The Lance of Zaros, Chapter IX

The Reveal

Hello again, everyone, I'm back! I'm sorry you had to wait so long, but never fear-the new chapter is here! Anyway, just remember that the contest is still going on, and I only have one entry! And again: good antagonist characters will most likely get more consideration that protagonists, but if it's a good character, I'll use it! Without further ado, I'll let you read on. Remember to review! :D

Astrid growled, a feral rumbling emanating from the back of her throat. "You scum. I never imagined you'd actually come here."

Drakan gave a lopsided grin. "You really thought a rebel group could hideout so close to the stronghold of its enemy would go for any significant amount of time without being discovered? Your mind must be as weak as your comrade's spirits."

"You be quiet!" Astrid suddenly lashed out. "Shut your filthy mouth, you son of a-" She was cut off as Ahrim put a hand up to silence her.

"Astrid," he intoned gravely, a grimace on his face. "If you're smart, you don't fight Drakan, ever. We need to get out of here."

"No!" she retorted, her face a mask of rage. "We have the opportunity to kill him, right here and now!"

"You know," Drakan said, a wicked cheer evident in his voice, "perhaps you shouldn't debate on what to do with your opponent-" he disappeared in a blink, leaving a whiff of dust on the ground.

A clawed hand appeared around Ahrim's throat, accompanied by a choking, gurgling sound.

"-while he's right in front of you, hmm?"

"Ahrim!" Astrid's eyes flared, and she gripped Kyran's hand tightly. "Come on, Kyran!" Her body evaporated into a fine mist and coated his body, reforming into the obsidian-black armour from before.

"Oh, ho…" Darkan said, the slight wrinkles around his mouth creasing as he smiled, only looking the more cruel for it. "So this is the Lance of Zaros, is it? Not quite what I expected from the daughter of the Empty Lord himself…Perhaps you've chosen an unworthy partner? That…boy is hardly suitable as a host. Although…" he picked Ahrim up, with the ancient mage clutching feebly at his throat. "Things to do, places to be. I'll dispose of you quickly enough." He flung Ahrim at the wall behind Kyran; he hit with a thud and flopped onto the ground, wheezing silently. He then crossed his arms and nodded.

"I'm not without chivalry," Drakan said. "I'll let you have the first attack." When he saw the look on Kyran's face, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, then. I don't have all day, you know. I need to set about…renovating this hovel of a town. Maybe there will even be some humans who weren't evacuated! I'm sure that would prove most entertaining for my-"

"DRAKAAAAANNNN!" Kyran roared, charging at the vampyre lord, holding Aranar behind him at the ready. It liquefied and morphed into a four-foot razor thin rapier. He lunged forward, straight toward the heart-

-but Drakan easily danced out of the way, lithely sidestepping his opponent's attack. Kyran stumbled but recovered quickly, turning to face Drakan, the rapier reforming into a set of long black throwing knives held tightly in between his fingers. A quick flick of his wrist launched one that would have pierced Drakan's skull right between his ash-colored eyes- but he effortlessly caught it in between his index and middle fingers, tossing it away with a look of casual disdain on his face.

"Tch," Kyran grunted, falling back in the surprisingly large underground room. "Nothing's working!" His knives shifted back into Aranar, and he held it up along with his off-hand blade in a defensive position.

Drakan snorted. "Is this truly all you can muster up? Is this all I can expect from the daughter of the Empty Lord and her ill-chosen partner? Perhaps I'd best just finish you off now and be done with it."

He sauntered slowly toward them, the evil smile no longer present on his cruel face. Instead, there was a grim slash that spoke of nothing but pain.

Astrid…He's too strong! I can't even land a single blow! What should I do?

The response was hesitant. I…don't know. I've never encountered someone this strong before. If only we weren't alone in this fight…

Kyran took a tentative step backwards, hopping on the balls of his feet. An idea born out of desperation took root in his mind. His sword melted, morphing into a long black crossbow with a rack of bolts locked into the firing slot. Kyran pulled a nondescript white pouch out of the bag slung across his waist and attached it to one of the bolts quickly, taking aim at Drakan's pointed nose.

He pulled the crossbow's release trigger.

With supernatural speed, Drakan ducked down, the bolt whiffing harmlessly over his head and embedding itself harmlessly in the wall behind him.

