Hecate's Kingdom

Bruce had spent days in Hecate’s underwater kingdom of stuttering corpses and humid air. Although Hecate was cautious to make sure he didn’t escape, he was allowed a fairly long rein to explore the subterranean maze, lit by flickering candles. Cleverly, Hecate had made her shuffling hordes put in sheets of glass at certain points, providing windows through which the sea could be seen. But for some reason very little sea life could be seen; Bruce nor Hecate could offer any excuse for this, even though Bruce was well briefed on oceanography and Hecate had had years to familiarise herself with the antics of the sea creatures that swam above her.

One day – or night, it was hard to tell in the uniform light that shone in Hecate’s lair – Bruce returned to the sorceress’s inner sanctum, to find her pacing restlessly to either side, round her cauldron, looking stressed.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked.

She snapped her head up to look at him. “My minions occupying the peninsula have reported that the Asgarnian army is stepping up its forces around the quarantined zone. They could attack any day now.”

“So...?” Bruce asked.

“It means that my occupying force could be caught unawares and torn apart! My army took months of putting together.” Hecate resumed her frantic walking.

“Well,” Bruce shrugged, “If I were you I’d pull back all but the least important troops to the dungeon, with the worthless ones occupying the fringe of the quarantined zone and a couple inside. Put the rest of your forces in various hiding areas around the dungeon. They’re sure to work out your forces come from there. But the inexperience of the zombies and their lack of numbers will lull the Asgarnians into a false sense of security. Let them get a significant portion of their troops in the caves and BAM! They’re all dead. Ready for you to add to your legions.”

Hecate looked at Bruce for a moment, and then spoke. “Bruce. You’re a genius! I would never have thought of that!” She relaxed her pacing, and sank down into the corner. She gestured for him to sit to. “You have a cunning mind, Bruce. When it comes to the conquest of Karamja you will be our general. You can use your innocence as an explorer to ferry our brethren from Kandarin to Karamja when it is captured. And when we start to build it as our paradise, you will be our chief architect.”

Bruce started to speak, but “Hecate – I’m not a...” was all he managed, for suddenly she was gripping his arm and dragging him through the maze of caves that made up Hecate’s lair. They arrived in a perfectly circular cave, with smooth, polished walls and a low ceiling. In the centre of the room a fire crackled. Hecate lay down, knees crossed, eyes closed, facing the fire.

“Sit down, Bruce,” she instructed him. “Like me. On the other side of the fire. We need to make a symmetrical shape for the Ritual.”

“Ritual?” Bruce asked.

“I must tell my allies of this brilliant news. And I’d sooner use you as part of the medium than a disgusting zombie.”

“Hecate –” Bruce tried to argue, but already Hecate had taken his hands in hers, and was slowly chanting. Bruce wanted to resist, but found it impossible to struggle. Hecate’s low, repetitive chanting reverberated around the room, filling it, slowly warbling over different notes. Slowly, Hecate’s voice was repeated over and over at all different pitches, a beautiful choir singing a strange and yet obvious tune. Bruce suddenly found his bass voice being added to the pitches being produced by Hecate, and the choir increased tenfold, growing louder, deeper...

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. Bruce peeked out. Seeing that Hecate had her eyes fully open, he did the same. Slowly, she was edging round the fireplace, looking at something on the far wall. Bruce followed her gaze; saw a huge projected head on the wall. A wizened, oriental face. Bruce recognised it, but where was it from?

“Master...” Hecate said in a respectful voice, kneeling.

“You may rise, my apprentice,” the head said.

“My lord,” Hecate declared, standing up, “I have taken the peninsula. But the Asgarnians could throw me off at any time.”

“You require a plan, apprentice Hecate? I shall give you one.”

“No, my lord. An adventurer, one by the name of Bruce Brysworth, entered my complex and provided me with one.”

“Bruce Brysworth? Show him to me now.”

Bruce gingerly walked round, next to Hecate. The man studied Bruce then exclaimed, shocked: “You! The one at the Fortress! You ruined everything for us!”

Bruce suddenly realised who the man was. He was the Head Monk, who had interrogated him at the central link to the Grand Exchanges. The Head Monk narrowed his eyes.

“Apprentice, are you sure this man helped you?”

“Indeed, my master. And he will be the one who leads us to victory in capturing Karamja and building the Kingdom! But what do you mean by him ‘ruining everything’?” Hecate asked, puzzled.

