They headed south, into the vast swamps.
Pia’s feet sunk ankle deep into the mire as they went, Jack behind her, holding her arm with both his hands.
Still he won’t speak. Not since our capture.
She gritted her teeth and fought her exhaustion before taking another step.
“Come on, Pia. We have a long way to go before night falls,” Vanstrom said from in front of her.
“You knew that Canifis was going to be attacked,” she spat at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
It would have given me hope. It would have given Jack hope too.
Vanstrom gave a tight-lipped grin.
“You could have been spies. The vampires use them often enough. Come on now, and no more talking. We must be silent.”
On they trudged, for how long Pia couldn’t say. She stared at her mud-caked boots, and sought not to trip and fall. As they continued, she gradually realised that she could hear more noise than just the heavy trudging sounds of the three of them-the splashing became louder and louder. And there was something else…
Looking up, she saw that their ranks had swelled to nearly a dozen individuals. They were armed with bows and clad in black cloaks, their faces coated in a foul-smelling paste. She covered her nose against the stench.
“You should get used to that smell,” growled a man who saw her distaste. “It confuses their noses. Prevents the wolves from tracking us. Now, you will have to wear it, too.” They reached firmer ground, a small island in the swamp, and the group spread out to watch every approach. Some sat down, taking the time to rest.
Two of them moved forward and applied a black, mud-like paste to her face, rubbing it into her hair. Pia was too tired to resist, and she saw that her brother was being subjected to similar treatment. One of the men who seemed to lead the small band held out a handful of the stuff, gesturing for her to take it.
“Rub it under your arms, as well, and on your legs,” he instructed. “We have time now, so do it properly.”
The group waited in silence upon the narrow island, with its small trees and some dense bushes. Vanstrom talked in a low voice with the leader, and every so often Pia saw their eyes fall upon her.
Perhaps they will help us, she thought. But can I trust them? Or will they be like Kara-Meir. No. I can trust Vanstrom. What he did for me in cage saved me from madness.
Pia curled her lip back as she thought of her abandonment. Part of her fought against it, for she knew in truth that there was nothing Kara could have done for her. Yet she had fled so quickly.
Arisha is a true heroine. She sat out there with me. I won’t ever steal from a Guthix priest again.
She caught Vanstrom smiling at her, and without thinking she smiled back. Without his presence in the cage, she knew, she would have been overwhelmed by fear.
He was kind to me, and to Jack.
Suddenly there was movement at one tip of the island.
“Karnac, someone is coming,” a man warned. The group fell silent instantly. Bows and swords were readied as the black group hid as best they could, waiting.
A minute went by, and then another. Pia fought the urge to speak.
Finally she heard them. A small group, trudging through the mire.
“Karnac!” a man called, his voice strangely calm.
“I’m here.” The leader of the band stood and waved his hand. “How many of you are there? Did you get them out?”
“Only three, I am afraid. The rest of the outsiders went back into the village.”
Karnac cursed.
“Then there is nothing we can do for them now. They must trust to whatever gods they believe in. Come onto the island, but beware, there is deep water to your left side.”
The newcomers stepped into sight for the first time. Pia let out a sigh of relief when she saw Arisha, and Jack bounded toward her, hugging her tightly, yet still silent. Behind her were the man she recognised as Lord Despaard and the dwarf Doric.
“At least you are safe,” Doric growled to her. “Kara went to look for you. I left them trapped in your cage, surrounded by werewolves.” He dipped his head. “I returned to the inn and caught up with Despaard and Arisha as they were guided out by these strangers.”
The dwarf shook his head in despair, and clasped his axe.
“She has got out of worse spots,” Arisha said.
“Aye.” Doric nodded, but Pia could see in his eyes that he didn’t fully believe it.
“What are your names, strangers? The spirit woman told us you would come and that we had to rescue you from Canifis,” Karnac said. “She often guides us with her gift. Without her none of us would be alive now.”
