Pia awoke slowly. Her eyelids were heavy, and slow to open. Her body ached as painfully as she could ever recall and she felt utterly exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to fall back into sleep.
But as she stirred she felt the cloth tied over her eyes, so tightly that her head throbbed with pain, and the rope in her mouth that prevented her from crying out. On her first breath she gagged, an overpowering stench of apples covering her skin and clothing. It was instantly recognisable.
Someone nearby laughed cruelly.
“She’s awake,” another said.
She sat up and tried to move her hands, but found they were bound together at the wrists. Her feet were likewise restrained.
Ropes! Not ropes.
She struggled as hard as she was able, until the cords were burning her skin.
Finally, and to the laughter of her onlookers who were too numerous for her to count accurately, she fell back to the ground, exhausted.
“Straven wanted you dead, you know. He gave you to us.” She heard a man’s voice that she didn’t recognise, yet his words brought back a memory.
For she had only seen Straven that morning, an hour before dawn.
Now I remember. It’s all coming back.
Straven. The thief master of Varrock, in charge of the Phoenix Gang. She had first met him only a week ago, when she and her brother had proposed their plan to him, and he had given his permission for them to carry it out. Then, after making more money than they had ever possessed, they had tried to run. She had been taken within the first hour, and then she had been beaten. But what of her brother?
Jack! Did they capture you, too? Oh, gods…
“It’s true, you do look quite like her,” the man continued. “You could be a younger sister, two or three years maybe. You’re a head shorter than her, though, and little more than a rag doll. Your eyes are different, too. Straven didn’t tell me how much you conned from that crowd at the Flying Donkey, but when he caught you trying to run with his share, he wanted to roll you down a steep hill in a barrel of apples. Apparently that’s one of his ways of dealing with disloyalty. The severity of the treachery determines the height and inclination of the drop. Some are dropped in the River Lum, whereas particularly vile offenders have been sealed in their barrels in his cellar, with apples enough to last them a month.”
She felt someone’s breath on her face. As the man laughed, she felt his spittle on her cheek. She grimaced, and he laughed again.
“I am told that the smell when they are brought out is truly horrendous. I believe only one man has ever survived a full month, and he was mad and so near death that they cut his throat as a mercy.
“I am telling you this so you understand your position. Straven gave you to me after my messenger persuaded him that I could use you. He put you in a half-filled barrel of apples, and you were brought to me in a cart from the city.”
I am not in Varrock, then? Where am I?
“So you have a choice, thief. You are uniquely placed to help me get my revenge.” There was a pause before he continued. “I don’t know how yet, but there will be a way to use you to my advantage.”
She felt hands at the back of her head, untying the knot to the cord in her mouth. It fell loose and she gave a desperate gasp.
But she didn’t try to scream. She knew how pointless that would be.
“Where is my brother?” she said urgently. “Where is Jack? Did Straven take him, too?”
“Your brother? I know nothing of him,” the voice spat. A moment later, it continued. “Keep her ankles and wrists bound for now, and give her a bath. She smells like a rotting orchard.”
She was picked up roughly and carried a short distance. She knew from the sound of footsteps that she was inside a building-a spacious one, though she couldn’t guess any more.
“The water’s cold,” a man taunted as she was dropped into a shallow trough. She gasped as the freezing liquid engulfed her, and water filled her mouth. Her arms beneath her, she fought to push upward and get her mouth above the surface. Finally she succeeded, coughing and retching to the sound of laughter and applause.
“No! Wait! Please!” she shouted as a hand forced her head beneath the water again.
Where it remained. Firm. Unmoving.
This is it. I’m going to drown. At least it’s not from a rope. Never a rope around my neck.
Jack! Please gods, send someone to take care of him.
Suddenly the hand was ripped away and she burst upward, panting and retching once more.
“I said wash, not drown!”
“It was only a joke, Su-” A loud shout cut the man off.
