Enakhra had never seen a dead demon before.
It was an odd realization to come to. When one has lived as long as her, when your life stretches so far that you forget sometimes that there was ever a beginning to it, it's difficult to think of an experience that you haven't had, much less one as mundane as a dead demon in a world at war.
The demon lay sprawled on the desert sand, purple blood soaking into the grains around it from a gaping hole in its chest. Its face was frozen in a defiant glare, jaws opened in what was once a fearsome snarl but was now rather underwhelming.
Zemouregal nudged the corpse with his boot. It rolled over, and some interestingly colored liquid dribbled out of its chest. He made a face.
The three Mahjarrat had convened around it at the request of Abbagoth. Their commander had hoped they would find something relevant that he could not, seeing as how the wound in the demon's chest sparked with magic.
Nothing of the sort was going on.
"I'm thinking this was an accident," Zemouregal said. "Probably some demons messing about, posturing for their buddies, and things got out of hand. Typical for a race as prideful as theirs."
"I am glad to see that some of our own number have risen above such petty concerns," Enakhra said drily. She squatted down next to the body. Something about this one seemed familiar.
"What about the traitor?" Palkeera asked.
"Oh, yeah," Zemouregal said. "Professional infiltrators are known to be in the business of slaughtering low-level soldiers and leaving their bodies where anyone could find them. They're known for it, in fact, just as they're known for not making a move of any importance afterwards."
Palkeera mumbled something in a hurt tone of voice. Zemouregal probably would have said something like 'suck it up' had Enakhra not raised her hand.
"I think I am getting something," she said. She reached into the wound carefully and plucked out a handful of seemingly arbitrary gooey bits.
"Well, that's disgusting," Zemouregal said.
Enakhra scraped any residual vital organs off of her hands, and presented her comrades with what was left.
Palkeera frowned. "There's nothing there," she said.
Enakhra sighed. "Look more carefully," she said.
"Bits of runestone," Zemouregal whispered.
"Oh, gods," Palkeera murmured.
"That's why we can't track it," Enakhra said. She stood up and took a closer look at the stone. Even now, it hummed with power nearly too faint for Enakhra to detect.
"Why would someone use runes?" Zemouregal asked, sounding personally offended by the notion. "There are other ways to disguise your marker."
"Not from Mahjarrat," Enakhra said. Like it or not, she shared Zemouregal's feelings on this. It stung to be outwitted by something so simple. She crushed the stone in her palm and let the grains fall to the earth.
Palkeera watched them warily. "We should have checked what kind they were," she said. "Did you see any coloration?"
"Through the blood and the shattering, I couldn't tell," Enakhra said drily. "That must be why the killer put the runes inside the wound. It would have been short notice."
"Could have been a fire spell," Zemouregal said, kneeling down by the body.
"It would have been cauterized."
"An earth spell?" Palkeera suggested. "It could have done the damage to the bones we're seeing."
"I was thinking ice, actually."
Enakhra's words caused the whole party to stop. Zemouregal looked shocked, almost to the point of melodrama, while Palkeera gazed at the camp, still visible to the east, thoughtfully.
"It would explain the shattered bones," Palkeera said. "And the lack of evidence left behind."
"Only the Zarosians still use the old magicks," Zemouregal said. "You're saying that they're here?"
"Why not?" Enakhra said. "Zarosians are good at hiding. And this is where Azzanadra was entombed, besides."
She remembered that day. The glorious day when that overblown prick had gotten what was coming to him.
"We're close to Kharid-Et," Palkeera suggested. "Perhaps the Menaphites are attempting to harass us?"
Enakhra examined the body. It couldn't be the Menaphites. Something in her bones was screaming at her, telling her that it was their old enemy. She couldn't put it into words, but something older than conscious thought was trying to tell her something.
"Regardless," Zemouregal said. "We go tell Abbagoth. He'll know what to do."
Enakhra knew that the situation was serious if Zemouregal was advocating for letting Abbagoth take the reins.
"What about the body?" Palkeera asked.
Without another word Zemouregal flicked his hand and the corpse dissolved into fire. The flame licked hungrily on the empty desert sand for a few moments before sputtering out.
"Was that necessary?" Enakhra listened hard for a tremor or a sign of weakness in Palkeera's voice, but heard only exasperation.
Zemouregal heard it too. He looked at Enakhra, rolled his eyes, and teleported away.
"Let's go," she grumbled to Palkeera, and followed.
…
"Zarosians," Abbagoth said.
