Act II: Night
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Fourth Element
"My latest attempt was successful, my lord," the misty, hazy apparition of the woman in the red cloak spoke.
The one whom she was addressing shifted in his throne, still rather deep in thought. The campaigns had been going very well for him, so far, and this latest news was simply icing on the proverbial cake. He gave a single nod to the woman's specter. "You have done well. Finish the Awakening process, then take him to the Island. You, Zemouregal, and Kharshai will be responsible for completing his training, as well as his mind. Remind him of who he truly is."
"Kharshai, my lord?" the woman seemed to frown. "Is that wise? I can never tell-"
"Are you questioning me?" the shadowy figure on the throne's voice grew deadly quiet.
"No, my lord," the woman's apparition stepped back, averting her eyes.
"I am aware of your opinion of Kharshai. I myself have a hard time seeing his motives… We can better keep an eye on him, as well, if he is on the Island with you," the figure on the throne explained himself, fully aware of the fact that he did not need to. The woman would obey him without question regardless. "Now leave me."
With that, the apparition of the woman in the red cloak vanished, leaving the throne room empty once more, save the throne's occupant.
The shadowy figure did not move very much, nor did he give any great, outward reaction to the news he had just received. Instead, he steepled his fingers and allowed himself a faint, ghost of a grin, returning once more to his deep thoughts.
"Your move, Saradomin."
Enakhra severed the connection with her master, taking a moment to get her bearings back. Long-range projection always left her somewhat disoriented for a minute or so, but it was nothing she couldn't deal with.
She had been expecting to be in an extremely good mood—her mission was finally a success, her son was finally in her care once more, after being lost for forty long years…but she had a hard time smiling. She had just been informed that she was going to have to spend the next who-knew-how-many months with one of the people she trusted the least, and one of the people she hated the most. Staying on the Island with Kharshai and Zemouregal was not what she would consider an ideal vacation.
Right now, the two Mahjarrat were somewhere on the western shore of the River Salve, having teleported away from a Centralian ambush. Using the waters of the river, Enakhra had removed the two arrows from her arm and shoulder, healing the wounds. Her son lay on the ground in front of Zemouregal, who was sitting on the trunk of a dead, fallen tree. The Mahjarrat was still looking at her, obviously wanting answers.
"Well?" he asked. "What does the boss say?"
"We're taking him to the Fire Temple," Enakhra replied. She turned around and walked over to where Zemouregal was sitting, crouching down next to her son. She grasped the Mahjarrat youngling by the underarms and dragged him over to the fallen tree, propping him against it so that he was sitting up. "Zamorak wants us to complete his Awakening."
"He wants you and me to go on a trip together, you mean," Zemouregal grinned.
Enakhra's expression did not change. "He wants us to finish my son's Awakening," she repeated herself.
"Us. Together."
That old, familiar anger flared up deep inside Enakhra, but she quickly suppressed it. Instead, she gave her counterpart a smile—something which usually never happened. "And once we're finished Awakening him, we are to take him to the Island. Just the two of us, teaching the boy to hate like a true Mahjarrat. You like the sound of that?"
"Sounds like family," Zemouregal was smiling on the outside, though on the inside he was hesitating. After all the years of toying with Enakhra's dislike for him, he knew that whenever she started reciprocating…she was likely toying with him right back. And it bothered him slightly that he could not figure out her angle. So instead, he focused on the here and now, arching an eyebrow as he watched Enakhra sit her son up against his tree. "What are you doing with him?"
"We will have to revive him for the Awakening," Enakhra explained. "We do not want him running off on us, now, do we?"
"That would be counterproductive."
Enakhra started muttering under her breath, chanting in the ancient, nearly-forgotten language of Freneskae—the realm from whence the Mahjarrat had first come to Gielinor, brought to the desert by Icthlarin. She pulled out her knife and held it up. As she continued to chant, the knife rose into the air of its own accord and floated over to Avis's throat, where it started to draw tiny runes in a circle around his neck.
The dagger was slow and methodical, working its way across the boy's throat, around the nape of his neck, and back to the front, etching runes into his flesh like a quill scrawling around a circle of parchment. The knifepoint penetrated deep enough to draw blood, but the wounds did not actually bleed—when Enakhra's spell was finished, it looked as if someone had written around Avis's neck in red ink. They would never get infected, but they would also never heal; not unless the spell was broken or removed.
Once she was finished, Enakhra sheathed her knife and let Avis fall back against the tree.
"Is that what I think it is?" Zemouregal nodded to the band of writing around the Mahjarrat youngling's neck. "Did you just Collar him?"
"We used all the venom on that arrow; until we get more, Blood magic will have to suffice," the she-Mahjarrat explained. "We're fortunate at least one of us has an ounce of intelligence."
"Don't be so hard on yourself; I think you're plenty smart, too!"
Enakhra took a deep breath, slowly counting to five in her mind. She gathered her son up into her arms and, without another word, concentrated upon her next destination and tapped into the magical energy flowing through her body and soul. She experienced the brief, disorienting feeling of being sucked through a howling vortex as the world was washed out by a bright flare of indigo light.
