The squire couldn’t understand it.
Yet while he was growing envious and wary of Gar’rth, he also harboured a deep sympathy for him. He knew it wasn’t his fault that he had been born of a race that had behaved so wickedly and with such avarice that legend said they had become wolves. He recalled with sadness how happy Gar’rth had been, after he had thanked him when they had first met in Taverley.
So much had happened since then.
No, it wasn’t Gar’rth’s fault, nor was it truly Kara’s. But in his current mood, Theodore had no wish to be the first to breach the gulf between them, which all the time grew wider.
FORTY-FOUR
It towards midday of the following day when the companions saw the monastery for the first time.
The walled building was shaped around a large rectangular courtyard which was dominated by soothing fountains and well-kept gardens. If serenity dwelt upon the earth, Castimir mused philosophically, it did so here, even more so than in Taverley.
The monastery had been constructed many years before. A long-dead king had built it as a civilized outpost as he sought to tame The Wilderness, but he had died before he could embark upon his expedition, leaving the monastery behind for the worship of Saradomin.
The brown-robed monks welcomed the travellers. A young man who introduced himself as Brother Althric led the companions into the courtyard.
“Is your friend unwell?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his tonsure to stave off the afternoon sun.
Ebenezer answered as he helped Gar’rth from his saddle.
“He is the reason we have come. He is ill, and I have here a letter from the druid Kaqemeex of Taverley, requesting your help. It is addressed to Abbot Langley himself.”
Brother Althric took the note.
“The druid is known to us. I shall pass this on immediately.”
Out of all the travellers, the most profoundly moved was Kara. Of that she was certain. She led her horse away from the others and looked about at the high white walls and blue stained-glass windows with an overwhelming sense of recognition. This was the place to which her father had brought her, years earlier.
“I have been here before, Theodore” she said excitedly, forgetting their feud, as the squire took her horse to lead it to the stables at the northern end of the courtyard. “With my father, when I was blessed as a child by Saradomin. I wonder if the monks remember him?”
“It was a long time ago, Kara,” he replied. “Woodcutters and hunters in these parts regularly travel here to offer the monks fuel and food, and in return the monks care for the sick and dying.”
Arisha had heard their conversation.
“Do you forget the reason for my journey, Kara? I am here to learn their art of writing so that I may record the songs and spoken histories of my people, else we stand to lose them forever. The monks at this monastery keep records of their actions, a skill I am here to learn.”
“And you think they will have a record of my father bringing me here?” Kara gripped Arisha’s wrist in sudden excitement.
“I think it likely” the priestess admitted. “The monks are assiduous in their duties, and a young child brought to be blessed would be a noteworthy occasion.” Tears came into Kara’s eyes, and Arisha placed a hand on her shoulder.
“They might have recorded my name.” Kara wept openly in hope. “They might have recorded my true name and the names of my parents.”
Was my father truly Justrain? Am I the daughter of a Knight of Falador?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Brother Althric, who had returned to inform Ebenezer that the abbot was willing to help as best he could. Only when Kara’s joyful sobs had subsided did she ask about the records.
“We do have records,” Brother Althric said. “A girl brought to receive the blessing of Saradomin would indeed be recorded in our archives. It will not be a quick search, however, for our records are many and we do not know the exact year. It will require at least several hours.” Kara thanked him sincerely.
What are mere hours, after wondering for so long.
The travellers were made welcome after that. They were invited to attend lunch with the monks in a large hall of stone that kept the heat of the day outside.
“They didn’t ask us to relinquish our weapons” Castimir observed curiously. “I would have thought the monks of Saradomin would be against permitting any such things on their land.” He mused as they stood at their table, waiting for the entrance of the abbot who would bless the food they were about to eat.
“That is true on the holy isle of Entrana, but here, so close to The Wilderness, it is wise to arm yourself” Theodore whispered as the holy man entered.
The abbot raised his arms toward the ceiling and began his prayer, a sonorous chant that lasted no more than a minute. As he concluded the monks took their seats amid a jostling of wooden benches that were moved from under the long tables.
All save Gar’rth were ravenous from their journey, but despite her hunger Kara was growing impatient. Her heart beat quickly as she realised that after years of not knowing her true name, she was finally within reach of discovering who she was.
Brother Althric sat with them, talking with Ebenezer about Gar’rth’s deteriorating condition, and in the brightness of the dining hall it was exceedingly obvious. Over the course of their journey he had visibly altered. His skin seemed darker and his eyes more bloodshot and feverish.
“He is not an evil man, I can tell that,” Brother Althric said earnestly. “This monastery is guarded against creatures of Zamorak, although that-alas-does not include his human servants.”
“Gar’rth is not of this land, brother. He hails from Morytania.” Ebenezer whispered the words. “And neither is he human.”
Brother Althric looked suddenly fearful. He hadn’t read the letter that Kaqemeex had sent and, to him, Morytania was very far away, its inhuman inhabitants regarded as legends and nothing more.
“Do not worry, my faithful friend” Ebenezer said slowly, resting his hand on the monk’s arm to prevent him from acting rashly. “He is our friend. And like you said, creatures of Zamorak cannot gain entry here.”
“He is s-still an innocent then,” Brother Althric stuttered. “If he h-has refused to take an innocent life, then his pact with Zamorak is still unconsummated. His will is still his own, untainted by the influence of chaos.”
Without warning Brother Althric seized Ebenezer’s arm with sudden ferocity, his eyes glinting. “He could still be saved! We can deny Zamorak mastery over his soul. We must waste no time-after lunch we shall set about exorcising the evil inherent in him.”
While Kara knew that Gar’rth’s need was greater than her own, she could not help but feel disappointment as the travellers were led to a private room to speak to the abbot about the exorcism. Her mind was in turmoil over the records that she was certain held the key to her name, and that of her father.
The abbot confirmed what Brother Althric had said.
“We shall carry out the ceremony at once,” he announced. “Brother Althric has already begun to fetch the necessary items. It is indeed a blessed miracle that you were brought here.” The old abbot’s grey eyes looked affectionately at Gar’rth. “Never in all the annals of our order can I recall such a situation. Surely it is a herald of something greater happening in the heavens, something that we mortals cannot perceive. Such a triumph over Zamorak by our blessed lord!”
He took Gar’rth’s hand in his own and rested his forehead on it, as if he were paying homage to a direct emissary from his god. Standing erect again, he turned to leave, proceeding down the hallway to a set of stairs.