The men argued as she forced herself over the side of the trough-feeling her way to the ground where she coughed up water and shivered uncontrollably-but she had not the strength to pay attention to their words. Then the voices stilled and she realised that something else had entered the room.
It’s like they are afraid.
“He has paid us what we asked,” a strange new voice growled. It reminded her of an animal. “The noble was not at his estate. He is on business in Varrock, but his steward had orders to pay.”
“He is rich enough,” said the man whose voice she had first heard. “He will pay to keep us silent. You see, men-you follow me and I promise you we will be comfortable by the winter. This is only the first noble I plan to blackmail. There is a great deal more information at my disposal. And remember, in case any of you get ambitious, I am the only one who can read the documents.
“Now, take our guest and put her in the cellar, for we have decisions to make.”
The girl knelt as two men grabbed her from each side and dragged her a short distance.
“Kick that bale out of the way, Owen. I can’t get to the trapdoor.”
A hay bale-am I in a barn? That would make sense, with the trough.
The blindfold slipped, and she found she could see a sliver of light if she stared down toward her feet. As her eyes grew accustomed to the shade she saw ears of wheat.
So it is a barn. I am out of Varrock, but where?
“Untie her legs, Owen,” a new voice said. “I can’t drop her down the ladder.” When her bonds were loosened she had the urge to lash out. But she resisted.
These men won’t hesitate to hurt me, she realised, perhaps even kill me. I will have to wait for a better opportunity, and learn what I can.
She caught sight of the trapdoor. On top of it she seemed to see a black image, faded with age. For some reason it reminded her of a bird with its wings spread and its head turned the wrong way.
“Down you go!” Rough hands pushed her into place. She felt her way backward down the short ladder, her hands grasping tentatively, one foot testing each rung. No one came after her, and so sure were her captors that they even left the trapdoor open. She listened breathlessly from the bottom of the ladder, the voices faint.
“If we need to go to Varrock we should go by the southern road,” the bestial voice said.
“That will take hours. The eastern road is quicker.”
“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.
“I picked the lock,” she said softly. “I’m a thief after all-just like the rest of you.”
“Wrap the dagger up Owen,” the scarred man instructed. “I will take it with me. But you, little girl… you have proved yourself more resourceful than I had thought. You will not be harmed so long as you don’t try to run. I will return here in a day or two, and by then I expect I will have thought of a good use for you.” He advanced and fixed her with his opal-clouded eye.
Can he see me with that thing?
“What is your name, thief?”
She breathed deeply before answering, to ensure that her voice sounded strong.
It was all my parents left me with. It will not be mocked. It will not be whispered.
“It is Pia,” she said. “My name is Pia.”
Be bold, Pia. You have nothing to lose now.
Her chin jutted forward.
“And you?” she demanded.
The man laughed, slowly at first, and then with a hint of madness.
“Who am I?” he responded. “Who am I? You impersonated Kara-Meir, so surely you know her story. I have heard it spread throughout The Wilderness. About her and her friends, and their victory at Falador. Who do you think I must be then? Who else in all this world would have such cause to hate her that he would spare you in case you might be useful? Who has lost both hands to that wretched she-devil in single-combat?”
He leaned in closer, his foul-smelling breath disgusting her.
“You tell me who I am.”
The man was hissing now, spitting into her face.
Pia closed her eyes in sudden panic.
Of course, she thought. How could I not know?
“You are Sulla,” she said.
And this time, her voice did not sound so confident.
“Can we trust Sulla?” Velko asked his fellow outlaws.
“Not much choice, is there?” came the answer.
It was two hours since Sulla had left them and the men all looked tired. Pia was tied to the wooden ladder that led up to the gambrel. She was aware of the increasingly hostile looks the men gave her. She said nothing in an attempt to avoid provoking them.
She knew that she would have no other opportunity to escape. There were fifteen outlaws in all, armed with dirks, axes and swords. Even if she could free herself from her bonds, there was always someone watching. None dared to risk the anger of their leader-and the creature he commanded.