“I am Lord Despaard, of Misthalin. Advisor to King Roald the Third. These are my companions, Doric the dwarf, and Arisha, priestess of the barbarian peoples. Tell me, do you have word of two other of our embassy, one a tall thin man and the other an old man?”
Karnac shook his head.
“No, they have not been seen by our spies.”
Lord Despaard pursed his lips.
“Then I think it safe to assume that they are gone.”
Arisha nodded as Doric gripped his axe tightly, fire in his eyes.
“But we are not free of Canifis just yet,” Karnac warned. “My men have planted many false trails in all directions from the town. If there is pursuit, it will most likely be led astray. Still, I would like to be sure. We will remain here for a few moments more.”
Pia sunk down at Arisha’s side. As she did, others of the group moved to distribute the foul-smelling paste among the newcomers. Even Lord Despaard accepted it, though with a look of disgust, and as he applied it he talked quietly with Vanstrom and Karnac, the two asking the nobleman one question after another.
“Will Kara be all right?” Pia asked hesitatingly.
Arisha smiled slightly.
“I don’t know, Pia,” she replied. “I just don’t know.”
Something in her tone told Pia that the woman did not wish to speak of her friends, so she decided to hold her tongue.
She offered me kind words when I needed them most. Yet I can’t find the words to offer her. Pia lay down next to Arisha, and she must have slept for a time because she was woken suddenly by urgent whispers.
“Something is coming!”
“It’s one of them!”
“Ready… we must be ready.”
Something stepped onto the island, something inhuman and powerful. Pia caught sight of the broad shoulders and matted hair that covered its body.
It was a werewolf.
Karnac’s men leapt from their places. Two arrows whistled forward as the creature leapt to one side.
“Ready!” Karnac’s voice called out of the shadows. Three men jumped forward, forming a rough line before their one enemy. Arisha stood, her hand on her dagger.
“I can smell your fear,” the monster taunted. “How many of you are there?”
The werewolf’s eyes found Arisha. He laughed again.
“How fitting. So the embassy’s barbarian hides in the swamps,” he snarled. “Your friends are captured. You, however, will be mine now that you have broken the conditions of the blood mark. I will tell the wizard how you suffered so…”
Doric jumped up from nearby, his mouth widening in a smile.
“Imre?” he said with a strange delight. “It is you. Good.”
The werewolf laughed even louder now as Doric walked to the front of Karnac’s three men. Casually, the dwarf readied himself.
“If you fellas would give me some room to swing my axe, then Imre and I will be about our business.”
The men looked at each other curiously before stepping backward, still maintaining their line. Despaard moved behind the dwarf, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Doric spat on his hands.
He’s insane, Pia thought uncomprehendingly. He’s utterly mad. Then the dwarf spoke again.
“Well, Imre? Do you feel up to it?”
“I told you before that I have never eaten dwarf, so this will be a new experience. I will keep you alive as I devour you, one limb at a time, so before you die I can tell you how you compare with a human child-”
Imre coughed suddenly. He swayed unsteadily and put his hand to his head.
Doric took his opportunity. The dwarf ran in without a sound, and thrust the flat head of his axe into Imre’s stomach. Pia had expected the werewolf to avoid it, yet she found herself gasp in delight as he doubled over with a pain-filled grunt.
“That ought to stop your boasting, I think,” Doric remarked.
The werewolf growled in real anger now, his right hand flailing out with deadly speed. His claws rattled across the dwarf’s helm, but Doric stepped in close again, his axe swinging inward.
This time, the haft crunched against the inside of Imre’s left knee. As the werewolf howled in pain, the dwarf pulled his axe toward him, the lower edge of his blades tripping his opponent in a neat move.
“Reckon I could have broken your kneecap there,” Doric said. “No doubt painful. Take a minute if you like. Get your breath back.”
“You… you taunt me!”
“Aye. I suppose I do.”
The werewolf came to his feet and jumped forward, but Pia saw how clumsy he was, how ill-timed and even she, without any experience in combat, saw how easy it would have been for the dwarf to take advantage of it.
