Arrival

“Bruce! Look!” Hecate called.

“What?” Bruce asked, scrambling to the front of the cabin. Hecate was pointing at something in the distance. Bruce squinted at it. A dark, candle-like shape was jutting up from the coastline. “It’s the tower. We’ve made it!”

“We’ve still got a way to go,” Bruce mentioned, “And I’m still not sure whether they’ll let me in or not.”

“I’ll get you in,” Hecate said, determined, “No matter what.”

Half an hour later, the boat slowly drifted towards the Tower. They had long since reached the edge of the storm, and now were letting the powerful winds and excited current push them towards their target. As it neared, Bruce noticed that there was something wrong with the tower, but he couldn’t tell what. “Hecate,” he said, “Come here a minute.” “Yes?” she asked.

“Something looks wrong with the tower, but I’m not sure what.”

Hecate studied it.

“I’m not sure.”

Bruce looked again.

“The tower itself looks normal, so it must be something around it.”

Suddenly, a large wave came up and lifted the boat up slightly, so they were looking down at the tower’s foundations.

Or at least, where they should have been.

“Ah...” sighed Bruce. As he had thought, the tower was fine – what wasn’t fine was that the lowest levels were submerged in the murky water. “That complicates things,” Bruce said.

“Understatement of the century,” Hecate muttered. They laughed quietly.

However, it turned out to be not so difficult. Although Bruce had to carefully work the rudder, it appeared the Dark Wizards had built a small wooden platform at the lowest dry level and had already moored up a few boats. Bruce pulled his boat into where two Dark Wizards were standing. They each muttered something, and the ropes floated off the deck and knotted themselves around the mooring posts. Bruce looked at them.

“Hello there,” he said, “Mind if we dock up?”

“You a Zamorakian?” one of them asked.

“Well... no, not as such.”

“Sorry, you can’t moor here.”

“My...” (Bruce searched for a word to describe Hecate. Girlfriend? Lady friend? He settled on companion.) “...Companion is a follower of the Dark Lord though.” Hecate walked out from inside the cabin and stood on deck. She looked up at each Wizard in turn.

“She can come. But you have to stay. We don’t have any Saradominists here.”

“He’s not a Saradominist,” Hecate told them, stepping up from the boat and onto the makeshift dock. “He’s a general nonbeliever.”

The two wizards looked at each other.

“Okay,” said the other one for the first time, “You can come in. But don’t expect to be Mr Popular.”

“Thank you, sirs!” Bruce smiled, climbing up to the dock. The two wizards took them to a door, a rough layer of planks in a wall which had been rather unceremoniously smashed to create the passage. They walked inside. The interior of the tower was dark and murky. Dark Wizards shuffled around in the half-light, murmuring over piles of runes. A handful turned to look at Bruce and Hecate. The hair on the back of Bruce’s neck tingled as he felt at first half a dozen and then more eyes focused on him. It was very unnerving.

Eventually they reached a staircase. The most talkative of the pair of wizards went up front, with the quiet one at the back. Bruce walked behind Hecate, who herself was behind the lead wizard. As they ascended the spiraling staircase, Bruce started to study their features. The most talkative had a large fringe which went all the way down to his eyes. He seemed to suffer from acne. His name was now Spotty. The other one was shorter, with a wide, lined face. His right hand seemed to have a number of warts and growths. So he would be Ugly. As they climbed, there was a thick smell of sulfur in the air.

“Where’re we going?” Bruce whispered to Hecate.

“If the tower’s layout hasn’t changed, we’re going to the senior rooms at the top.”

“Senior being who, precisely?”

“Oh, the Head Wizards, people like that.”

Bruce gave a quiet gulp.

They reached the top floor. A large door blocked their way. Spotty rapped his knuckles on it.

“Password?” a creaking, elderly voice asked.

“True Flame.”

“Correct!” the voice said in the tone of a falling tree. Bruce heard various heavy latches being undone, and the door swung open. Bruce almost fell off the landing when he saw the man who was behind the door – his face was long, stretched, and ghoulish. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot. Most disturbing were his hands, that were rough, brown and moss covered. He was almost a tree. Spotty led them in. This layer was brighter – slightly – than the others, and less crowded. Bruce and Hecate walked in. An old woman spoke to Spotty.