When the light subsided, the first thing the she-Mahjarrat felt was the heat. Gradually, as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she got her bearings. Sand dunes stretched into the horizon in all directions, dotted with cactus plants. Up ahead, however, the monotony was broken by a cluster of giant boulders. And in the centre of the rock formations…a cracked, circular stone structure, with a deep red energy glowing from within.
There was another flash of indigo light behind Enakhra as Zemouregal followed her into the desert.
"Someone's in a bit of a hurry…" the Mahjarrat remarked.
Don't answer him, Enakhra thought to herself as she started heading towards the Fire Temple. Don't answer him, or he'll end up dead…
The two Mahjarrat reached the Fire Temple. As they neared the glowing dolmen, the world seemed to warp, as if they were walking into a tunnel through space. Enakhra hated entering the elemental temples—it always gave her headaches. The Mahjarrat finally emerged through the warping space of the temple entrance into the temple itself.
The Fire Altar was located at the top of a small, barren hill. There was no grass, and all of the trees on it were dead and charred. The entire area was made up of hills similar to these, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Rivers of lava flowed between these hills, effectively turning them into islands, and the Fire Altar hill was no exception.
Enakhra walked to the top of the hill and laid her son down on top of the altar. Zemouregal touched Avis on the forehead and muttered something under his breath. The boy reacted to whatever he said, mumbled something unintelligble, his eyelids fluttering. The Mahjarrat rolled his eyes and opted for a somewhat cruder method—he slapped the boy across both cheeks. "Time to wake up, prophecy-boy."
Avis woke with a start, springing into a sitting-up position, his heart pounding. He looked around wildly, trying and failing to figure out where he was. The first thing he felt was a slight stinging sensation around his neck, and then the intense heat of the lava-filled environment. He then saw the two Mahjarrat who had brought him here…and the memories all came rushing back.
The forest. The rain. The blood staining the front of his mentor's robes.
A terrible rage tore through Avis, and he leaped off the altar, sprinting straight at Zemouregal…only to feel a horrible, burning sensation in his throat that suddenly stopped him from moving forward. His legs swept out from under him and he fell to the ground, clutching at his throat. It felt like someone had lassoed him with a rope of fire, but he could not feel anything constricting around his neck.
"Avis, this is no way to behave yourself," Enakhra tsked. "Please get back onto the Fire Altar; we are going to Awaken you to the Fourth Element."
Avis got back to his feet, but made no move toward the altar. "Did you kill him?"
Enakhra's smile was a frozen one. "I will not ask you again."
"Did. You. Kill. Him?" the Mahjarrat youngling repeated himself, still not moving an inch.
Finally losing patience, Enakhra held out a hand and clenched it into a fist, drawing upon the energy of the spell she had placed on her son. Avis's breath was cut off as he was suddenly lifted off the ground by the spell around his neck, his legs kicking uselessly in the air, much to Zemouregal's amusement. Enakhra brought Avis back over the Fire Altar, setting him back down on top, allowing him to breathe once again.
Avis glared at Zemouregal, who was leaning against one of the stone pillars, laughing to his heart's content. "Something funny?" he growled.
"Why, now that you mention it, yes," Zemouregal grinned, his crimson eyes flashing for a moment. "Your mother put a Collar spell on you. It is something we put on infants until they reach adolescence. Basically, it is our equivalent of a pacifier. You…you, my boy…you are wearing a Mahjarrat pacifier," the Mahjarrat had to struggle to get the last part of his sentence out—his laughter was only getting louder.
"Not helping, Zemouregal. Not helping," Enakhra sighed. She snapped her fingers several times, getting her son's attention. "Avis, Avis, dear… You may not believe me, but I actually do not enjoy causing you pain. Please, do us all a favor, and concentrate on mingling your energies with those of the altar."
Avis responded by spitting at her feet.
"Oh, enough of this," Zemouregal yawned, straightening up from the pillar he had been leaning against, baring his arms. "If he will not cooperate, we'll draw out his energy ourselves. Hold him still, will you?"
Enakhra stepped up to the edge of the altar. "Last chance, child." When Avis made no move to obey her commands, she gave a quiet sigh, invoking the Collar spell once more. "Have it your way, then."
Avis nearly choked when the band of writing carved into his neck constricted on him. He cringed, feeling the presence of another against his mind. He knew it was Zemouregal. He started to feel the strangest thing… He could feel the vast, seemingly limitless elemental energy within the altar simmering underneath him. But now the energy within him was becoming agitated. Almost as if his heartbeat was quickening, but it was his energy that was being affected, not his blood.
Avis tried to fight it, but Zemouregal's presence was too strong. Bit by bit, the older Mahjarrat was able to manipulate the elemental energy of the Altar into mingling with Avis's dormant energy, which sparked it like lowering a torch to a tray of gunpowder, bringing it blazing to life. Avis did not revert to his true form, this time, nor did he feel any pain like he had in the Water and Earth Temples.
