Enakhra was the first to spot the Menaphites. They moved like a low black cloud against the blinding desert sand. She couldn't tell exactly how many, but there must have been hundreds. They didn't bother to disguise themselves, either. The only reason that Enakhra was the first to spot them was because she happened to look their way first.

It wasn't long before others noticed. A low cry of war went up amongst the demons. Zemouregal snarled and clenched his fists, but she noticed a manic grin beginning to spread over his face.

She was surprised by this. She had remembered the Menaphites to be a broken people, driven into hiding by the death of their god and the madness of another. She assumed that they had been swallowed up by other, more powerful armies, backed by their own gods. She felt a twinge of respect as she saw them now.

Abbagoth finally held up one, massive hand, and growled loud enough that the whole company heard it. He turned to face the demons who marched behind him in what was close enough to formation.

"The Menaphites believe they have found a weak arm of Zamorak," he said, his voice full of scorn. There were rumblings among the demons that threatened to swell into a premature cheer, but Abbagoth forestalled it with a gesture.

"On the contrary," he continued. "They attack us now because they are weak. They hunt for the dregs of their enemies because that is all they can handle. Well, my comrades…" Abbagoth spread his arms wide. "They are in for a very big surprise."

The demons began to cheer, and this time Abbagoth let it continue. Enakhra had to hand it to the demon; he knew his soldiers. Even she began to feel a pang of deep-seated pride in the company she now found herself in, and she had only just joined it.

She turned to Palkeera, who stood stock still, staring at the horizon. The cloud of Menaphites had swelled as they began to fan out into battle formation. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. "Stay behind me," Enakhra said quickly, hoping to dispense what advice she could get through her companion's skull. "Don't allow yourself to get surrounded. If you must fight-"

"Yes," Palkeera said, deep in thought.

Enakhra frowned. "You heard me, yes?"

The other Mahjarrat turned to Enakhra. "This isn't the first time I've been in a fight, Enakhra," she said, smiling weakly.

"I suppose not," Enakhra answered cautiously.

She was startled when she felt Zemouregal move behind her and slap her on the back. "You," he said. "I'll be watching you."

Enakhra gave him a simpering smile. "Oh, so that's what it is," she said. "I thought you just fought so badly on your own."

He glared at her, but didn't respond as he moved to consult with Abbagoth.

As the Menaphites drew closer, she could feel the fire stirring within her. Oh, yes. She hadn't done this for far too long. The magic pumped like blood through her.

They were close now. Enakhra could make out individual banners and even the faces of soldiers, some terrified, some resolute, some filled with hatred. Their banners sported a jackal's face.

The demons drew together beside her, automatically correcting errors in their formation as if by mutual consensus. Abbagoth drew his weapon, a long-handled battle axe that looked forged from bone. Enakhra and Zemouregal readied their magic.

And Palkeera…

Palkeera?

Enakhra whirled around to see the empty space where her companion used to be just as the Menaphite line crashed into them.

In an instant, all was chaos. The demons leapt into battle with their signature fury, and tore into the humans as easily as if they were already dead. There were cries of pain all around before the humans rallied and began an attack of their own.

Distracted, her mind still taken by Palkeera's absence, Enakhra began to burn her way into the humans. Dozens fell before her, and the fog around her mind began to lift. This was more like it.

She waded further into the sea of enemies. Her eyes scanned their formations, and quickly she picked out who was important, who the others rallied behind, and made to destroy them. Even millennia alone didn't dim this instinct of hers, her birthright as a Mahjarrat and a follower of Zamorak.

She joined Zemouregal in the center of the melee. The other Mahjarrat, much to her chagrin, seemed to be doing much better even than her. Already what must be a hundred enemies lay smoking around him, and a legion of skeletal followers had sprung up to join him.

"Where's Palkeera?" she asked him as she assumed position beside him, and began to blast more humans.

"What? Who?" Zemouregal grumbled. "I'm sort of busy right now, you imagine."

"Oh, you don't need to pay full attention to the battle," she said. "Just help me."

That was the right thing to say. Zemouregal never passed up a chance to preen, even if he had to help Enakhra to do it. He paused. "Well," he said. "I can keep an eye out."

Enakhra nodded, and burned a man trying to stick a spear in her side. A demon, with a dagger protruding from its back and more animal than not at this point, rushed into the hole in the Menaphite ranks. There were screams, echoing even above the din of the battlefield.

The bone guard, for its part, had not lost any of its edge from the millennia in the pyramid. It seized the leg of a soldier trying to sneak up on Enakhra and dragged her to the ground. Enakhra turned and finished the job.

