Chapter two is here:o finally. Thanks to all those who reviewed!
Disclaimer: See first chapter, please.
Iban sighed heavily. Night watch was the most boring thing he could ever dream of doing. The only thing to do was stare into the dying embers of the campfire. He looked to the side for a moment at the sleeping Mentos, who looked so comfortable lying there.
He shook his head and gazed over to the horizon, which was just beginning to show signs of daybreak. Pushing his raven locks from his face, her turned slightly to gently shake the sleeping woman's shoulder. As expected, her eyes snapped open, as if she hadn't been sleeping at all.
"It's time to go." he said gruffly, though standing up quite gracefully. He lifted his bag onto his shoulder and approached the crimson beast he had ridden before, stroking the dragon's neck before lifting the bag onto the creature's back.
"Yeah, sure…" Mentos muttered, packing up her own bag. She yawned, still not fully awake, picked up her longbow and quiver, and headed over to her own mount. Something caught her eye, though, and she paused for long enough to gaze upon something she hadn't noticed the night before; a large branch laying just inside the forest.
"Iban," she started, distracted by this new piece of scenery, "Did you knock down any braches while collecting wood for the fire last night…?" The knight gave her a puzzled expression and shook his head.
"Why do you ask?" he replied, pulling himself onto the beast's back. Mentos shrugged, deciding to ignore it. If it was a problem, they could deal with it later.
"Nothing, let's go." she growled, leaping onto her dragon's back. Whistling lightly her mount picked up its feet and took off at a run, spreading its wings to make the leap over the barrier between Taverly and the small fishing port of Catherby. The creature's claws dug deep into the rocky ledge, and its muscles strained for a moment before it pulled itself over, landing evenly on the other side. Iban's dragon had done the same, and was breathing in heavily the scent of fish and seafood.
"We need to get out of here quickly," Mentos yelped over the sound of crashing waves on the rocky shore, "the fishermen don't like the dragons hanging around." Her own mount pranced slightly, "The Seers up to the north with let them stay there, but from there on, we're going to have to go on foot."
Before Iban could retort, Mentos was off again at a gallop, her dragon's neck outstretched for more speed. It cut through the village, taking corners without a problem, and finally jumping the low fence with ease into the forest. The dragon tossed its head and continued the fast run to the large village, Mentos lying close to the beast's back, cape whipping in the wind.
Iban, too, was running alongside the woman, easily sitting on the massive crimson lizard. He glanced to the side, spotting a black blur coming up on the other side of Mentos. Before he could yell a word of warning, the cloaked man atop the black dragon leapt from his saddle, falling just short of Mentos' steed, but grabbing her waist and pulling her off nonetheless. The two hit the ground and skid for fifteen or twenty feet in the dirt before Mentos pulled an arm free and punched the man in the face.
He laughed.
Mentos' eyes widened as the man stood, unharmed, and pulled back his hood, revealing himself to be nothing other than a fabled Shade, an undead being who hunted those that had killed and buried many of their enemies.
"Foolish mortal," he started, pulling his hood back over his face, "You can't kill me with strength alone." His voice was icy, like death itself. Mentos, despite her urge to keep calm and collected, felt herself begin to shake.
"Go get laid." she spat, pulling a poison arrow from her quiver and dropping her longbow, stabbing the ethereal spirit in the chest with it. It let out a bone-shattering scream, which left a ringing noise in Mentos' head long after it had been slain. Lying there on the ground, she didn't move, staring up at the clouds floating by in the sky.
An out-of-breath Iban skidded to a halt next to her, kneeling down next to her body. A worried expression flickered across his face, before he carefully looked over her, realizing that she was fine.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, reaching an arm under her back and lifting her off the ground. He let her back rest against him for a moment, before she caught her breath, regained her composure, and stood up.
"Shades wander these lands. That's the third time in my life I've been attacked by one." she said, a feral, far away look on her face. She shook her head and stood up. Looking to the west wearily.
"We're in the wilderness." she said, gazing about, "There's no other travelers out here, and I can see the Black Knight's Stronghold from here. Just the very top, but I can still see it." she muttered, shaking her head, "That must have been why we were being followed by a Shade. There's a graveyard not far from here, filled with the bodies of restless souls."
Iban shifted unrestfully for a moment, escaping the notice of the ranger. His eyes glanced about, and his hand crept to the hilt of his long sword.
"Let's get going," he murmured, standing up. A soft coo reached his ears, and he smiled, before holding out his hand. "My dove." he said softly. Mentos had almost opened her mouth to retort when a snowy white bird landed gracefully on his outstretched hand.
Bringing the bird in closer to his body, he gently stroked its head, earning a croon of approval from the dove.
"My Zaros has returned." he murmured, lightly placing a kiss on the dove's back. Mentos raised a questioning eyebrow, but it was no surprise to her that a dove would carry the name of Zammorak's predecessor. Symbolism, of course.
"We need to head north." she yawned finally. Iban let the dove fly from his hand ahead of them, just as a cold wind blew from the north. His hair fell into his face, and it suddenly occurred to her how sadistic he looked, in his blood-red chain mail and the rest of his armor. His eyes, blood red now as they were, had a longing expression on them as he gazed northward. 'What I would do to know what he's thinking…' she though quietly to herself.
"We'll have to walk, those dragons won't go any farther into the wild." Mentos said quickly, starting to move. Iban nodded and followed close behind, letting the well-traversed ranger guide their way.
--
After traveling for a quite a while, they paused next to the graveyard mentioned by Mentos before. It was dead silent, quite different from the last time Mentos had dared go this far into the Wilderness.