“Who are these?” Her voice trembled, not with fear but immense old age. Her face was wrinkled and her Zamorakian robes too large and covered in dirt.

“My lady... these two arrived in a boat a few minutes ago. One is a Follower – but the man is a nonbeliever.”

“Ahh...” she said a low but screeching voice. She spoke to Hecate first. “Tell me, youngling, who are you?”

“My name is Hecate, my lady. I am building an army for the taking of Karamja. A necromanceress.”

“Hecate... please, dear, elaborate.”

“My master was the great Gallardo. He taught me the ways of the necromancer. But I have also been under the tutorship of Plagueis the Dark, Vadas, Lord of the Seven Islands, and Master Xiqin.”

“Xiqin the Monk?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And what of you, young man? Who are you?”

“My name is Bruce Brysworth, my lady. An explorer. When Hecate’s minions attacked Rimmington and some refugees visited my house I felt that I needed to go and find out what was going on. I entered the caves, but couldn’t go any further. When it started to flood Hecate and I escaped via boat up to the surface with the intent of reaching land. So we came here.”

The old woman looked at them with her huge black pupils that dominated her eyes. “I have heard from Master Xiqin you intend to make this Bruce Brysworth a general for us. My dear, why is this?”

“Well,” Hecate began, “My lady, not only is he cunning and wise, which shall help us take Karamja for our kingdom, he also is well known as an explorer, but an innocent one, so he may ferry our brethren from where they are at risk without the slightest suspicion.”

“Is this because you have an emotional attachment to him?”

Hecate gave the slightest of small pauses, but it was enough to give her away. “Not at all, my lady.” Suddenly the old woman’s eyes turned fiery red. Her voice went from old and weak to layered and deep, angry. “You lie to the supreme witch?!”

“No, never, my lady...”

“You foolish youngling! When will you learn that we elders can see through your pitiful veil of lies to the truth within you?”

“My lady, I didn’t mean...”

“Such disobedience must be paid for!” The old woman reared backwards on a growing pillar of flame. In her hands two huge fireballs started to grow. Hecate was cowering – but Bruce had suddenly felt a tremor. A few tiles slipped and fell from the roof. By some extraordinary luck, they hit the monstrous witch on the head. Suddenly the flames disappeared, and she fell down onto the floor. Immediately weakened, she looked up, shaking at the pair.

“Your... magic?” she asked. There was another tremor, and a few other tiles fell, hitting her again. Her vast age had taken its toll on her, and now just a few light tiles were all that were needed to bring death calling. Amazingly, some of the other wizards started clapping. A particularly wizened one stood up and walked to them.

“Thank you, young ones,” he said, “We’ve had to put up with her ancient ways for decades now. Are you not the Hecate of the Reformation sect?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“We are all reformists here. Converted years back. You’ve done us a favour, taking out that old orthodox witch.”

“But...” Bruce mentioned, “We didn’t do anything.”

The old man looked at Bruce incredulously. “You didn’t?”

“Nope,” Hecate answered.

“Then what...” But before the old man could finish his talk, there was yet another rumble, and the smell sulfur filling the room. They looked out of the large window. The sky in this area was clear and warm, but the bulk of the storm was far out to sea, and silhouetted within that was Crandor’s huge black bulk. Bruce could see immediately the thick plume of smoke that rose up from the top of the mountain.

“The volcano’s active!” he said.

The old man and Hecate looked at him and said together, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve seen fifteen volcanoes in my life and I know one when I see one.”

“You must leave,” the old man said. “We can protect ourselves here, but you two must go to safety. You have your lives ahead of you, with adventure and pleasure. We are doomed to spend our lives in this tower. Protect yourselves.” Then he said to Spotty and Ugly, “Help them get to their ship. You must make sure that they get to safety.”

They nodded, and in a hurry the four left the large room and started to run down the stairs. Crandor was soon to release it’s full wrath.