And Doric did so. His axe darted forward, a short stab that smashed Imre’s fingers into twisted shapes. The werewolf howled and kept moving. But Doric side-stepped, bringing the flat of his weapon against the same kneecap he had damaged a moment before. This time the crunch of bone was unmistakable.
Imre collapsed in a heap.
Doric held his axe over the werewolf’s head.
“And I once told you I wanted a new coat, Imre.”
The axe went up.
“Wait!” It was Arisha. She advanced quickly, although Pia noted that she stopped a good distance from the wounded werewolf. She stared directly at him.
“I will ask Doric to spare your life, if you swear to do something for us.”
“Arisha, what are you-” Doric began, but she held up a hand to cut him off.
“If you promise us, on the very name of your god, to help our friends in any way you can, then you will leave here alive.”
Imre spat at the dwarf and tried to move away. Doric gave a wicked chuckle and rammed his booted foot down upon the werewolf’s chest.
“I don’t know, Arisha,” he said doubtfully. “I really want that fur coat. The swamp’s a cold place at night.”
“What is to be, Imre?” the priestess asked. “Death, or your promise upon the name of Zamorak that you will do all you can to help our friends, with the aim of returning them to safety. I warn you, he will know of your word, just as he will know of your deeds if you dishonour your promise. And you will promise not to tell any of your kind-or even Malak himself-of our presence here.”
“Come on, Imre, you cur. I grow cold waiting.” Doric lifted the axe menacingly.
“Very well,” the creature gritted. “You have my promise. I swear on Zamorak himself that I will do all in my power to aid your friends, with the aim of returning them to safety. And I will keep silent about your presence here.”
Doric removed his foot.
Imre sat up and scowled.
Finally, he stood and limped from the island. He gave a last look back at Doric before vanishing into the swamp.
“How did you do that, Doric?” Karnac asked. “I thought he was going to kill us all but you bested him by yourself, and with ease. How?”
Doric shared a look with Lord Despaard and Arisha. The nobleman nodded and Doric revealed a familiar two-pronged dagger. He explained its origins, then sheathed it quietly.
The onlookers gazed at the three strangers in wonder.
“Well, I am glad of it,” Karnac said, and he looked longingly at the weapon. “But it is time we were moving. We must reach Hope Rock before midnight. Come.”
And with that, Pia forced herself to stand, her caked boots an unwelcome reminder of the journey ahead.
Pia lost count of the miles and the hours. She lost count of how many times she stumbled and fell, of how many times Jack staggered behind her, or of how many times Arisha pulled them up and encouraged them to walk ahead of her.
The land was against them, too.
From the island they set off through another swamp where what seemed to be an old road, long since broken into stepping stones, made their way less treacherous. Once, they had to wade across a foul-smelling river, their belongings held over their heads. The water had risen to Pia’s chin, and although told not to drink anything she was sure she had swallowed a mouthful or more.
For Doric it was even worse. Lord Despaard waded through with the dwarf upon his back, and Vanstrom did the same for Jack.
“If you tell anyone of this, Despaard, especially that wizard,” Doric said from his perch, “then I will likely have to kill you.” The lord nodded solemnly.
When they emerged from the other side they found their bodies covered with black leeches, each the size of Pia’s thumb. She cried out in disgust, and it took them several minutes to remove the wretched creatures.
Her brother remained silent throughout.
But at least Canifis is behind us now.
She kept her eyes on him, for she could tell that he was weak and exhausted, hungry and cold. They all were.
“Never a rope, Jack,” she said. “Not us. Not for you or me.”
“What does that mean, Pia?” Arisha asked. “Why do you say that?”
Arisha had lasted the journey better than most. She had swum across the river, her clothes bundled above her to keep them dry, and although she was obviously tired, she did not seem exhausted like the others. Now, her dark hair was slick, the silver band that held it more brilliant than usual, and her blue eyes shone in a face that was reddened from exertion-a face that had been challenged but not beaten.
Pia’s respect for her had only grown, and she responded to the question.