"Possibly Azzanadra cultists," Enakhra replied. "A large number of them weren't accounted for after Azzanadra was sealed away."
The demon sighed and leaned back in his makeshift throne. At this point, the throne was more a running joke than a symbol of authority. Being taken down and rebuilt every time the camp moved (as was demonic tradition, although Enakhra couldn't understand it) gave the demons responsible leeway to scrawl in… political statements of their own on the back.
"If there's a potential obstacle between us and Kharid-Et, it should be dealt with immediately," Abbagoth said.
"My thoughts exactly," Zemouregal said.
Oh boy, Enakhra thought. He is worried.
"I would have this situation examined," Abbagoth said. "If it's as you say, the threat is likely small, but still potentially problematic."
"I would have myself do as you would have done, my potential lord," Zemouregal said.
"Shut up," Abbagoth said. "And in any case, I want you here. Enakhra and Palkeera can take care of it."
Zemouregal frowned. "That's-"
Abbagoth cut him off. "And you two," he said. "I want there to be no killing."
"Excuse me," Enakhra said flatly.
"The demons have been growing restless ever since the battle with the Menaphites. They're upset I let you three destroy the camp by yourselves. I think allowing them to tear the Zarosians limb from limb might make them feel better."
"How nurturing," Palkeera said.
"You want us to save them for the demons?" Enakhra said. She considered this carefully, and found, grudgingly, that the idea of watching their vile and hated enemy being gruesomely slaughtered by demons was a fair trade for not being able to do it herself.
"Go quickly," Abbagoth said. "I want to make our push on Kharid-Et by noon tomorrow." He gestured meaningfully at the setting sun behind them.
Enakhra bowed to the Tsutsaroth and left the tent. Palkeera followed behind her in slow, soft footsteps.
The bone guard brushed up against her knee as she walked. Startled, she kicked it hard and wondered how she kept losing track of the thing.
As Enakhra swore and found out just how much of a mistake it was to kick the magically reinforced bone, she heard Palkeera sigh.
"What's your problem?" she asked her companion as they reached the edge of the camp.
"Nothing," she said. "I had just hoped we would be closer to the North by this point."
"Sorry I've been puttering about doing exactly what you asked of me, then. How inconsiderate of me."
Palkeera just frowned into the horizon. "You know what I mean."
They walked in silence for a few moments. The camp receded behind them. This one was even less well-built than the one they had encountered when she emerged from the pyramid. Abbagoth had hoped to stay only a single night in this spot before arriving at the more well-established Kharid-Et. As such, it wasn't long before she and Palkeera were alone in the endless sand.
Enakhra sighed and wondered what to say. She was frustrated, too. She knew there was nothing to be done, but their slow progress through the ruined Kharidian region was grating. She had forgotten how much of war was bound up in slowness and waiting, at least on Gielinor.
At least she had already gotten what she wanted, even if in her heart of hearts her meeting with Zamorak was disappointingly short.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I want to get to the North, too. For your sake, if you can believe that." She chuckled darkly.
"I don't know why, if you're looking for sentimentality."
"For what it's worth, I appreciate your help."
"Write it on my tomb."
They were both quiet after that, until they reached Azzanadra's pyramid.
It appeared first as a dot on the horizon, which somewhat dampened the effect it might have had on someone staring up at it. As it was, the Mahjarrat were somewhat disquieted on viewing its full height, though neither would admit it to the other.
The temple had hardly worn down at all with age, even though it had been there since before Enakhra and the rest of the Mahjarrat had come to Gielinor. In the fading light, it looked like a monstrous beast.
"Now," she said. "This is just a hunch, but Azzanadra had quite the cult of personality in the days when he wasn't, ah, imprisoned in a pyramid, so it's possible that some of his admirers may have survived his fall. Just as the others survived the fall of he-who-shall-not-be-named."
Enakhra never particularly went in for the superstition that Zaros' name must not be spoken, but she liked to invoke it whenever she remembered. Better safe than sorry. And here, in the shadow of one of his most powerful living followers (imprisoned or not) she felt some of the old dread return.
"We split up and reconnoiter. Then meet by the ice diamond as soon as possible. We must have information by the time the sun rises…"
Enakhra trailed off. The air felt different. The ground beneath her felt as though it were shifting ever so slightly, responding to a distant stimulus.
Palkeera gazed at her. "You feel something?" she asked.
Enakhra turned her eyes to the east. There was something there, just out of the corner of her eye – except that no matter which way she turned her head, it remained hidden.
