Betrayal at Falador (40 page)

One of Sulla’s men, angered by Kara’s taunting and tired of Gar’rth’s inaction had stepped toward the girl to beat the laughter from her. As soon as he strode within the range of Gar’rth’s chain, the werewolf leapt, dragging the man down as his teeth found his throat and the warm blood within. Jerrod could smell it, powerful, near irresistible.

And he knew of the danger. He knew the power fresh blood instilled in his kind, even if it did not belong to an innocent. He knew that Gar’rth might now have the power to break free from the restraining chain. With a challenging growl he hurled himself at his nephew.

They spun viciously in a swift battle. Gar’rth attacked with a mindless fury, yet Jerrod was a far more experienced fighter and his movements were unhindered by the rage that consumed his nephew.

But Gar’rth was strong. He ignored the blows that Jerrod heaped upon him. With a frenzied cry he seized his uncle by the legs, lifted him into the air, and hurled him into the Kinshra warriors who stood with their weapons drawn, afraid to enter the fray.

Jerrod rose from the damp earth, his muscles already aching from the fight. Subduing Gar’rth was going to be more difficult than he had thought.

FIFTY-THREE

Doric hated hiding. He preferred to face his foes in open battle rather than jumping from one shadow to the next. But the three of them were no match for the Kinshra and their werewolf ally.

The squire had decided that the dwarf should remove the Kinshra horses to buy them time enough to escape, once they accomplished their goal.

If
they accomplished their goal.

The horses were tied near the entrance to the monastery, in the care of a single tired guard. Doric knew he didn’t have long until Theodore and Castimir launched their attack, but if the Kinshra still had their mounts then escape would be impossible.

He held Theodore’s long knife in his right hand. He had left his heavy battle-axe with his friends, knowing it would be unsuitable for the task. He crawled forward, his movements concealed by the charred remains of the once-peaceful dwelling.

Suddenly, from close by, a wooden beam fell into the rubble, kicking dust into his face. Doric held his breath, his hand tightening on the hilt of the knife, aware that the guard must have heard. Finally he peered out from between the fallen beams.

If the guard had looked, he hadn’t seen Doric. No doubt he was tired of jumping at every sound the wrecked building made. Ignoring the sound, he had stepped away from his post, eager to see the outcome of the fray.

Swiftly Doric jumped out of the ruins and ducked behind a horse. Still the guard’s back was turned.

He took his opportunity.

The two combatants smashed into the wall close to Kara and Jerrod broke away again. Twice Gar’rth had cut him, and both times it had been near his eyes. It was a sign that he was mastering his anger, for he was thinking tactically.

“Gar’rth!” Kara hissed into his ear, uncertain whether he would understand her. She saw his eyes narrow. “Cut the ropes on my wrist.”

Gar’rth lowered his hand, feeling his way toward her arm but never removing his eyes from his uncle. The Kinshra jeered, unaware of what he was doing.

“I shall enjoy hunting her down, Gar’rth,” Jerrod growled, perceiving his nephew’s subterfuge. “I can smell her fear!”

Gar’rth said nothing as he cut through Kara’s bonds. With a satisfying snap the first rope gave way and Kara’s right hand was free. Then he moved away—it would be up to her to try and free herself now. As he renewed the attack on his uncle, she turned her attention to the knots that still held her.

Without warning, a bright ball of fire flew from the shattered entrance, and Castimir rode straight toward Kara at full gallop. A Kinshra warrior screamed as the fireball exploded on impact with his breastplate, sending flames to torment his nearest companions, who immediately fled to avoid the wizard’s deadly magic.

As the men broke, Castimir threw a knife toward Kara, which she caught with her free hand. A second later and the wizard returned his attention to the Kinshra.

Like all of his men, Sulla had been drawn to the fight and his guard had slipped. But it only took a heartbeat for him to recover from his surprise.

“Get the horses!” he roared, knowing that on horseback their opponents had a great advantage.

Kara watched as Theodore rode down a single red-robed chaos dwarf before reaching the artillery and the wooden crates that contained the explosive shells. Without dismounting, he bent down to reach inside.

At the same time Gar’rth threw himself at his uncle, keeping him from Castimir, letting the wizard drive the Kinshra back, whilst Kara, both hands now cut free, knelt to sever the ropes that bound her ankles.

As with their demonic ally, magic was something the Kinshra warriors feared. Castimir wisely kept his distance, and every time one of them rushed him, the wizard deftly directed his horse a few steps out of range before hurling a ball of fire at his attacker. Several of the Kinshra had fallen at his hand by the time Theodore reached his side.

“Are you ready, Theodore?” Castimir asked with feverish excitement.

“I am!” The squire held something out, and Kara saw that it was one of the explosives he had removed from the crate.

Castimir leaned across with his fire staff. As soon as the wood touched the fuse it hissed into life. Theodore rode toward the nearest group of Kinshra warriors, brandishing the explosive. As soon as they caught sight of him they ran. Two of them fled into Sulla’s commandeered quarters, and Theodore knew by their concerned cries that there were at least a dozen others inside.

Kara watched as he rolled the shell through the open door. Then he swiftly turned his horse back toward Castimir. He didn’t even bother to look as the explosion blew the door outward and silenced the men inside.

“Where’s Sulla?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” the wizard shouted. “Pass me another one of the shells.” As he took it from Theodore, he reached into his pocket and drew his hand out with a set of prepared runes.

