The wizard watched her intently as he felt the hot desert sun beat down on his back, not even daring to move to wipe the sweat off his brow. His robes felt hot and sticky, and his beard itched, but he wasn't ready to make his presence known yet.
He had always underestimated this girl, his rival of sorts, who was now kneeling on the sand to check her coordinate chart as she scouted the area. Surely, he'd believed, her amateurish attempts at magic would be no match for years of study and the power of Saradomin. Surely, he'd believed, it would be simple enough to not kill her, just knock her out, teleport her to a monastery for the monks to help her recover, and take the treasure for himself.
How was he supposed to know she knew strange and powerful dark magic? No one could possibly guess that a pretty young girl in white would turn out to be a witch, and no one would believe him if he told them! Part of him was sure that she must be one of those nasty Mahjarrat things in disguise.
Still, the wizard had persisted, hoping he would eventually prevail. He had tried disarming her, coating his dagger with a non-lethal poison, approaching her from behind, praying as hard as he possibly could for success—yet somehow, every time, she had overpowered and evaded him. Sometimes he thought he should just give up, but he desperately wanted that treasure, and he wasn't getting any younger.
Perhaps praying for victory might work better now, what with Saradomin's return; surely now the lord of light's divine wisdom would guide him to the treasure at last. And at least this was the desert—he was grateful for the sweat pouring down his back, as it meant it was hot enough that he could actually break free of those icy prisons. He still had bad memories of being hauled into the Troll Stronghold, partially encased in ice, the trolls gleefully chatting about what a fine meal he'd make. That had been quite the close call…
The girl slowly stood up, and the wizard saw her pull out a shovel. She had located the treasure—there was no time to waste now.
"FOR SARADOMIN!" he shouted as he charged, casting Saradomin Strike and expertly flipping his dagger into his hand.
The girl turned, staff already in hand, not seeming startled or flustered in the slightest. She raised her staff slightly, closing her eyes to focus the spell.
"Ice Barrage!"
The wizard couldn't help but utter a curse as he found himself trapped in ice from the waist down, dropping his dagger as he was ensnared. How had she known he was there—had she expected him or something? Well, he could only hope and pray that the hot sun would be on his side!
As he strained to free himself, two more icy blasts hit him, trapping him once more and leaving small cuts on his skin. Even in the desert, where the ice wouldn't last as long, she was still managing to constantly freeze him again before he could break free!
At least his hands weren't bound, so he could at least still cast spells. He raised his hands and aimed more Saradomin Strikes at her, struggling to break out of the ice in between each cast.
She stumbled back slightly, wincing as she was struck in the shoulder, and had to use her staff to regain her bearings. The wizard raised his hands for another Saradomin Strike, looking around on the sand for his dagger as he cast it.
The girl jumped, narrowly managing to evade the spell, before hitting him with another Ice Barrage. Closing her eyes, she inclined her head slightly and said something the wizard couldn't make out—though he surmised she was most likely praying. As if her silly god, whoever he was—and it was most likely Zamorak—could possibly protect her from both his dagger and his magic!
Indeed, at first nothing seemed different, but on his fifth successive cast, the spell somehow felt more difficult to do, and it missed. He was sure it was a fluke, that it was just the ice and heat getting to his head… at least until the next Ice Barrage hit him full on, harder—and colder—than before.
Shivering from the cold, he took a deep breath and focused all his energy on casting Saradomin Strike as fast as he possibly could. He could still take her down from here, letting the ice melt naturally on its own!
But his efforts were in vain; with every cast, he felt his magic growing weaker, while her spells seemed to grow stronger and stronger. He was frostbitten and sunburned, and he still couldn't move… He wasn't sure he could take much more of this… Curse his rotten luck!
The last thing the wizard heard before he fell flat on his face, still trapped in ice from the waist down, was the shouts of some men—some of those desert-dwelling thieves, most likely. They would probably take the treasure themselves… He desperately wondered why Saradomin hadn't smiled upon him today before coldness and blackness overcame him.
"My lady… Jaina, are you alright?"
The young girl looked up, her face lighting up as she smiled at the three approaching desert bandits. "Oh, hello! Don't worry about me; I'm not hurt or anything."
She clutched her shoulder, and one of them ran to her side. "Are you sure? When we saw that Saradominist filth attacking you, we knew we must come to your aid immediately!"
Jaina blinked and glanced over at the unconscious wizard. "Oh, him? I've dealt with him before. And I wouldn't want him to hurt any of you… He is fairly dangerous."
She hurried over to the wizard and quickly searched his robes. "I'm sure he will be far less dangerous when disarmed, if you wish to question him or take him prisoner. Still, please be careful."
When she had collected the last of his runes, she took a moment to look them over. "I guess I should thank you, mysterious wizard—I needed more fire and blood runes."
The second bandit caught sight of the fallen dagger and went to pick it up, admiring how the sun shone off the red blade. "Such a fine weapon! It looks like it would sell well, but I'm not sure I wish to part with it… My dagger is rusty anyway…"
"Don't hesitate to take it," Jaina said, eyeing the thawing wizard. "You need it more than he does."
The third bandit still looked greatly concerned as he began to tie up the wizard. "Why has he attacked you? Does he know of your good work for the Great Lord?"
Jaina shook her head. "I doubt that—more than likely, he's just after treasure, but for whatever reason doesn't want to seek it himself. He's a fool, if you ask me. Most of the time I find that the search itself is the good part; the treasure's usually… a bit lacking."
She picked up the shovel and proceeded to dig once more, and soon enough she had found a chest. "Seems I found it… I'm a little disappointed that it isn't another clue…"
"Why don't you wait to open it for a little while?" the first bandit suggested. "You should stop by the bar and buy a drink and a kebab or two—a little rest would do you good!"
Jaina tucked the chest under her arm and nodded. "Well, I've been meaning to visit anyway…"
"I'm so sorry about your hometown, my lady," the bandit sitting across from Jaina said sadly, taking a sip of his drink. "We can only pray it does not suffer the same fate as the great cities of old…"
She stared down at her kebab, unsure of what to say next. How did one answer that without sounding rude or insensitive? She couldn't compare what was going on in Lumbridge to the destruction of the old empire; the latter was definitely worse, but it was also far beyond living memory…
"I-I appreciate your concern," she finally said. "It certainly seemed hopeless at first, but I've been in contact with the duke lately. Hopefully the town will manage with the stuff I send… something tells me most of the people will still be very loyal to Saradomin though…"
The bandit shook his head. "Even with the destruction of their home before their very eyes? I mean no offense to you, but your neighbors seem rather blind to truth."
Jaina hesitated again, taking a moment to finish her kebab before she spoke again. "They are rather… strong in their faith… not unlike all of you. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing! I-in your case, at least."
