Chapter Three: The Cleric
Father Jerrod gave a satisfied grunt as the marrentill plant he was tugging on finally came loose, sliding free from the iron grip the earth had previously sported over it.
The thick, gnarly roots of the plant made an excellent stew, and Jerrod intended to make the most of them, but the Cleric's focus was on the leaves of the plant, which were an integral ingredient to a powerful potion which seemed to cure all poison.
It was a gray day. That was not very surprising to the Cleric, though; it rained a lot in the Virid Swamp. As such, heavy cloud-cover was not a rare occurrence. In fact, Jerrod sometimes had trouble remembering how long it had been since the sun had shown itself in these parts.
The Virid Swamp formed a large, outlying peninsula from the Centralian mainland, jutting out into the ocean. It was bordered by the River Lum to the east, the Gulf of Ankhat to the southeast, and the Great Southern Ocean to the south and west. To the north was a tiny village called Lumbridge, and the rest of Centralia.
Jerrod placed the marrentill plant into his basket, along with the three others that he had picked. He then picked his load up and walked off into the swamp. He kept to the dry routes for the majority of the walk, but he soon came to a large, murky lake that was covered with algae and lily pads. A medium-sized islet sat in the center of the lake. It was a few hundred yards long and wide and had several clumps of trees and plantlife dotting its surface. There was a garden lining one of the ends; that was where Jerrod grew a portion of his food. In the middle of the islet was his hut, where he had lived for the past ten years.
The Cleric started to murmur under his breath, tapping into the elemental energy of water. As he strode into the water, the surface of the patch of water he was on top of froze over, and his foot came down onto solid ice. He took another step, and more of the surface froze over. This cycle repeated until Father Jerrod had reached his islet. The moment he stepped onto dry land, he stopped murmuring and the path of ice quickly melted back into the water.
-Welcome back, Cleric-
Father Jerrod felt the words in his mind as a series of mental projections, feelings, and images, rather than actually hearing or understanding them as words. It had been a while since he had last heard that voice, but he was glad to have the company.
A small mote of light emerged from inside of the hut, hovering across the ground towards the Cleric. It grew in size until it was about as big as a small animal, though it kept its general shape. It was no clearly defined shape at any point in time; the light out of which the creature was composed was always moving. There was a core brilliance of golden white light, with motes and rays of blue sparkling in and out of existence around the nexus, like moths around a lantern.
"And you as well, Helios," Father Jerrod replied. He murmured under his breath again and produced a mote of light from the tip of his fingers. Making pure light was hard to do for any mage, as it was not a direct manifestation of any of the four elements. Jerrod managed through a very complex combination of fire, air, and water—using trace amounts of the moisture in the air to bend and refract ambient daylight, the Anima Mundi in the air to contain the resulting brilliance so that it did not disperse, and a nearly nonexistent amount of fire, combined with his own inner life energy, to produce the light. The result was, if done properly, a small orb of brilliant golden light.
This form of magic was extremely difficult to perform—most were unable to practice it—but Jerrod had spent enough time in the swamp to perfect the skill. The old Cleric also had many years of experience on his side.
The light creature produced a luminescent orb of its own and touched it to Jerrod's. For a brief instant, the Saradominist Cleric was inside of the light creature's mind. For an infinitesimal moment, the light creature's thoughts and emotions, and those of the Cleric, were in perfect harmony. They knew and understood everything about each other; neither held any secrets from the other.
Then, as quick as it had begun, the moment of mental intimacy was over, leaving Jerrod with a somewhat empty feeling in his mind, but that, too, quickly passed. The Sharing of life energy was pretty much the light creatures' equivalent of a handshake.
The light creatures were universally called 'Preluceans' by the other races of Gielinor, and, for the most part, they seemed to have accepted that name. Jerrod had known Helios ever since he had first come to the Virid Swamp, ten years ago, after he had been ousted from Entrana. The Prelucean's name was not really Helios, obviously; its real name was not comprehensible to a human. It was not a word, nor was it a simple feeling…its name was its very essence, and it was displayed and comprehended by other Preluceans in ways that the other races of Gielinor could never hope to understand. Normal communication through words, sounds, and gestures—language, grammar, syntax—were just as alien to the Preluceans as their inter-planar light was to humans, dwarves, elves, and all the rest.
Jerrod simply called his Prelucean friend by the name 'Helios,' and the light creature seemed to enjoy its moniker, so it stuck. The Cleric had refused to call Helios 'light creature' for the rest of his life.
