dawned as she understood what was being said.
“The Knights of Falador used me” she said slowly. “It is they who…” For some reason she could not bring herself to finish the sentence.
“They have hounded the followers of Zamorak for decades, Kara-and yet still they permit the Kinshra to live. The deaths of your family occurred not because of Sulla, but because of the Knights of Falador. Do you not see? They
“But they didn’t, and because of that your family are dead and you are alone. You know their lies and their hypocrisy-they endangered you to achieve their own ends. They are attempting to take over Asgarnia, making the people believe them indispensable by letting the Kinshra continue with their savagery. This is their plan.”
Kara lowered her head in thought.
“Let me show you something, Kara,” the man said, his mouth twisting into a macabre smile.
And suddenly she was amongst the huge army of black-clad men, standing next to a column of horsemen who rode under a black banner. As they drew parallel with Kara their leader raised a hand and the column halted.
“What are they going to do?” Kara whispered.
“Just watch, Kara-Meir. They cannot see or hear you.”
The leader spoke and Kara recognised the voice. For it was her own, although different somehow, harsh and impatient.
“Where is he?” her voice said, as the figure removed her helm, shaking the blonde hair that fell loosely about her shoulders, her dark eyes flashing in the light. Kara gasped in amazement, for it
“Here he is, my lady,” a guard shouted, dragging a man who wore a torn white tunic and whose long unkempt hair hid his identity. He was thrown before her horse.
“Have you considered my proposal?” her older self asked, and to Kara’s ears there was a definite malice in her words.
“I will not take up the sword again,” said the man whose voice was alarmingly familiar. “I vowed to Saradomin never to do so.”
“Do not speak his name!” She spat the words, her face contorted in sudden rage. Her expression softened after a moment however, and even appeared gentle. “Tell me you will reconsider,” she ordered.
“I will not, Kara,” came the reply. “You have kept me prisoner for years, ever since my order fell at your hands. My mind is fixed.”
The prisoner suddenly wept and Kara, looking on, realised with a cold shock who it was.
“It is a shame, for I had hoped you would join me in forging a better world. But I see it is not to be. I can no longer waste time on you.” She tugged on her horse’s reins. “Goodbye, Theodore, last of the Knights of Falador.”
With a dark look she rode past him, nodding briefly to the guard who stood behind the kneeling man. She did not bother to turn her head as the guard brought his axe down, and she did not bother to look as Theodore breathed his last, his eyes looking to her as his life left him.
“I would never do that! I will never become that!” Kara shouted in outrage. “This is a nightmare. No one can see the future.” She stared at Theodore’s corpse and began to sob.
But the robed figure seemed not to care.
“It is only one of many possibilities, Kara,” the hunchback said. “Think about the power you could wield-the power to change the world, to stop all this war and needless death. The world needs a saviour, Kara-Meir, and I am offering you the chance to accept.”
Kara bent over to hide her tears.
“Think about it, Kara-Meir. That is all I am asking. I shall come to you twice more before you need to give me an answer.
“Farewell, Kara-Meir, for now.”
And with a sudden gasp, she awoke.
FIFTY-ONE
The werewolf stood above the collapsed wall, covered in the dust that the stonework had left on him. Sulla’s men stood back, suspicious that he might require an infusion of human blood after the battle.
“Lord Sulla wishes to see you,” one of the captains called, a hint of fear in his voice.
The werewolf sniffed the dawn air. The scent of blood stirred his appetite.
“There are some captives, or corpses, if you need to eat,” the captain continued, gesturing to three injured monks who had been unable to escape, and near them several lifeless bodies.
“It must be fresh” the werewolf said, looking at the monks in contempt. They were small and bony men, and would not make for a satisfying kill. He said nothing more as he went to answer Sulla’s summons.
“I have to say, my inhuman friend, that I expected more from you.” The words were said calmly, for Sulla had no doubt there were limits to the monster’s patience.
“It is this place, Sulla. The power of Saradomin enervates me.”
“Then why do you not eat, and build your strength back up? We have some captives.”
As if on cue, a low moan sounded from the adjoining room, drawing the werewolf’s attention. He ducked under the low doorway and found himself in Sulla’s makeshift hospital, where two of his footsoldiers lay badly injured. The two men were young and strong, and the werewolf stared.
Sulla noticed his greedy look.
“I doubt very much either will live long. Take your pick but keep it quiet, for the men would not like it. And know this-the boy Gar’rth and the girl were last seen running into the inferno. I doubt very much they could have survived. It seems your mission is finished, so we will have to work out a new purpose for you.” He paused to allow what he had said to sink in.
