Chapter Three: Family Reunion

Blue sky was the first thing Avis saw when he cracked open his eyelids. Blue sky with a few wisps of cirrus clouds, and a flock of what looked like gulls flying overhead.

The boy winced as he sat up, holding a hand over one side of his face. A splitting headache throbbed through his skull…it felt as if there were a hundred tiny hammers trying to pound their way out of his head. His eyes refocused and he found himself sitting on top of a large stone altar with a dark water drop engraved into its surface. The altar was located on the top of a hill, which was on an island…which was surrounded by ocean on all sides, as well as smaller islands.

Then Avis remembered. He was in the Water Temple, the place where mages came to instill the power of Water into runestones, the place where he had been brought by Jerrod to Awaken the Water inside of him…

"How do you feel?"

Avis whipped around at the sound of the voice. Jerrod was sitting on one of the toppled plinths that surrounded the altar. Avis wondered how long he had been waiting for him to wake up.

The boy gave a light grunt. "Like someone hit me over the head with a cudgel," he muttered, shaking his head slowly and pressing his temples, trying to alleviate the ache.

The Cleric gave a low chuckle. "I know that feeling," the older man smiled. "Of course, I get it from drinking too much mead, not from Awakening elemental energy that I do not have."

"What…what happened?" Avis swung his legs over the edge of the altar and took a deep breath, getting ready to walk.

Jerrod did not answer immediately. Instead, he pulled out a drinking flask and unstoppered it, pouring some water into the cup of his hands. He stood up, walked forward, and held the water out to Avis. "I want you to concentrate on this water," he said. "Try to feel its energy…and levitate it."

"Are you joking?" Avis raised an eyebrow at the Cleric.

"Am I laughing?"

Taking the Cleric's point, the boy gave a short sigh and did as he was told, gazing straight into the water in Jerrod's hands, trying to get it to rise up into the air.

The fact that the water didn't actually levitate really didn't matter, because Avis was too surprised at how easy it had been to take control of it…and then lose control of it. The water in Jerrod's hand started to boil for a split-second before suddenly exploding out in all directions. It didn't hit anything, though, because it almost instantly vaporized into steam.

Jerrod's eye twitched once as his scalded, blistered hands finally registered the searing pain dealt to them from the boiling water. Avis noticed the hands as well and nearly collapsed under an avalanche of apologies.

"Oh my God!" he cried, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm-"

"Will you just shut up, please?" the Cleric huffed in irritation. "I've dueled with demons and nightmares; you think I don't know how to treat a simple burn?"

Jerrod poured more water into his burned hands and closed his eyes, concentrating on something. As Avis watched, the water in the Cleric's hands started to glow a luminous blue, moving on its own accord and enveloping the Cleric's hands and fingers like gloves, its soft glow intensifying to a harsh cyan-white.

Then the light simply vanished and the water returned to its normal state, cascading off of Jerrod's hands. The Cleric held out his hand—which Avis saw was fully healed—and the falling water stopped in mid-air before it hit the ground. Mimicking the movements of Jerrod's hands, the water was compressed into a sphere, then drawn out into a long, shiny rope and eased back into the flask.

"Well, I'd say this whole thing worked…" Jerrod murmured, rubbing the palms of his hands together. "The elemental energy of Water inside of you that has been dormant all these years…it's been released…" the Cleric gave another low chuckle. "I've runecrafted a boy…"

"But I still have no control over Water…I'm no better off than I was before I had-"

The Cleric cut the boy off with a shrug. "Sure, you're a little rusty around the edges, but what did you expect? Do you really believe that there is a way to just instantaneously become a master at any skill? We took a shortcut, here, yes…but all you have is the raw power. You must still learn how to use it."

"Oh…" the boy still sounded disappointed. This meant a lot more training…and now he would be destroyed by the Cleric in sword training and Water… Air was the only element with which Avis could hold his own, and only because he had developed it for nearly ten years.

"Water does not seem to be your natural element, either…" Jerrod observed as Avis climbed down from the altar.

Avis frowned. The Cleric had mentioned that before, back when he had first asked Avis to demonstrate his power over Air, commenting how Air did not seem to be his natural element. "What do you mean?" the boy asked.

"Every mage has a natural element…an element that is in harmony with his or her soul…an element that actively responds to the mage," Jerrod explained. "Mine is Water. A fluid element…ever flowing and changing, capable of adapting to any situation, nearly impossible to capture… I've survived as long as I have mostly by adapting and, in many cases, evading."

"You? Running away?" Avis sounded highly skeptical.