The shadows had darkened inside the barn. The only light came from a single lamp that was set well away from the dry hay. Outside, the sky was still overcast and the gloom was increasing.
After a time, resignation gave way to quiet desperation.
My only chance is to knock over the lamp, then escape in the darkness.
Unnoticed by her captors, she strained at the rope about her wrists, hoping that the old flax fibres would soon give.
My brother is out there-he needs me.
Finally, one of her captors spoke, putting a voice to the fears of his friends.
“What worries me is that we’re all wanted in Varrock,” Owen said.
“If we’re caught we’ll hang,” added another. “We lived in The Wilderness for a reason, and that’s ‘cause we have bounties on our heads. Every one of us.”
The flax rope gave way with a sudden snap. Pia took her opportunity and dived for the lamp.
“Get her!” Velko shouted.
A man moved to bar her way, but she ducked between his legs, her arm extended, knocking the lamp over. Someone closed the door to the barn. At the same time the lamp smashed.
The room went dark. She felt the man’s hands seize her legs. Pia kicked viciously, but the man held her tightly.
“Help me subdue her!” the outlaw roared.
Velko, she thought.
Someone nearby drew a sword.
Who would risk a blade in the darkness?
“Open the door to let in some light!” Velko cried, his hand around Pia’s throat.
A sword swung near the door. A man sighed as he fell.
“What’s happening?” someone shouted.
“I’ve heard enough,” a new voice, a woman’s voice, said. “I know you are all outlaws and murderers.” The calm coldness of the words brought no reply. “If you surrender now you will live to face trial in Varrock.”
Who is this? No one can fight if they can’t see.
“You speak boldly for a lone girl,” Owen said in the darkness.
Pia heard the outlaws ready their weapons.
Another sound came from the darkness, this time from the right of the barn. It was the sound of a sword tip puncturing leather armour. Pia imagined the blade severing internal organs and cracking the man’s spine.
She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the man screamed. The sound ended with a gurgle, followed by that of a sword being pulled from the body.
Shhhhhk.
“Rush her,” Velko shouted.
I must help her. She is my best chance to escape Sulla.
“There are fifteen of them,” she yelled as Velko squeezed her throat.
“You shut up!” he roared. She choked and thrashed, preventing him from cutting off her breath entirely. But he was stronger than she, and if he found a better grip…
“Only twelve now,” the newcomer said from the left of the barn. Somehow, she had moved through the line of men, who clamoured with confusion.
She is like a ghost.
Thinking they had located her now, the thieves turned and charged, and the sound of full battle erupted.
The outlaws, fighting in the darkness, stabbed at the air and confused each other, while the assailant herself fought silently, the only noise being her blade as it parried and stabbed.
“My arm!” A man cried.
Shhhhhk.
Another screamed as he was disembowelled.
A third yelled as he hacked at a shape in the darkness, striking the wood of the beams. Pia heard the solid thud of his axe as it found a body.
“You’ve killed your friend,” the woman said. “And you have lost your weapon.”
“No! No!”
Shhhhhk.
Then came a lull in the fighting, and no one dared speak, lest they be found by this ruthless assailant. The sound of men panting in fear filled the darkness.
Finally, the silence was ended by the woman’s voice.
“Surrender. Please. You will be taken to Varrock as prisoners.”
“That would mean our deaths,” someone replied.
“Then you leave me no alternative.” The voice came from a different place again, though there had been no trace of movement.
What magic does she possess?
“We’ll take our chances with you,” Velko shouted, “rather than with the hangman.”
“So be it.” The woman’s voice was followed by the sound of someone scrambling up the ladder to the loft, followed by a moan of desperation from several feet above the combatants.
“Please…” the man stuttered. “Please…”
There was a swooshing sound ending with the thunk of a blade-most likely an axe-as it embedded itself in flesh and cracked bone. The man above gave a brief sigh as his body fell crashing through the rungs of the ladder.
Pia felt warm drops fall upon the back of her neck, and her stomach heaved.
Above her, Velko cursed.