“We were born and raised in East Ardougne. We were thieves. There, ‘never a rope’ is a saying. You are trained as a thief by one of the guild-masters. You trust your brothers and sisters absolutely, and you can never steal from them. If you betray them, it is certain death. The rope is what we are taught to fear-the hangman’s noose. Any other death is to be welcomed, for it means you didn’t get caught by Lathas’s Justice, and you haven’t told on your brothers and sisters. Anything else is a death with honour.”
Arisha looked at her curiously.
“So you think anything other than hanging is an honourable death?” she asked.
“To hang you have to be caught,” Pia explained. “If you are caught by the Justice you will be tortured into telling on your brothers and sisters. Therefore, we are told it is a dishonourable way to die. That it is the way of cowards and traitors.”
“You have been told that by wicked men who would use you,” the priestess said, “to ensure that you are so afraid of hanging that you would throw yourself into an army of swords rather than give yourself up. It keeps them safe.”
She turns what I say into questions and uncertainties. But there is something in her words…
“I don’t know,” Pia whispered, embarrassed by her ignorance. “I don’t understand.”
“The world is not just, I’m afraid,” Arisha said. “Even an honourable person can hang. That does not undo the good work they have done in life.”
Ahead, Karnac called a halt and stared into the distance.
“There it is,” he said. “Hope Rock.” He pointed south, to a mesa that stood above the swamp like a pointed finger, barely visible in the darkness. “That is our home. It is a natural fastness surrounded on all sides by water.
“Come, if we make haste we will be there within a few hours.”
Pia’s energy returned with every step she took. Now that she could see their destination, her will to be there powered her on. It was the same for Jack, as well, and the party as a whole moved more quickly.
A boat waited for them at the edge of a still body of black water. In the darkness behind them, through the swamp, several lights came and went.
“Marsh lights,” Karnac commented. “We all thought they were ill spirits before he came from the west and told us otherwise. Now we know they are a natural phenomenon.”
“Who came?” Lord Despaard asked.
“You will see soon enough. Now, the people from Misthalin will go in the first boat with me. In we get!”
Pia didn’t like boats or water. In Ardougne, in the winter- when traders and merchants were scarce-she had been forced on occasion to work the river, hacking out ice blocks with her brothers and sisters to earn what little they could. It had been cold, painful work, and once she had seen something in the water, something big.
Things live beneath the waves, she thought to herself. Horrible things.
She looked at the black waters and sat Jack down beside her in the middle of the boat, as far from the sides as possible. It was cold on the water-colder than on land. Then as the oars beat their steady rhythm in the rowlocks and the boat moved forward, she closed her eyes.
She only opened them when they ground to a halt on a beach of oily gravel. There, at the bottom of the sheer rock, a lift awaited them.
“Don’t be scared, little Pia,” Doric said, his eyes scanning the heights above them. “It is safe. I am sure of it.” Yet when they were in the lift and it began to move upward, the dwarf closed his eyes and gripped his axe tight.
I am not the only one who is afraid. And he even bested a werewolf.
When they finally arrived at the top, they were greeted by a group of people, nearly twenty in all, dressed in rags, their eyes shining with hunger and their bodies unwashed.
They look at us as if they’ve never seen another human before.
“It is a time of miracles,” a gaunt woman muttered from the rear of the onlookers. “Small folk drop from the sky, and visitors cross the river from the west to make war on the undying. Blessed be these days, for change is coming.”
Karnac led them to a small fire close by that gave little warmth. The inhabitants closed around them in a ring, as if fearful they would vanish if they lost sight of them. It made Pia nervous. She took Jack’s hand and sat down with Arisha on one side and Vanstrom on the other.
“Are you all part of the Myreque, like Vanstrom?” Lord Despaard asked.
“We are,” Karnac confirmed. “We fight the Undying Ones any way we can, and we seek a way out of this dreadful realm. We escaped from the ghettoes of Meiyerditch, nearly two years ago. I led over two hundred of us out then. Now we are less than thirty.”
He waved the onlookers back, and for the first time Pia got a good look at their home.
