The Lance of Zaros, Part V

The Hunt

Kyran and Adalyn walked quickly towards the basement of the pub that functioned as the Myreque Council headquarters.

"The Lance?" Kyran asked. "What was he talking about?"

"His name is Terrell, and he was my special operations partner. We were in charge of…unusual methods of obtaining information from or about Drakan or his organization. On my last trip into Meiyerditch, I managed to lift a sheet of paper that talked about something with the codename 'The Lance of Zaros.'"

Kyran gave her a curious look. "'The Lance of Zaros'? What, is it like the Godsword?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. It just had the name, and the location."

"Wait. If they had the location, wouldn't they have retrieved it by now?"

"You keep asking questions I don't have the answer to. If I had to guess, though…Drakan and his ilk are Zamorakian, so perhaps a relic of Zaros would be anathema to them. Whatever the reason, they haven't taken it yet, and that's good enough for me."

They climbed down into the basement, shutting the door above them. The long rectangular table in the center of the room was occupied by a group of six people-three humans-Veliaf, another man, and a woman-a male elf, a male dwarf, and-

"Whoa!" Kyran recoiled suddenly, seeing the table's fifth occupant. He was tall, wore dark clothing with a red cloak and hat, with spectacles underneath.

And he was most definitely a vampyre.

Veliaf turned his head at Kyran's surprised gasp. "You took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?"

Kyran said nothing for a second, then slowly scratched the back of his head. "Uh, sir…? Are you aware that, uh…"

Veliaf raised an eyebrow. "I assume you're referring to Alucard, and yes, I am in fact aware that he's a vampyre. However, he's safely in our camp. Alucard, if you would…?"

Alucard took his hat off, revealing strangely friendly black eyes and a fairly pale face. "Of course, Veliaf. As he said, I am a defector from Drakan's kin, and, though I do not worship Saradomin alone, neither do I revere Zamorak. I had always harboured the opinion that the oppression of humans that is so prevalent in Meiyerditch was fundamentally wrong. Needless to say, this belief of mine was not very, hmm, popular with my dear uncle. In fact, he had me locked up for several hundred years before dear Adalyn here found me on one of her excursions into the slums. She helped me escape, and, well-" he spread his arms out in a flourish-"Here I am!" He lowered himself back into the simple wooden chair he had been sitting on before.

Veliaf nodded. "What he says has been verified. We-"

The dwarf interrupted Veliaf, chuckling . "Believe me, son, we weren't too happy about dear old Addy here bringing home a stray vampyre! Not at first, anyway. But now Alucard and us, we're the best of pals, so we are!" He took a long draught of the ale he had in front of him.

Veliaf cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Booster, we- that being the Council- have decided that a strike team should be assembled to ascertain the truth about the Lance- if it even exists, and, if it does, why Drakan hasn't bothered with it. Alucard here is our ace in the hole for this mission- being a vampyre, he's nigh-invincible against the weapons Drakan might use. After all, his tactics revolve around killing human, dwarfs, and elves- and the weapons most effective against them aren't nearly as useful against our fanged friend over there."

Kyran scratched the back of his head. "Um, that's all well and good, sir, but, ah, why did you call Adalyn and me here? Terrell said something about leading the expedition?"

"Well," Veliaf said, "'Leading' might be the wrong word, but it fits well enough here. What I want you for is your combat ability and your command of battle tactics. You were in the Ardougne military before, weren't you? What rank did you achieve?"

Kyran snapped to attention. "Former sergeant Kyran MacTavish reporting for duty, sir!"

The elf clapped his hands together. "Wonderful!" he said. "So you know how to command troops in the field, then?"

"Well, kind of, sir…?"

The elf nodded. "Just call me Turen, son. We've no need for formalities here, of all places."

Kyran relaxed his stock-straight posture a bit. "Well, Turen, I say 'kind of' because while I did have some experience commanding soldiers, it wasn't much. The only real action I saw before I was discharged was the Battle of Sawyer, north of Ardougne, when those Saradominist zealots had captured and were torturing a group of goblins, and someone felt it was their responsibility to stop it by sneaking in and freeing them, with the help of a cave goblin named Zanik. The one man seemed to have things pretty well under control until Zanik went mad and started attacking him. That's where we came in- we held off the HAM members until she came to her senses. It wasn't much of a battle, really-more like a slaughter."

Turen scratched his chin. "You said you were discharged. Why was that?"

Kyran was silent for a second, then lifted his black shirt to show a large patch of scar tissue on his stomach. It wasn't the pink color of a new wound; rather, it was the dark red of one that had been barely let to heal over the years.

"Well, you see, sir-er, Turen-one of the HAM members threw a makeshift explosive in the chaos of the battle. It wasn't very powerful, being a home brew, but…it caught the tip of the shirt under my armour, and set it ablaze. In the time it took to strip my chainmail off along with my shirt…well, you can see. They declared me unfit for battle, and I received an honorable discharge."