“Gar’rth!” the wizard shouted. “Get Kara. Get her out of here.”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jerrod slammed his fist into his nephew’s face. Then he turned.

“Wizard! This time I shall make certain of you,” he said, stepping toward Castimir’s horse and hunching low to leap at him.

But Castimir showed no fear. With a swift action he hurled a ball of fire toward his enemy, forcing the werewolf to jump to one side to avoid it.

The flames sailed harmlessly past him. Jerrod laughed.

“How much strength have you left, wizard? How many times can you afford to miss?”

But Kara saw that Castimir was
smiling,
for he had not missed his target. Behind Jerrod, the chain restraining Gar’rth had been blasted from the wall and lay idly on the ground. With a knowing growl, Gar’rth turned his attention to cutting the remaining bond on her ankle.

Castimir didn’t reply to Jerrod’s taunt. Kara watched as he cast his next spell as soon as the werewolf renewed his advance.

Immediately the werewolf halted, and visibly strained forward. He was unable to move.

“This... won’t... hold... me...” he muttered, his voice restrained by the snare spell.

“For no more than ten seconds I should imagine,” Castimir agreed as he lowered his fire staff onto the fuse of the shell he had taken from Theodore. “Kara. Gar’rth” he shouted, “run!”

He dropped the shell directly at Jerrod’s feet.

“But this will explode in no more than five.”

Without looking back, he turned his horse and dug his heels deeply into the animal’s flank, goading it into a fast gallop. He reached the gates of the monastery where Doric was waiting for Kara and Gar’rth with the Kinshra horses. At the same time, Theodore helped the three monks who had managed to slip away from the Kinshra in the confusion, telling them to make for Edgeville.

Kara looked back and smiled grimly at Jerrod. She needed to be sure that the werewolf would not walk away from this battle.

For he was too powerful to leave alive.

But Jerrod was not alone. Sulla had witnessed the deadly trap that the wizard had laid. He knew he had only scant seconds to act, and with a cry of determination he ran the short distance to his ally.

The fuse had burned out, disappearing into the shell.

Instinctively he hurled the explosive into the nearest fountain, pushing Jerrod roughly to the ground. He heard the splash as the shell hit the water and then the sound of a great explosion followed, emptying the fountain’s pool and blasting apart the stonework.

“You saved me,” the werewolf gasped, his voice restored.

“Why?”

Sulla shrugged. He didn’t know what force had made him save Jerrod—he rarely lifted a hand to save
anyone.

“Somehow I think you will be of extreme importance to me in the days to come,” he replied. “I will need a warrior of your strength at my side.”

Jerrod stood first, extending his hand to Sulla and dragging the lord of the Kinshra to his feet in one easy pull.

“Then I shall join you. Until such time as my revenge upon those adventurers is complete.”

FIFTY-FOUR

It was midday when Theodore signalled to his companions to slow their pace. They had taken nearly all the Kinshra horses, turning them loose when they were far enough away to make any pursuit worthless for their enemies.

“We have no food, Theodore” Doric muttered. It was a feeling they all shared, for every one of them was hungry and exhausted.

“A day’s journey should bring us into more civilised lands where we can beg or buy something to eat,” Theodore said. “It will take us at least three days to get back to Falador if we cut across country to the southwest, and then we can have all the food we can eat.”

“I cannot last three days, Theo” Castimir lamented. “The magic has exhausted me for now, and I feel faint.” The wizard’s miserable face drew concerned looks. He was paler than usual, and he sat uncertainly on his horse.

“We could rest for a while,” Kara suggested, and she wheezed, still in severe pain from her beating. “The Kinshra are unlikely to catch us now.”

Theodore looked at Doric and the dwarf nodded. They could afford to rest.

“Very well then,” he said reluctantly. “We shall stay here for an hour—but no more. I shall keep a watch along the trail behind us.” The squire directed his horse back to the north, to keep an eye out for any sign of pursuit.

Both Kara and Castimir fell into a deep sleep as soon as they found themselves a suitable spot amid the warm ferns, while Gar’rth curled himself up with his knees beneath his chin. Doric did not want to examine the youth too carefully, for although he was no longer in his wolfish form, nor was he back to his human self either. His eyes were still dark pools devoid of hope, his jaw distended too far, his skin an inhuman grey.

The dwarf sat watching his companions with a sudden affection. They were so very young and yet already in their lives they had seen so much violence. It was not right, he thought as he tightened his grip on his axe. It was not right at all.

His thoughts turned to the artillery that the Kinshra had used. He imagined Falador besieged, the knights powerless against the technological advantage of their enemy. He knew the walls of Falador, built to protect the city in previous decades, would not withstand Sulla’s guns.

Doric had thought on this for twenty minutes when a high-pitched screech sounded in the forest. His body went cold, for he knew it was a creature in its final moments. Looking north toward Theodore, he was comforted to see him come galloping back down the path.

“What was that?” the squire asked. “And where is Gar’rth?”

Doric glanced nervously about him, but Gar’rth had vanished into the forest.

“He was here a few minutes ago,” Doric said, amazed that anyone could have crept away so silently through the dense undergrowth.

A loud crackle sounded nearby and the thick vegetation shook, betraying the signs of a large animal moving underneath.

“Gar’rth?” Theodore asked, his hand tight on the hilt of his drawn sword.