“She can see us,” someone said. “Open the doors…”
The girl heard the desperate survivors run toward the barn door.
“It’s been wedged shut,” one cried, tugging frantically.
Each cry was punctuated by the sound of another death.
“Just smash it open! Get some light.”
“Help! Help me!”
A man stumbled as Pia heard a hay bale overturn. He screamed as he fell.
“No. No.” It was Owen’s voice. He ran from the door, toward her. “Kill the girl, Velko, kill her.”
Pia heard Velko pull a knife from its sheath, but instead af cutting her throat he thrust it wildly forward. She heard it crack against a rib and sever the flesh and muscle beneath.
“Velko… Gods… it’s me…” Owen’s voice transformed into a choking gurgle as he collapsed in front of them.
She felt Velko above her, felt him shake in the darkness, his spirit destroyed, his fear absolute.
“Please,” he said. “I surrender… Please…” He wept and she felt his grip relaxing. Finally he fell to his knees.
Pia crawled away, her hand slipping on the liquid that covered the wooden floor. It had a metallic smell that was sickly sweet.
“I won’t kill you,” the woman said coldly, her breath calm as if she had felt no exertion in slaying fourteen violent men.
“But you…” A hand gripped Pia’s wrist. “You have caused me no small amount of trouble. And it nearly cost you your life, impostor.”
She was dragged toward the door. There was the sound of a bar of some sort being pulled aside, and at the same time there came a knocking on the wood, followed by a voice from outside.
Another woman!
“Is it done?” the voice asked.
“It is.”
Another plank was removed on the outside, the door was opened and dim light flooded in.
“Wait for me outside,” Pia’s liberator commanded, her features hidden under her hood. Without waiting for an answer, the mysterious woman turned back into the barn.
The daylight made Pia squint. As she blinked, she spied a dark-haired young boy waiting anxiously nearby, a worn brown-leather satchel hung across his chest. His bare feet were red with dried blood, cut as if he had been running over stony ground, and his face was so pale and his body so thin he looked as if he was about to fall from exhaustion.
My brother! Alive.
“Jack! I thought Straven had taken you. I thought… I thought you were dead.”
Pia broke into tears as she ran forward, crushing him in her arms. Her brother hugged back, his pale lips quivering with emotion.
“I saw them take you, Pia,” he said. “I saw Straven and his men and what… what they did to you, and I hid, Pia, I hid, as you always told me to do if ever you were taken. I saw them put you in the barrel and I followed them in their wagon from Varrock out to here. My feet hurt but I couldn’t abandon you…”
“Oh, Jack. Where are your shoes?”
“I lost them when we hid from Straven, Pia. I’m sorry.”
“Shhhh, it’s alright-don’t be sorry.” She smoothed his hair. “Be happy. We are alive. Remember Jack, always remember, never a rope for us.”
Pia shielded her brother from the open barn door, not daring to look inside where the floor was slippery with death. Suddenly she felt weak.
I have come so close to losing everything. It could so easily be my blood in there.
“But Pia, listen to me!” Jack said forcefully as she staggered against his smaller frame. Heroically, he tried to hold her up. “Pia, we are rescued now, for they came after us. She was angry at our trick, and so she came after us!”
“What are you talking about, Jack?”
I am so tired now, so dreadfully tired.
“Who else can see in the dark like her?” he said. “You’ve heard the tales. It’s her.”
Apprehension dawned in that second as her cloaked liberator left the barn, Velko shuffling in front of her as a captive. The hood was pulled back now, and Pia saw the long blonde hair tied in a ponytail that reached to her waist. Her skin was tanned from long days under the open sky. A crimson stain was splashed across her cheek.
But it was her eyes that held Pia most of all. Dark, angry pools, and Pia knew then that no matter what tricks she used, no matter how good an actress she was, she could never, ever impersonate the spirit that burned within them.
She swallowed once.
“Kara-Meir,” she gasped.
* * *
“Please my lady. Please let me go.” Velko wept. “They will hang me if I go back to Varrock.”