She observed the battle. Their side was gaining ground. Evidently, as Abbagoth had said, the Menaphites had underestimated their prey.

Still, to their credit, the Menaphites fought on with fury to match their enemies'. Some, however, must have noticed that it was a losing battle, for several soldiers were breaking away from the main body and fleeing into the desert.

She observed them with satisfaction. The desert was not kind to deserters.

She heard Abbagoth's roar above the noise. "They are weakening!" The demons started to frenzy again. The Menaphites, sensing which way the wind blew, began to retreat.

Demons, however, were not much for mercy. And neither were Mahjarrat.

In the end, only a few, wounded stragglers managed to limp away, their purple and gold uniforms in tatters, hounded by the most zealous of the demons. Enakhra counted their numbers in dozens. Grimly, she smiled. The Menaphites would not take Zamorakians lightly again anytime soon.

Abbagoth raised a hand again, and the demons that had followed the survivors paused, and began to lope back towards the company. Calmly, he surveyed his remaining forces.

It was… not bad, all things considered. Demon corpses littered the ground, but many still remained, much more than the humans left with. Apparently, the humans had not accounted for something, whether it was the ferocity of Abbagoth's forces or their numbers.

Or, Enakhra thought with a smirk, the Mahjarrat.

Then she frowned. Palkeera. What had happened to her? Where was she?

Then, her question was answered.

The demons seemed to part, and Palkeera, covered in blood, made her way towards Enakhra, grinning fiercely. She hefted a detached demon horn like a dagger, gripping it like a vice. Enakhra wondered for one stunned instant whether or not she had actually used it as a dagger.

"Well," she said, and smiled almost shyly. "I rather missed this."

…

"We cannot continue like this," Abbagoth said.

Night had fallen over the company. Most of the demons slept, passed out in the warm afterglow of victorious battle, except for those tasked as sentries. The Mahjarrat and Abbagoth sat in a circle, talking in hushed voices.

"What do you mean?" Zemouregal demanded. "We were glorious out there. The Menaphites never knew what hit them. They will speak of Zamorak's might to all who would hear."

Enakhra shook her head. "Maybe. But this is dangerous territory. If the Menaphites continue to harass us, it would not be long before we are ground down to nothing."

Zemouregal growled, but did not argue the point. Abbagoth continued. "Despite our recent… advantage," he said, nodding at Enakhra and Palkeera, who sat hunched in a daze as if surprised, "If we hope to reach Silvarea in any condition worthy of joining our Lord in battle, we must… take steps to insure our security."

Enakhra frowned. "What steps?" She didn't want to admit it, but some secret, bloodthirsty part of her agreed with Zemouregal, even as she spoke against him. She liked the feeling of turning the tide of battle, of putting fear into the hearts of Zamorak's enemies as only one of her people could. Her more rational side, however, knew Abbagoth was right.

To Enakhra's surprise, she felt movement beside her as Palkeera got to her feet. Instantly, she drew the glances of Zemouregal and Abbagoth. Her participation in the battle had become something of a legend amongst the demons, who had assumed (as Enakhra had) that the other Mahjarrat would be rather useless.

"I have an idea," she began. She hesitated. Whatever fever had come over her during the battle had not abated. Her face was flush with victory in much the same way as a novice demon who had taken on their first enemy.

"We take the fight to them," she said finally. A moment of silence passed, and then Zemouregal started to laugh.

Enakhra had counted Zemouregal's laugh high amongst the things she had not missed during her time in the pyramid, and she could see (well, hear) that it had not changed much. Palkeera winced.

"Right," he said. "We'll just stop and destroy Sophanem on our way north. Hell, throw in Menaphos, too. Just a quick stop, burn two the greatest cities in the world to the ground with a few hundred demons so our trip will be less troublesome."

"It's nice to know you have the time to laugh at her now, Zemouregal," Enakhra snapped. "It's hard to come up with jokes when she's fighting at your back."

Zemouregal scowled, and Palkeera shot a grateful glance at Enakhra, but Enakhra wouldn't meet her eyes.

Abbagoth frowned. "What do you mean, Palkeera?" he asked. His tone was gentler, but still contained an edge of incredulity.

"Well," she said. "That was a large force to travel for too far through the desert without supplies. Humans are weaker than demons. They need more food and water than demons, so they can't go too far without replenishing. So, it's reasonable to expect that there is a camp of some sort not too far from here."

Abbagoth was nodding. "And we attack it now, giving us some breathing room down the line," he said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Palkeera said.