"How have you been lately, old friend?" Father Jerrod asked the Prelucean as he ducked into his hut.
-Amicable-
"Well, that's good…" Jerrod murmured, pausing to rummage through one of his cabinets. He pulled out a mortar and pestle and set them down onto a countertop. "Considering everything you and your brethren have been through these past few millennia, that's very good."
The Preluceans were an incredibly endangered species. The turmoil of the beginning of the God Wars, occurring right after Zamorak's successful rebellion against the Empty Lord Zaros, had seen the destruction of all of the Prelucean cities, which had been located in the elven lands to the immediate west of the White Wolf Mountains. The light creatures were now painfully sparse in number, though most of them had migrated to southern Centralia, where war was least likely to hurt them again.
Father Jerrod knew that Helios was visiting for a reason. The light creature liked the Cleric a lot, but Jerrod could tell that it had a reason for being here.
Time to do some digging.
"What brings you around these parts, old friend?" Jerrod broke the ice, posing the question directly to Helios.
-As much as free will played a role in my coming here, I was also sent-
The Cleric cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sent?"
-On an errand-
"An errand."
-Yes-
"What is the nature of this errand?"
-The Balance is shifting-
"The what?" Jerrod asked, not understanding the Prelucean's statement.
-The Balance- Helios repeated itself.
"Clarify: what is 'the Balance'?" Father Jerrod asked, changing tack in his questioning. Communicating with Preluceans would probably make a lesser man turn to alcoholism, but Jerrod had gotten the swing of it. He was a linguist, being fluent in Arrish—the desert language—and competent in the language of the elves. Speaking with a Prelucean did not require any particular lingual proficiency, but it did require patience and a proper wording.
-The Balance- Helios explained in his bizarre form of thought-speak, -is the equilibrium of this world. The stability of the Anima Mundi. The delicate balance of good and evil, of order and chaos, of darkness and light; once manifested in this world by the Gods Zaros and Armadyl, now manifested by the God Zamorak and your God Saradomin-
"Zamorak…" Jerrod murmured as he rummaged through a cabinet for a mortar and pestle. He found one and set it down on one of the countertops. "After we defeated his forces at the River Salve, six hundred years ago, he's been keeping to his strongholds in the Deep Wilderness…you're saying that he is finally emerging?"
-I know not for certain-
"Tell me what you do know."
-I know that the Balance is shifting-
"And what does that entail?" Jerrod pressed further. As he spoke, he dropped a marrentill leaf into the mortar and pestle and began to grind it up along with fragments of unicorn horn, which the Cleric had gathered the week before.
-The Balance has been askew as of late, tipped well into Saradomin's favor. This will not last. The Balance is being righted once more-
If that did not confirm Father Jerrod's old fears, nothing did. He gave a final nod. "Zamorak is definitely returning, then…" the Cleric muttered, pausing to inspect the quality of the marrentill and unicorn's horn. Satisfied that they were sufficiently ground up, he took the mortar and scraped its contents out into an empty vial. "He's definitely coming back. Just like I've been saying to the old bastards back on Entrana…of course, they wouldn't listen…"
-You have known this would happen?- Helios asked haltingly, its surrounding blue motes of light growing slightly brighter and moving around its central brilliance a bit faster. It was agitated.
"Yes," Jerrod nodded, "though not in the way you believe. I cannot see the future…I just have common sense…more than the other monks had, or still have…"
-He sent me to tell you that he needs you once more- Helios broke in, finally laying all of its cards out on the table.
"Who sent you?" the Cleric asked, unsure if he had missed a name.
-He did-
"And who is 'he'?"
-You already know the answer to that question-
"But…why would he need me? I'm an exile, a vagrant. I'm not a Priori any longer," Jerrod muttered. He turned back to face Helios and began to explain his reason for being in the swamp. "I've always feared that Zamorak would return. Everyone knows how his foul armies were defeated at the River Salve, six hundred years ago…but everyone thinks that Zamorak himself was defeated as well. I knew that he was not, that he was just rebuilding, consolidating his remaining strength…waiting for us to drop our guard."
-This sounds logical of the Destroyer- Helios agreed.
Jerrod hooted with laughter. "Logic…heh, now there's a good one. You should tell that one to the Priori of the Church sometime, it'll give 'em all a good laugh."
-Your superiors do not know what logic is?- Helios sparkled purple, radiating confusion.
"Not even if it slapped 'em across the face," Jerrod chuckled in his southern Centralian drawl.