She sighed and wiped a drop of sauce off the corner of her mouth. "Growing up, I was picked on a lot at school, and I had to hear the neighbors constantly tell my parents that they weren't raising my brother and me right, because we were Guthixian. If they knew of my faith now… well, I worry they might do worse than nag, if that old bastard in Draynor is anything to go by. But he's just one man; I still think most of them are good people…"
The bandit looked skeptical. "I would hope you are right… I suppose we must pray for the Great Lord to watch over them."
"Please do," Jaina said. "I certainly have."
Setting her plate aside, she put the chest on the table in front of her. "Now what have I found this time…?"
She opened it and proceeded to examine its contents. "Let's see… nature runes, death runes, a sword—ooo, purple sweets! Haven't had those in awhile—teleport scrolls… Oh, finally, I thought I'd never find it!"
Carefully she lifted an old page out of the chest. "Now I can finish that book… wait, what's that?"
Her eyes wide, she gingerly set the page down and removed the chest's last contents—a folded white bundle that looked slightly shiny. It felt smooth to the touch, and was covered in small scales.
"White dragonhide… oh dear Zaros…"
Slowly she unfolded the ranger's vest and chaps. She wasn't sure whether to feel lucky at such a valuable find, or if she should even admire its beauty and craftsmanship… especially considering what would have gone into making the armor.
She wouldn't have likely wanted to keep it for herself anyway—she never wore trousers of any kind, let alone skintight dragon leather, and although she knew how to throw knives in a pinch, she was no good at archery. Even if she were, she definitely couldn't keep it for herself now, not after knowing about the white dragons. The obvious thing to do would be to sell it—there was no reason she couldn't, but did she really need that much more money at the moment?
Looking around at the bandits milling around the bar, she couldn't help but think of the splendor and bustle of Al Kharid, the opulent palace, the fine things the merchants had for sale, the music, the dancing… and then there was this little town, simple, isolated, not very much of anything to be had. The people had hoped desperately for Zaros' return all their lives, hoping there was some chance of things getting better, that they wouldn't have to resort to banditry just to get by.
As she looked down again to re-fold the armor, something clicked in her mind, and she sat up straighter. "Oh, of course!"
The bandit across the table put down his drink and eyed her oddly. "Is something the matter?"
Jaina shook her head. "Oh no, not at all—it's just that I have an idea."
"You truly found this buried near our camp?" The bandit shopkeeper held up the white vest, admiring it. "I've never seen such an exquisite material… it must be more valuable than the silks of Al Kharid!"
"You would be right," said Jaina. "Many a ranger would pay several hundred million coins simply to be able to wear it."
The shopkeeper continued to stare at the vest and chaps. "Why have you shown me such a wondrous find? Aren't you going to sell it?"
Jaina shook her head. "I might have been broke when I first found this place, but I have enough money at the moment. I was thinking… imagine what you could all do with those several hundred million coins…"
The shopkeeper's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that I take it and sell it? But where will we find archers here in the desert?"
"Oh, you needn't worry—there's a wonderful hub in Varrock where merchants from all over gather to sell their wares!" Smiling, Jaina handed him a small teleport tablet. "This will get you there quickly, and this—" she handed him a teleport scroll—"will bring you back here. Make sure to ask a clerk for the armor's current value before you sell it—more than likely, there will be many buyers trying to pay more than the market price."
For a moment, the shopkeeper simply stared in stunned silence. A bright smile spread across his face as he finally spoke.
"My lady… You've done so much for us… When the Great Lord returns, he will surely smile upon you for being so willing to help the faithful!"
She nodded graciously, her own smile growing wider. "It's only right that I help those who need it… oh, and I do hope he returns soon. We've come so far already—and I'll never forget that coming here helped set me on the right path."
A young wizard in blue robes stood silently outside the inn in Yanille, gazing at the big house just beyond the flowerbed in the middle of the path. He was getting impatient waiting for its owner to come home, but he couldn't afford to miss her return; Saradomin himself was counting on him.
He had known her once, before she was called the World Guardian, during his time studying at the Mages' Guild. The wizards had talked so much about her magical skill, and he had felt inadequate having to hear about it all the time—but the first time he'd seen her, he'd been quite entranced by her beauty, even if her hair color was rather odd. What kind of magical accident had dyed it that shade of purple?
He had wished to marry her when she turned sixteen, but he had never gotten the chance to say so much as a hello to her; he'd always been too nervous to approach her. By the time he managed to work up the nerve, she had left town for some reason. Why had she left, when she had such great potential as a wizard? She could have even become head of the guild someday!
Well, when he found out what was keeping her occupied instead of in Lumbridge fighting for their cause, General Padomenes could decide how best to convince her to come. And when she joined their army, he could finally talk to her and ask for her hand.
A flash of red snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a hooded figure approaching the house. The newcomer wore a long black cloak that covered most of his body, but the skirt of his red robe was clearly visible, and a closer look revealed the top end of a staff with the symbol of Zamorak poking out from under the cloak.
The spy slipped a hand into his pocket, his fingers curling around the mithril knives he always carried in case he had to fight another spellcaster. He wasn't going to attack just yet, though; for now he would merely watch and see what this fool might do.
The black-cloaked figure surveyed the house, peeking in a window. He couldn't see anyone there, though it was a fairly big house—she might be home, she might not. What did one girl who lived alone even need with a house that size, anyway?
Well, he wouldn't get anything done standing around looking in the window—certainly not with those silly town guards wandering around by the inn. He would have to investigate further—if she wasn't home, he'd be lucky; if she was, well, it would give him a chance to practice his stealth. He wouldn't become a better spy if he never took risks, now would he?
As he opened the window and squeezed through, his cloak snagged on something, and he quickly slipped out of it before it could loudly rip and give him away. While his red robes made him stand out more, there was no time to waste pulling it loose; the sooner he got his investigation done, the better.
He was careful to disturb as little as possible as he searched the house, and put everything back where he had found it. Hopefully he would find a journal of some kind, or, if she carried it with her, some sign of what she might be doing or where she might be going.
There wasn't much of interest in the kitchen or the parlor, besides perhaps the many boxes of chocolates in the larder, and the bedroom down the hall from the parlor was neat and sparsely decorated; a guest room, not the World Guardian's personal bedroom. Needless to say, there weren't any journals in it, either. Nor was there anything much in the bathroom, other than the fact that she could apparently afford to have a small bathtub indoors.
Quietly the spy headed down the staircase into the basement, but the dark room was completely empty. What was the point of her having a basement if she wasn't going to do anything with it? If it were his basement, he would have built a twisting, turning dungeon full of vicious hellhounds, greater demons, and spike traps, complete with a treasure chest at the end. Anyone strong enough to get through it would have well earned the reward in the chest.