"I am a man, Avis," Jerrod replied. "One of the most powerful mages you'll ever meet, perhaps…but still just a man. There are many things in this world that are beyond my ability to fight. Better to live to fight another day than to die needlessly by choosing pride over common sense. That's one weapon that can topple the most powerful of monsters: common sense."

Avis, who never always understood the full meaning behind Jerrod's cryptic words, simply shrugged and walked after the Cleric, who had started to descend the hill which the altar was on. Ignoring the throbbing ache in his skull, the boy remembered something he hadn't remembered a moment ago; he had been too focused on figuring out what had just happened. "So, you never did explain to me why I was able to get into this place without that talisman, or whatever it was."

"I didn't?" the Cleric sounded only somewhat surprised, as if it were some minor detail that had slipped his mind. "Well, it's all very simple, really. You're a Mahjarrat."

Avis blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. "What, now?"

"…and so, when Zamorak finally rebelled against Zaros, the Mahjarrat were divided in a massive civil war…"

Avis trudged alongside Jerrod, only half-listening to his explanation of the true nature and origins of the Mahjarrat warriors. Jerrod had taken him out of the Water Temple and back into the Virid Swamp, and they had since set off back towards the Cleric's cottage. He already knew what Mahjarrat were; back before they had joined Zaros, when they had been under the influence of Icthlarin, the desert God of the Dead, they had been well-known and equally feared by the Menaphite people. Farrah had taught him all about them; they had been called the Faceless Ones by the Menaphites, due to their shape-shifting abilities.

Due to his shapeshifting abilities… Avis shook his head again for the umpteenth time; how in all of creation could he be a Faceless One? In retrospect, it did explain the mysterious abnormalities in his life; using magic without runestones, living his whole life in the desert without losing his deathly pale skin, his ease at mastering Air as a child…oh, and the fact that he had fallen to earth in a freaking falling star. That was the biggie.

"How could I have lived my whole life without…without knowing?" the boy murmured, stepping over a particularly large tree root. "I mean…I just…I feel normal."

"Define normal," Jerrod countered. When Avis was unable to give an actual answer, the Cleric went on. "What you meant to say is that you feel human. Maybe you do, maybe you do not…regardless, you are what you are."

The boy mulled that over as he walked through the swamp with Jerrod. They went on for an hour or two, pushing through the vegetation, crossing lakes, heading back towards the cottage. Half the time he could never understand the meaning behind Jerrod's cryptic statements, and this was one of those times. Maybe he wasn't a human, but he certainly didn't feel like how he thought something as powerful as a Mahjarrat should feel.

Of course, the boy didn't think Jerrod was deliberately trying to confuse him; the Cleric simply wanted to stretch Avis's mindset in new directions. Rhetoric and logic were two of his most powerful tools. He had to understand how telling someone that they were actually a member of the most powerful race in all of Gielinor, save the Gods, would instantly be met with skepticism.

Avis did not reinitiate any conversation until the sun started to arc down from its noontime zenith, beginning the rule of afternoon. "Have you ever met a Faceless One?"

Jerrod, who was well aware of what Menaphites called Mahjarrat, nodded. "Yes, I've met a few, and in most cases it was in battle."

"You've won fights against Mahjarrat?" Avis could barely contain his surprise, but it was quickly stymied by an amused snort from Jerrod.

"Oh, Gods no," the Cleric guffawed. "Remember what I said about it being okay to run away in order to fight another day? I was mostly referring to the certain times in my life when I have clashed with Mahjarrat. I've…eluded them every time…but once you reach your full potential, you will be able to fight them on equal terms, should we ever run into any of them. You will be greater than I ever was…"

"What's going to happen to me, master?" Avis asked next. "I learn all the elements. I learn the Fifth Element. Then what? Am I just supposed to walk up to Zamorak's doorstep and ask him nicely to stop destroying the world?"

"Son, I have no idea what is in store for you," the Cleric sighed. "It will be a long while before you're ready to go up against anything…and I fear that by the time you have reached your full power, this world will be in a much more dire state. We are racing against the clock; we must stop Zamorak before he burns Centralia. If Centralia falls…all will be lost."

For one of the first times, Avis finally started to feel the immense pressure that Jerrod was under. The Cleric had to train him before Zamorak burned the world to a cinder…but at the same time, Jerrod could not rush things. Rushed training would hurt Avis, not help him. And then Avis began to feel the even more immense pressure that was pressing down on him. Jerrod had to train him, yes…but the Cleric wouldn't have to stop Zamorak. That was Avis's job. The fate of the world rested squarely on Avis's shoulders, and the boy wasn't sure if he could-

"Stop it," the Cleric suddenly ordered Avis, shaking the boy out of his reverie.