"You might as well do yourself a favor, whelp, and give up now. Because from this point on there's going to be a lot less talking, and a lot more killing."

Kyran quickly fumbled around in his bag for a brown leather pouch that weighed about a pound.

"Kill this." Kyran undid the tie securing the bag and flung it in Drakan's face.

The vampyre lord spluttered and coughed as a cloud of ash filled the area surrounding his head. It quickly settled onto the floor in several heaps of soot.

Drakan wiped the dust from his face and snarled, stepping forward and raising his immaculate silver trident above his head. "You think you're clever, boy?"

Kyran grinned. "Actually, yes. Yes I do. Because, you see, the ash inside that pouch wan't just ash. Well, it was mostly ash, but you know what else was in it? Just a couple of leftover ingredients I used to kill Count Draynor wayyyyy back in the day. Those ingredients? It was some ground-up garlic, along with the remains of a pulverized bar of silver. And another thing-"

Kyran fell silent as the ground beneath Drakan began to shudder, the ash pluming into small clouds.

"-don't let me talk."

A ring of flame encircled the count, and he looked down at his feet. Tongues of fire licked at his boots, and suddenly-

A flaming bird as tall as Drakan burst from the ground, radiant wings ablaze in a rainbow of reds and oranges. It slammed into Drakan, lifting him off his feet, singing the edges of the tunic that hung out of his chainmail. The phoenix finally dropped Drakan to the floor, tendrils of smoke drifting up from his body. It roosted on its taloned feet next to Kyran, preening its wings.

"That was such a load of rubbish!" Kyran said, sporting a lopsided smirk. "'The remains of a pulverized bar of silver'. Ha! I can't believe you let me blather on like that!"

On the ground, Drakan's smoldering form twitched, and he pushed himself off the ground, resting on his elbows. He looked up at Kyran.

"You fool."

Kyran blinked. Fool?

"You utter, deluded fool," Drakan said, spitting a glob of ashy paste out of his mouth. "You honestly thought-"he stood up and dusted his armour off- "that a pitiful familiar like that bird could really harm me?"

Kyran's smirk disappeared, and he took another step backward. "Uh, yeah, I was kind of hoping…"

Drakan stepped forward, raising his trident to strike. "Then you hoped in vain, boy. Now you die!" His muscles tensed, preparing to thrust his trident through Kyran's exposed skull-

"YOU BASTAAAAAARRRRRRD!"

Drakan flinched and spun around to see Joel leaping through the air toward him, the Godsword held high above his head, ready to cleave his head in half.

"Tch," Drakan grunted, putting a forearm up. A square field of bluish-white light buzzed into existence in front of his arm right before Joel slammed his Godsword down onto it with an almighty crash and the unholy squeal of metal on metal.

Joel leapt back, holding his weapon at the ready.

Drakan looked from Kyran to Joel, then back, and chuckled cruelly. "Now this is...interesting. The Lance of Zaros, and the Sword of Zamorak, held by collaborators? This can only lead to an unusual scenario. Perhaps I can leave you alive for a bit…just to see how this will all play out. But remember this, host. Your weakness…" Drakan swirled his black cape around himself, glowing with the effects of a teleport. "Your weakness will never change."

Astrid reappeared beside Kyran, whose knees went weak, and quickly buckled, making Kyran collapse onto the floor, breathing heavily.

"Joel…" Kyran panted, a rivulet of sweat running down the side of his face. "Thank Guthix. Joel…I owe you my life."

Joel grinned confidently. "Ahh, it was nothing! You know, leaping in, saving the day…it's all a part of the routine for a super soldier like yours truly!"

"He was…more helpful than I was, at least…" came a voice from the floor on the side of the room.

Kyran's eyebrows shot up. Ahrim! How could he have forgotten about him?

"Hey!" he said, getting up and moving toward his fallen comrade. "Are you alright, man?"

Ahrim pushed himself off the ground, holding onto his staff to support himself.

"Sure," he replied, an angry frown upon his face. "I'm fine-physically, at least. I can't fight worth a damn, and I just found out that I'm worthless in a brawl, but sure! I'm absolutely goddamn fine!"

Astrid put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Ahrim. Calm down….It was Lord Drakan himself. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Ahrim shook his head. "Oh, I'm not. That vampyre scum did it for me!"

