Enjoy, kind of.
Chapter 4: Repercussions
James decided to wake up bright and early the next morning; he was tired of being pushed awake in the mornings. This was his seventh day with the Burthorpe army, and he hated every second of it. He would have to train for seven hours straight, sparring with soldiers or hitting dummies. After that was time to eat a small lunch. The lunch break was surprisingly quick, and as soon as it was over, it was right to training again. At that point Is was usually push-ups, sit-ups, and if it was a bad day, running up the mountain with weights attached to your legs and arms. Luckily, he only had to run up to what was safe, no trolls would attack him while he did this. It was a grueling work out either way, and every day, every part of James's body felt sore.
Even so, James felt himself building a lot of muscle. When sparring with the soldiers he felt a little more sure of himself. He didn't want to go to battle if he could help it, but at the same time he felt he had a much higher survival rate if he did.
He was also getting used to using claws as weapons. He was able to move with them as if they were just an extension on his hands, and it was after this time he realized why they were praised as such deadly weapons. They were delicate though, finding an enemies weak points were even more important now, the claws could easily break if you tried to directly attack a plate body or chain mail.
James stopped to look at Sakir. Sakir was a prisoner, through and through. He'd stay in the tent, get fed at meal times, and that was it. James began to feel sorry for him, but remembered they weren't exactly on speaking terms right now. Sakir now slept most of the day. "He must hate it here. Well, I did offer to rescue him…"
He decided to stop worrying about it; he would do something about it later. When he walked outside, he expected to see all the men exercising. Instead, they were putting on their claws, something they didn't do until later on in the afternoon. While looking around, James recognized a familiar face walking towards him.
"I know you; you're one of the white knights!"
"The one and only Taleka, the new in-command. Now I'd suggest you prepare for battle, we're taking Falador back from Varrock today."
James stood there silently for a moment. He knew this was going to happen, but so soon! He was hoping to have escaped by the time he was called upon for battle. "What if," he began, gathering all his courage, "What if I don't want to fight?"
"Then you will face the repercussions. Understand?"
"What are the repercussions?"
"It's a form of torture." With that, he walked away, leaving James's mind to wander.
A steady downpour fell from the sky as the soldiers suited up for the coming battle. James had been ready for hours, and was merely sitting in his tent, wondering what he should do.
"I guess, I guess I have to fight. There's nothing else to do. If they wouldn't even describe what they were going to do to me, it must be pretty bad."
Suddenly, he thought back to his largest battle he was in, the battle of Draynor Village. He recalled the worried look of villagers, hurrying to escape. Guards and soldiers were falling to the ground, writhing in pain. Some died by his hands. The scene got more and more horrific as it replayed in his head, multiple times.
"No. I…I can't do this. It's too much. I can't just keep killing like this. I…"
"Get over here, now, we're leaving!" He was interrupted by a Buthorpe soldier. James nodded and stood up, wondering how he would get away with this. As the walked south, they passed the Guthixian village of Taverly. James watched the druids with utmost respect.
"They have become one with nature and the world, a great feat. If only the rest of the world could realize."
"What are you talking about?" yelled the soldier behind him. James didn't even notice he was slowing them down. He quickly closed the gap he had created in the formation as they passed through the large gate.
"We're stopping here to rest. Tomorrow we will seize Falador. For now, eat, sleep, and cherish the times you have now, some of you may not have any more."
With the last sentence of the general's ringing in his ears, James skipped dinner and went right to bed.
He awoke the next morning to find the weather hadn't changed in the least. He sulkily put on the claws and mask and walked out of his tent. There he saw the general already forming units with the soldiers. He spotted James and beckoned him to come over.
"You will be part of squad thirteen. They are all new and inexperienced, like yourself. We deploy you first, so get in the front."
James did so obediently. Normally he'd be angry about being called inexperienced at anything, and even more nervous for having to go out first with the inexperienced group. Now though, the whole idea meant nothing to him. He didn't plan on doing anything in this battle. Knowing he'd have to face the repercussions anyway, he was starting to think death wasn't so bad. Maybe it was the easiest way out.
As the hours went by, all the soldiers were ready to move out. James looked around at his group, and immediately though back to the caravan ride to Draynor. He was almost expecting to see Haddlin next to him, and was greatly disappointed. Instead, he saw a boy, about his age, who looked weighted down by the lightweight steel claws on his hands. Two his left he saw two boys, older than him, who looked like complete idiots, and behind him he saw a man, much older than him, who looked like he was about to break down and cry. He almost laughed, but thought better of it.
