Return to Canifis

“I knew I should have brought my axe,” Doric huffed. “How long will it take Kara and Theodore to get their weapons?”

“I don’t know-though I think Castimir’s runes will be of more use than cold steel,” Ebenezer replied, looking down the steps to where the wizard stood, sorting the stones into different groups in his palm. “Maybe more than cold adamant even.”

“But I don’t have many on me, Ebenezer,” Castimir said, looking up. “Not in these robes. More are in my room, in my belt pouches.”

A few moments later, Captain Rovin’s men reached them, moving quietly. Then, from the great hall, King Roald himself emerged.

“What’s going on Despaard?” he demanded.

“It is her, Sire. Gar’rth can hear her, and now so can I.”

The monarch’s face paled.

“Here. In my palace?” He grabbed an attendant by the shoulder. “Get me my sword. Now. I will have her head tonight.”

Suddenly, Gar’rth sprang forward.

“Follow him!” the King shouted from below.

Ebenezer threw himself forward, his legs burning from the effort, his heart pounding so hard that his chest ached.

“And someone find Aubury!”

Gar’rth had already vanished into the darkness by the time the alchemist reached the summit of the stairs. Castimir ran past him, one hand balled around his runes while the other held his robes to prevent him from stumbling.

Wait Gar’rth, wait! Ebenezer pleaded silently. You don’t know what it is. Wait for the guards! He saw Doric ahead as the first of the guards ran past. Somewhere in the flickering torchlight of a passageway he saw Gar’rth disappear around a corner, followed by Lord Despaard with his sword now drawn.

The King ran past. Ebenezer followed the sound of feet stamping on stairs, and as he reached the end of the passageway he saw the guardsmen climbing another staircase.

The servants’ quarters. That is where we are going! High up!

Ebenezer gasped as he followed the party, finally emerging into a hallway three flights above. The men had gathered ahead of him, King Roald with them, and Gar’rth in their midst. Arisha, Castimir, and Doric were nearby.

“Well?” King Roald demanded. “Where is she?”

Gar’rth held up his hand for silence, just as a crash of glass and a scream sounded from a room nearby. At once men cried out and Gar’rth ran. Ebenezer lost sight of him behind the guards as they rushed at a door, hurling themselves against it even as a woman screamed again.

“It’s bolted!” Captain Rovin shouted.

“Stand back,” Castimir yelled as he pointed his right hand at the door. A small collection of his runes melted and then evaporated in his hand as the guards jumped aside.

I have never seen this spell used, Ebenezer realised. From the floor at Castimir’s feet a column of yellow light spilled upward, and a great ball of heavy rock and earth materialised. The alchemist felt a rush of heat and as the light vanished the earth ball flew forward and shattered the wood. An instant later, Gar’rth was there, his strong hands pushing through the broken slats to force the bolt aside.

A final scream was cut short as Gar’rth pushed the door wide, a guard leaping past as he worked to free his hand from the wooden slats.

Don’t cut yourself, Gar’rth. Not here. Not in front of these people.

The hand came free as a second guard leapt through the doorway. Inside, Ebenezer heard a man scream and caught sight of a bat-like wing flash past the doorframe.

Gar’rth forced his way inside, the remaining guards close by.

“Castimir. We need you,” Doric called to the wizard who was standing a few paces behind him. Castimir shook his head grimly.

“I haven’t many runes,” he said. “Enough for only one or two spells and then…”

But then the way was clear.

King Roald charged in, Lord Despaard behind him, urging him caution. Ebenezer had seen the monarch’s face-anger and hatred had conquered all thought and reason. As he followed, he saw the creature that had plagued Varrock.

Two guards fought it, slashing at it with their swords, their blows seemingly ineffective against its calloused wings, which were like two unbreakable shields. Two more bodies lay motionless on the floor, and in a second Ebenezer saw their black faces twisted in death. Gar’rth was crouched away to his right, clutching at his chest, sweating profusely, and behind him was a dead nurse, her body fallen across a baby’s cot as she sought to protect the child even in death. The infant gave a cry as its chubby little arm flailed beneath the corpse.

As the wings parted the thing advanced, and Ebenezer caught sight of the bat-like face with its wide snout and elongated jaw. He froze as its eyes held his, two orange pits of malice. There was nothing human about it.

“Castimir!” he cried as the guards stepped backward.

“I’m here, Ebenezer,” the wizard said, sounding calm, his right hand extended toward the Wyrd.

But whatever magic he had planned to cast, the creature acted first. Its lower jaw dropped grotesquely and its narrow tongue coiled backwards as it screamed. The sound was hideous.

On and on it went, assailing their ears and forcing them to their knees.

Ebenezer’s vision blurred as dizziness swept over him. He saw Castimir at his side, curled up in ball, his runes forgotten. Lord Despaard, too, had fallen over Doric, and the King’s crown had fallen from his head as the monarch pressed his hands to his ears in agony.

Suddenly the cry ended, leaving a pounding inside Ebenezer’s head and a sickly feeling in his stomach. His vision still blurred, he saw what appeared to him like two of the creatures move forward, quickly running their talons across the faces of the guards nearest them, and then leap toward the blurred figure of Captain Rovin, his ears bleeding from its cry.

He blinked and the figures merged into one again. The Wyrd thrust its arm forward, attempting to cut Rovin with its talons. The man screamed and ducked as he swung his sword from a kneeling position. Ebenezer saw it retreat, cautious now.

“Run, my King!” Captain Rovin called.

“King? King of nothing,” it said, its voice was as inhuman as its song. “Soon he will come, and the lands of the living and the dead will be one, as was foretold. Now I will take this child.”

The Wyrd crouched in preparation for a leap.

Captain Rovin readied his blade, one foot in front of the other to steady himself.

But then Gar’rth stood and howled a challenge.

The creature looked at him for the first time, and froze in its tracks.

“You live?” it said. “Impossible!” Before it could say any more, Gar’rth charged forward.

“Get the child clear,” Ebenezer shouted. “That’s what she wants.”

Arisha leapt over him as Gar’rth tackled the Wyrd. The creature raked its claws across his back and Gar’rth screamed as dark blood soaked his clothing.

No, the alchemist cried inwardly. Please, no!

He saw Arisha take the baby and run to the door. He saw Castimir stand, his runes ready. He saw the fear on the faces of King Roald and Captain Rovin-but they were looking at Gar’rth now. He saw Lord Despaard reach for a dagger on his belt, an unusual one with a two-pronged blade.

He saw Gar’rth’s eyes turn entirely black and his skin turn grey as the change began.

Without thinking he ran forward to Gar’rth, to cover him up and to protect him as he had done before, to succeed where he had failed with his own children.

“No, Gar’rth, no,” he pleaded. “Not here! You must not-”

Suddenly the Wyrd’s wing turned and rushed toward his face, and he felt it crash against his forehead. He