The summit of Hope Rock was a plateau, its edge a ring of rising stone that reminded Pia of a castle’s battlements. This natural wall rose to the height of three men, keeping the plateau hidden from view save from directly above. Against the circle’s inner wall, natural ridges and outcroppings, supplemented with crude wooden beams and scaffolding, provided a means of reaching its top. Below, at the circle’s base, Pia noticed a dozen caves from which people ducked in and out.
But it was the contraption at the far end of the plateau that made her gape. A great swathe of canvas was delicately rested across much of the plateau’s area. Nearby stood a squat metal object in a small wicker frame. It reminded Pia somehow of a stove.
“What is that?” Doric asked suspiciously.
“That is the balloon,” Lord Despaard answered with a sudden grin. The nobleman dashed forward. “Master Peregrim? Master Peregrim are you here?”
Pia spied a diminutive figure appear from beneath the balloon’s voluminous folds. He looked no bigger than Jack, yet when he stepped forward she saw how wizened his face was behind a grey wisp of beard.
A gnome.
“Lord Despaard? By the gods! It is you!” When he spoke, his voice was high-pitched and his speech fast. He grabbed Lord Despaard’s hand and shook it firmly in his own. “Have you come here to liberate us from this dreadful place? Can that be true?”
“It is not, Master Peregrim. I am as much a fugitive as you are now.”
The gnome’s face fell as Lord Despaard explained their situation, and many of Hope Rock’s inhabitants listened with interest. When he finished, he looked carefully toward Master Peregrim.
“But tell me, friend, of your own adventure. In Varrock we had given up all hope of seeing you again.”
The gnome shook his head and sat down.
“I came down in the swamp, only a few miles from here. My wicker basket that I used to carry people up was lost, smashed to pieces on impact. I have managed to salvage enough of it to secure the burner beneath the balloon, but there is not nearly enough to build a place for everybody else.”
Doric’s eyes widened. “Then you mean to fly out?” His words nearly choked him.
Master Peregrim nodded. “It is the only way. We cannot walk through the swamps. Karnac and his group have already tried that when they first fled the ghetto. There were two hundred of them then. Now there are less than thirty.”
“What about a boat?” Arisha suggested. “Isn’t that a possibility?”
Karnac shook his head. “Many have thought it a better idea than the gnome’s balloon. But the swamp to the west is unnavigable. It would be impossible to do it.”
“Yet how can this work?” Doric asked. “How does it fly?”
Pia heard the disbelief in his voice.
“I have seen it work, Doric,” Lord Despaard said. “In Varrock it rose from its tether each day and carried at least twenty people aloft on each occasion. But that made use of what what was described to me as a gas called hydrogen-”
“I prefer the term phlogisticated air if you please,” the gnome said with a wave of his hand. “But yes, we do need this gas, and happily there is enough left in the burner’s containers to inflate the envelopes as well as to heat the air. Of course, once I have inflated the balloon I will leave the empty containers behind. There is no point in carrying dead weight.”
Doric shared an uncertain look with Arisha.
“Hydrogen is lighter than air,” Lord Despaard explained further. “When the balloon was in Varrock, Master Peregrim would fill envelopes in the top of the balloon with this gas. Combined with heat from the burner, which also uses hydrogen as a fuel, the air inside the balloon would warm and provide lift.”
Doric nodded blankly.
“And how do you steer it?”
Lord Despaard sighed.
“You don’t. It floats on the winds. The trick is to find a wind going in the direction you want.”
“I see you are a doubter, master dwarf,” the gnome squeaked in amusement. “But I came here in this balloon, and I intend to fly out in it, as well-carrying the people of Hope Rock with me. It can be done. We will make our ascent within the next few days, and we will do so at dawn when the air is cold. The warm air inside the balloon will lift us upward, and once we reach a certain height the wind will carry us west, to Misthalin.”
“But like you said only a moment ago, you have lost the wicker basket to carry people. How will you get around that?” Doric dared a smile.
He’s afraid of this idea, Pia realised. Heights scare him, and he intends to add as much doubt as he can to its success. She shivered. I don’t blame him either.