"Do you see that?" Enakhra asked her companion.
Palkeera narrowed her eyes against a gaining desert wind. "See what?"
Enakhra waited for a few moments before Palkeera made a low noise of appreciation. "Magic," she whispered.
Enakhra nodded. "Perhaps the cultists are here."
"Then we-" Palkeera paused. "Do you hear that?"
Enakhra felt something heavy impact the back of her head. Snarling, she leapt aside and prepared to fight, until she felt a number of other heavy things start to join the excitement.
She cursed. Before her were humans, dozens of them, and they were swarming her and Palkeera. Despite being the size of children to her and without any magic, she felt some fear at the sight of them. Their faces were contorted in rage and fear.
They had paused for a moment upon her recovery, but they quickly resumed the attack. They sent up a battle cry (something about humans yelling in unison had always felt disquieting to Enakhra) and set upon her. Palkeera cried out as several of them started on her, too.
She reached her hand to blast them away, but a heavy blow on the small of her back sent her reeling. The next thing she knew, the heavy end of a club hit her in the face and all was black.
…
Enakhra practically woke up complaining.
"Wooden weapons. There were only a few of them!" she paused to let her thoughts settle. "I cannot believe this."
She was in a cage, reinforced by magic. Try as she might, she couldn't breach the lock. "Unbelievable," she snarled.
Beyond her was the interior of a tent, much like Abbagoth's. The inside was bare save for her cage, Palkeera's (whom was slouched over, still unconscious, and directly adjacent to her), and a human man sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was staring intently at the exit, into the dark desert night. He was wearing nothing but a bright white robe skirt and a necklace made of the teeth of various creatures Enakhra couldn't identify.
The room was dead silent. Enakhra thought she could feel wind on her face, but the tent flaps didn't stir.
She leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around the iron bars. It was cold, but didn't sting like she might expect enchanted metal to.
"Palkeera," she hissed. The other Mahjarrat didn't stir.
"If you're trying to speak to your friend, she won't answer," the man said. "She is quite unconscious."
"I have no friends here," Enakhra replied bitterly. "What have you done with us?"
"Nothing harmful."
"My-"
A loud groan interrupted the conversation. Palkeera was stirring slowly.
The man fixed his gaze on her. "Hello."
She stared groggily at him, before panic seized her face. She ran her hands over her stomach quickly.
"No harm was done to your child, of that I can assure you."
Palkeera glared at him. "You don't know that," she hissed.
"I do. A healer looked at you earlier. Your child is fine, and so will you be, given some time." His gaze softened. "I am not sure we can do anything about the wound on your side, however."
Palkeera stared at the man for a few moments. It was difficult to read her expression, even for Enakhra. Finally, she turned on her side and faced the wall without another word.
"You won't have the advantage for long," Enakhra snarled. "When we get out of here, I'll take great pleasure in rending your throat from your…"
She hesitated. "Throat," she said.
The man just stared at her, looking vaguely unimpressed. "Neck," Palkeera supplied helpfully.
The man sighed. "Do you know where you are?"
"Care to enlighten us?"
"You are in the Kharidian region," he said. "Once a place of life and peace. But now it has been defiled."
"More specifically, please," Enakhra said.
"Perhaps it would be better if I showed you first."
…
"This is humiliating," Enakhra sighed.
Their cages were being borne through the camp by a number of other humans, while the man from the tent led the way. Due to the cramped nature of their prisons, the Mahjarrat were forced to curl up and minimize themselves in order to remain comfortable during the trek.
The camp looked somewhat like Abbagoth's. The tents were made from a similar material, although emblazoned with colors far different. Theses tents, however, weren't built for war; some of them, Enakhra could see, were for supplies, or birthing.
The inhabitants were all Menaphites. Some gawked at her with curiosity as they passed. Looming above them was the pyramid. Enakhra supposed this must be what was hidden from her.
"We exist here at the patronage of Apmeken," the man said. "She protects us and shelters us from the war outside."
That would explain a lot. Mahjarrat were powerful, but even the minor gods of the desert were more so. She tried the lock again, with no success.
"When we're hounded on all sides, by Zamorak on one and the Destroyer on the other, you might forgive us for being cautious," he continued. "I suppose the demon corpse brought you here?"
"Yes," Enakhra said suspiciously. "That was you?"
"Not me, specifically, but one of our patrols. One can never be too careful, but we knew once you found the corpse, it wouldn't be long before you found us."
"And razed you to the ground, yes," Enakhra confirmed. "Also, I hate you."