It seemed he would have to check upstairs in order to find anything important. For Zamorak's sake, why did she even need a house with two floors if she lived alone?
He wasn't able to ponder that for long, since as he came up the basement stairs, a purple cat suddenly came flying at his face, hissing and scratching him as it meowed angrily.
Grunting in pain, the spy fumbled for his staff and tried to wrench the cat off him, but he only succeeded in stumbling forward as a green bird began pecking at his head. The cat struck at him again, ripping out a small chunk of his beard.
More creatures suddenly descended upon him, seemingly all at once—a little red beast with golden eyes stomping on his feet, a platypus digging the spines on its ankles into his leg, a strange being that seemed to be made of rune essence magically binding him to the spot, a white monkey snatching his staff and beating his backside with it, a small severed hand crawling up his back and yanking his hair, a tiny orange bird spitting flames at him. As his knees buckled and he sank to the floor, yelling in agony, he could've sworn he saw a strange skeletal doll standing on the floor, brandishing a tiny staff, laughing maniacally in a little voice that might have sounded slightly menacing if it were much deeper.
"Yes, my minions! Destroy the intruder!"
As the spy was wondering what strange magic had created that doll, two pigs came slowly lumbering toward him, one small with sharp-looking tusks and the other just very large. He was sorely tempted to pitifully beg Zamorak for mercy, shameful as it would be.
Surprisingly, the pigs didn't join the other creatures in the attack; the tusked boar simply lifted him up with ease and threw him on the large pig's back. Soon he found himself unceremoniously hurled face first onto the street, landing straight in the middle of the flowerbed, the door to the house slamming behind him.
As he slowly raised his head out of the flowerbed, his face covered in soil, he found himself face to face with the boots and sword-points of the town guards. This had really not gone well—on the bright side, he supposed, her having an army of trained animals meant that she must have encouraged them to grow stronger for her? At least that was something slightly useful he could report to General Moia.
Well, he wasn't going to stay and be held prisoner in this dull little dump of a town. As the guards dragged him to his feet, he discreetly slipped a hand into his robe and fumbled for the law and water runes he'd brought in case things got chancy.
One of the guards opened his mouth to speak, but the spy was already teleporting. Next time, he wouldn't have such a close call.
The blue-robed spy didn't see what happened to the Zamorakian fool as the guards rushed to surround him; his attention was instead drawn to the mysterious stranger looking up at the Magic Guild building. What in Saradomin's name was a scruffy-looking archaeologist doing in Yanille? There wasn't much to excavate in this part of Kandarin, the history of the Magic Guild was fairly well-known to most of the townsfolk, and he doubted the ogres would let someone research their relics or dig in the Feldip Hills.
For that matter, why had the stranger not even bothered to groom himself? His thick ginger beard looked like it would jump out and attack someone at any moment! And his clothes! He could have easily worn nicer clothes when not on a dig, and there was no reason he couldn't trim his beard or cut his hair.
The red-haired archaeologist headed for the guild door, ringing the bell, and the spy was careful to stay by the fence out of sight. It wasn't long before he heard the great double door bang open, and he recognized the voice of Zavistic Rarve.
"Hello there, traveler, what brings you to the Magic Guild? I'm afraid we can't let you in without the proper qualifications…"
The stranger chuckled softly and smiled. "As fascinated as I would be to visit your guild, I am merely looking for a friend who lives in this town. You don't, by any chance, know Jaina Katarn?"
"Jaina! She was once a student here—one of the finest magical prodigies I've ever seen." Zavistic's voice was proud. "She was already casting her first Fire Blast when the other students her age were still practicing their Bolt spells! It is a pity that she left us rather than become a full wizard, but at least she returned to Yanille eventually, even if she isn't often at home."
The stranger nodded. "I presume that you know which house is hers, then?"
"That way." Zavistic pointed towards the guarded gate. "The big house near the gate, across from the inn, by the Watchtower. You can't miss it—but it's unlikely she will come home until late, if at all. We never know when she'll be back."
He glanced back at the stranger curiously. "You say you're a friend of hers?"
"Indeed." The red-haired man smiled, his eyes lighting up. "She's a very courageous and competent young woman; her skill still surprises me sometimes. She must have been taught very well."
Zavistic looked even more interested. "Oh, has she assisted you with anything?"
"Quite a bit," the archaeologist replied, stroking his beard. "Why, when I first saw her, I was… lost in the pyramids, and she rescued me. She's been very interested in the knowledge I've shared with her—and she has had much to show me as well."
The spy gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of jealousy course through him. There was no way he was letting some ridiculous, poorly-groomed, incompetent archaeologist get too close to his future wife. He would definitely be keeping a very sharp eye on this man.
Most people would enter their home through the front door, but Jaina wasn't most people—she preferred to keep the front door locked unless there was a guest coming over. Instead she quietly climbed up a trellis in the back and opened her bedroom window.
Sliding in through the window, she carefully closed it behind her and slipped off her bag, setting it on the bedside table. Magic bag or not, it always felt nice to take the weight off her shoulders.
"That's a rather odd way of entry, my dear. Any particular reason you didn't use the door?"
The familiar voice startled her, and she turned, very surprised indeed to see that she had a guest—one she hadn't expected to see this far west.
"Azzanadra? How… how did you find my home?"
Azzanadra merely smiled that charming smile of his and straightened his hat. "I believe you mentioned that you lived in Yanille, though it did take awhile for me to realize where Yanille was located. The world these days is almost nothing like how I remember it." He smiled sadly, shaking his head. "The townsfolk were kind enough to point me toward your house. Most of them seem to know you fairly well."
Jaina nodded, wondering why he sounded like he thought that was odd. "That does sort of happen when you live in a small town for any extended period."
She looked up at him curiously. "So what brings you here this evening? Not that I mind, it's just… I-I didn't think you would have any time off to visit me… Doesn't Zaros need you to help return him still?"
Azzanadra's eyes seemed to light up even brighter as he smiled and laughed. "Your eagerness for our lord's return surprises me sometimes! You must be very anxious to meet him."
He took a few steps closer, lightly taking her hand. "You needn't worry; the plans for his return are quickly being formed. I will summon you when the time comes—and I assure you, he understands my wishes to spend time with you. As for what brings me here…" He gently squeezed her hand and pulled her towards him. "I wished to see you again. Please, come closer."
Jaina did so, feeling tempted to hug him, and he pulled her into a hug first, leaning in to kiss her. She smiled a little and returned the embrace, shivering as she felt his beard lightly scratch her chin.
She spent a few moments simply gazing up at him, her eyes bright and a warm smile on her face. She wasn't sure what to say next, but at least she was close by his side, and she was content with that.
At last Azzanadra broke the silence. "Will you show me around? I would love to see your home."