The gnome grinned suddenly.
“When Karnac’s people first settled here, they tried to fish. But the things that swim in the swamps are not edible, save for the wretched snails that are all we’ve eaten for the last few months.” He gave a sour grimace. “But the nets they made have proved their use as a substitute for the wicker basket. We are stitching them to the bottom of the balloon itself right now. That will allow people to tie themselves on.”
Tie themselves on? Pia shuddered again.
“It’s the only way,” Karnac said firmly. “We are so few now and we can’t evade our enemies much longer. We could perhaps last another six months at most.
“No,” he said again, as if to convince himself. “This is our only chance, and we need to leave as soon as we can. The ravenous have been growing in number recently, which would make any trek to the west impossible, and increases our danger here on a daily basis.” He exhaled suddenly. “But it is strange, for their master seems to be forcing them to the northwest, and they move with a purpose they’ve never shown before. No, flying out is our only option.”
Silence fell, and when no one had spoken for several long moments, some of the citizens of the plateau edged forward. Among them a young woman with a swollen belly, and behind her a gaunt man who likely was the father of her unborn child.
“Can you tell us about the place you come from?” the woman asked, desperation and wonder mixing in her words. “Master Peregrim has told us much already, but we never tire of hearing the tales of such a realm.” The man was smiling inanely, and Pia noticed he was close to crying. For the briefest moment she thought he might be a simpleton.
Arisha spoke.
“I will tell you of Misthalin, and of the lands beyond the holy river,” she said. “Come, sit around the fire, and I will tell you of a line of Kings that goes back for more than a thousand years, of knights and castles, of deeds good and fair, of heroes and wizards.”
“She will tell a good story, I know it,” the pregnant woman said with a smile.
“My people tell many stories,” Arisha said. “We do not often write them down, so where I come from, to tell a story is a skill, and an important one among my kind. Now, let me begin with a very recent one, and a true tale as well. It begins in a storm, with a white castle and a beautiful girl who is found bearing dreadful wounds…”
Pia saw Doric smile, but the crowd listened intently to the priestess’s words, never once interrupting. After a short while, the dwarf stood and went with Lord Despaard and Master Peregrim to examine the balloon, and as Arisha continued, with the introduction of a young knight named Theodore, she felt her eyelids grow heavy and finally close.
She woke, cold, with Jack sleeping at her side. In front of her the fire had gone out. Someone had draped a blanket across them.
She sat up and grimaced as her muscles protested. Her ankles felt fragile, as if they might break, and her knees ached when she pulled her legs in closer to her body. Her back hurt, too.
How many miles did we walk on our journey? And was it yesterday or today? Her belly ached with hunger, and she had trouble recalling the last time she had eaten.
She must have slept through the night. The sky above was dark, though across the horizon, to what she supposed must have been the east, a purple light painted the clouds.
This is the first time I have seen the sky through the gas of the swamps. At ground level, even the stars are hidden from the inhabitants of this realm.
She left Jack and walked stiffly to the rim of stone, ascending upon one of the wooden scaffolds. At the top she found Vanstrom, alone and silent, staring to the east. He sat in a shallow trench that was cut into the rock, a natural seat. Without asking, she took her place at his side.
“Do you think the balloon will work?” she said after a moment.
Vanstrom shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said, sighing deeply. “I suggested that we build a boat instead. Easier by far. But Karnac and the others believe the swamp to be unnavigable. Perhaps he’s right. Regardless, the balloon nears completion, so soon we will know if it works. I pray that it does.”
She shivered suddenly, for up here the breeze ran unchecked.
“You are cold,” he said.
“I am not,” she countered.
“You must be. You wear rags for clothes and you fell asleep as the fire died. It was all I could do to find you and your brother a blanket.”
He held his arm out to her.
“Come. Sit closer. Together we can watch the sun rise. It will be warmer then, but not by much. Never in this land.”
Pia moved closer to him and leaned her head upon his chest. She felt his heart beat within him. She sensed his arm move behind her and hold her tightly.