A thunderous clash of metal-on-metal met her ears as she whirled around, drawing a poison-tipped arrow to her bow as she did so. When she turned, she had enough time to see Iban taking on two white knights at once, dragon daggers in both hands, before she was hit hard on the back of the neck with the hilt of another soldier's scimitars.
Iban, meanwhile, had managed to kill the two knights, and was now charging to protect the unconscious ranger. Sheathing one dagger, he pulled his long sword from its sheath, cleaving the solder's helm in two. Blood dripped down from his weapon as he sheathed the other dagger, looking around for another sign of more troops. Seeing none, he dropped his weapon, lifting Mentos' body into his arms. She was slowly coming to, and he was glad for the fact that she was indeed a strong soul.
Zammorak would have a hard time bringing her down.
He shook the thought from his head, and let her sit up on her own as she rubbed the back of her neck.
A smile crossed his lips, which from one corner was dripping blood, as he looked at her.
"You all right?" he asked, standing. She nodded a reply, lifting herself off the ground as well. She bent to pick her bow off the ground, but stopped as a familiar sound hit her ears- the burning of runes into a spell.
"Iban, get-" she started to yelp, turning around as fast as she could. A mage, clothed in robes of the followers of Saradomin was standing not fifty feet off, and had just released a powerful spell of light, which struck his directly in the back. Grabbing a dagger from her thigh, she threw it, hitting the mage square in the chest. He fell, uttering words in an ancient tongue as he died.
A cough distracted her, and Mentos hit her knees, now lifting Iban's body into her arms. His back was soaked with blood, and crimson now poured from his mouth, matching the color of his eyes.
"I need… to tell you something." he said, voice fading from its normal smooth and strong manner of speaking, "I am truly a black knight in disguise. My position as a white knight was merely a cover-up, as a spy. I'm positive those four found the necklace in my room at the castle, but that is a different story…"
He coughed softly, gripping his sword to his chest with one hand.
"I am a devout follower of Zammorak. The necklace they most likely found is a symbol representing him, and blessed with his power by a monk living far off to the west. I am known among them as Zammorak's Son, the one who will bring back the glory of the chaotic god.
"I feel so weak an insignificant in this body, Mentos. I could do so much more with the body of a demigod, and I must only hope that when I pass over, Zammorak will see what I have done for him and grant me that wish."
He closed his eyes and let a sigh escape his lips, before looking straight back up at Mentos. Zaros, his faithful dove, had landed on her shoulder, and now hopped down to his master's chest, a series of lamenting croons and coos escaping its throat.
"Zaros, fly far away." he murmured, voice becoming more and more strangled and weak, "Stay away from my deceased body, take care of the ranger. Should you stay, you may be sacrificed. Leave with the lady. I will see you again someday."
Mentos now realized she had a bloodstained tear streaming down her cheek. Had she really become that attached to this man in such a short time?
"Iban, you can't…" he whispered, pushing his thick, ebon hair from his face, "You can't die like this."
Iban managed to crack the most heroic smile across his lips so stained with his blood. Yet, the smile seemed so satanic at the same time, and it now occurred to her that the expression in his eyes she had noticed back in Varrock was that of the statues in the west dedicated to Zammorak, the chaotic void that could kill without a single care in the world…
Mentos let his body lay on the ground and unhooked one of her two cloaks, this one black with blood red trimmed at the end, and lay it over his bleeding body. Death himself would soon come for him.
"Goodbye… my lady…" he said softly, reaching up his crimson-stained hand to gently stroke her cheek. After a brief moment of contact, his limb fell back, and the ivory dove soaring in the skies above let out a lament so sorrowful, the entire world could hear it.
Iban, Black Knight and loyal follower of Zammorak, was dead.
..--..
Mentos rose tenuously from where she knelt, hands quaking as she did so. Once again, the only thing that had meaning in her life had been ripped away. His blood lay splattered all over, as she forced herself to move his dead body to the center of the still graveyard, on the altar of Zammorak.
"Aeternum vale." she whispered, placing her hand on his chest for the last time.
She turned and left, whistling for her most loved steed. The dragon was tall and the color of the night, with pointed ivories that sat in rows inside its maw.
"Let us go." she murmured, mounting the beast. Speaking to it in a forgotten tongue, she left, leaving his still bleeding body behind.
..--..
A small witch happened across Iban's body, and seeing how she could use him to please the god Zammorak, quickly put together a small voodoo doll of him. First she smeared a piece of his own flesh onto the doll, representing what would be his new body. Following that, she pulled from a pouch a bottle of the blood from a giant spider, used so the reincarnated body would have blood pumping through its veins. She dropped the vial on the ground when she finished pouring it over the doll, then began searching for something to complete his consciousness.
She scurried around the graveyard, before finally finding a dying dove, whose feathers were tinted gray. It was not his dove, but it would do.
She took it into her hands, and muttering a few words under her breath, let it pass on, taking its consciousness and applying it to the doll. She placed it in an old, decorative box and put it next to the body on the altar.
Muttering a few words under her breath, she drew a symbol on the altar in blood, then pulled out a few runes to teleport back to her home near Ardounge.
Zammorak's son would soon be reborn.
Like the phoenix, he would rise again from the flames.
Thanks for reading this, if you did. .-. I'd like you to review with your opinion, though I'll ask for no flames. Yeah. For those who do not know, "Aeternum vale" is Latin for "farewell forever".
Next chapter coming soon-ish. .-Capricorn