Kara shook her head as she walked over to a rain barrel that stood near the door. For Pia, it was like looking at an older version of herself, and she saw now how she had been able to fool everyone so successfully. Kara splashed the turbid water onto her cheek and cleared the bloodstain away. Then she washed her hands. Pia saw her purse her lips, and wondered whether she was contemplating Velko’s plea.
“I can help you my lady, my goddess,” he continued. “So beautiful you are, too much to be without mercy.” Velko knelt and began again to weep, making a great show of his misfortune.
“Stop,” Kara’s companion said. “It’s pitiful.” She was a black-haired woman in blue robes, tall and athletic, as if she had grown up with a man’s martial training. Yet her blue eyes were calm and observant. “Pia does not weep, and she has as much to fear in Varrock as you do.” At the sound of her own name, Pia tensed.
She’s right. If I am sent to Varrock I will hang too. She glanced around, considering for a moment her chances if she ran, for Kara had not restrained her. But she realised that she was just too tired.
“But I can help you!” Velko wailed. “I know things that will interest you. Things about a certain man who you chase. And his dog.”
You will not get away with this Velko, Pia thought grimly. I know about them, as well!
“He means Sulla and Jerrod,” she shouted abruptly, causing the two women to turn in her direction. “They were here only two hours ago.”
Someone cursed behind them. A third person emerged from the barn-a tall man wearing a hooded grey cloak and loose woollen garments. His face was sharp-featured and hard, his skin darker than most in this part of the land. His almond-shaped eyes were fierce, and his gaze was restless.
He’s not from this realm, she thought, as she realised that the sensation he evoked was strangely familiar. Not here, nor even so far as Kandarin.
Kara’s eyes remained fixed on Pia as she spoke coldly.
“Can you track them Gar’rth? Or is the impostor lying again?”
The man shook his head and when he spoke Pia knew for certain he was not from any land she knew. His accent was strange, and the words of the Common Tongue did not come easily to him.
“No. Too much blood,” he rasped. “The scent is lost.”
Pia shook her head.
“They were here. I swear it.”
“She tells the truth kind mistress-we have been hiding here for two days now,” Velko added. “Jerrod returned today from some errand in the east, and then he and Sulla and another of our party called Barbec returned to Varrock. By the southern road.”
“Again we miss them by bad luck alone,” Kara spat grimly.
“So it seems,” the blue-robed woman said. When she brushed her hair back Pia saw that she wore a small silver tiara. Her cold eyes settled on Velko first and then shifted to Pia. “Tell me-you and Pia both-of what you know.”
“You waste your time, Arisha.” Gar’rth interrupted angrily. “I can find no scent of them.”
Pia felt Jack nudge her discreetly, and he murmured in her ear.
“It was Gar’rth who tracked me all the way from the Flying Donkey in Varrock. I don’t know how he did it, but they caught me when I had decided to return to the city for help.”
“They were here. Both of them,” Velko persisted. “But it ain’t bad luck that’s allowed them to escape you. I know, you see. I travelled from The Wilderness with them after Sulla took charge of our band, after he tricked Leander, which is something I didn’t think I would live to see.” The bandit stood and laughed eerily. “They have help, you see. Jerrod has visions.”
“What visions?” Gar’rth demanded.
Was that fear in his voice?
“I don’t know. But twice in The Wilderness he told us how to avoid trouble. The first time was the very afternoon we left Leander behind. A group of Kinshra horsemen, about two dozen, would have run straight into us if we hadn’t followed Jerrod’s instructions.” Velko laughed. “They must have found Leander though. I wonder what they did with him?”
“We saw them,” Arisha said. “They did have someone with them, but they were too far away for us to identify them. Whether this was Leander or another captive, I cannot say.”
“He’s had dealings with them before. Perhaps they spared him. Perhaps he’s bargained with them for what he knows about Sulla. You see, I know a bit more, as well.”
Pia felt Velko’s eyes fall upon her. The mutilated man drew a hand across his throat in a clear warning to remain silent.