It was a feeling she never wanted to forget.
“I never thanked you for what you did for us in Canifis,” she said. “You kept us alive in that cage. I think I would have gone mad if you hadn’t been there. But you never told me why you were there in the first place.”
Vanstrom smiled grimly.
“We discussed it as you slept, Despaard, Karnac, Arisha and I. She is a good woman that one. Clever. But no, I was captured making my way back from Meiyerditch. We have friends there you see. Others like us who fight against our undead masters. I went back into the ghettoes at Karnac’s request to see if any had been left alive after we fled two years ago. Fortunately there were some. Not many, but enough.”
“Enough for what?”
Vanstrom sighed.
“The vampires who rule this realm are not like the ravenous. They are clever, their plans long-winded beyond the comprehension of any man. Often their methods will seem directly contrary to their aims, which makes it far harder for us to predict and counter them. But we do what we can.”
“So you fight against him?” she asked incredulously. “Even in my homeland we had tales of Lord Drakan.”
“He is the mightiest of their race,” Vanstrom agreed. “And the most mysterious by far. No one I know has ever seen him. But it is the Black Prince who most concerns us now. He is not Drakan, nor is he Drakan’s son, as we originally thought. But he is terrible, nonetheless. He can compel the very shadows to do his will, and it is against him that we currently wage our silent war. It is he, I believe, who commands the ravenous, but to what purpose we don’t yet know. So that is what we search for, information and knowledge and anything else that can help our cause.”
“And what if you fly out? Will you fight from beyond the river?”
Vanstrom looked at her tenderly.
“I am not sure if I wish to go with them, Pia. Karnac wants to fly out soon, within only a few days. It has taken us a long time to repair the balloon and stitch the nets.”
Pia thought about what he had said.
And if he remains, what will I do? After a moment, she spoke.
“Would you… would you think it mad of me if I said that I would like to remain here, too, if you don’t go?”
Vanstrom laughed. The sound was like claws thrust into Pia’s stomach.
“Now that is real madness,” he said. “Why would you wish for such a thing, girl?”
“There is nothing for me except death if I go back. I am accused of a murder I didn’t commit. At least here I have a chance-”
He shook her loose and stood quickly.
“There is no chance here, Pia. And think of your brother. There is no possibility of a long life, even an unhappy one!” Vanstrom was angry now. “Do you have any idea what the ghettoes are like in Meiyerditch? Do you? Parents have their children taken from them. People are rotated from one quarter to the next, like a field left to fallow, and the blood tithes must be met to feed our masters. No, Pia, there is so much you don’t know, and your wish to remain here is one made in ignorance.
“If they fly, you go. It is that simple.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. Vanstrom ran his hand through his hair and growled.
“Please, Pia, don’t cry,” he said after a moment.
“If I go back, I die,” she said. “I know I will.”
He sat down by her side and once more put his arm around her.
“Look,” he said softly. “The sun is rising. Let us sit here together, upon this rock, and watch the dawn.”
Pia clutched Vanstrom tightly. The tears in her eyes blurred the pink horizon. Slowly, unstoppably, even by the evil of that land, the blood-red sun rose.
And somehow Pia felt safe.
It was full daylight when they descended to the plateau. Men were working furiously at the windlass, raising the lift as fast as they were able. Two others stood on an outcropping, their bows drawn, covering whoever was being brought up.
Vanstrom darted forward and craned his head over the edge.
“Who is it?” Pia heard him ask.
“It is Harold,” Karnac said. “He was supposed to wait near Canifis to watch our retreat. Whatever news has brought him here must be important indeed.”
The lift appeared beyond the edge. A single man was inside, looking utterly exhausted.
“It is the Vyrewatch,” Harold called as he stepped onto the plateau. “I have seen them. In Canifis. They took the prisoners and flew east with them.”
“How many prisoners?” Arisha asked, pushing herself forward.
“I couldn’t be sure, but at least six,” he said.
“Was there an old man among them, and a lanky one?” Despaard asked.