"R-really?" She smiled shakily, and then slowly nodded. "Very well… i-it's fairly simple, but then again I did build the whole place myself. Well, not entirely from scratch; I fixed up an old house that the ogres destroyed about fifty years ago, but you know what I mean."
"Indeed." As he looked around the bedroom, his gaze fell onto the large, open closet of clothes. "You certainly have quite the wardrobe there, my dear. Perhaps you could wear something a little different?"
Jaina blinked and eyed him oddly, but then she straightened up. "Oh, I-I think I know what you're asking… Would you mind turning around for a moment?"
He did so, looking over the bed while she ducked into the closet. It was a fairly-sized bed, built for two rather than one, and covered in a thick lavender flowered bedspread. How strange, for someone who lived alone—or perhaps she had intentionally left space for two?
Before he could finish imagining pulling her down onto the bed, she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her immediately, and his eyes grew wide at the sight.
She had exchanged her blue-white mage's dress and overcoat for the beautiful, intricate shirt he had given her and a skirt that almost matched the shirt's shade of purple. Her pale shoulders stood out against the shirt's dark colors, it accentuated her figure nicely, and her face and eyes seemed to stand out more as well.
How many times had he imagined her wearing it? Indeed, the way it looked on her far surpassed anything he had pictured. And the excited smile on her face completed the look perfectly—and served to make his own smile broader.
"Jaina, you… you look… It suits you even more than I had expected!"
She smiled softly and looked down at her hands, blushing a little. "I-I'm sorry I haven't worn it sooner; I just didn't want to damage it or make it smell bad…"
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I appreciate your wish to take care of my gift, but it was made to be worn. I would very much like to see you in it more often."
Again he pulled her into a hug, and she hugged him back more tightly, reveling in how warm and wonderful he felt.
"You dare intrude on a god's residence?" a little voice suddenly called out. "Human! Remove this pathetic fool from the premises immediately!"
Azzanadra turned so quickly that his hat nearly fell off. He froze, staring at the small doll standing on the dresser, hands on his hips, a scowl that was more cute than intimidating on his skeletal face.
"Jaina… what is that?"
"Oh, him? He's… he's my newest pet." She nervously wrung her hands. "I was wandering around the ritual site, and he just started following me around, so I adopted him."
Smiling shakily, she crossed over to the dresser. "He's a lot less threatening than the real Lucien was, and he can actually be quite amusing. Why, lately he's taken to using my hairbrush as a throne!"
Tiny Lucien shook his tiny staff as he sat down on the hairbrush. "I demand you add armrests! And a better seat cushion; this one makes my buttocks itch!"
Although Azzanadra had to stifle a laugh, he still looked concerned. "You brought home a strange magical construct that was somehow left at the ritual site, and that looks and speaks like Lucien? Are you sure that was a good idea?"
Jaina hesitated a moment, glancing back at Tiny Lucien. "Well… no, I'm not sure, but it didn't seem like a bad idea either… and he does seem rather harmless."
She casually flicked him off the hairbrush and proceeded to style her hair, ignoring his insistence that she unhand his tiny throne. "Hmmm… should I tie it up again, or leave it down for a change?"
After a few moments of staring in the mirror, she set the hairbrush down and turned to get her bag again, leaving her hair loose. Tiny Lucien promptly scrambled over to the brush, wincing as he looked at it. "You got your disgusting human hair all over my throne again!"
This time Azzanadra couldn't suppress the laugh. "I always knew Lucien was a fool—whoever made this doll was certainly accurate!"
He stretched out a hand. "Now, you were going to show me around?"
She slipped her hand into his and opened the bedroom door. "Yes… follow me."
As she led him down the hall and to the stairs down, Tiny Lucien shook his fist. "You dare ignore a god? Human! Come back here this instant! You still haven't cleaned my throne!"
With that he jumped off the dresser, landing flat on his face, and waddled indignantly after them.
Jaina was right about her home being humble; most of the rooms on the lower floor had little more than simple furnishings, fireplaces, carpets, and curtains. Every room was painted a different lively color, there were a few mirrors and paintings on the walls, and almost every room had a nearly full bookcase, but other than that she had kept the decoration minimal.
It might seem opulent to the townsfolk, and it would have paled in comparison to the ornate palaces of Senntisten, but Azzanadra found the place charming in spite of its overall plainness. He knew how time-consuming it would have been to put it all together, and the fact that Jaina had done so on her own stood as a testament to her ability.
"I do wonder, my dear," he remarked as she led him into her kitchen, "why you have such a big house when you live alone. All that time and effort you spent on it and no one to share it with…"
Jaina gave him an odd look. It took her a minute or so before she said anything.
"Oh, well… I-I didn't really think about how big or small it was going to be. The foundations were still intact when I started fixing it… It might have been a noble's house before it was destroyed; I don't know…"
She motioned to the room around her. "So I do all my cooking in here, as you might expect. This is the part where I would offer you a drink or a slice of cake, if I didn't know better…"
Her face flushed a little, and he gently squeezed her hand. "Don't let that trouble you. Even if I cannot dine with you, I am content to be at your side."
It was true, and he would still be content with her presence for awhile, but seeing the house so empty had turned his thoughts to how it might be filled. Perhaps, Zaros willing, these rooms might be filled with children one day?
He had always had a soft spot for children, and had often wished for his own—well, it was possible that he had had them once, but he had never gotten the chance to know. Back on Freneskae, a male would almost never know who his child was unless said child were to seek him out, and he had been too busy with running the church and the empire to consider a consort in the old days.
Already he could imagine how lively the kitchen would be with children at play, running around the table, crawling under it, trying to climb on the larder, teleporting random things around. He wasn't quite sure what they would look like, but he would be very happy to have them there.
Would she be, though? She would have to undergo a long magical ritual to have much of a chance to conceive at all, and her pregnancy would surely be far more dangerous than one with a fully human child. It would be cruel and pointless to subject her to such risk against her will, and the last thing he wanted was for her to die.
Perhaps he should consult Zaros first, when he had returned, before asking her how she felt about the idea? She might be a bit frightened with how sudden the request seemed if he asked her now.
A flash of purple caught his eye, and he saw a cat leap up onto the table, looking expectantly at Jaina. Its fur was the exact same color as her hair—definitely odd, but fitting for her it seemed.
He glanced over at her and smiled. "So is this the famous 'Zaros' cat I've heard so much about?"
Jaina turned bright red, recalling how embarrassed she'd felt that time. "I-I only said that once! And I know how stupid I sounded… I was such a fool…"
"Shh, you needn't worry," Azzanadra said, running a hand through her loosened hair. "We all say foolish things at some point."
The cat finally seemed to notice him, and hissed as it turned to glare at him. "Another intruder? What are you doing here?"
"It's alright, Thorn; he's a friend." Jaina carefully picked up the cat and gently stroked its belly. It let out a long, contented purr as it stretched out beneath her hand.