"Come on," Kyran said, holding his hands up. "We can get off that subject. What we need to do right now is reunite with the other groups and meet up with Veliaf in Paterdomus."

After a few seconds, Ahrim grudgingly nodded. "You're right, of course. By the way, Joel, how in Gielinor did you know to come to the pub's basement?"

Joel scratched the back of his head. "Oh…well, when we were searching the buildings, I saw a sheet of paper with the words 'pub' and 'Drakan' scrawled across it. Adalyn thought I should go and check it out while she and Dharok checked out the rest of the quadrant. Heard a scuffle when I came to the pub, so I thought, 'What the hell?' and the rest is history."

"Well, let's go find 'em…" Kyran said, taking a deep breath.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

It didn't take long to round everyone upafter that. It was actually kind of funny- Bull was disappointed that Drakan had shown up to us and not him; apparently he was spoiling for a fight. Alucard's team thought the house they had found initially would have some interesting info, but nothing turned up. We set off north through Mort Myre, trying to be as stealthy as a group of twelve warriors tromping through a marsh could be, and within two days, we were skirting around the west side of Canifis, on the road to Paterdomus. Drezel greeted us very cheerfully, and guided us to the halls where the Myreque were temporarily stationed. Veliaf was…not happy about the situation, to say the least, but he was glad that we were back. We told him about the battle at Astrid's house, and how the Barrows Brothers decided to join up with us, and the lopsided fight with Drakan. He seemed to care less about the story than the fact that we were still alive…

"What are we going to do, Astrid?" Veliaf said, head in his hands. "We lost Burgh de Rott. The treasury, the armoury…everything! We have nowhere to stay- we can't overstay our welcome here. So what do we do?"

"What the Myreque have always done, Veliaf," she replied calmly. "We fight. We regroup, and recover."

"But…but how?" he asked, exasperated. "We have no funds or weapons! Or even a base of operations! You're not helping any."

"Well…that's where you're wrong…" Astrid said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Tell me, have you ever heard of a kingdom called Miscellania?"

Veliaf thought for a second, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so. Around the Fremennik province, small island?"

"Just the one," she replied. "Do you recall ever hearing the name of the kingdom's ruler?"

Veliaf shook his head. "No, not that I can remember. Astrid, where is this going?"

"Hold on a second, I'm getting to it," she replied. "The current ruler is in a self-imposed exile until such a day as he has found it within himself to come back. Currently, a man named Vargas rules in his place. And…"

She grinned. "I am Vargas' adoptive daughter."

Veliaf held his face straight.

"No way."

"Way."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yup."

Veliaf had a manic grin spreading across his face. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Astrid nodded.

"So we had the Princess of Miscellania allied with our rebel group the entire time…and we didn't know it?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, no, no…" she said. "Not the Princess. I'm the Queen, mate."

"Wait…" Veliaf said, scratching his head in confusion. "The Queen? I'm not following."

"That king in self-exile I told you about? That would be Kyran MacTavish. And he's my husband."

Veliaf chuckled in disbelief. "I don't believe it. I've gone mad! Absolutely stark-raving mad! The King and the Queen of Miscellania, part of the Myreque!"

Astrid grinned. "We have some very large, open tracts of land on Miscellania available. And I have a feeling that Kyran would be willing to reassume his title as King. We'd be more than willing to help fund the Myreque."

"But…what would the purpose of the Myreque be, if we were not in Morytania? We have always been an organization that fought Drakan's regime! What would we do all the way in Miscellania?"

"Well, regroup, of course," Astrid replied. "Regain your strength, gather more troops and weapons, and when the time is right- then we take the fight back to Drakan."

Veliaf finally nodded. "Alright. I see the logic here. By the way, where is Kyran?"

"Right here," he said, appearing from a long, winding hallway, leaning on the wall.

"And Astrid's right," he said, nodding. "To help the Myreque, I will take up my crown again."

Astrid looked at him with a grin. "Oh, come on, Kyran, you know you want to say it. Go on, then…"

"Oh, alright," he replied.

He took a breath and smiled.

"It's good to be king."

So how'd you like that? I hope it wasn't too bad! Anyway, the contest is still on, so please make sure to create a character for it! I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner than I got this one up, heh heh! ^^; Okay, so long! Next time: Return to the homeland!