Taleka rode up in front of them and put his hands up, making the men go silent. They looked at him expectantly. After a brief moment of silence, he turned around and edged his steed onward, motioning for the others to follow.
After what felt like an eternity James could spot the Falador walls. The gates were shut tightly, and for some reason, there were no guards outside. He wasn't the only one to see this. Immediately, frantic whispers were heard from all sides.
"Do you think they know?"
"They are prepared for us!"
"We're going to die!" One man screamed, after Taleka motioned for everyone to be quiet. He quickly covered his mouth and sank back into the crowd, hoping that he wouldn't be punished.
"It matters not that they are ready for us! We are the stuff of Legend. We shall destroy them!" The man cheered and raised their fists. Taleka approached the gate and was met by two guards on the wall.
"What business do you have here?"
"We, the Burthorpe and Faladorian army, have come to reclaim our city. Go down peacefully, and no one will be harmed!"
"Yeah right. You'd torture us all. Besides, we had a very reliable source telling us you'd be coming; we're prepared for this fight."
"And who may have told you?"
"Well you see," said a figure, standing up and facing the crowd, "I wasn't really pleased with your donation." James recognized him immediately. There on the wall stood a smiling Urantan, holding some very powerful runes, probably ones he received from 'New' Falador.
"Now, I must kindly ask you to leave, before we have to move on to unnecessary bloodshed."
Taleka screamed in rage and drew his sword. He was immediately met by a huge burst of flame from Urantan. James almost clapped, but realized that would be instant death. Taleka raised his hand, but was met, this time, by a large boulder. He was thrown off his steed, who instantly galloped away. He tried desperately to get up, and was met by a large wind blast, which picked him up and carried him away, towards the Black Knight castle.
"We…We should leave," said the Burthorpe commander, the soldiers nodded in agreement.
"Anyone who moves shall be killed on the spot!" James tried to find the voice, and found it belonged to the White Knight third in command. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it menacingly at everyone in the front line.
"Well isn't this funny. Well, I'll leave you boys to play; I have work to do here in Falador. You should really see what Varrock has done with the place; the dungeons are amazing, really." Urantan then jumped off the wall and into the city, lowering himself gently with some runes.
"Wait! Get back here! Right now, we aren't done with you. Men, charge!" The third in command turned around to see his men marching in the opposite direction. "Get back here!"
"Will someone just shoot him?" Said the Burthorpe commander as they marched back towards Burthorpe, knowing there was no threat.
"Gladly!" said someone on the wall, and James could've sworn he heard the voice before. He heard the sound of an arrow fire, and the commander falling.
"This couldn't have turned out better. No battle, and no 'repercussions,'" thought James as they stopped by the gate. All of the soldiers looked happy with the prospect of no battle either.
"I wonder who's fourth in command, eh? White Knights are dropping like flies," joked one Burthorpe soldier. James noticed at this remark several people becoming pale. He laughed. He realized how very tired he was, and decided to go to sleep.
"Ready to face the repercussions?" asked the new fourth in command.
"What do you mean? The battle never happened!" Yelled James. They had just returned home when James was confronted by the new general.
"You were ordered to stay, but you didn't. Come with me." James opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought against it. He held out his arms to be taken away. The general held his arms tightly and dragged him over to the middle area. James saw someone else there, a dark skinned man. His clothes were torn and he had blood coming from nearly every inch of his body.
"This is Sakir. I believe the two of you are acquainted. He'll be facing the repercussions."
"What did Sakir ever do?"
"Don't you remember, you left the battle! Did Taleka never explain what the repercussions are? We torture your dearest and closest friend until he dies, all at your fault. It's the only real reason he was here."
James stared at Sakir in disbelief. He went to run over to him, but was held down by two larger soldiers. All he could to was watch. The whipped him, slashed him raw with the claws. It got worse and worse as time went on. They severed his limbs, and took out an eye. The whole time Sakir showed no emotion. Just stood there, staring at James.
"Why don't you just kill him? It won't be as painful that way!"
"Now…now you… want me to…to die?"
James looked at Sakir, who said his first words since the torturing began.
"Sakir. I'm sorry Sakir. This wasn't supposed to happen. I never meant for this to happen."
"James. Please. Don't…don't obsess over this. Promise me, that when this…when this is over, you'll do something for me."
"Anything, what is it?"
"Teach these guys a lesson, no one deserves this, not even you, for that, they deserve death, whether you think so or not. Death is a horrible thing, but sometimes it's important, it's part of life. Remember that."