Harold shook his head.
“I don’t know. There was a woman with blonde hair, a man in white, and a man in a blue robe, but of the others I couldn’t tell.”
Kara definitely, perhaps Theodore, and the wizard who stood behind Arisha when she prayed with us.
“They were alive then?” Arisha said eagerly. “You know this?”
The man nodded.
“But only just, for the werewolves had covered the village with smoke. Had it gone on much longer, then they would have died. I think they were alive, for they were carried with care by their captors, two creatures carrying each prisoner.”
“But carried where?” Doric growled.
“Meiyerditch. It has to be,” Vanstrom answered. “But the question is surely a simple one. What will we do?”
“Do?” Harold muttered. “What can we do?”
“I will go after them,” Doric stated. “Alone if necessary.”
“It won’t be necessary,” Arisha said. “You know that, Doric.”
“This is insanity,” a listener spat. It was one of the men who had rescued them. “We have risked too much for you to go and get yourselves caught. And you know too much about our plans.”
“They will be dead by now, or as good as,” said another. “Besides, Meiyerditch is a vast place. Finding them would be an impossible task. Bringing them out from under Drakan’s eye even more so. You will only add yourselves to his tithes.”
“But this is to rescue Kara-Meir!” countered the man who had listened so closely to Arisha’s story. “We cannot abandon her. Nor the wizard!”
“Those are just stories-”
“True stories,” Doric hissed angrily. “She is famed across the river.”
“We should help her,” the listener said again. “She has risked so much for others.”
Did Arisha know that her stories would have this effect? Pia wondered silently.
Karnac listened to the exchange without speaking, then he stepped to one of the caves, where a woman sat with a blindfold across her eyes.
“What say you, spirit woman?” Karnac asked. “It was on your advice that we attacked Canifis, to rescue Vanstrom, and you told us the embassy would be there. If it wasn’t for your powers to pull creatures from the spirit plane then our escape from Meiyerditch would have been impossible. What is your counsel now?”
The woman leaned on a thin stick, her back bent, her mouth toothless. With her other hand she caressed a simple necklace of odd-looking discs. Some were gold, others red and green and a few were blue. Pia had never seen their like before.
“Long ago I saw that outsiders would come to our aid,” the spirit woman said, her voice coarse. “Without them, we shall all perish. With them, some will live. But not all.”
A silence fell as everyone wrestled with their thoughts.
“So Drakan has Gar’rth now,” Arisha said softly. “But for what purpose?”
“Is it Lord Drakan?” Pia interrupted. “Or is it this Black Prince, perhaps?”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Doric said. “I will go and discover their fate. I will need a guide however. Vanstrom?”
The bearded man nodded.
“As the spirit woman said, this is a time of miracles. This dwarf bested a werewolf hunter. No one here has ever seen that done before. So I will come with you.”
“I will come, as well,” Lord Despaard said. “I was leader of this ill-fated expedition. It isn’t right for me to remain behind.”
I will not be left here!
“Then I will come as well-”
“No, Pia,” Arisha said. “You will remain behind.” Vanstrom nodded.
“But I owe it to Kara.”
“Perhaps,” Vanstrom said, “but it would ease my fears if you stayed here, Pia. And you must prepare, for when we return, we must flee this land.” He leaned down, his face a hand’s width from hers. She could feel his breath. “Please, Pia,” he said softly. “It would mean so much to me, knowing you were safe. And Jack needs you, too.”
“Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I will remain here.”
How could I have offered such, planning to leave Jack here?
They were talking now, among themselves, laying out times and routes and what to take with them, but to Pia it was a jumble of words with little sense. She found her way to Jack’s side and sat next to him.
“Will you speak to me little brother? Please?”
Jack looked at her blankly.
“No?”
She cursed angrily and turned away.
Suddenly, something grasped at her torn shirt. She turned to see Jack tugging at her gently, a strange smile on his face. Without a word he lay his head down on her lap, as he had done so many times in their flight from Kandarin.
He still needs me at least.
And that was a comforting thought.