"Wha-?"

"I know what you were thinking about," Jerrod rolled his eyes. "The whole 'fate of the world resting on my shoulders' deal. Stop thinking about that right this minute, you hear?"

Avis decided to trust the Cleric and did his best to ignore those thoughts. Though he successfully cleared them from his mind, he could still feel them around the fringes of his consciousness…almost like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

"You have to take each day as it comes," Jerrod explained after a little while. "Conquer each challenge as it presents itself. I'm not saying 'don't think about the future'…but don't be ruled by the future. If you can't stop thinking about what lies ahead, you will never get anything done in the present."

Now, that was something the boy could make heads and tails of. After a little while, Avis found himself standing at the shore of the lake which Jerrod's island was located in. Jerrod stepped forward, raising his hands to create the path of ice which he used to cross the water…but at the last second he reconsidered and stepped back.

"I want you to try this," Jerrod said to Avis. "I want you to create an ice bridge."

"I…how would I even-"

"No, asking pointless questions is not how it is done," the Cleric remarked. "When you cast Air Magic…it is almost as if you can feel the wind, is it not? Almost as if the wind which you are manipulating is an extension of your arms and mind."

"I guess that's a good way of putting it…"

"I want you to focus on the water the same way you focus on the air…feel the element flowing through you…then seize it."

Avis was already most of the way there, having closed his eyes and cleared his mind before the Cleric finished his sentence. Ever since the ordeal at the Water altar, it was as if he had gained a new sense…or if not a new one, then it was as if he had discovered a whole new side of an old one. Growing up with Air had been a part of his life…that he could now feel Water in the same way was…exhilarating.

Following Jerrod's instruction, he pictured himself as the water of the lake. He imagined that his Anima Mundi was infused in the water, that he was the water…and then he pictured a great swathe of ice freezing the surface, just wide enough to comfortably walk on.

Nothing actually happened, but Avis could feel something tugging inside of him…his inner elemental energy was responding to his summons, there was no doubt…it just wasn't actually emerging yet…

Avis tried harder, focusing only on turning that stubborn water to ice. That tugging sensation grew stronger and stronger. Though he barely noticed that he was doing it, he raised his arms into the air, stepped forward, and brought his arms sweeping back down in a single gesture.

That tugging sensation seemed to snap, and the newly-Awakened Water energy inside of the boy exploded into reality. Avis was thrown back several feet by the force of the sudden energy displacement, landing flat on his back.

When the boy slowly pushed himself back up to his feet, the first thing he noticed was Jerrod's expression. It wasn't over-the-top, or anything; simply two raised eyebrows and a slightly open mouth—in short, the most surprised Avis had ever seen the man.

"Well…uh…you still need to work on it a lot…but I'd say you got the gist…" the Cleric murmured.

Avis gasped when he surveyed his handiwork. He had frozen water into ice, alright…half the water in the entire lake. There was no ice bridge; simply a lake of ice to walk across. "I did that?"

"Still don't feel like a Mahjarrat, boy?" Jerrod quipped, stepping out onto the ice and heading towards the island in the center of the lake. "This is but a small taste of what your kind can do…imagine if such power was used for pure destruction. That's what awaits this world if Zamorak ever gets ahold of you…"

Avis stared at the ice he now treaded upon, still scarcely able to believe he had caused all of that. Already, parts of it were beginning to melt, but it would be a long while before all of the ice went away. As he considered the true extent of what his powers could develop into, the boy realized just how close of a call Gielinor had had when he had escaped Ullek. He had been shot through with an arrow; helpless…he had come within a hairsbreadth of capture by Zamorackian forces. Had the Cleric not been there to get him out, Avis would be in a much worse situation right now.

"Before we retire for the evening," Jerrod ducked into the cottage, returning with the two shortswords which he and Avis used for sparring. "I shall see how well you have mastered the backhanded-"

The Cleric suddenly tensed, stopping mid-speech. He tightened his grip on his elemental staff, quickly buckling the two shortswords to his waist.

"What is it?" Avis barely managed to ask before Jerrod silenced him with a harsh glare.

"Something's breached my perimeter wards…" the Cleric murmured. "Something powerful…I-"

The Cleric did not have a chance to say anything more, for at that very moment his cottage suddenly exploded in a great roar of flame. Jerrod and Avis were hurled to the ground by the force of the explosion.

Avis rolled onto his back and tried to get to his feet, but the earth suddenly heaved and enveloped his arms and legs, pinning him into the ground. "Wha-?"