"It's too bad, James, you'd know not to do that though. If you ever turned on us, we'd do this to you. Kill him." With that, Sakir's head was severed clean of his neck.
"Would you like to keep it?" asked the man, holding it up to James.
"You're wrong."
"What was that?"
"You're wrong. Wrong about everything. Most importantly, you're wrong about me, and Sakir. I'll honor his last request. Trust me."
"Ha! And how will you do tha..."
He was interrupted by a metal claw in his stomach. The fourth in command of the White Knights fell to the ground dead.
"And you! You!" James yelled, pointing his claws at the two torturers. "How can you live with yourself after what you have done? After all the pain you have caused, physically, and emotionally. Sakir was right; no man deserves what you two have done to countless people. You, you have no right to live!"
Before he could attack them though, the one on the right charged, swinging a spike club viciously at James. James ducked and sidestepped, dodging every swing with ease. When he found an opening, he rammed into the man's side, knocking him over. He brought him to an end before he could stand.
"You're, you're a mad man!" Screamed the other.
"No worse than you are," spat James. He charged towards him and was met with a punch to the gut. James stepped backward to catch his breath.
"Kill him, kill him now!" Screamed the torturer. The archers on the wall realized what was happening immediately. The shot volley after volley at James, who continued to dodge them. Finally he was pierced by two arrows to the side. He pulled them out and screamed, but kept fighting, finally felling the other torturer.
"He's not human! Take him down now!"
James was hit with another arrow, this time in the shoulder.
"I don't have a choice, I gotta run!" Making his decision, he ran south, towards Taverly. He was chased by a group of six or seven soldiers.
"I have to keep running. No matter what!"
As he ran, he grew even more tired. He was losing an alarming amount of blood, and the chasers still looked fresh. He was beginning to think he would never find salvation.
It was then that he saw Taverly. The druids were going about their daily activities. One of them spotted him, and ran towards him.
"I need help. Please, help me. They are coming after me!"
"Who?" asked the druid? He turned around and saw the soldiers sprinting over. An arrow landed right next to him.
"Heathens! You would dare fight on this sacred ground of Guthix!" The druid was joined by several others. They all pulled runes out of their robes and began chanting. Green hands rose from the ground and held the men. "If you do not promise to leave, we will kill you!" The soldiers paled, and nodded. The druids let go, and the soldiers ran.
"Am, am I safe here?" asked James, energy leaving his body.
"Yes child. Now come, rest, Guthix knows, you need it."
---------------------------------
James awoke the next day around noontime. He sat up and noticed he was wearing new clothes, a regular white shirt and pants. His Burthorpe clothes were in a pile on the wall, next to a large chest, which was open and contained all of his belongings. He stood up and instantly clutched his side, which was not completely healed. Falling back to the bed, he began to breathe heavily. After a moment, the pain subsided. he slowly stood up again. It still hurt, but he was expecting it. After slowly rising, he was able to fight the pain.
He hobbled over to the window on the other side of the room and opened the curtains. Sunlight flooded in the room, lighting up every corner. It was then he noticed a cup of water and some bread on a table next to his bed. He made his way there, and began to eat. As he did so, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he finally managed to say, as he swallowed a hunk of bread, leaving the rest on the plate. He instantly recognized the man who walked in. It was the druid he had met when he first came to Taverly.
"You are finally up. That is good. How do you feel?"
"Horrible. Is there anything you can do to ease the pain?"
"Sorry child, not anymore than we already have. It was a great deal of work closing up the wounds. It will heal fine in good time."
"Oh, ok. Thank you." There was an awkward silence, until the druid spoke.
"When you are ready, please come see me outside." James nodded and finished eating as the druid walked out of the room. He sat for a few minutes, too tired to move, but eventually he moved to the door, and outside.
"Ah, you were quick to come. That is good."
"What exactly do you need me for?"
"Well, to learn the ways of Guthix! You asked to learn!"
"When did I say such a thing?" Asked James, who was now confused. The druid wasn't exactly wrong, but it just seemed odd to him that he knew.
"You were mumbling about it in your sleep all night. Of course, if you don't want to, you may leave now."
"No, no, of course not. It's just, well, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to. I killed an innocent man, I'm not worthy."