As it stood up, it looked eagerly at her again. "You brought back some fish, didn't you?"
"That I did!" Jaina pulled a rocktail out of her bag and held it out, and the cat promptly snatched it from her hand. When it had polished off the fish, it purred and gazed curiously at the two.
"So you've gotten yourself a mate now, Jaina? You do realize he isn't really human?"
She smiled shakily, turning a little bit red as she looked over at him. "Oh, I-I'm well aware…"
"Hmmm, is that so?" The cat's eyes never left her as it proceeded to lick its paws and groom itself. "Tell me, do you purr excitedly when he touches you? Does he roar like a lion and make you shiver with delight when you—"
Jaina turned a bright tomato red. "S-shut up, Thorn!"
Thorn looked up from cleaning its paw. "I'm only concerned that your mate is treating you properly. If he cannot please you, how is it that he's worthy of my human?"
"I said shut up, Thorn!" Jaina turned her face away, letting her hair fall in her eyes to try to hide her embarrassment.
Azzanadra eyed her oddly, looking very confused. "Who are you talking to, and why do you look so distressed?"
She slowly moved a strand of purple hair out of her eyes, her lip quivering. "I-I was talking to my cat… She's being embarrassing…"
He frowned and raised an eyebrow. "You sound as though you understand the cat. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"I-I'm fine!" she insisted, her cheeks burning hot. "My skill as a summoner allows me to understand the speech of animals to a certain extent. I don't entirely understand how it works, but the druids say that a skilled summoner has a deep spiritual connection to nature or something."
Smiling awkwardly, she brushed her hair out of her face. "I guess there's always going to be a little bit of Guthixian in me…"
"As well there should be," squawked a green bird as it flew into the room to land on her shoulder. "There was an intruder who broke in earlier, upsetting the balance in here. You should check to see that everything is in place."
"Hey there, Furless! The bird's right—he was big and ugly and everything," a white monkey chimed in, swinging off the doorframe and onto a chair. "But we taught him a lesson! I beat him up with his own funky stick!"
Azzanadra straightened his hat and looked at the new animals. "More pets of yours? How many do you have?"
"Oh, I collect them! I have… ah, let's see… two, three…" Jaina took a moment to count on her fingers, and then sat up straighter again. "With Tiny Lucien, I now have twenty. You've met Thorn, the cat… This is Harold the Guthix raptor, and Yuna the monkey…"
"Twenty? My, that's quite a lot! How do you manage?" He suddenly sighed, his eyes taking on that familiar look of remembrance that she saw rather often. "I had my hands full with just one pet back in the day, as well as having to look after my lord's two pets…"
Jaina was about to ask about what sort of pet he'd had, when Harold the Guthix raptor squawked and looked over her shoulder, scrutinizing the red-haired newcomer. "And just who might this be?"
Thorn looked up and glared. "That's her mate, you stupid bird. How do you not see that? I swear, if I were allowed to eat you…"
"Furless has a mate?" squeaked Yuna, jumping over to Azzanadra. "Marimbo be praised! You finally got yourself a mate—and he's got fur!" She yanked excitedly on his beard. "Oooo, such glorious fur too! I can't believe it! Now you won't have to get cold at night anymore!"
She swung herself across the larder, over the table, and out the door, whooping excitedly all the way. "This calls for a party! Hey everyone, get in here so we can have a welcome party! Furless has a mate!"
Azzanadra winced and rubbed his beard. "Do all of your pets typically greet guests by causing them pain?"
There wasn't time for Jaina to even think of an answer, as all of her other pets—aside from Tiny Lucien—chose that moment to burst into the kitchen, most of them immediately crowding around the two. Yuna, still whooping excitedly and chanting "Par-tay par-tay par-tay," swung over to the larder and began rooting through it in search of her bananas.
"Tiny mate-creature, just so we are clear, that is my human," TzRek-Jad declared, trying to growl menacingly but only managing to sound cute. "And I will crush all those who will try to harm her!"
It turned to Jaina. "Human pet, what is a mate? Is it dangerous?"
"That knowledge will come to you when you are more advanced in age," the rune guardian said, crossing over to Jaina's side. "I knew you had a way with the arcane arts, pupil, so it is perhaps unsurprising that you would seek a being so attuned to magic as a companion, rather than a fellow human."
"That's not a human?" The broav blinked curiously and approached Azzanadra, smelling him curiously. "He looks human, and he sure smells human! My nose hasn't failed me yet!"
"My name is Buttons, because I'm so cute!" chirped the little phoenix, struggling to climb into his lap. "Don't you think I'm the cutest little bird you ever saw?"
"I hungwy," the baby troll said matter-of-factly, hugging Jaina's leg. "You bwing food? Is mate kind of food?"
"No, Strawberry, it is not," Harold said sternly, before Jaina even had a chance to react with horror.
They continued to growl, chirp, squeak, and grunt all their burning questions, and Jaina didn't have room to get an answer in edgewise. They didn't seem to pay attention to her attempts to quiet them and shoo them away, either. And Yuna was still monkeying around the room and loudly whooping, a bunch of bananas in hand.
It was no less overwhelming for Azzanadra, who could only hear animal noises; only the odd magical construct and the baby troll spoke in a way he could comprehend. He wasn't sure if she might feel more stressed out understanding their every sound than he did hearing nothing but noise, or if it was the other way around; either way, there had to be a way to make them stop, and he figured he knew how.
He assumed his true form, and the room fell suddenly silent. Even Jaina looked a bit surprised, though she smiled softly at him, sliding her chair slightly closer, as the smoke from the spell slowly faded.
Tiny Lucien chose that moment to waddle in and break the silence. "You dare abandon a god? And for such a pathetic fool, at that!"
TzRek-Jad immediately perked up. "Other Mr. Squeekles! You have returned to me!"
He promptly pounced on Tiny Lucien and proceeded to happily rough him up, ignoring his protests of "Minion! Unhand me!" and "You dare get disgusting drool on a god?"
None of the other pets paid Tiny Lucien any heed, though—they were staring at Azzanadra. He could understand why; they would naturally find a real Mahjarrat much more imposing and interesting than a doll of one.
Harold squawked loudly as he looked up from Jaina's shoulder. "There is a great imbalance here! Are you sure you chose wisely?"
"You have a shiny thing on your forehead!" Squidge the baby aquanite walked over to Azzanadra, its curious gaze fixed on his gem. "Does it glow, like my light?"
The broav stared up at him, sniffing curiously. "Wow! You look really different and smell really different! I could try and memorize both your scents… for a few mushrooms anyway."
Thorn stared curiously, tail twitching. "So this is his true form… I certainly wonder what your kits are going to look like."
