Betrayal at Falador

Inside Sir Amik’s chamber the noise of the cannon and the wails of despairing citizens was inescapable. Bhuler was still awake and keeping watch, and he helped the knight to sit up.

“How long until the dawn, my old friend?” Sir Amik asked, his voice stronger than before. “How long until the darkness ends?”

“Another six hours,” Bhuler said. He had spent the time in prayer, pleading for the knight’s life and offering his own in its place. He knew that Falador needed staunch leadership now, more than at any other time in its history.

“Wake me at first light and help me with my armour.” Sir Amik’s eyes rested on his torn and bloodied standard, still leaning in the corner. “Everything shall be decided then,” he sighed, lying down to sleep once more.

The third breach was made an hour before dawn, and it heralded panic amongst the people of Falador. From the window of his merchant house Lord Tremene watched in dismay as the wealthier citizens hurled their valuables into the moat about the castle.

The people have turned into animals, he thought. He saw a man push his wife to the ground and stand ominously over his daughter.

“It is a better end-to die here and now!” the man cried, tears running down his face as he raised his axe above his daughter’s head.

“No, father!” she cried in horror, realising his intention.

But the axe never struck. Lord Tremene watched as Squire Marius pushed the girl aside and parried the blow with his sword before kicking the feet out from under the hysterical man.

“Do you call yourselves men?” he roared. “You are citizens of Falador-of the greatest city in the world! And look at you now. Sacrificing your women and hiding your gold, driven mad by your fear! Where is your pride?”

He gestured wildly with his sword at the crowd and immediately a strange calm settled over them. Men stopped shouting and the women ceased their laments. Swiftly the city militia broke the group up.

“Squire Marius!” Sir Vyvin called from the castle wall. “Bring the women inside the castle. They will be safe here.”

If the Kinshra don’t come soon, Lord Tremene thought, the city will destroy itself.

Ebenezer looked with disappointment bordering on despair at the men gathered near the westernmost breach, where they had successfully held the goblins before. Of his total strength of six hundred remaining men in the city militia, less than half had responded to his orders summoning them to the wall. The others had fled, to spend what they believed would be the last few hours of their lives with their loved ones or to hide themselves in the lowliest corners of the city.

Marius stood next to him, sharing his disappointment. The alchemist could sense anger in the squire, who felt betrayed by the citizens his order had defended for so many years.

Lord Tremene rode up behind them, and dismounted.

“Where are the reserves?” he asked as he stepped closer.

“There are none, save the city guard, and those number less than two hundred” Ebenezer said. “They are stationed at the gate under the command of Captain Ingrew.” He spoke softly, his fingers caressing the runes in his pocket. He had retrieved them from the body of Master Segainus. He knew he could not wield a weapon with any degree of skill, so he had decided that resorting to magic was his best option.

At least, he thought wryly, Castimir would approve.

The alchemist looked grimly at the desperate men before him. He knew they could only hope to defend one of the three breaches that now perforated the wall. He cast tired eyes to the east, where he knew dawn would be lighting the streets of Varrock in neighbouring Misthalin. For a moment he wished he had fled before the siege had begun.

Anywhere but here, he thought.

Tremene laughed bitterly, catching the others off guard.

“Suddenly wealth doesn’t seem so important anymore.” He smiled ruefully at Ebenezer.

The alchemist smiled knowingly back.

“No” he said. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Permission to join your militia, Master Alchemist, to stand in the breach and fight by your side?”

The two men shook hands.

“Permission granted, my friend. Find yourself a suitable position and send to the Abyss any enemy who crosses your path!”

The two dozen followers of Lord Tremene rode up and dismounted, checking their weapons and armour and finding places alongside his men. All the citizens of Falador were represented in the remaining militia-rich men stood alongside poor men, all of them free men who had offered to fight for their city.

Ebenezer looked into their faces-they knew that only death awaited them. As the drums of the Kinshra started to signal their advance, he felt very proud.

“Do you hear that?” a young peon said, his youthful face deathly pale from lack of sleep. “It’s the drums. The Kinshra are coming!” The boy turned fearfully from the castle ramparts to face the man by his side.

“Courage lad!” Sir Tiffy looked unflinchingly into his young companion’s eyes. “It is just a noise-and a noise cannot harm you.” He ruffled the boy’s hair playfully, looking northward across the city and over the shattered wall to the plain beyond. There was just light enough to see by, and on the plain he saw the black massed ranks of Kinshra soldiers march steadily forward, the sounds of the drums growing with each step.

“Soon they will be within range of our trebuchets,” Sir Tiffy said loudly, “then their drums won’t sound so confident!” His efforts were rewarded by the fleeting smiles of sudden hope on young faces.

The old knight left the ramparts a few moments later, walking swiftly across the courtyard to his horse. Without a word he climbed awkwardly into the saddle and rode toward the gate. He stopped to speak to Sir Vyvin, who was supervising the massed ranks of men who stood patiently in their armour next to their horses.

“Is Sir Amik ready to lead you out?” Sir Tiffy asked.

Sir Vyvin looked upward to Sir Amik’s window.

“Bhuler is readying him now,” he replied. “When he comes down we shall ride out into the city and Captain Ingrew’s men will open the gate. With any luck we should be able to reach Sulla’s guns before they can intercept us.”

Sir Tiffy’s eyes rested on the peons who sat nervously on their horses. There were only three hundred men and boys.

“They are too young for this, Vyvin” he said quietly. The other knight nodded gravely.

“They either die out there or in here, Sir Tiffy. If we ride out, we can buy time…” He lowered his voice even further. “… Time for her to come!”

The two men said nothing more, each praying that every minute brought Kara-Meir closer. Finally the old knight extended his hand to Sir Vyvin, shaking it firmly.

“Then good luck, my friend” he said with finality. “I doubt if we shall meet again. I shall go now, to visit the park for the last time and await the end, then to help where I may.”

“Several of the old knights have gone out to help the city militia” Sir Vyvin said. “If you wish to fight, my friend, then you might be best employed there.” He stepped away from the horse.

“Then I shall” Sir Tiffy promised, “after I have taken the air in the park one last time.”

With a nod he rode out through the gates of the castle and across the moat, ignoring the despairing cries of the citizens as he galloped north.

SIXTY-SIX

At dawn they came. The Kinshra charged the three breaches simultaneously and raised ladders along the length of the wall. So swift were they that Ebenezer’s trebuchets overshot their mark.