“My men had raised a special breed of birds which would accompany our armies as part of Lathas’s assault. The central link would provide us access to all the major cities – it was just the simple matter of going through at the right time. But he managed to destroy the links and escape. As such nearly all of the links were destroyed, and we could only trickle our troops into Ardougne. And many of the men and birds were killed as the flock of birds we had derived our strain from attacked us. Now we are forced into our hiding place in the White Wolf mountains.”

“My lord, I can show Bruce here the ways of Zamorak – convert him to our cause. He has a strategic mind like none other – he can and will lead our troops to victory! And once we have taken Karamja, he will still be known only as an explorer – the perfect alibi for smuggling our brethren in Kandarin to the Kingdom. Please, my lord...” Hecate knelt again. The Head Monk eyed her, then said:

“Very well, my apprentice. You may make him a follower of Zamorak. But I warn you now – he cannot be trusted. Contact me again when you are ready for the assault.”

“Thank you, my lord.” The image of the Head Monk disappeared. Hecate looked at Bruce. “You know him?”

“The economy crisis – the battle of Ardougne... I won’t pretend I played a leading role, but I played a major one.”

“You mean you climbed up Mount Gnarvich, one of the most dangerous in the world, ‘’and’’ you defeated the Warriors of the Dark Order?”

“Well... yes...” was all Bruce could offer.

“Amazing!” Hecate leapt in the air. Then she ran forwards and hugged Bruce. “You are amazing material. I might as well challenge the world with you by my side!”

But suddenly, there was a rumbling. Hecate fell silent, released Bruce.

“What’s that?” Bruce asked.

“Shhh!” Hecate instructed. She listened carefully. There was a slight gurgling sound, as if...

“Water’s gotten in!” she shrieked, “Dear Zamorak, stop this wretched curse put on by the infidel gods and save us!” She fell on the floor and started murmuring in prayer.

“That’s not gonna help!” Bruce yelled at her, yanking her up and dragging her out of the room. They came into a large cavern. “We need to get your forces out!” Bruce said.

“Impossible!” she sobbed, “I have thousands of zombies here! Tens of thousands! Hundreds of thousands! They’re mindless – they’re too stupid to understand thorough orders.”

“Get them to the lowest levels,” Bruce offered, “Then us two can try and blockade the exits.”

“I’ll try,” Hecate said, and she took the amulet dangling from her neck and started to chant into it. It glowed orange. Slowly, the zombies across the catacombs started to shuffle to the lowest levels.

“Good,” Bruce said, confidently. “Now, do you have any way to get around fast?”

“Teleport runes,” she offered. She rummaged one from her pocket. “Hold onto it, tight. Let me do the steering.” Bruce clamped onto it. Hecate muttered something that was almost drowned out by the sound of rushing water, and that was barely louder than a whisper.

Suddenly, they both emerged in another corridor. Above them, a glass panel revealed the ocean above. The water was swirling and eddying around.

“It’s a storm... but never has one been as ferocious as this. I’ve been here years – the first there was only one big storm. The year after that there were three. Already there have been five this year. Something’s going on with the world, Bruce. But what?”

“That doesn’t matter, Hecate. Right now, our safeties, and the safety of your swarm, are the priorities. So let’s focus on that.”

“Sorry, Bruce, sorry,” Hecate said. “Um, there’s a control room nearby. From there I can activate various magical walls to block off any water.”

“Good, let’s go. Which way?”

“That way,” Hecate said, pointing at the direction from which the sound of the water was coming from. Bruce rolled his eyes, and they started running that way.

They arrived too late. When the door was just metres away the wall of water came rushing round a bend nearby and hit them hard. They only just had time to grab onto the rocks on either side of the corridor before the water heaved past them, leaving only the tiniest slither of open space at the roof of the corridor. Hecate was closest to the door, but Bruce was the furthest. Hecate clambered horizontally to the door, where she fumbled with the lock. The sudden change of pressure sucked her into the tiny room. Meanwhile, Bruce clambered forwards and propelled himself off the rocks to the far wall. He arrived just by the door, and pulled himself in, pushing the door shut. Inside it was ankle deep, but fortunately Hecate had done all she needed to do.

“We can’t get back to your forces, Hecate!” Bruce pointed out.

“I know,” she said.

“So how are we gonna get out?”

“Emergency escape route,” she replied. She waved her finger by a seemingly innocent panel of rock. It disappeared to reveal a small boat that would have just enough space for the two of them to work comfortably. “Get in,” she said, as she pulled it into the centre of the room. Bruce spied his bag in the corner, chucked it in, and then got in the boat after Hecate. She took a teleportation rune and put it in a special table, whilst Bruce pulled the canopy over.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Bruce confirmed.

Hecate touched the rune, and muttered, ‘surface’.

They disappeared