The man ignored her. While they walked to a destination Enakhra couldn't fathom, she tried to dredge up what she remembered about Apmeken.
The monkey goddess was one of Icthlarin's twisted friends. She was in charge of… friendship? Enakhra thought it was something idiotic like that.
"You used ice," she said, sounding more sure than she was.
"That is true."
"Where did you get it?"
The man smiled, though they couldn't see it. "The desert is old, and holds secrets even you don't remember. Apmeken remembers, and what she knows she taught to us."
Enakhra hadn't thought much of the goddess before now. As far as she could remember, Apmeken had vanished when the Wars began, surfacing only to help refugees and once to help defend Uzer. The goddess was contemptible as far as Enakhra was concerned, but she had to admit, she could never have found this place if it weren't for the patrol that killed the demon. She was pretty certain that nobody else could have, either, save an actual god.
"There are other places like this," she said.
The man nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road ahead. "Some, yes. You understand if I won't tell you where."
The minor gods. She cursed herself for having forgotten them. Granted, these… settlements seemed to be keeping to themselves, but who knew what they could have done to Abbagoth's forces had they chosen to act.
She peered down the road and wondered if this place was bigger on the inside, too.
"This place seems new," she said.
"It was founded only weeks ago, by the survivors of a devastating attack on a war camp a few weeks ago."
He didn't mention her, but something in his voice suggested that he knew the details.
"Where are you taking us?" Palkeera spoke up, for the first time since the tent.
"Away."
"You're letting us go?" Enakhra said, astonished.
"Something like that. Once you are outside of the camp, you should be able to break your bonds. Apmeken's power will keep you from doing so here. From there, we will not bother you further."
Enakhra's mind struggled to comprehend. A number of betrayal scenarios ran through her mind, and her metaphorical hackles were raised.
"If you're wondering why," he said, "you were right. We can't hold you forever. It's better for you to be freed somewhere far from here."
Palkeera was trying to catch her eye, but Enakhra ignored her.
The party reached the edge of the camp shortly after, and when they stepped into the desert, the tents and any signs of civilization vanished once more, lurking just outside of her field of vision. She wondered just how Apmeken pulled that off.
The man stopped them. Immediately, Enakhra began to attack the lock once more. It yielded under her, but remained intact; it would take some time to break it entirely. Frustrated, Enakhra growled and faced the man.
"As soon as you let us go, we'll return to our forces and tell them you're here," she promised. "You will pay for this."
"Enakhra," Palkeera hissed.
"No," the man said. "You won't."
Lowly, he began to chant. Enakhra recognized the language as Menaphite, but the dialect was so alien that she could barely make out a few words. She thought she recognized banish and dead, and she heard the names Apmeken and Scabaras repeated a few times.
Palkeera shifted uncomfortably just a few moments before Enakhra felt it, too; a feeling like her innards were being tugged on, uncertainly at first, then with greater fervor.
"Before you go," another human said to them. She walked up to Palkeera's cage, and knelt to face her. "Apmeken extends her condolences to you, and hopes you find peace in this life." The Mahjarrat's eyes widened, but she stayed silent. Then, the humans vanished.
No. Enakhra and Palkeera had gone. They were in the middle of empty desert, marred only by the bank of the great River Elid to their west. The water burbled in the silence.
The cages still surrounded them. "Great," Enakhra said. "They couldn't give us the courtesy of not sending the cages with us."
"You did threaten to destroy their village if they did just that," Palkeera said wearily.
"Semantics."
Enakhra set to work on the lock. Without Apmeken's blessing, it was much more malleable. However, it still resisted her attempts to open it.
"Why do you think they let us go?" Palkeera said.
"They told us."
"I don't believe that," said Palkeera. "You heard them. They knew we were the ones to destroy the war camp. They could have kept us prisoner, if only to hamstring Abbagoth."
Enakhra frowned. She had to admit, her threats in the camp were mostly bluster. The lock was one of the best she had ever come across. Should the Menaphites have wished it, she would have been in this cage for a long time.
It didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense.
Palkeera looked at her stomach. "I don't think we should tell Abbagoth about this."
Enakhra froze. "That's treasonous," she said carefully.
"No, it's not. The problem has been solved. It had been solved since before we even went. They won't bother us on our way to Kharid-Et. Why complicate things? Our legions are good, but they're not bottomless. We need to save our strength."
All good points, Enakhra conceded. But they were not sincerely made.
"I get it," she said. "The humans say Apmeken feels for you, and your heart melts."