Turen nodded. "I see…regardless, you have military experience. And as for Adalyn, we requested her for the stealth element of this mission. After all, it wouldn't do if Drakan knew what we're up to, now would it?"

Kyran nodded. "Alright…So who exactly is going on this…expedition?"

Veliaf gently rapped his knuckles on the oaken table. "That would be my area of expertise. As Turen said, stealth is of the essence on this mission, so naturally the number of people will be low. The team will consist of you, Adalyn, Alucard, and…"he grinned impishly. "Our friend here beside me. His name is Joel."

Veliaf tilted his head to the right to indicate the man beside him. He looked to be no more than twenty-five- definitely younger than Kyran, at least- with a head of shaggy brown hair that hung in front of his eyes, which were light blue. He wore a loose brown shirt emblazoned with what appeared to be a dragon pattern on it, and a pair of black wool trousers. He stood up and smiled conspiratorially at Kyran.

"Lance-Corporal Joel Matthews of the Varrock guard, reporting for duty, Sarge. I'm an expert in the crafting and production of armour and weapons, a bit of a woodsman, fisherman, hunter- you name it. Also, I'm an apprentice to Duradel in Shilo Village, so I fancy myself a competent slayer- though perhaps not as…competent as you. You have the cape, after all."

Kyran laughed. "Oh, I couldn't track a rabbit or catch a fish to save my life, so I have a feeling you'll far outstrip me in other areas." He stepped forward and extended a hand. "Glad to meet you, Joel. And don't call me Sarge. As you heard, I'm not in the military anymore."

Joel took his hand in a firm grasp and shook it. "That's fine, Sarge…Neither am I. Joined when I was eighteen, got out about a year ago. Saw quite a bit of, ah, action, there. Especially when those zombies invaded. Hoo boy, that was some fun."

Veliaf cut in. "You should make your preparations now. You leave in two hours."

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They stood at the outskirts of the town. Joel and Kyran in particular looked like they were in some sort of competition to out-manly the other. Kyran had his Guthan platebody with dragonmetal platelegs, and his Zamorakian spear, along with his slayer's helm. Joel, on the other hand, wore a platebody identical to Kyran's, but with platelegs and a helmet made from the same metal. On his left arm he bore a circular shield forged from obsidian, and in his right hand he held a barbed red-and-black whip that he held coiled in his gloved hands.

Alucard, by contrast, wore no armour, and wielded only a pair of razor-tipped claws forged from dragon metal. When Kyran had asked him about the apparent lack of defense, his only reply was that he got his protection elsewhere. Adalyn wore the traditional garb of a ranger- armour crafted from the hide of a black dragon, with mithril-toed snakeskin boots. In her right hand she had a crossbow, and on her left arm was a strangely-shaped, almost translucent shield.

"Oh, come on, Sarge, a giant, unwieldy spear like that just can't compare with the speed and finesse of my abyssal whip!" Joel said.

Kyran snorted. "You only say that because you've never seen me using this thing. Seriously, I've gutted metal dragons with it. Try doing that with your little rope."

Adalyn sighed. "Yes, yes, you're both very virile, manly, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, and you could probably make all the women on the block squeal just by flexing, but could you please focus on the task at hand? We have more important things than your testosterone-fueled grudge match to deal with at the moment."

Alucard chuckled. "Oh, just let them have at it, Adalyn. After all, we all know that I am far and away stronger than both of them!" Two heads simultaneously turned to look in disbelief at him, and Adalyn couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's just get on with it," she said, smirking playfully. "The location the paper mentioned was a small hut to the north of the Barrows where the six Misthalanian heroes are buried. That's about a day's journey as the crow flies."

"What if the crow has a broken wing and has to walk?" Joel asked, deadpan.

Adalyn turned to him. "Then it's about a day and a half, smartass. Now let's get going- first we need to get to the town of Mort'ton, since it's at the Morytanian crossroads that lead to the Barrows."

Without fanfare, the small group ventured forth onto the dirt path that led to Mort'ton.

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The day had passed largely without excitement- the group had encountered a pack of talon beasts as night came on, but the four dispatched them quickly enough. After the encounter, Adalyn decided that they had gone far enough and that they would camp out there for the night. Joel quickly dismembered one of the beasts and started a fire, cooking it to medium-rare perfection.

"Mmm," Kyran said. "This is delicious. I would have burned this to ashes…you're quite the cook, Joel."

Alucard nodded. "Indeed. How you managed to cook game this well over an open fire shall remain a mystery to me. I would wager that your skills were quite envied in the Guard."

Joel laughed. "Heh. The guys in the barracks would give me their rations and I would spice 'em up…for a fee, of course. A lot of the time, they'd give me some candied nuts or, when I was particularly bored, books and, um, ah, entertainment pictures."