"Wait," Zemouregal said, holding out his hands. "Wait a minute. Even if we find this camp – even if there is a camp – there will probably be thousands of Menaphites there. They would have the distinct advantage in a fight. And, weren't we just talking about preserving our strength?"

"Funny that you're afraid now, isn't it, Zemouregal?" Enakhra leered.

Zemouregal glared, not just at her but at the world in general. "I am not afraid," he said. "We must consider this rationally."

Enakhra snorted, but Abbagoth said, "Zemouregal is right. An attack like that would be… risky. We need as many soldiers as we can."

"I understand that, sir," Palkeera said. "That's why I'm not suggesting you attack it. I'm suggesting we attack it."

Silence fell over the group. Zemouregal made to say something, but Abbagoth cut him off. "The Mahjarrat, you mean."

Palkeera nodded. "A small attack, with the advantage of surprise, might work better than an all-out assault ever could."

Enakhra smiled slightly. She had not expected this from Palkeera, but she rather liked it.

Abbagoth seemed to be pleased, as well. "Very well. Tomorrow, I will continue north with the rest of the company. Enakhra and Zemouregal will track the Menaphite camp."

"I would request to be a part of the attack, sir," Palkeera said instantly.

"No offense, Palkeera," Enakhra said, "but that's kind of why we're in this situation."

The other Mahjarrat flushed, and her hands instinctively went to her stomach. She had to know it was true. Enakhra suspected that it was the battle-heat that was causing her new-found bravery, especially when she was with child, but she respected it all the same.

Such it was that, despite her words, she was mildly pleased despite herself when Abbagoth nodded. "Of course," he said.

Palkeera grinned and nodded her thanks before sitting back down.

Enakhra shot a glance at Zemouregal, who was grinning at her. She scowled at him, which made his grin grow wider.

"Then," Abbagoth said. "If we have no more to discuss, I will get some rest. You may do so as well, if you feel the need."

Enakhra did not. She felt as on edge as ever, which was quite a bit. She stood, nodding at her companions, as they did the same.

"Goodnight," Abbagoth said, and started towards his tent. Zemouregal vanished almost immediately after to gods-knew-where, and then only she and Palkeera were left.

Enakhra looked at the other Mahjarrat. "OK," she said. "What the hell happened out there?"

…

"I don't know," Palkeera admitted later, when they sat alone together at the edge of the camp. As far as Enakhra knew, even Zemouregal had gone to sleep. They were alone.

"I just… felt good, fighting," she said. "Maybe I shouldn't, but…"

Enakhra shook her head. "Are you kidding me? To fight is to be Mahjarrat." She looked out into the desert. "It's as natural to us as… as…" she frowned. "Eating is to humans. Or eliminating waste. Or-"

"I get the idea," Palkeera laughed. Silence fell over the two of them for a few moments. "I don't know," she said finally. "I thought I was changed after, well…" she glanced down at her stomach. "Changed for the better, too. This world doesn't need more fighting."

She ignored Enakhra's snort and went on. "I suppose I hadn't changed as much as I thought I had."

"Do you want my advice?" Enakhra asked.

"I hope so," Palkeera replied.

"Don't worry so much about this. This is what Zamorak really believes in; freedom. Nothing to keep us from being our full selves. If this is your full self, why deny it? Especially… now?"

Palkeera winced at Enakhra's last comment, but didn't say anything about it. "It sounds nice, but selfish, too."

"And? Selfish isn't bad, Palkeera. It's okay to not devote your entire life to the service of others."

Palkeera was silent for a long while, resting both of her hands on her stomach. Enakhra knew it was a trick of the light, but she seemed even bigger now. Not for the first time, she wondered how long her companion had left.

It was the first time, however, that she felt sadness because of that thought.

At last, Palkeera spoke. "I should sleep," she said. "I can use all the rest that I can get." She winked at Enakhra as she unsteadily got to her feet. "I suspect I won't be getting much of it later on."

Enakhra nodded absently. "I'll be here."

Palkeera made her way back into the camp, and Enakhra watched her closely until she vanished into the dark. She turned her gaze back to the desert, lit solely by the light of Zanaris and the pale flickers of the torches behind her.

She sighed, and dug her palms into the sand. Just as she did so, he heard a new scattering of footsteps on the ground as the bone guard took up position next to her, like a loyal dog.

She fell onto her back, and looked at the stars. It was going to be a long campaign.

Hello, everyone, I'm back!

This was, I'm pretty sure, the first large-scale battle scene I've done in this story, and I'd love feedback on how it was done. This story's focal point is war, anyway, so I'd like to know if I'm doing it right.

Have an excellent day!