Sulla’s blackmailing, she knew. That is what he wants to trade.
“These visions of Jerrod’s concern me,” Kara said. “I never knew he could do that. Did you?” She looked to Gar’rth, who shrugged.
“Maybe Lord Drakan is helping him. From Morytania. Guiding him.”
“But why now?” Arisha asked. “Why not six months ago?” Kara motioned, and the three companions strode back next to the barn to converse in secret. Pia saw Gar’rth shrug again, and shake his head. Finally, Kara sighed.
“Arisha, Gar’rth, find out from Velko the names of his dead companions,” she said resignedly. “I don’t think we can catch up with Sulla-he’ll be in Varrok now, and we are already late. I promised Theodore we would be there for the Midsummer celebration.”
“Do you have paper, Kara?” Arisha said. “For the names?”
Suddenly Pia felt Jack move at her side.
“I have some, in my bag,” he said eagerly. “You can have it if you would like?”
Jack took the parchment from his bag and handed it to Arisha.
“Where did that come from Jack?” Pia asked her brother.
“You gave it me at the inn. It was the message that was passed on by the innkeeper.”
Pia gasped.
From the squire, Theodore, who so nearly ruined my plan.
Arisha took it and read the first line. Coldly, her blue eyes fell on the siblings.
“Explain this,” she said. “It is addressed to Kara.”
“What? What is it?” Kara strode back from the barn and took it. Her eyes passed over the short message and then fell back to Pia. “It’s from Theodore. You must have read this.”
“I…” Pia looked at the ground. “Neither of us can read,” she admitted.
“What does it say?” Gar’rth asked, his eyes narrowing visibly.
Kara looked at him steadily.
And coldly.
“He is most concerned with you and Arisha. He received Arisha’s letter telling him that we had gone into The Wilderness, and he wonders why neither of you are with me.”
“Is that all?” Gar’rth said.
“He also writes how worried he is that we are pursuing Jerrod, even all three of us.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing else, Gar’rth.” Kara folded the paper and put it in her satchel.
Suddenly Velko laughed, and he nodded in Pia’s direction.
“Jerrod? You should ask her about him. You cut him, didn’t you, girl? You made him bleed his black blood.” At his words, a look of absolute surprise appeared on the faces of Kara-Meir and her two companions.
“You cut him?” Gar’rth said. “How?”
“I found a dagger in the cellar. A two-bladed one. There is a cupboard there, and I used the knife to cut my bonds, and when I tried to run, Jerrod caught me.”
“And you are still alive? That is a miracle,” Kara said.
“Something happened to him, to Jerrod,” Velko offered. “The dagger made him ill.”
Kara’s eyes fell eagerly upon Pia.
“Show me.”
The girl led Kara back into the barn, but when the smell of blood hit her she wobbled. She felt Kara’s hand steady her.
“Take a moment,” she said calmingly. “It is a horrible sight, even to me, and I have fought in many battles.”
“I have never killed anyone before, Kara,” Pia responded. “How can you do it? They say you killed a hundred men in the siege of Falador.”
But Kara-Meir said nothing.
“And how could you see them, in the dark?” Pia asked as she recovered.
“I grew up with the dwarfs under Ice Mountain,” Kara explained. “My younger years were spent in very dark places. My eyes became attuned to see in such.” She gave Pia another moment to steady herself. “Now, are you ready?”
Pia nodded and found her way to the cellar. Stepping off of the ladder, she moved to the cupboard, where six of the two-bladed daggers still sat on a shelf.
“I heard someone say that Jerrod was a werewolf, Kara,” she said. “Is that true? Do such things truly exist?”
“It is true, Pia. Jerrod is a dreadful enemy, and I don’t understand how you could wound him with such a weapon as this.” Kara examined one of the daggers in detail.
“I saw his face, Kara,” Pia replied. “It was horrible. But then I saw it a few seconds later, and it was human. I thought I was imagining it. He said the dagger was cursed by Saradomin. Even being close to it seemed to make him sick.”