Yuna, who had stopped in her tracks the moment he had changed, was sitting in the middle of the table, sobbing loudly. "That fur… that beautiful, wonderful red fur! You went and shed it all…" She buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Marimbo… Poor Furless; she will still be so cold at night…"
"I am positive that the thermal aura he radiates will compensate for the lack of fur," chirped the platypus. "The question is, where will we locate a nice damp muddy hole that will accommodate the both of them?"
"Don't expect me to lend a hand with that," said the little crawling hand as it crept along the edge of the sink. "And I swear, if anyone makes any hand puns today…"
Strawberry had curled himself up into a ball and was sobbing in fear. "Stwawbewwy no wike mate—he bigger and scawier than twolls!"
"It's alright, Strawberry; he isn't going to hurt you." Jaina picked him up and gently patted his head. "He's very strong, but he would only hurt bad trolls."
This only made Strawberry cry even more. "But I's been bad twoll! Demon bubba say so—he say I bad twoll, vewy bad twoll!"
Thorn's tail twitched. "Strawberry tried to eat the butler's tail, and he got into trouble. Deservedly so too; I wouldn't want a troll to eat my tail."
"Oh, Strawberry," Jaina whispered, and gently rocked the little troll and dried a tear from his cheek. "When I say bad trolls, I mean the big mean kind—ones that would try to hurt me. He won't smite you just for misbehaving!"
She patted his head once more and set him down, turning to the larder as she stood up. "Now, all of you, I know you're excited, but you're kind of overwhelming our guest here. I'm going to finish showing him around once I've fed all of you, alright?"
Strawberry looked excited at the prospect of food, but most of the other pets looked disappointed and reluctantly made sounds of agreement. TzRek-Jad even let go of Tiny Lucien as he looked up with shaking golden eyes.
Still, they all followed Jaina as she gathered their various dinners and headed into the nearby menagerie to feed each of them as needed. Only Yuna remained where she was, still mourning the loss of "that glorious fur" and ignoring the bunch of bananas beside her.
"Do not neglect your training, pupil," the rune guardian said as it followed after Jaina. "I believe you could learn much from him."
As Azzanadra stood up, he found himself thinking about the crying baby troll. When he had seen Jaina cradle the small creature, he could have sworn he'd almost seen a Mahjarrat child there instead. And now he was imagining her holding that child, singing softly in Infernal, gently stroking the small ridges on its little head…
He suddenly felt something small poking his hand, and looked down to see a disheveled Tiny Lucien jabbing him. "I can feel the tiny staff's power surging through me!" the little doll declared. "You will be no match for my tiny power now!"
Jaina chose that moment to return, and calmly brushed Tiny Lucien aside as she offered Azzanadra her hand. "Shall we head upstairs, then? See the rest of my home in relative peace?"
"Very well—lead the way." He held her hand tightly and followed her, still picturing her with their child in her arms.
"How, precisely, do you care for so many pets, when you're away from home for extended periods?"
"I hired a demon butler to feed and watch them while I'm out," said Jaina, opening the first door in the hall at the top of the stairs. "He looks after them quite well in my absence… I make sure to give a good tip when paying him!"
"I'm sure he appreciates that, with how full his hands must be," Azzanadra said, looking around at the hallway as he joined her. "I do admit I certainly did not expect your home to be so… lively!"
Jaina couldn't help but think about how he'd said he'd had his hands full with a pet. She hadn't considered that he might have ever had one; it was hard to imagine the Mahjarrat being animal lovers. That was part of the reason she had wanted a bit more peace and quiet; so she could ask about it.
"You spoke of having a pet once yourself?" She gave him a curious look. "What sort of creature was it?"
"A griffin," he said softly, his eyes once more filled with that faraway look of remembrance. "I came across her quite by accident; someone had left her egg in a temple I was overseeing the blessing of. It happened to hatch right next to me… and she refused to leave my side after that."
He smiled fondly, his face seeming to light up. "She could be quite the troublemaker, especially in her younger days! She did have her serious side as well, though—she often helped me keep my lord's pets in line when we looked after them. And she was as fond of Senntisten's beauty as I was, but the city walls never could contain her—she would often go flying when I was otherwise busy!"
He paused briefly, as if to collect his thoughts. "I'm not sure pet is quite the right word for her; she was quite intelligent, though she didn't show it to just anyone. I suppose it would be more accurate to call her my dear friend, or my close companion—a little like you, in some ways, although more of a daughter figure than anything."
Jaina smiled a little, already wishing she could've met this griffin. She must have been as noble and majestic as Azzanadra was—and, she hoped, would have had less of a tendency to want to eat passing people than the griffin up on White Wolf Mountain. And those feathers in the hat he wore in human form did look rather unlike that of any mere bird…
"So those feathers you wear in your hat… they're hers?"
"Indeed." He nodded wistfully. "I do prefer not to remain in human form more than I have to, but it is at least a comfort to carry a part of her with me."
The purple-haired girl hesitated before asking her next question, knowing all too well that something unfortunate must have befallen the griffin.
"What happened to her? Did she…"
"I do not know. I lost track of her not long before Senntisten fell… more than likely she would have been shot down, or captured and killed." His face fell, and he sighed. "It is painful to imagine her fate… but at the same time, if I ever find out what happened to her, she could finally be given a proper burial."
She drew back a little, looking down at her hands. "Oh, I-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to bring up something so upsetting…"
"You needn't apologize, my dear. I'm happy to share my fondest memories with you." Smiling softly, Azzanadra tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. "I'm sure she would have loved to meet you!"
She couldn't help but return the smile. "I should have liked to meet her, too."
With that she led him into the study. There were a few bookcases along the walls, as well as a map, a star chart, and a statue of a wizard. A telescope was pointed towards the window, and beside the lectern there was a small desk with several colorful pictures all over it.
The pictures caught his eye, and he immediately moved in to get a closer look, taking the first one he saw. It was a drawing of four humans standing in a row, but for some reason they all had very large heads and eyes, small bodies that were no bigger than their heads, and no fingers on their tiny hands. It was certainly a strange way to draw, and far simpler than the great artistic works of the empire, but it did have its own little charm to it.
The next drawing he saw was in the same style, with the large heads and tiny bodies; this one showed Jaina next to a cave goblin woman with large round eyes. She had spoken briefly of having a goblin friend; this could only be that friend…
"I didn't know you practiced art, my dear," he remarked, looking up from the drawing. "It seems you show new talents all the time!"
She straightened up, turning a little red. "Oh, um… I'm not that good at drawing; I mostly doodle in my journal for the fun of it…"
"That's nothing to be ashamed of. Art is important—even something small and simple like these." He motioned for her to join him before glancing curiously back at the drawings. As soon as she was right by his side again, he looked up and met her gaze.
"Jaina… have you done any pictures of me?"