"What?!"
"You're weak," she snarled. "You would rather be friends with everyone than follow the god you've sworn allegiance to. Well, I have news for you. The world isn't like that. Not anymore. We're at war, Palkeera. These are our enemies. They mean you no good will and you sure as hell shouldn't be reciprocating."
"Shut up!" Palkeera shouted. "Don't even think about lecturing me on war. I've been on my own this whole time. You want to talk about allegiance? Where were you when Zamorak took Uzer? In your temple!"
Enakhra nearly flinched. She had not been expecting Palkeera's retort. The lock was abandoned for the time being.
"I'm dying, Enakhra," she continued. "I'm dying because I dared to be vulnerable-" here she gestured at her stomach – "in the world you think I don't understand. The world you think I've been oblivious to.
"It's you who's oblivious. We don't have the strength to spare and you know it. Not everything is a glorious charge into victory. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and push on elsewhere, wherever that is. And if you think Zamorak will notice you…" She hesitated, but not from fear or nerves. It seemed like her rage was preventing her from speaking. "… if you sacrifice enough, if you're brave enough, well, he won't care. Not if you're dead, and everyone you care about, everyone you were supposed to protect, is dead too."
Enakhra was silent. Emotions ran rampant in her head. She couldn't tell if she was angry, sad, or… proud?
"Maybe not," she said. "Maybe you're right."
Palkeera sat down in her cage like her outburst exhausted her.
Enakhra began to work on the lock in silence. The river burbled happily in the distance, oblivious to the tension.
"I just want to get to the North," Palkeera's voice came, low and meek now.
"Why?" Enakhra asked, not diverting her attention from her task. Her hands played the thing like an instrument; it would not be long now before it sprung.
Palkeera sighed. "If I tell you, you have to promise… not to interfere."
"I promise."
"When I get there, I want to induce labor."
Enakhra paused.
"You'll die."
"Exactly. My life force will flow into my child. He'll live."
Enakhra stared at the lock. It sparked silently with magic, almost depleted. It wasn't like she hadn't suspected. Ever since Palkeera had told her where they were going, she had an idea. To hear it out loud, however, was something else entirely.
"Palkeera, I want you to know," Enakhra said. "I think you're very stupid."
Silence. Then laughter, from Palkeera first, then Enakhra. It was quick and desperate laughing, but it still felt good.
The lock finally sprung. Without it, the charm over the whole cage subsided. As she suspected, the metal of the bars was plain iron, and it evaporated in an instant under her will.
The lock on Palkeera's cage turned out to be much easier to crack from the outside. As she waved her cage away, Enakhra reached to help her up.
"But I'm stupid too," she said.
Palkeera grinned and took her hand. Standing, she brushed herself off and looked at her companion. "Let's go back. To our camp."
Enakhra thought, and nodded. "To our camp. And we push on."
…
Zemouregal met them as the sun rose.
"There you two are," he snarled. "We have a situation."
They looked at each other, and followed the other Mahjarrat without a word into Abbagoth's tent. Around them, demons prepped for war. It was the most organized she had ever seen them.
Others were taking down the tents with practiced organization and loading them on to warbeasts and hellhounds.
When they reached Abbagoth's tent, he was conferring with another demon quietly. When he saw the Mahjarrat, he waved the other demon away. It went without fuss, another indication to Enakhra that something was off.
"I'm glad you're here," he said.
"We found nothing at the pyramid, sir," Palkeera said. "Nor anywhere else. We think it was just a lone traveller."
Abbagoth waved the news away. "Fine, fine," he said. "Listen. We're pushing on Kharid-Et now."
Enakhra and Palkeera looked at one another. The urgency in his tone was strange. "Sir?" Palkeera said.
"We've received some disturbing news," the demon sighed. He rubbed his temples wearily. "Amascut is at the pass."
"With," Zemouregal chimed in, "an army of Chthonians."
"Where the hell did she get those?" Enakhra asked, shock betraying her in her voice.
"I don't know, but we're moving now," Zemouregal snapped. "Go and rally the demons. Abbagoth and I will be out shortly."
With an alarming lack of indignation for Zemouregal stealing his lines, Abbagoth waved the two Mahjarrat out into the camp. They looked at each other, and began to do as they were told.
This will be fun.
An extra-long chapter, for all your "apologizing for long hiatuses" needs! I expect the next Enakhra chapter will be long as well, as we've reached a turning point in hers and Palkeera's story.
As always, lemme know what you think