Betrayal at Falador (31 page)

“My chemicals are very important, Castimir,” the alchemist replied calmly. “They are my life’s work, and not a single hour goes by when I am not either thinking or dreaming about them.”

“There’s his chemistry again” Castimir said sarcastically to no one in particular. “What use are sacks of rocks when you’ve got magic?”

This time Ebenezer shot him a glance that made the wizard uneasy, but the old man refused to be drawn back into their ongoing debate.

They stopped near a still lake with crystal-clear waters, formed by the run-off from the melting snows high up on Ice Mountain. Unafraid of the travellers, large silver fish played near the surface.

“We should stop here for the night,” Arisha announced. “It will be getting dark soon, and we have come far today. I shall gather some wood for a fire.”

The priestess tied her horse to a tree stump and headed into the woods with Doric in tow, keeping within sight of the travellers.

Castimir groaned at the thought of food, his eyes on the silver flashes that caught the evening sun as the fish leapt out of the water.

“Do you think you could catch any of them?” Theodore asked, following his friend’s gaze.

“When I was in Catherby I learned to fish” Castimir replied. “They look as if they could feed us all.” He went to his yak and began to dig in his pack, emerging a few seconds later with a line, a hook, and several wood poles that screwed together to form two rods. “This won’t take long, Theo” he boasted confidently.

Theodore’s expression was doubtful.

“There’s nothing like fresh fish!” Castimir yelled gleefully, running to the edge of the lake like an excited child. He handed a rod to Theodore and the two friends patiently cast out their lines.

Half an hour later their good humour had disappeared as the fish evaded all attempts to catch them.

“Maybe you should use your magic, Castimir,” the alchemist said laughing.

The wizard turned to him.

“Can’t you make yourself useful and light the fire?” he retorted.

Ebenezer made no reply, and busied himself preparing Gar’rth’s herbal drink. Smugly, Castimir cast a quick look at Gar’rth and Kara, for the two were sitting huddled together, the young woman holding his hand in hers. Her face was etched with concern. He noticed also how Theodore avoided looking in their direction, instead staring stonily at the lake before them.

Poor Theodore,
he thought.
I’d wager his duty has never felt more onerous than now. The death of the peon must pain him deeply, as must feelings for Kara that can never be fulfilled.

Arisha and Doric returned, having gathered enough wood for their needs, and Castimir grinned as he watched Ebenezer’s hesitant attempts to prepare the fire. It would not be long now until he could prove the value of his magic over the old man’s science.

After a moment of watching Ebenezer’s woeful attempts at starting a fire, Theodore gave a curt smile and left the lakeside to help.

“The wood is wet” the old man complained. “It won’t catch.”

Castimir hurriedly pulled in his line, aware that Theodore might well succeed before he’d had a chance to prove his point to Ebenezer. The wizard ran swiftly to his yak and pulled his staff from its leather straps. It glowed a fiery red in the dimming light.

Then he laughed theatrically as he approached the heaped kindling.

“Stand back!” he hollered, lowering the top of his staff to touch the damp wood. He furrowed his brow in concentration and the red light burned angrily in the knotted tip, a mysterious red flame threatening to burst from its wooden prison.

The heat rose from the glowing staff and suddenly, with a crackle and a hiss, the damp wood caught light, the fire roaring to life with unexpected ferocity.

Ebenezer jumped back with a yell.

“Get some water! He’ll have the whole forest up!” The alchemist ran to the lake, wading in up to his knees before realising that he didn’t have anything in which to gather the water.

“It’s all right,” Castimir laughed boastingly. “I have it under control now. It’s a fire staff, alchemist—similar to my fire runes. I can light a room with a cosy glow or throw a ball of fire. The white wolves on the mountain near Taverley learned that to their cost.”

The young wizard beamed a happy smile toward Ebenezer who, with an angry look, waded back to the land. He pointedly ignored his young friend as he moved to dry his feet near the now-roaring fire.

“Magic works where science fails.” The wizard laughed one more time for good measure, before stowing his staff and walking back to continue his fishing. His good mood was heightened by the smile Arisha gave him.

“Are you going to catch anything, Castimir?” Kara called. “We’re all hungry, and the sun’s warmth is fading.”

“Have faith in a magician, young lady,” Castimir called back, silently praying for a good bite.

“We have a fire, but nothing to cook on it” Doric mused, lighting his pipe.

“Patience, master dwarf!” Castimir called as Theodore cast his line back out

A chill breeze blew across the lake’s surface, and the wizard shivered as the sun’s rays failed to warm him. He cursed inwardly and wondered if any magic might persuade the fish to bite.

Ebenezer stood up and went to his saddlebags, where he hunted through the packs. After a moment his hands settled on a long tube. Gently he unscrewed the lid, releasing the faint scent of oil. He reached carefully inside.

“Stand back!” he shouted, withdrawing a thin silvery object and throwing it into an area of water where the fish were playing.

Neither Castimir nor Theodore had time to duck. A second after the metal hit the water a bright flash erupted, followed by a loud explosion that covered the encampment in a brief squall of water, as if a rain cloud had come and gone in an instant.

Castimir lost his balance and his flailing arms failed to prevent him from falling face first into the lake with a startled cry. Every onlooker stood up in amazement, Doric seizing his axe as he did so.

But the initial explosion wasn’t the end of the alchemist’s performance. Pieces of metal scattered across the lake, causing smaller explosions to ripple out as they reacted with the water, each in turn.

After only a few seconds the scene grew still once more.

“What in the name of the Abyss was that?” Theodore exclaimed.

“That was science, my young friend. A tube of sodium coated in oil to preserve it from the air. It explodes when combined with water. Now if you don’t mind, you may gather the fish!”