"Oh, well…" She smiled shakily. "Those are in my journal…"
"May I see?"
She nodded, and searched her bag a moment before pulling out a small book. Quickly she flipped through several pages, and then handed it over, turning a little redder.
Azzanadra's eyes widened as he looked the journal over. There were several drawings of him in human form on the two pages it was open to, some with the large heads and small bodies, but a few with more accurate anatomy and proportions. All of them showed him smiling widely. They were drawn in between a few paragraphs of Jaina describing her travels through Ghorrock—one of the small doodles even depicted her showing him the Frostenhorn.
He couldn't help but smile at the artwork, but the writings had caught his eye as well. One paragraph in particular stood out: "It's so cold… I don't know my way around this place at all… But I have to keep going. I know I can do it—I need to think warm thoughts. Azzanadra is counting on me! The way he smiled at me before I left, the way he believed in me… If I only imagine how he'll smile when I return successful… Oh, I feel warmer already…"
His eyes wide, he gazed at the journal pages for a few moments longer, and then slowly turned to look at Jaina once more. "You… you truly wanted to see me happy?"
Her face lit up, and she smiled and nodded. "Yes… I-I was curious about Zaros too, but it was so surprising that you believed so much in me… It meant more than you might realize! I knew I had to succeed and not let you down, and that knowledge helped me along my way…"
She pulled him into a tight hug. "You've done a lot of good for me… I-I'm glad you're here…"
He returned the hug, gently running his free hand through her hair. "I could say the same for you… My love…"
Jaina straightened up a bit, her eyes wide. This was the first time he'd actually said the magic word, the word she'd been hesitant to even think about using before. She was still getting used to the fact that he could feel the same for her…
"I should like to see more of your drawings," Azzanadra said, letting her go. "Please, will you draw another picture for me?"
"Y-yes… I-I left my pencil and charcoal in the bedroom though…" She headed for the hallway again, waiting for him to follow.
As they returned to the bedroom, she locked the door behind them and picked up the pencil on the dresser. She waited for him to sit on the bed, and then opened her journal and proceeded to draw, glancing over at him occasionally.
When she was done, she joined him on the bed and placed the journal on her knees so they could both see the finished work. "I'm not sure I got your smile right, I'm afraid… And I don't know what Zaros looks like, but I tried my best…"
Azzanadra's eyes lit up as he gazed at her handiwork. The drawing showed him standing next to the temple communion portal, smiling up at a shapeless, floating cloaked figure above the altar. The symbol on its forehead and the smoke trail leading into the portal indicated that that was indeed supposed to be Zaros—well, he could hardly fault her for not knowing what his lord looked like yet; it was a decent interpretation for what she knew.
"It's wonderful, my dear," he whispered, sliding an arm around her to pull her closer. "I will certainly admit, it is hard to be patient for the day that Zaros really does return... But you bring me such joy even as it gets harder and harder to wait."
Jaina nodded, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. "I'm impatient too… but if I can make you happy however I can…"
Placing the journal on the bedside table, she sat on her knees and rose up to softly kiss his cheek. Her hand drifted over to his other cheek, lightly tracing his face stripes.
Shivering with delight at her touch, he smiled and moved in to capture her lips, pulling her into a strong embrace as the sun slowly sank behind the city walls outside.
The Zamorakian spy was grateful for the tunnel under Yanille's north wall—it was hard to fit through, but no one seemed to be paying attention to it at this time of night, and the Watchtower guards would be too busy watching the ogre city anyway.
Silently he stole up behind the house, glancing at the gate to make sure the soldiers didn't see him. Before he could consider which window to look through, a flash of blue caught his eye, and he strained to peek around the corner.
Some scrawny wizard boy was trying to sneak around by the front door and look through the windows. He certainly looked like a local, but the spy doubted that the locals generally spent their time poking around other people's houses at night. More than likely, this boy was here for the exact same reason he was, except he would have been sent by the Saradominists.
He debated getting rid of him, but even blasting him from behind might draw the soldiers' attention—besides, the poor fool would most likely run into the animals when he managed to get in. It would probably be better to let them handle him.
Ducking back behind the house, the spy noticed a trellis on the back wall. Of course… if he climbed up, he could look through the windows to see which room was the World Guardian's bedroom! If she were here, he could listen in on her as she got ready for bed; if she weren't, her journal would likely be there.
Slowly and quietly the spy made his way up the trellis. At the top, he opened the shutters to the nearest window and saw that the curtains were closed. Steadying himself, he carefully opened the window.
The loud wail that filled his ears startled him so suddenly that he nearly fell off the trellis, and he barely managed to hold on for dear life. As he struggled to regain his bearings, he listened more closely.
Well, this was probably the World Guardian's room, but there would be no going in to look for her journal; that would have to wait until she wasn't there. He did, however, have an idea of what was distracting her now—best not to waste any more time risking getting caught and go report his findings.
Quickly he shut the window, not wanting to hear any more, and teleported to Lumbridge, panting as he ran all the way back to Zamorak's encampment.
The camp was strangely quiet at night, as both the gods had retired from blasting power beams at each other for the day. General Moia sat at her post in front of Zamorak's grand tent, keeping up the night watch vigilantly.
She sat up straighter as she saw the spy approaching. "You have returned, agent. What news of the World Guardian do you bring?"
"She has an army of vicious trained animals guarding her home, General," the spy answered. "I suspect she is actively trying to keep people out. Not entirely though; she also seems to be seeing someone." He shuddered. "I did not see or hear him, but I certainly heard her."
Moia raised an eyebrow. "And you believe that this… secret lover is what's keeping her from joining our cause?"
The spy nodded. "It seems very likely, General."
Moia sat there in silence, her piercing gaze never leaving the spy. He did his best not to cringe at her glare before she spoke again.
"I will inform my lord of your findings. I suspect that this lover of hers is a follower of another god, and may be encouraging her to stay away from us. If we could discover his identity, we could better plan how to get her on our side. We will summon you again when we have another mission for you, agent."
With that she ducked into the grand tent, leaving the spy to the night watch.
When he heard the sudden scream from the house, the Saradominist spy had let out a startled yell of his own and grabbed his knives. He had spotted a flash of red behind the house, and in the brief moment he had seen him, had recognized the Zamorakian who had been thrown into the flowerbed earlier that day. He must have been up to something nefarious!
Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten the chance to pursue the Zamorakian, as his yell had alerted the soldiers, who had swiftly apprehended him. Colonel Radick had sternly demanded to know why he was trying to break into the house—and he had failed to convince them that he was only trying to stop the Zamorakian, thus why he was now shut inside the town wall, under the scrutiny of two soldiers.
Worse yet, they had taken away all his runes, so even if he did happen to get the rope that bound him off, he wouldn't be able to teleport, nor could he magically put the soldiers to sleep. He didn't have time to wait this out; that foul Zamorakian could be doing horrible things to her even as he stood here!