Jerrod swore loudly and tried to get up, but a shape rushed right at him through the air. He caught only a flash of red clothing and green eyes before the object—which turned out to be a fist—connected with his jaw, sending him flying back into a tree.

The Cleric hit the tree with a pained grunt, sliding down to the ground, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. In a flash, a knee was pressed against his chest and a knife held to his throat. The Cleric gazed into the beautiful, flawless face of the hooded woman who had struck him. Her green eyes and perfect features were painfully familiar to the older man.

"Enakhra," Jerrod gave a crooked smile, spitting out a glob of blood off to the side. "Good to see you again."

"And you as well, Jerrod Lightbringer…" the woman grinned, but it was a cold smile…one that did not reach her eyes. "It's been too long."

"I keep telling you; a simple 'hello' will suffice," the Cleric rasped. "No need for the fists in my face."

"Just in case you get it in that slippery mind of yours to try to run away again…To be truthful, I am not here for you, although ending you will certainly be a perk," Enakhra leered. "I have come for the child."

"Master!" Avis was calling from where he was pinned to the ground. "Help me!"

"I'm a little stuck over here, if you haven't noticed already!" Jerrod shouted back, his gaze flitting down to the knife held on his throat for a moment. "Concentrate, boy! Concentrate and-"

Enakhra drove her other fist into the side of Jerrod's face, cutting the Cleric off mid-sentence. "Lesson is over, I'm afraid," the she-Mahjarrat smiled. "The boy has a new master, now."

Suddenly, there was a muffled explosion somewhere behind Enakhra. A geyser of water jetted several hundred feet into the air, and Jerrod could see Avis's figure flailing at the very top. The tower of water quickly collapsed in on itself, splashing back to the ground. Avis was left hanging in the air with nothing to hold him up but flapping arms. As he fell, however, he called upon the much more familiar element of Air, cushioning his fall with a concentrated blast of wind aimed at the ground.

The boy staggered to his feet, swaying in place as if he were at sea. "Leave him alone," he ordered the she-Mahjarrat.

Enakhra's malicious grin widened. "The apprentice tries to protect the master...how touching. Do you really think you stand a chance against me?"

Avis said nothing. To be honest, he knew that he did not...but he held his ground nonetheless.

"Tell you what," the hooded woman purred. "If you come with me peacefully, I'll spare the old man's life."

"Old man?" Jerrod huffed indignantly. "I'm not even sixty years old yet; where do you get off calling me an old-"

"Silence," Enakhra pressed the blade deeper into Jerrod's throat, drawing a faint drop of blood. She turned back to face Avis. "What's it going to be, hm? Give yourself up and your master lives. Fight me, and I will capture you and take you north by force, and then, for good measure, I'll kill your master for sport."

"Don't do it, boy!" Jerrod barked at his apprentice. "Don't you dare give yourself over! You do that, and what happened to your home will happen all over the world!"

In his mind's eye, Avis could see the burning, ruined wreckage that had once been the great, wondrous city of Ullek, the epicenter of Menaphite culture. Such a beautiful place, such a culturally rich place...leveled. Destroyed. Gone. Avis knew that that had to never happen again...and if he gave himself over to Zamorak, then that destruction would happen again, on a global scale.

"Do you trust me, boy?" Jerrod asked in between coughs and rasps. "Do you trust me?"

"You know that I do," Avis replied.

"Enough!" Enakhra snapped, her composure slipping. "My patience wears thin. What is it to be, child?"

"This," Avis stamped the ground with one foot, punching the air with both fists. Twin blasts of wind arced through the air and slammed head-on into Enakhra. The she-Mahjarrat was thrown off of her feet, but she executed a perfect flip as she flew through the air and landed back on her feet.

"Wrong choice," she whispered. Enakhra raised her arms, taking a deep breath. She flipped forward and sprinted right towards Avis, moving faster than an eagle in full flight. Avis barely had time to sidestep her. She spun around and lashed out, punching towards Avis's head. The boy ducked as a whip of flame sliced through the air where he had been standing. Enakhra struck again and was met with a tad bit more success; Avis got nicked on his right shoulder.

The boy ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and started to fight back. He was no match for Enakhra; the she-Mahjarrat was simply too strong. What he could do, however, was evade. Using every ounce of wind he could muster, the boy ducked punches and strikes, leaped over bursts of flame, and blocked frontal attacks. Though he seemed to be holding his own, Avis knew that he was doomed. All he was doing was staving off the inevitable; eventually Enakhra would score a hit, and that would be that.

Avis's luck finally ran out when, after trying and failing to immobilize Enakhra with a wind shell, he landed on his feet and tried to jump back into the air. Before he could do so, however, Enakhra struck once more.

