Return to Canifis

“My master has told me that the eastern road is… watched.”

Master? Who is this man?

She needed to see, to find out who was holding her prisoner. As the men talked she struggled furiously with her blindfold, teasing it only slightly upward. And in the darkness of the cellar, that was next to useless.

“Can you still hear this song you keep going on about?” a man said sarcastically, to the guffaws of a few others. “It must sound terrifying, if it can scare a werewolf!”

What? A werewolf? She froze, straining to hear what was said next. Werewolves don’t exist. Surely it must be a nickname?

“It’s here,” the growling voice said in anger. “I have heard it since we first came into Misthalin.”

With growing urgency she tried once more to prise her blindfold loose. It was an impossible task with her wrists bound as they were. As she sank to her knees in frustration, breathing heavily from her exertion, her foot kicked the side of a wooden object.

Craning her head back, she could just make out a cupboard.

Why would that be down here?

She grasped the handle and attempted to open it. But it was locked.

Lucky Straven didn’t strip me when he beat me and sealed me in that barrel.

Quickly she reached down to her boot. Her fingers tore at the sole, and came away with a thin metal strip and two pieces of wire. She knelt at the lock, feeling for it with her fingers.

All those years of training in the dark. Thorn would be proud of me. And Ginny and the others, for I was the best. No hangman’s rope for me.

The voices carried on above her, but she was concentrating too hard to listen. It could have been a minute, or five, but finally the lock gave in to her teasing.

And when the cupboard fell open, she knew her luck had changed.

“So Jerrod, Barbec, and I will return to Varrock via the southern road,” said the voice of the man who commanded the group. “Until I return, you will have to keep a low profile here. I will, of course, be taking my box with me, as I am sure you will all understand.”

“How do we know you won’t run?”

“I have been running for the last six months, and I weary of it. We need to establish a secure headquarters, and I need men who I can trust to do what is needed. Now that you have seen the rewards I can deliver-and you know you can’t run from Jerrod-I believe you are such men.” He paused, and when no one objected he continued. “For the moment, our fates are intertwined.”

From her position, peering over the rim of the trapdoor, the girl watched. The view of her captors was obscured by the three hay bales that rested between them. She shifted the two-bladed dagger she had found in the cupboard. It felt heavy in her grasp.

I could go now, she thought, not entirely convinced. They are all standing together, away from the entrance. If I could make it to cover then I would be safe.

She tensed her legs in preparation for a fast run. The distance to the open barn door was unobstructed, so there was no chance of her escaping unseen. Outside, the sky was overcast.

“And what do we do while we wait?” countered the bandit.

She didn’t wait for the man’s answer. She jumped up, running as soon as her foot touched the floor.

When she was halfway to the door, she was noticed.

“Jerrod! Get her.” She glanced over her shoulder. A bearded man in a black cloak commanded as a small army of men rose in pursuit.

Didn’t know there were so many!

She made it to the door as something heavy landed behind her.

So quick. Impossibly quick.

She spun instinctively as her nearest pursuer snarled. The two-pronged knife darted out before her in a desperate, unthinking lunge.

“No!” she shouted as her attacked side-stepped at the very last moment. He wore a cloak that obscured his features, and something about him froze her blood. Behind him, she saw how the other men had stopped and looked on. They were grinning.

It’s as though this is a show.

I’ll give them a show!

“Give her a scare, Jerrod,” a man without his nose roared. “Show her your pretty face from under that hood.”

They laughed as the man called Jerrod jumped back a step, giving her room to wield the dagger.

“But I want her unhurt, Jerrod,” said the man in black. “She could still be useful to us, once you’ve quenched that fire in her.” The man who spoke-she realised he was their leader-strode to the front of the group. His face, when it emerged from the gloom of the barn and into the dim light of the overcast sky, made her gasp.

His left eye was a pale opal, blind of sight, while the right was bereft of mercy. His thin ragged hair fell to his shoulders, framing a face that was scarred beyond any she had seen.

Yet the torments didn’t end there. When he thrust his arms from his cloak, she saw the two bandages that were tied to the stumps where his hands had once been.

“Unhurt,” the man said again.

The figure in the hood growled in response. He advanced a step, crouched, his arms outstretched to seize her knife hand.

“Go on girl,” the noseless man goaded. “Prick him at least with your little dagger.”

“I’ll bet you a gold piece that she doesn’t get near him, Velko.” The speaker was a pale-faced man with a mole at his forehead.

“You’re on, Owen,” Velko replied. “Go on girl-if you fail, you will have lost me money. And I will be forced to cut it out of your flesh.”

He had barely finished his sentence before she leapt, thrusting her knife arm out as she carried her entire body forward in a lunge.

And if her enemy had been quick before, he was slow now. Her knife slashed the loose cloth at his wrist and went through. She felt the tip of the longer blade stab something beneath.

When she pulled it back, she saw that its tip was black.

But blood isn’t black. It’s red. It must be the light.

The figure howled. Not a human yell of pain but something else, like the cry of an animal in agony. As he jumped back, the men behind fell silent in shock.

“It burns!” Jerrod roared. His head tilted back and for the first time she could see the face under the hood.

And when she did, she dropped the dagger with a cry of fright. Her will to fight vanished.

For it was an inhuman face that stared at her. Jerrod’s eyes were blood red, his jaw hideously swollen and his teeth too long to be anything natural. Quickly he jerked the hood back into place.

“Get her,” the scarred man ordered, before she could run. He stepped forward and put his foot on her dagger as his men seized her arms. “Tie her to the ladder.”

Her heart calmed as she was bound. But even the hated presence of the rope wasn’t enough to clear her head of that hideous face.

“Well, Jerrod. What happened?” the scarred man asked as Owen picked up the weapon.

Jerrod pushed the hood back again from his face and she braced herself for the terror that was certain to grip her. But when she saw what was revealed, she gave a gasp of surprise. For he looked human. Gone were the red eyes and distended jaw, and now he sat on a hay bale, pale-faced, retching.

“Get that dagger away from me,” he mumbled to Owen, who backed away. “It’s a wolfbane blade, cursed by Saradomin. I cannot concentrate while it is near. Get it away from me!”

Jerrod stood and swayed like a drunken man, lurching from the barn. Velko climbed down into the cellar, and she heard a surprised whistle.

“She’s good,” he called up. “She opened the cupboard somehow.”

Good, she thought silently. Show them your worth. If they think you are useful they will keep you alive.