“Interesting, Pia.” Kara said. “Very interesting.” She sniffed the blade, and then, with a wary look up the ladder into the barn, as though she didn’t want to be seen, she tucked one of the knives into her satchel. Then, after a moment of consideration, she took four of the remaining five and did likewise.
“Tell no one of this, Pia. No one. Do you understand?”
“Yes. But Kara, what will happen to me?” Her voice was pleading. “And Jack? He has done nothing wrong. Please Kara, he’s not even nine years old.”
Kara pursed her lips.
“You committed a robbery, Pia, although it seems as if you lost all you gained when Straven caught you.” Pia frowned and Kara saw her look. “Jack told us everything he knew when we found him, bleeding and exhausted on the road. But as for you I have not yet decided what to do. Now, come on.”
“Wait, Kara. We are alone here, and I trust you, for you had no reason to come to my rescue after I abused your reputation,” she said, and she paused a moment to remember. “Sulla has a plan-it was what Velko is keeping to tell you in exchange for a pardon. He’s extorting money from a noble with documents that only he can understand. He said the noble was the first of many.”
“So Sulla becomes a common thief,” Kara said scornfully. “He was a warlord when I first encountered him, and since then I have reduced him to scraping a living. When I next meet him, Pia, I will do what I should have done six months ago. I shall make him a corpse.”
When they emerged into the daylight they found Jack trying on some new boots. Gar’rth had taken them from one of the corpses, the one with the smallest feet, and Jack smiled, despite the fact that even these were plainly too big.
“I have the names of Velko’s friends, Kara,” Arisha said. “Gar’rth found a scrap of parchment on one of the bodies, and that was enough for me to write them down.”
“Very good,” Kara said. “Then let us start our walk back to Varrock. We should still be in time to enjoy the Midsummer Festival, and at least now we can present King Roald with the gift of justice.”
Never a rope!
The thought echoed through Pia’s mind the nearer they came to Varrock. From the east, the land was pastoral, where dry stone walls divided it into the fiefdoms of influential noblemen.
“It’s a fertile country,” Arisha mused. “But it is quiet. I know my people of the tribes would find life pleasant here.”
Velko laughed derisively from the front of their small group. Of the captives, only he was bound. Pia saw that his subservience had vanished, to be replaced by anger now that his pleas for mercy had been ignored.
“So you are a barbarian?” he asked. “This is the east, woman. Nothing here now except open country all the way to the Salve. That’s why few live here. Even your uncivilized race surely has stories of what goes on across that river.”
“My uncivilized people don’t hang others,” Arisha replied. “The most common punishment for all crimes save murder is for the offender to be ostracised. Perhaps, in the few hours that remain to you, you should dwell on which of our societies is truly the more uncivilised.”
Velko mumbled under his breath. Pia could see that the barbarian’s words had chilled him. And she shared the feeling.
They paused to rest in the shadow of a tall yew tree. Velko began to weep again, shaking his head, as if refusing to believe that he’d been captured.
Perhaps his mind is going.
She took Jack’s hand and moved farther away from the thief. She had seen men hanged before, and knew the sudden burst of strength they could possess when faced with the gallows.
As she sat down, closer to Gar’rth and Kara, she saw that the heroine’s eyes rarely left her prisoner.
“I am unwell, Kara,” she heard Gar’rth say bitterly. “I feel light headed and I cannot smell anything, anything at all! It’s as if I’ve lost my sight.” He lowered his hood to reveal his face, pale and drawn. He breathed deeply, and every time nature made a sound his head would dart toward its source as if in paranoid surprise.
Kara shifted her satchel as she stepped away from him. Her dark eyes found Pia, and held her gaze.
She’s giving me a warning.
“Perhaps you should take Velko on ahead,” Kara suggested to her companion. “We have been tracking Sulla for nearly a month now, and we may be close to locating him. And besides…” Kara lowered her voice, looking at Velko briefly. “I want to separate the prisoners. I want to see if there is anything Pia can add to Velko’s account, to be sure we know everything. Don’t go too far ahead though, not beyond sight.”