It seemed like years went by before the spy noticed that the guards seemed to be nodding off, and he began to work at the ropes as quietly as he could. When he managed to get loose, he saw that the soldier by the door seemed fast asleep.
As much as he wanted to hurry, he was very careful picking the lock on the door, and he only dared open it a crack. From what he could see, the soldiers' backs were turned; they seemed to all be looking towards the ogre city. The distant noise the ogres were making sounded like they were having some kind of brutish ritual celebration.
Carefully hugging the wall, he inched out the door and crept past the soldiers, stealing closer to the house. He managed to make it around to the back, but there was no sign of the Zamorakian anywhere, and the house was quiet.
Seeing that one of the upstairs windows had its shutters open, the spy quietly climbed up the trellis, desperately praying to Saradomin that it wasn't too late as he opened the window and drew back the curtain.
The room was dark and quiet, and looked quite undisturbed, and the Zamorakian was nowhere to be seen. There was someone asleep in the bed, and over on the dresser, the spy could faintly make out a small journal lying neatly next to a hairbrush. If he'd had any runes left, he could have telegrabbed it and transcribed anything useful into his notes, but it seemed he would have to walk to it.
Carefully he squeezed himself through the window, closing the curtain behind him, and took a deep breath as he tried to let the tension in his spine go. When he felt a little bit calmer, he curiously turned to look at the sleeping form in the bed, hoping he hadn't risked waking her up.
And immediately he wished he hadn't.
It took all his willpower not to let out the scream that had formed in his throat as he turned his gaze to the floor in horror. Never mind whatever had happened to the Zamorakian; this was worse, far worse.
The spy didn't want to have to see that again, but he soon found himself looking back anyway, and not just because he would have to take notes. The sight was simultaneously horrifying and fascinating—the World Guardian, the woman of his dreams, sleeping peacefully in the embrace of a hideous, large man… monster… thing, her pale face and bright hair almost glowing next to that dark gray skin. Never had he been so grateful for the blankets on a bed, and never had he imagined he would thank Saradomin that she was completely covered up except for her head and hand. Seeing any more would have made it even more heartbreaking.
His hands shaking, the spy forced himself to stare at the man-monster-thing, carefully writing down all of the strange and twisted features he could see. Whatever this foul creature was, he wanted to make him pay for daring to lay a hand on the woman of his dreams.
When he was through with his notes, he glanced back at the journal on the dresser, but he didn't want to stay any longer. The information he had now was pertinent enough, and he shuddered to think of what horrible things the strange creature would do to him if he were caught!
The spy quickly put away his notes, and he was out of the house and down the trellis faster than you could say "Saradomin have mercy." Not bothering to be quiet anymore, he ran to the Magic Guild as fast as he could. He didn't even care that he was waking the guild wizards as he ran all the way up the stairs and into the eastern portal in the uppermost chamber.
Hardly had he hit the ground at the Wizards' Tower than he started to run frantically all the way back to Saradomin's war camp. As he stumbled in, gasping for breath, General Padomenes straightened up and flew over.
"What is going on, agent? Were you accosted? Did you find the World Guardian? What information do you have?"
The spy spluttered and gasped for breath, his eyes filling with tears as he finally tried to speak. "I was… she was… there was…" His voice trailed off into choked sobs.
"What is it, human?" Padomenes barked. "Speak up! This could be important!"
"Be patient, Padomenes," said an old grandfatherly voice, and with that Saradomin himself appeared at his Icyene general's side. "The poor lad must have discovered something very troubling indeed."
The spy nodded as he dropped down respectfully to one knee. "Y-yes, Lord, I did… It's about the World Guardian…"
Taking a deep breath, he described what he had seen as calmly as he could manage, and handed over his notes.
Padomenes read the notes, and Saradomin looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "Oh dear… I am truly sorry you had to see that, lad, but I thank you for bringing this vital knowledge to me. I should have suspected that a Mahjarrat might be involved… Please, go sit beside the campfire and enjoy some stew with the soldiers. You could use a rest."
The spy bowed and nodded, glad to know what the man-monster-thing was called. He remembered something about that being the kind of creature Zamorak was—it was even more heartbreaking to know that any kin of Zamorak's had touched her, but at least he understood what it was now.
"Yes, Lord… Oh, and I-I also saw a strange red-haired archaeologist earlier… I don't know what happened to him, but he was looking for her as well…"
One of Saradomin's brows shot straight up. "I understand completely now… This is worse than I could have imagined! Go, have some stew—you've been troubled enough for one night."
The spy felt his heart sink as he nodded and started to walk away. He hated to disobey his god, but he didn't want to be left in the dark about this—he had to know what was so dire. Silently he stole into a supply tent and listened from behind a stack of crates.
"What is the matter, my lord?" Padomenes asked, his voice shaking with worry. "I've never seen you lose your composure like this before…"
"She's been tricked, Padomenes. Enchanted. Magically seduced." Saradomin's voice was severe and quiet. "The Mahjarrat have many nasty tricks up their sleeves; consider Zamorak as proof enough of that. We are fortunate that his still-mortal brethren have not come to fight by his side…"
"Why is she not fighting for Zamorak, then?" Padomenes asked. "I assume this Mahjarrat would have tricked her into worshipping him?"
"No. Worse than that, I fear," Saradomin said gravely. "This one is the favored champion of a far greater evil, one that forced me to ally with Zamorak to drive it back in the days of old. He has been making efforts to once more unleash this evil upon the world… and the World Guardian seems to be part of those plans. Don't you see? He placed some kind of enchantment upon her to make her fall in love with him, so that she too would help restore the dark one! That is why she has stayed away from both Zamorak's army and ours!"
He sighed. "I cannot break the enchantment, either. Guthix's final gift to her seems to have shielded her from all divine powers… and we will most certainly not be able to convince her to join us with mere words."
"What can we do, then?" Padomenes had never sounded so daunted before. "We have the manpower to win this battle, but we should still have the support of the World Guardian in the future… And we need to make sure to stop this dark evil you speak of…"
"Do not lose hope," Saradomin said. "I will think of a way."
The spy could only trust that he would find that way soon. Nothing would ever mend his broken heart, but he had to hope that Saradomin could at least save her somehow, before that great evil that was worse than Zamorak could be restored.
The house was quiet as the first rays of sunrise shone through the windows—well, mostly quiet, except for the rapping of tiny fists on the bedroom door, and a little voice that sounded adorable in its anger.
"You dare lock out a god?" Tiny Lucien desperately pounded his tiny staff against the door. "I demand you let me in at once!"
He tried waving the tiny staff and chanting, but the door still didn't open. "Why isn't this working? Human! I know you're in there! Let me in!"