A powerful fist of wind slammed into Avis's chest, throwing the boy back into another tree. Before he could recover, Enakhra stepped forward and, with a powerful gesture, stamped the ground. The earth under Avis bubbled, softened, and became like quicksand. The boy sank in up to his knees before the earth suddenly hardened once more, locking him in.

The boy grunted, struggling to free himself. It was no use; the earth was unyielding, and his wind was unable to break it. Had he been able to cast Earth Magic, he could have freed himself…but, as it was, he didn't know Earth Magic. Tough break.

Enakhra clenched her hand in a fist, as if she were gripping someone's neck, and Avis jerked up against the tree as the air coalesced around him. The boy was immobilized by the grip of the air. It was a powerful wind spell—Avis had even managed to defeat Jerrod in a sparring match with it. Now it was being used against him.

Enakhra sidled up to the boy, kneeling before him and pushing his jet black hair out of his eyes. "You made the wrong choice," she sighed. "Truthfully, I must laud your unwillingness to surrender…that you would rather fight than go quietly. You are a true Mahjarrat. But I'm afraid what awaits you is going to be rather painful. And seeing as you have attempted to harm me, I am going to have to-"

The she-Mahjarrat gave a startled cry of pain as she was unexpectedly struck in the head by a stone, thrown from behind. Enakhra's green eyes flashed crimson for a second and her mouth hardened into a line. "Excuse me for a moment," she said to Avis, flashing him a forced smile, and rose back to her feet.

Jerrod, bloodied and bruised, stood—leaning heavily on his staff—several yards away from the tree which Enakhra had hurled him into, right near the clump of spiritweed flowers. His hand was now empty, the stone that had been in it having already been thrown. "Leave the kid alone, Enakhra," he growled.

An innocent eyebrow slid up Enakhra's forehead. "Leave him alone? I could ask you to do the same thing, Lightbringer, you and that weakling God of yours. I have more right than anyone else to do what I see fit with him."

"You forfeited that right a long time ago," Jerrod countered.

"Irrelevant," Enakhra hissed, clenching her fists. Small tongues of flame flared from her knuckles as she walked forward, raised her fist, and struck Jerrod full in the chest once again. The Cleric went flying back, landing on the ground with a pained oof.

"Mm…that was strange…" Enakhra murmured, as if she were examining what had just happened. "You didn't even try to evade that blow…most unlike you, from what I have learned on our previous encounters."

"Indeed," Jerrod rasped, strugging back to his feet. He did not take an offensive stance, however. Instead, he closed his eyes, pointed one of his hands at the ground Enakhra was standing on, and spoke five powerful, booming words that could not be understood. They were felt more than they were heard.

There was a sudden blaze of light that forced everyone to avert their eyes. When Jerrod looked back, he relaxed—his ploy had worked. Enakhra was standing in the middle of a large, intricate symbol that had been etched into the ground. It had been invisible a moment before, but when Jerrod had spoken those commands it had come blazing to life.

"Enochian sigils, Jerrod?" Enakhra commented. She stepped up to the edge of the inner circle in which she was imprisoned and tried to step out, but the sigil flashed brightly, forcing the she-Mahjarrat back. "Not bad…not bad at all…" she murmured under her breath before turning back to face Jerrod. Her cold smile returned, and she said, "You haven't won, Lightbringer; you have only delayed the inevitable. We will cross paths again."

"Well, until that time comes," Jerrod hobbled over to the tree where Avis was trapped up to his knees in earth. "Give my regards to your master." The Cleric laid a hand on Avis's shoulder and closed his eyes as he settled into deep concentration. As Enakhra watched, a flash of indigo light enveloped master and apprentice, and they vanished.

Having nothing else to do, the she-Mahjarrat sat down and waited. She was patient, and help was already on the way. She vowed to herself that next time the Cleric would not be so lucky.

Jerrod and Avis materialized at the top of a grassy hill. The only thing that broke the monotony of the hillscape was a wide dirt road winding around the hills into the distance. That road was where Jerrod now headed, gesturing for Avis to follow him. "This road leads to Aeriose, the Centralian city built on the River Lum. We'll reach it by nightfall and tend to ourselves tonight. You think you can make it?"

"I…I think so," the boy nodded, wincing as he accidentally brushed his burned shoulder. He looked up at the Cleric, his curiosity threatening to eat him from the inside out. There were a million questions he was aching to ask, but the one he ultimately chose to ask was, "Who...who was that? How did you know her? Why is she after us?"

"That, Avis-" Jerrod locked eyes with his apprentice, the corners of his mouth curving in a mirthless grin. "-was your mother."