Gar’rth nodded and stood. He lifted the bound man to his feet with a slight grunt of effort and led him in the direction of Varrock.
“I have never seen Gar’rth ill before,” Arisha said. “Not since the monastery.”
“He is his own man now, since the exorcism,” Kara replied. Still, her words were spoken with some doubt.
“Please Kara,” Pia said now that Velko was out of earshot. “What will you do with us? I know I committed a fraud. I admit it. But it was that or die. And I have told you everything I know.”
Kara lowered her head doubtfully.
Pia pressed on.
“We are not wicked people, Kara. I have never killed anybody. I have taken care of Jack since we were young, when our parents died. Last year we left Ardougne in Kandarin and since then we found our way here. If we didn’t steal, we would have starved to death!”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes.
“Kara?” Arisha asked as Pia’s vision blurred. She felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. “What do you propose to do with them?”
A silence fell as Pia cleared the moistness from her eyes. When she could see again she saw Kara looking at her and Jack with a frustrated glare. Quickly, Kara looked to Gar’rth, and then back at them.
“I don’t know,” she admitted finally. “Velko will certainly be handed over to the Varrock guard. By his own admission, he has offended enough to warrant hanging. But you two…” She peered at them for a long moment. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be responsible for hanging children.”
Pia felt her face brighten.
Thank you Kara. Thank you!
“But then, I cannot let you go either. I have given mercy to those who should have been killed, and other lives have suffered because of it. Mercy to the likes of Sulla and Jerrod is a death to others, and each is a burden to my conscience.” She turned to her friend. “You know what they did to that man who found his way to the monastery, Arisha. And what they did to the rest of his party who were less fortunate.”
Arisha frowned and lowered her head.
“The point is, Pia, I don’t know you,” Kara said. “I don’t know what else you have done. Therefore I cannot let you go free. Even if I did that, you would only thieve again. I just don’t know.”
“They are still just children Kara,” Arisha said. “Children in need of a guide. You should think about the futures you can offer them-either death at the end of a rope, or a life under your tutelage.”
Kara looked startled and turned away, her brow creased in puzzlement.
“I saw the look on your face after you killed the men in the barn, Kara,” Arisha continued. “And Gar’rth and I have talked frequently since our journey began. You are changing. You are not so violent as before, since you defeated Sulla. If you had someone to look after, it would benefit you as much as them.”
Pia saw Kara’s face darken.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, anger in her voice. “I just slew fourteen men!”
“Fourteen men who deserved it. Fourteen men who refused your offer of mercy. You did it, but you didn’t like doing it. And now you can offer these two young thieves the chance of a better life.”
“The laws of Misthalin are not mine to make or withhold, Arisha,” Kara countered. “I cannot dare to claim as such. And nor can you.”
When Arisha spoke again, Pia heard a condescending note in her voice.
“I am reminded of a girl I saw once who rode into my village. She had stolen a horse to get there, all the way from Falador. That certainly would have been a hanging offence if subsequent events hadn’t turned out the way they did.” The barbarian woman looked west, to where Gar’rth walked with his prisoner. “And Gar’rth’s own history is not so different from Pia’s. He stole to survive, and had he found someone without Ebenezer’s humanity he, too, would have been hanged.”
“That was different…” Kara began.
“How?” Jack chirped innocently.
Kara remained silent, staring at the young boy. Then she shrugged.
“Very well, Arisha. You are right. As usual. Pia and Jack will return to Varrock with us.” The two dark eyes fell on Pia. “I shall take your case to the King himself, and if he accepts-and provided there are no other serious crimes you have committed-you will both enter my service. Neither of you will ever steal anything again.”
Jack grinned, and Pia forced a smile to her face.
No other serious crimes, she thought. How long then before I am found out, until I have to run again?
But for now, Pia hugged her brother tightly.
Never a rope!