"You are confusing Guthix's morals with that of Saradomin. Death is a part of life, and evil is a part of good. Balance is needed. Although killing innocents isn't encouraged, in Guthix's eyes, you did nothing wrong. It is all a part of the balance of the world, and that is the first thing you must understand. And besides, from what I could tell, those men you killed were not at all innocent. You should try to talk less in your sleep as well; a lot can be learned about a person that way." The druid smiled at the last sentence, James just reddened and gazed at the ground.
"So, now what?"
"Well, I guess the first thing to do would be to tell you about Guthix and his ways. Then, you should learn the art of herblore, and making potions, as well as poisons. There is much to learn, but you have a lot of time. Come."
James followed him, excited to finally begin a new life to be proud of.
------------------------
"Seriously?"
"Well, that's what he told me. He'll be here soon. In fact, there he is now."
The man motioned to the door, and in walked someone who was quite obviously a soldier. He had scars all over his face and a bow on his back. He had two quivers as well, one on his back that held his arrows, and one on his leg, which had an array of different throwing knives. He didn't wear any of his armor at the moment though, and instead wore a red shirt and black pants, gathered up at the knee.
"Oi, over here," said one of the men, holding up a beer glass. The new arrival hastily walked up to them and sat down, taking the glass given to him. "Where were you?"
"Meeting with the council," he replied, trying to get his pants to fall comfortably again. "One of the advisors told me to look formal." he continued gruffly.
"Wow, very formal looking, almost mistook you for the king." joked the first man.
"It looks awful, by the way," said the other.
"Yeah, shut up. All it was was about the events of the last attack, it was ridiculous!"
"Oh, how you suffer! Get over it, and drink!" cheered the first man.
"If you say so," murmered the third, taking a sip from his glass. The bar was filled with it's usual folk. Off duty guards, regular villagers, and merchants who were stopping in town. The man looked at the bartender, who was gazing heavily at a table in the corner. He turned his head to see who it was he was so concerned about. Two strangely garbed men were talking eagerly in a different language. They looked very dark, he guessed they were from the desert. After more moments of rapid discussion, one of the men produced a strange pouch from his coat and gave it to the other. He in turn was paid a small sum of gold. After the transaction, the bartender seemed to look away, no longer interested. He greeted the new arrivals with his usual vigor.
"So, you're positive it was him? The rumors are true," asked one of the first men, snapping the third back into reality.
"Yeah," growled the archer, setting the beer on the table. "It's official, he deserted us. I don't care if Burthorpe didn't fight us, he joined them."
"I wonder why? You think it had anything to do with Sakir?"
"Must've been, they were great friends, the two of them."
"I don't care why," barked the soldier, slamming the glass on the table, nearly breaking it. "He had no reason to desert us, in such an important time. He was a hero, and now he's a villain. I've lost all respect for him."
"Oh come now Haddlin, he was still a friend of ours, and he still helped us defeat Falador, traitor or not."
"But Merk, that's just it! Falador isn't defeated yet, as you can see! We could use his help."
"It's not like he was a good fighter anyway."
"Hey, I have an idea!" The two looked at Mark, expectantly. "He was good friends with that Urantan guy staying upstairs right? Let's just go ask him why he deserted, he might know."
After a quick second of thinking, the three of them agreed, and made their way upstairs. The found him in his room, playing with a new air spell. The room was a mess, probably from his blowing the objects around. As they walked it, he was trying to put out a candle without blowing it into a wall.
"Hmm, death runes definitely aren't the best for the job." He muttered to himself, and then scribbled something on a piece of paper. "Oh, hello boys, come in, have a seat." He picked up some runes and motioned for the three chairs on the other side of the room. The chairs went speeding towards the trio, who ducked around into the hall, slamming the door shut. They were rewarded with the sound of the seats crashing into the door, and breaking.
"This guy's crazy," whispered Mark under his breath. Haddlin just scowled and shoved the door open.
"We'll stand, thanks," he said, trying his best to be polite. The chairs were in a heap on the floor.
"Suit yourself. You want anything, maybe a glass of water?"
"No! No, umm, we're fine."
"You sure? All right then," he said, putting some runes back down on his desk. "What can I do for you?"
"You know James Farmer, right?"
"Y-Yes. Yes I do. It's too bad, that he converted, don't you think. So sad. Oh well, what are you going to do eh? That's life. Anything else that you wanted?"
"Umm, we'd like to know more about James, maybe you knew why he converted, or how he somehow ended up in Burthorpe without passing by Falador or Varrock?"
"I have no idea. You'd have to ask someone who knew how to use magical devices."
"Wait, but, you're a wizard!"
"Me? You must be mistaken! I am but a humble rune merchant, who knows nothing of magic, as you can see quite obviously, from my magical skill."