A vortex of fiery red energy engulfed the altar, and Avis rose several feet into the air, at the heart of the maelstrom. Blistering heat started pulsing out from the altar, forcing the Mahjarrat to shield themselves. The light of the energy grew brighter and brighter until it was nearly impossible to look at. Finally, a critical point was reached, and the light subsided, the altar becoming dormant once more. The whole thing had taken two minutes, at most.
Avis took several deep breaths as he dropped back down onto the altar, rubbing at his neck tenderly. He did not know what exactly this 'Collar Spell' for Mahjarrat infants was, but he was already hating it with a passion. He held out his hand and, to his surprise, was able to conjure a mote of flame without even having to really think about it. He twirled it around his fingers, watching it with fascination. Jerrod seemed to have been right when he'd said that Fire was Avis's natural element.
Jerrod…
Avis's fascination with the Fire faded away, and he let the flame dissipate. He looked up at his mother, but this time there was no surge of hatred, no flaring anger. No kind of fire burning within him. All he could see was his mentor, bleeding out with an arrow in his chest. The last thing he had seen before losing consciousness was Jerrod's mournful gaze, and it really started to hit home for him, right then, that he would likely never see the old grouch again.
It just… Jerrod being dead, it just…seemed so very unreal. Unbelievable. But now Avis was beginning to believe.
Avis's previous defiance, his will to resist, crumbled as he released the Fire. He was fully Awakened, now. The power of the four elements was at his disposal… And although he hadn't the slightest idea how, he would now be able to invoke the Fifth Element.
Now that he was in Zamorak's clutches, he knew that he was perfectly capable of acting as the Dark God's weapon. He knew that Zamorak would not kill him at this point…but also, that he would never give up until Avis's mind was his. And this made the boy feel numb; for what chance would a child have against a God? Sure, he could fight the good fight for a short while…but in the end, the Dark God would get what he wanted.
Enakhra shifted uncomfortably, finding herself wishing that her son would continue to yell and fight. She did not know what to make of his silence. She shook her head once and turned away from the altar, walking towards the exit portal. "We're done here," she said.
The three Mahjarrat stepped through the exit portal, returning to the Fire Temple's entrance, back in the Kharidian Desert. Enakhra brought her son over to her and held him by the arm so that she could teleport him with her. They remained in the desert for less than a minute before teleporting away once again.
The haze of indigo light vanished once more, and Enakhra found herself standing in front of a small stone temple. The land they had arrived in was filled with shadow and a permanent veil of smoky haze hung in the sky. Even in the middle of the day, this land still had the appearance of deepest night. The only reason the area around the temple was illuminated was because it was surrounded by a natural moat of lava, which Enakhra would later enchant with teleportation-blocking spells.
Avis allowed himself to be taken into the temple. Enakhra and Zemouregal brought him up a flight of stairs and into a small, dimly-lit room with what Avis believed to be a Chaos altar, where Zamorackians were able to pray. The she-Mahjarrat nudged her son into the room, remaining outside.
"This is one of my master's temples," she explained. "There is no escape from this island. You will not be able to leave this temple, or this room, unless we allow it. You will not be able to make any form of contact with anyone who is not on this island, unless we allow it, which we won't. Your time here will not end until my master wishes it to end… If you pray to him, if you genuinely pray to him at this altar, he will hear you. And by then, you will be ready. Put your faith in Zamorak, child…he is your only hope, now."
And with that, Enakhra closed the door. Before walking away, she unsheathed her knife and brought the blade across her palm, drawing blood. She then placed her hand on the door and quickly drew a sigil, which would prevent Avis from even touching it, let alone opening it. After healing the cut on her palm, then she walked away.
"That was a nice speech," Zemouregal remarked as they headed back down the stairs. "Did you rehearse that?"
"No."
"Really? Because it sounded like you rehearsed-"
"No."
Zemouregal gave a nonchalant shrug, stepping down the last few steps into the Chaos Temple's main chamber, only to stop dead in his tracks. The temple's entrance was open, and standing in the doorway was a tall, muscular man with yellow-blonde hair and a fully-grown, forked beard. He was shirtless, wearing pants made of a greenish cloth, thick boots, and long gloves that reached up to his elbows.
He also had crimson eyes.
"Kharshai," Zemouregal gave a forced smile. "What an…unpleasant surprise…"
"Surprise?" Kharshai arched an eyebrow, stepping into the temple. The doors closed behind him on their own. "I was under the impression that Zamorak had informed you of my presence here."
Enakhra touched her forehead in mock frustration. "Oh, how forgetful of me!" she exclaimed sheepishly, turning to Zemouregal. "Did I not mention that Kharshai was going to be joining us for the duration of the child's time on the Island?"
"No, Enakhra. No, you did not," Zemouregal's scowl, in that moment, was worth all the gold in Uzer to the she-Mahjarrat. It then occurred to Enakhra that that she could not exactly use that saying, anymore, seeing as Uzer was now nothing more than a pile of rubble.
As Zemouregal stalked off, muttering something under his breath about 'third wheels', Enakhra started heading back to the staircase. There was a fireplace upstairs that she could light—she felt like sitting down. "Do make yourself at home, my friend," she said to Kharshai as she walked up the stairs. "We have a long wait ahead of us."