So the magic of Drakan’s kin is true, then.
Theodore reached to his sword and drew comfort from its cold hilt.
Gar’rth breathed deeply before continuing.
“But whatever the truth, Malak sent my parents to Castle Drakan before I was born. Several years later, only my mother returned to Canifis, with me as an infant. My father, an elder, was killed only a few months before I was born.
“It was the thought of him-murdered on a vampire’s whim- that started my path to rebellion. I was ten when I first asked my mother about Castle Drakan, for by then I had heard the stories the other children whispered about me. She refused to speak of it, and we grew apart, for the memories were painful to her.
“When I was thirteen, her brother came and took an interest in me. His name was Jerrod. He was a hunter, and would spend weeks away from Canifis trading with gypsies-” Gar’rth looked at the table suddenly and avoided their stare.
I know what he will say. We have all suspected it.
“Sometimes he brought human children and slaves to Canifis, sold by the gypsies.”
The cleric Drezel groaned and took his silver star in his hand. Reldo watched, transfixed, his eyes never leaving Gar’rth’s face. Gideon Gleeman looked once to the remains of the pig on the spit and grimaced.
“I am sorry for what happened to them. But that year everything changed for me. My friends and I were forced to witness the blooding of those a few years older than we were. Malak carried it out, and each of them had to drink innocent blood and swear to Zamorak.
“They were different after that. They were cruel and enjoyed the pain of others. Yet my friends and I were terrified by what we had seen, as was intended by Malak, to prepare us for our own blooding, to make us strong.
“That night, I took an oath. I promised to escape. My mother knew I was different from others, and it made her hate me.” Gar’rth shook his head and wiped his hand across his face.
“She hated me,” he said quietly. “On the night she died, she said I was a curse on her, and when she was gone, Jerrod hated me more, blaming me for her death. That was when he took over my care.”
“Care?” Doric growled. “That is hardly the word I would use.”
Gar’rth smiled for a moment.
“You are right, my friend. Jerrod thought me weak. He often beat me, and told me how soon I would undergo my own blooding. He found amusement in that.
“But my blooding was put back. I was slower developing than my friends. Some said it was the curse of Meiyerditch, that my birth there had affected me somehow. In Canifis, being different makes you an outcast. Jerrod grew angrier, his punishments harsher, and I watched again as my friends underwent their blooding and gave themselves to Zamorak.
“Then I was alone in Canifis, so I decided it was time to fulfil my oath. I planned my escape, over many months.
“Jerrod helped me, though accidentally. He regularly took me with him on his hunts, forcing me to run until I collapsed, at first, before I grew strong enough to keep up with him and then to run faster than him. And he taught me the secret routes around Canifis. Ways used by the hunters, through swamps and marsh known to very few. In tormenting me, he had given me a strength beyond many of my race, and knowledge of secret ways which would allow me to escape.
“After several weeks, I crossed the Salve far to the south of here, forced to do so as Jerrod very nearly caught me. The power of the river prevented him from crossing, but it was no hindrance to me, for, as the monks found, I am still an innocent, untainted by Zamorak. Then I believed I was free, until some weeks later, when I caught his scent among the farming communities and woods.”
“That would be Lumbridge,” Ruthven said. “Last year we trailed a beast that crossed the river, and followed it there, where we lost the trail. That must have been Jerrod.”
Gar’rth nodded.
“Then I must thank you. He would have caught me if you hadn’t pursued him. I used all the tricks I knew to lose him. I followed rivers, I double-backed over many miles and long days and tried to hide in crowds. As the winter closed in, I turned west and north, before I found my way to Taverley and into the arms of Ebenezer. I was exhausted then. I could not have gone farther, and without his help I would have died. Or worse.”
Gar’rth took another draught of water.
“But Jerrod could not keep his discipline. I know that he murdered a young mother and her child south of Falador, and Theodore himself discovered the wreck of the gypsy caravan after he killed three more. How many others he slaughtered, before and since then, I don’t know, but their deaths haunt me.”
Gar’rth gave Kara a long look. In return she nodded slowly.
She has travelled with Gar’rth after the war. Theodore mused. She and Arisha will know all this already. He felt a sudden stab of jealousy.
“But I know this also,” Gar’rth continued. “To leave him alive is a death sentence to others. That is why we followed him into The Wilderness. He must be found. He must be destroyed.”
“That will be Varrock’s task now,” Lord Despaard said. “For all his evil, Jerrod is only one individual. Our task is more important, dealing with Morytania, and the unknown.”
Albertus Black slumped suddenly, waking to catch himself with a stir.
He is too old for this. He should not be coming.
“We have travelled far today,” Ruthven said with a sidelong glance at the old man. “And we have another journey tomorrow. I think we should all find our beds.”
Those at the table rose as a distant chime sounded.
“It is midnight,” Ruthven observed grimly as he listened. “And that is an eastern bell, for the wind heralds from Morytania tonight. Should any of you have cause to venture outside, do not go beyond the gatehouse. It will be guarded. And when you do rest, lock your windows and keep your weapons close at hand, for such winds have carried far worse than stale air.”
Theodore saw Doric roll his eyes.
“We aren’t even in Morytania yet,” the dwarf said with ill-disguised contempt. “Surely we are safe on this side of the river, dark or day, wind or no wind.”
Ruthven shook his head bitterly.
“There are those who think so. I was once one of them, yet I paid for that arrogance with everything I loved in life. Now all that remains to me is vengeance.”
Outside the manor house, but still within easy reach of the torch that burned above the doorway, Doric lit his pipe. Theodore watched the dwarf’s nose wrinkle in sudden delight at the smell. It was comforting to him, as well.
“Well, what’s on your mind squi-” Doric growled and corrected himself. “-Sir Knight?”
Theodore grinned hesitatingly. He still wasn’t used to it either.
And after wanting it for so long, since I was a boy.
Is it all I thought it would be? Something seems to be missing now. So much has happened in such a short space of time.
“I am worried,” he said, “about Albertus. Do you not think he is too frail to take part in this journey?”
“He’s a younger man than I by thirty winters,” Doric sighed, scuffing at the ground with his right foot as if kicking a nagging doubt. “But this is not a fight we are going to. It is a diplomatic mission.” He grunted softly and whispered. “At least I hope it is, anyhow.”
“It’s not just him I worry about, Doric. I am still worried about Ebenezer…”
“There was nothing any of us could do for him in Varrock, squire,” Doric said, making no effort to correct himself this time. “Better to be here, with your friends, by their side when they need you. Here, we can make a difference.”