Theodore glanced back at the water, and grinned in surprise. The explosion had stunned a dozen large fish that now floated close to the surface. Eagerly, he waded in and grabbed as many as he could, throwing them back to Castimir who, shivering from the cold water, laid them on the bank.

“Science, Castimir,” the old man said firmly. “It has rules that are stronger than any magic. Rules that allow results to be anticipated and reproduced.”

The wizard said nothing, his eyes burning angrily as he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of fish on his robes and hands.

“My dear friend, Castimir,” the old man added, “if the wizard thing doesn’t work out, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent fishmonger.” The alchemist’s words were followed by discreet laughter from his friends.

The young mage took a deep breath and clenched his fists tightly.

Ignore him, Castimir,
he thought darkly.
Let the lunatic have his fun.
He bent down to pick up the last of the fish, and was surprised to see Arisha standing nearby. Her smile drove all ill thought from his mind.

“You’ll catch a chill, Castimir” she said with concern. “Come over to the fire to dry off.” He complied happily, and she handed him a bear-skin coat that was large enough to cover him from head to foot. “Wear that while your robe dries,” she ordered with an amused smile. “The sun will be gone in a moment, and this high in the mountains the cold will be crisp. The fire will be the only heat we have.”

Castimir accepted her offer without a word, hiding behind his yak to change. Wet from wading out to retrieve the fish, Theodore did likewise, borrowing Ebenezer’s coat while his clothes dried next to Castimir’s.

Later, after they had eaten their fill, drawn into a nostalgic mood by the sweet smell of Doric’s pipe and Arisha’s humming, the two young friends sat side by side leaning against a log in front of the fire, reflecting on their antics as children. They laughed at remembrances of the giant rats that lived to the east of Rimmington where they had grown up. Although the size of a pig, the animals had been uncommonly stupid and clumsy. Hunting them with rocks or arrows had been a frequent hobby of the children.

“They were happy times” Castimir said, and he yawned, weariness upon him. Theodore didn’t answer, so he looked over to his friend, and smiled to himself when he noted the squire’s low snoring.

Dreaming of the home he hadn’t seen for a long time, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep by the fire on the shores of the clear lake.

FORTY-THREE

Sulla sat in silence, his one good eye straining in the dim light of the torch.

He had led a small army of fifty of his horsemen and a hundred foot soldiers down from Ice Mountain the day before, but his swift progress had been delayed by the lumbering weapons of the chaos dwarfs. It had taken them all day to catch up and Sulla had used the time to issue new edicts to his troops, dispatching messengers to his spies abroad as well as liaising with the sybil.

His master plan was coming together. Crown Prince Anlaf, in command of the substantial Imperial Guard, was of great concern, but the sybil had assured Sulla of the prince’s inaction. For months now she had sent terrible dreams that tormented him, making him fearful and paranoid. Without his capable command, the Imperial Guard would be unable to interfere.

Yet their neutrality was not enough for Sulla. He wanted them under his own banner, marching under his orders. The sybil, therefore, had changed her torments, offering the prince a solution.

“Zamorak,” she crooned in the night time. “You must embrace him! He alone can offer you release” The words had haunted the crown prince, she insisted. He had withdrawn into his private chambers in the mighty citadel that dominated the skyline of Burthorpe, refusing to take any food and turning away his worried valets.

Sulla opened the most recent missive from the sybil and as he read it, his eye glinted in wicked delight. Tormented for many months and driven to near madness, the crown prince had succumbed to Zamorak. He had even erected a small altar to the god of chaos, secreted in his castle and accessible by hidden passages that only he knew.

Folding the document, Sulla considered the other steps he had put into motion. Kinshra ambassadors had journeyed to the neighbouring kingdoms of Misthalin and Kandarin, to ensure that neither kingdom would become involved in the coming war. The campaign would not be one of conquest, the ambassadors assured their hosts, but one designed to secure religious freedom for all. They would end the dogmatic Saradominist viewpoint that the Knights of Falador had forced on the ordinary people of Asgarnia. This was no war of plunder and revenge, and any intervention from neighbouring countries would simply endanger more lives.

Of course,
Sulla thought to himself,
our ambassadors make no mention of the carefully recruited hordes of bandits and outlaws who bolster our numbers.
Nor would they divulge his plan to press the goblin tribes into action, as slaves to help in his efforts.

A movement interrupted Sulla’s thoughts. The flap of his tent was pushed back by a black-clad guard.

“The dwarfs have caught up, Lord Sulla,” he announced. “They will be in a position to assault the monastery the night after tomorrow.”

Sulla said nothing for a long moment, his mind focusing on his new weapons and their one major drawback—they were entirely too slow.

“Very well” he said finally. “The night after tomorrow is good enough.”

He had travelled as swiftly as he was able, ignoring the pain in his stomach that burned continually as he ran.

The wound was healing well—the pain was a sign of that.

The hunters who had pursued him had long been left behind. He noticed how the air had changed as he travelled northward. The scents that betrayed the humanfolk, which were usually so easy to perceive, were fewer. The population was sparser. He was back in the land of isolated farmsteads and lone woodcutters, where he knew he should feel more confident, for he was the hunter once more.

With every step he took north he swore anew that he would make the girl pay dearly for what she had done to him. No agony would be too much for her and no injury too little. He would dedicate his life to destroying her.

But without warning, the thought of the girl with the blonde hair caused him suddenly to stop. He was scared of her. For the first time in his life a human had made him afraid.

He raised his hand to the afternoon sky. The absence of his two fingers taunted him under the grey clouds, and goaded him into a savage outburst.