Kyran burst out laughing. "Oh, you mean pin-ups? Girl of the month?"

"Hey, you have to admit-they are entertaining."

Adalyn rolled her eyes. "Do men ever think of anything else?"

Kyran grinned and eyed her. "So are elf men any different?"

"Unfortunately, not at all. They just repress it a bit."

They all shared a laugh, and Joel poked at the fire.

"So what's the plan tomorrow?" he asked.

Adalyn arched her back, and Kyran could hear several vertebrae pop. "Well," she said, "while we'll be passing through Mort'ton, we won't actually be stopping there. It's a short walk to the Barrows from there, and, depending on the situation, we might need to get out quickly. We might be exfiltrating under fire. "

Joel grinned. "Oh, yeah! Now it's all coming back to me. Ahhh, bring 'em on! I'll take out any vyrewatch ol' Drakan throws at me!"

Alucard yawned. "On that note, dear comrades, I believe I shall retire for the night…though all I'm retiring to is a sleeping bag on the ground."

Joel sidled up next to Adalyn and grinned roguishly. "How about you, dear Adalyn? Need someone to warm your sleeping bag next to you on this cold, cold night?"

She raised one eyebrow. "I think not, dear."

Kyran piped up. "Yeah, that's what she has me for!"

Adalyn's face turned red and she covered her eyes.

"Oh yeah, real fair!" Joel said. "You get to sleep next to the girl, and I'm stuck with Sir Fangs-a-lot over here. I'll probably wake up with a bite mark on my throat."

Alucard called from across the fire, "I wasn't particularly hungry before, but now I'm feeling a bit peckish!"

Joel paled as Adalyn and Kyran pulled out their respective sleeping bags and zipped them together. They took their shoes off and climbed in the bag, using their packs as pillows.

The fire crackled, warding off the darkness around the camp. Taking one last chance to kiss Adalyn, Kyran closed his eyes, and let the deep sleep of the weary overtake him.

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"Damn, that town's creepy!" Joel said as they passed out of Mort'ton, heading toward the Barrows. "All those infected people…it just makes me hope it's not contagious!"

"Don't worry, Joel, it's not," Adalyn replied. "It's not. Besides, there's already a cure for that disease. It's called Serum 208. I actually helped discover it, you know."

"La-dee-frickin'-da, Addy," he replied, grinning. "'Oh, look at me, I'm Adalyn Blackwood, and I'm so much more amazing than all you peons.'"

She smacked him playfully, then turned to Kyran. "Have you ever been to the Barrows, Kyran?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, but only once. I found Guthan's body, and decided that he didn't need his armour.I know the history of the six brothers that are buried there, though."

"It's a spooky place isn't it?. You can feel that there's definitely something there."

"Hey!" Joel shouted. "There they are!"

Kyran looked ahead, and saw what Joel was shouting about. There was a vast area fenced around by a stone wall. There were six large mounds of dirt, each with a small wooden sign on it, giving the name of the brother buried there.

A shiver ran up Kyran's spine. "Whoa…" he said quietly. "It's just as I remember it…The air feels positively electric."

She nodded. "Legend has it that the Brothers were resurrected by Zaros in spirit form, and that they still roam the place, because they're guarding something deep within the crypts."

Joel chuckled, but it sounded forced. "You believe that old story? Then I have a bridge over the Lava Maze to sell you…"

Something deep within Kyran stirred, and out of his pack he drew a black metal sheath. He strapped his spear onto his back, and slid his sword out, holding it in front of his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Aranar, I don't know what's prompting me to do this, but…I have a feeling that in the near future, my kin will need protection. So I shall sacrifice my spear for you. Aranar, the Defender, let us put ourselves between the clan and destruction!"

"Oi, Kyran!" Joel yelled from a few hundred metres up north. "Stop talkin' to your sword and get a move on, huh?"

He rushed to rejoin the group, who had stopped moving in front of the gate that led to the barrows. Off in the distance, there was a small house, barely visible.

"Is that it?" Kyran asked quietly. "The hut on the paper?"

"Well…" Adalyn said, "There aren't any other houses around here, as far as I know…so we might as well get the infiltration started."

They stole away to the house, Joel and Alucard taking a defensive stance on either side of the front door. Kyran stood in front of it, waiting for Adalyn's signal.

"Now?" he asked, tensing in preparation to ram the door.

After a second…

"Now."

He dashed at the portal, turning a shoulder and slamming into it. The door buckled, and gave in. They ran inside, seeing a small living space and a hallway leading into a kitchen.

As they ran into the kitchen, they saw a lone figure, dressed in simple robes…It turned to face them.

No…It couldn't be…

"Oh," Kyran said, suddenly feeling dizzy. "That's-ugh-I believe in ghosts, but…Oh, that's just not fair…"

"Hello…my king," said Astrid MacTavish, Queen of Miscellania.