Return to Canifis

“Then drop anything you don’t need, Doric,” Arisha said. “I will help you across. Come on.” The two disappeared down the steep bank to the water’s edge.

“How long should we wait?” Castimir asked nervously. “I can’t hear them any more.”

That was true. Theodore frowned uneasily.

“Perhaps they are close now, and mean to approach us by stealth,” he suggested.

“Just another minute,” Kara whispered. “Wait till everyone is in the water, and most are halfway across. Then we go.”

He looked to the water again. The current was fast-moving. Already the group had become separated, some being carried south, clinging to the branches they had torn from the bank. Several were in serious danger of drowning. He heard Despaard shout from the river’s edge, frustration in his voice.

“Make broad strokes with your arms, kick with your legs! No!”

The nobleman leapt into the river and surfaced with a gasp. Rapidly he swam to the man he had been instructing. Theodore watched as he got behind him and pulled him across, helping others where he could.

This is a mess. A fine mess.

Arisha kicked off with Doric in her arms. He found something vaguely comical in the sight of the short dwarf, cursing and splashing, held by the priestess. Like Lord Despaard, she helped others where she could.

“Into the water. Now!” Kara yelled.

Theodore turned as Kara dived past him, straight from the top of the bank and into the river, landing feet first, her adamant sword held away from her.

“Gods, Theo!” Castmir yelled, stumbling down the bank, dropping the runes in his hands in his haste to be away. For the swamp to the east was alive with werewolves. Everywhere Theodore looked he saw red eyes and hirsute strong bodies, long tongues panting heavily.

Hundreds of them. The whole of Canifis must be here!

The nearest bounded toward him, appearing as a full wolf and running on four legs. Theodore threw himself backward, ignoring the angry protest in his foot as he crashed down through the bank, thin branches whipping at his face.

And then he was in the water, not daring to look back, ignoring the cold as he kicked off, his booted feet pushing him from the stony ground. Still he held his sword in his right hand, above the surface as he kicked with his legs.

They won’t dare follow. The river will prevent them.

Something heavy dropped into the water from his right, close to his head. He risked a look back and saw that the werewolves had gathered along the top of the bank, unwilling to pursue any farther. But still they sought to hurt their enemies. Several more stones landed close to him. One hit his leg, and though it was slowed by the water, it caused him to grimace in pain.

When he looked ahead again, he saw that the opposite bank was littered with the exhausted survivors. Kara was already there, swimming back and forth to aid those who were in difficulty. Pia helped Jack up the steep slope, at the top of which stood Gideon, who with Master Peregrim’s help, was helping him lower Albertus as gently as they could to the ground.

Farther down the river, to Theodore’s left, swept south by the current, he saw Arisha guiding a man to the safety of the bank. Doric was already there, leaning down to help them.

We’ve done it!

“We’ve done-” Theodore swallowed water as he tried to yell in triumph. Now arrows were arcing overhead, fired from Misthalin, peppering the werewolves on the opposite bank. Somewhere a loud trumpet was sounding, and through the trees to the west he could see the shape of horsemen riding up.

The stones were fewer now, thrown in haste, and no more hit Theodore as he made his way to the bank. Karnac helped him up, tears in his eyes, and when Theodore looked back, he saw that many of the werewolves had dropped back, hiding in the darkness of the swamp.

“The sun feels better here,” Karnac said deliriously. “It is warmer. And the land! It is so, so green-” He gave a sudden gasp and blinked stupidly. Theodore followed his gaze to where an officer of Misthalin’s army had appeared, riding his horse.

“Is that a… is that a horse?” Karnac asked.

The officer stared down his nose at the man and raised an eyebrow.

Theodore nodded.

“They are quite real, Karnac. Come, you can touch her. She won’t mind.” The knight guided his hand and rubbed it gently over the horse’s face. Karnac grinned like a child.

“We heard tales of these, in the ghettoes,” he said. “Of knights riding to fight dragons and rescue maidens. Of so many things that were unknown to us in that… that horrible, horrible land!”

Suddenly he fell to his knees and wept, taking great gasps of air.

All he has dreamt of for so many years, and through so many hardships. This one moment he has looked forward to for so long.

Finally the sobs subsided, and he looked up.

“Where are they, Theodore? Where are those I brought out?”

They stood nearby, warming themselves in front of a fire that Castimir had kindled using his magic. The wizard was grim faced, the book he had taken from Canifis spread out before him to dry in the sun. He held his left hand gently, wincing as he did so, and for the first time Theodore noticed it was burned.

“So few,” Karnac murmured. “So very, very few. How will the gods forgive me, Theodore? How?” He folded suddenly, his head in his hands as he wept again.

“Two hundred I led out of Meiyerditch!” he cried. “Two hundred! And now how many are they? How few?”

“There are eleven of them, Karnac. Eleven.” He felt his voice break as he spoke.

Only eleven from two hundred.

“How will they forgive me, Theodore? How many did we leave behind? We would have been better to live as slaves, for the cost was too great… too great…”

“No, Karnac,” the pregnant woman said angrily. “Don’t you dare think so. Ever! Sometimes just to survive is victory enough. And if we had stayed, then my child would have been taken from me on its first day alive, taken for the tithes.” She knelt at the weeping man’s side, and took his hands firmly from his face.

“Look at me, Karnac. Look at me! I promise you that my child will never forget your name, nor what you have done for us. You are right, we are few, but we are the blessed few.”

Karnac’s sobbing subsided, and soon he stood. Theodore stepped back as the survivors of Hope Rock surged around their leader, giving him their thanks.

“Theodore,” Castimir called to him. “It’s Albertus.” The wizard’s face was grim and he chewed his lip before he spoke. “He’s dead, Theodore.”

The knight felt no new emotion, no surprise, no rage at the news.

I have expected this.

He followed Castimir to where the old man lay. Pia wept at his side, and Jack stared, his exhaustion obvious. The wound across his jaw had stopped bleeding.

“He landed badly, when we jumped,” Gideon explained. “And on the balloon, one of the Vyrewatch wounded him.”

Arisha looked up from her place opposite Pia.

“I tried to help him, Theodore, but it was too late. I think perhaps we should be thankful, for at least now he is free from his pain.”

He nodded, suddenly too tired to speak. His right foot ached sharply now he was free of the fear that had driven him across the river, and though he dearly wanted to sleep, he knew he could not.

For there was much to do. A message had to be sent to the King, the survivors needed shelter and warmth and food, a wagon had to be be arranged to send the dead on to Varrock for burial, and he needed to give Kara Gar’rth’s letter.

He found Kara near the river, sitting alone upon a willow branch under the shade of its canopy. Without a word he reached for the envelope and handed it to her. The outside was slick and wet, yet when she broke the seal,