Helios's pulsing froze for a second as the light creature tried to interpret the Cleric's sarcasm, but it gave up after a few moments. Human witticisms were too alien for it to comprehend.
"What you have to understand," the Cleric continued, "is that I tried to convince the other Priori that Zamorak was going to return, but they would not listen…" The Cleric chuckled bitterly as he recalled his downfall, "They excommunicated me and declared me a heretic. I had to leave Entrana…I've been in this swamp ever since…so you can understand why I'm skeptical of your claim that he has a use for me. If he truly valued me, he would have intervened and stopped the Priori from exiling me."
Helios remained silent for a few more seconds before it composed an adequate reply. –I cannot speak on behalf of him, Cleric. That will be for you to discuss with him personally-
"He's coming here?" Father Jerrod sounded surprised, nearly dropping the mortar and pestle he was holding. He caught the bowl before it slipped from his grasp and carefully set it back into its cupboard.
-Yes- Helios replied, punctual as ever.
Jerrod stood rock-still for a moment, then gave an indifferent grunt and shrug. "The old man and I will have quite a bit of catching up to do."
The Cleric picked up the flask of water, marrentill, and ground unicorn horn, and ducked back outside. Helios hovered out the doorway behind Jerrod, keeping close to its friend. Jerrod strode across his islet to the edge of the lake and dipped the flask into the water, filling it up. The water mixed with the ground marrentill and unicorn's horn, turning a shade of murky green.
The Cleric thrust a hand into his pocket and fished around until his fingers grasped what he was seeking; a fire runestone which would allow him to cast fire magic. He grasped the runestone and started murmuring again; weaving the enchantments necessary to make the potion he was composing. The runestone began to flow and small flames engulfed the base of the flask, heating it. The enchantments which he was weaving infused themselves into the flames and the water.
The flask's contents started to bubble and shine, growing brighter and brighter until Jerrod was unable to look directly at it. The Cleric squinted, not breaking eye contact with the flask, until his enchantments were complete. Once he stopped murmuring them, the light vanished. The flask now contained a bright green fluid that seemed to move on its own.
-I am curious; what have you just done?- the Prelucean asked.
"A simple trick, old as the hills…older, actually," the Cleric replied. "I used activated fire with the runestone and the enchantments, and used them to fuse the marrentill and the unicorn's horn together at an alchemical level. It is now an elixir that can cure any known poison."
-Fascinating… My species never had any magical ability, but that does not mean that we are uninterested by its intricacies-
"Yeah, it certainly has its uses," the Cleric grunted. "Come; let us return to the hut."
Helios faithfully followed the Cleric as he straightened up from the lakewater and headed back across the greens to his hut. The Prelucean was truly happy to see the Cleric again. The light creature had used to spend every day with the eccentric, embittered old man, but lately it had been unable to remain in the Virid Swamp for too long. Other Preluceans had been making the pilgrimage across the continent to southern Centralia, and they required assistance, otherwise they would be lost.
More and more Preluceans had been fleeing the west. The light creatures were closely attuned to the Anima Mundi—the life energy of the world, found in all living things—and were all able to sense the shift in its Balance. They knew that something bad was coming, and they were getting the hell out.
"So, did the old man tell you when exactly he was going to drop by?" Jerrod asked as he walked up to his hut's door, ducking to step inside. "If he's got some ultra-secret divine task for me, I want to know what it is; and the sooner, the better."
-How about you ask him yourself, right now-
Helios spoke right as Jerrod stepped completely into his hut. The Cleric took an automatic step towards his countertop, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the man who had appeared from nowhere and nothing, sitting at his table.
Sitting at the table was an old man who appeared to be in his late sixties or seventies. He was dressed in simple, worn blue robes, cinched around his waist with a black rope. The top of his head was shiny and bald, but he had thick gray-white hair around the fringes and down his neck in a gray mane that was slightly longer than shoulder length. His hair also extended down past his ears and into a full, somewhat bushy beard that covered his chin and everything else under his nose. He had somewhat craggy features, a lined face, and sharp, electric-blue eyes. His eyes seemed to gaze right through anything they looked at. They were intense eyes, but at the same time they had a slight twinkle in them. They were not cold eyes.
"It really is you…" Jerrod grunted, strolling over to the table and grabbing a chair, sitting down opposite the old man. "Helios wasn't lying after all. We have some talking to do."
"Faithful servant," Saradomin smiled, displaying his perfect white teeth, "I have a task for you."