"Oh, ok then," said Mark, turning around. Haddlin grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back into the room.
"Tell us the truth! I saw you battle during the Wizard Tower resistance two weeks ago. You took on every wizard yourself and nearly defeated them all, if it weren't for the few cowards who teleported away."
"Oh, you must be mistaken, that wasn't me. How could it have been, I have been here for weeks and weeks."
"Not only that," continued Haddlin, as if he said nothing, "But you were gone, apparently in Lumbridge, and then seen in Draynor, the very same day James disappeared. Next thing we knew, James was with the Burthorpe army. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a hand in his conversion."
"My dear boy, you must be mistaken. How could I have done such a thing, the very same who killed the White Knight Commander Taleka just a few days ago?"
"So, you admit to knowing how to use magic?" asked Haddlin, eyeing him closely.
Urantan stumbled out a response. "That's not the point of the argument at hand. The point is, why would I deliver the boy to them if I am quite obviously against them, as you so eloquently put it, the same man who defeated nearly all of the wizard resistance?."
Meanwhile, Mark and Merk, who were not ones for the thinking man's game such as this, were exploring the room. Large amounts of mystical and magical oddities were lined up on shelves. Merk thought he had set up a pretty permanent residence here, form the looks of things. Large tomes were organized alphabetically on all the shleves to the right of the room. The north wall contained runes, that also seemed to be organized in some matter. On the left were magical onjects. Bits of enchanted jewelry, strange statue heads, and odd looking robes lines these shelves, although it seemed they were not completely organized yet.
As Mark browsed the shelves, ignoring the two men argueing in back of him, he spotted a cloak. There was nothing odd about the cloak, but it was covering something, he could tell. What ever it was covering was alive, the cloak moved up and down, as if a breathing human body. He reached up to touch it, but tripped on the way, knocking the cloak, and whatever it covered, to the ground.
"Ahh, man that hurt," he said, sitting up and rubbing his head. On the floor lay the cloak, and next to it, a staff, glowing with power. Mark reached out to touch it and and could feel power the power pulsating off it.
"Hey, I'd... I'd recognize that anywhere!" yelled Haddlin, rushing over to it. Urantan reached out to stop him, but it was far too late for that.
"Oh dear," whispered Urantan, sitting up.
"It can't be!" yelled Mark.
"It is," said Haddlin in disbelief. "I read about this staff, there's only two like it. It has the very power of Saradomin himself, allowing Saradomin's spell to be cast with greater force. One is in possession of the old man who lives in Draynor. The other, well, all we knew was that it was in the hands of a Faladorian mage. We saw it first hand, the day we defeated Sir Amik Varze. This is the very same staff that was used against us. That means," he said, turning around to look at Urantan, "That means you work for Falador!"
"Not quite. I no longer side with Falador, but I did, once upon a time. My final act for them was delivering your good friend, James, to Burthorpe. I'm terribly sorry, but nothing could be done. I needed those rune stones, I needed to study them. I needed to be the first man to truly harness their power."
"At the price of selling an innocent human's life."
"But you are wrong about that. You see, James knew what he was doing as soon as he met up with the wizard's from the tower. All I did was bring him to Burthorpe. I made no decisions for him. But I would not worry about him any longer. From what I know about Falador, James will already be dead."
"And how is that?"
"After they chose to torture him, which they must have done, considering he retreated, he must have fought them, knowing his nature, and the nature of the torture. At that point, the entire Burthorpe army is after him. Your friend is dead by now, so no worries!"
"I don't know how you know all this, but I guess we have no choice but to believe you." said Haddlin. He wasn't about to get into another argument, and the more he thought about it, the more he cared less and less about the filthy traitor. "Thank you, sir. You have shed some light on the subject. I'm just curious, what is the form of torture that they use?"
"It is called 'the repercussions,' in which your dearest friend is tortured in your place, because of you. Your friend is eventually killed, and you have to live with the guilt knowing it was your fault. Hmm, let me think, what was the friend's name, started with an S. Let's see, he came from the desert, I believe you knew him."
"Sakir," they all whispered together. They looked down at their feet, willing themselves to control their feelings. "He, he was alive," whispered Haddlin. "That, that must be why. He must have been trying to save Sakir."
"And…and now he's dead. Thanks to James, the very same trying to help him. And now James must be dead too."
"Let's…let's go, we should probably tell Danik. Thank you again, sir."
Urantan nodded and shut the door after them.
