Shadows of a Lost Mind, Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

If Azzanadra had learned anything from this convoluted, whacked out escapade, it was that waiting around for things really sucked. He had been standing in this temple for ages now. Perhaps it would have been more proactive to go find Zaros himself, but Zaros hadn’t at any point said where he was going and Azzanadra really couldn’t be bothered. So now he was just standing around, hoping that his Lord would return at some point.

Hopefully sooner, rather than later.

He counted the stones in the floor’s decorative brickwork seventeen times, arriving at a different number each time. He had finally gotten the same total five times in a row and was looking around for something else to count when a pale purple light began to infuse the room, indicating Zaros’s imminent arrival.

Once he had properly materialized, Zaros’s first words to Azzanadra were, “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be out gathering followers for my cause, are you not?”

That wasn’t quite the way Azzanadra had wanted to start the conversation.

“I’ve come back to report some progress,” he said. He didn’t really want to get into the fact that he hadn’t really gathered that many people at all. “Sliske and I have—”

“Sliske?” Zaros asked. “You are working with Sliske now?”

Zaros sounded displeased with the idea, which was unexpected.

“It was a matter of convenience,” Azzanadra said, attempting to keep his voice level. Zaros’s reaction had caused him confusion and some annoyance. “He had already gathered his wights and I had a use for him. Was there something else you wanted him to do?”

“No,” Zaros said flatly. “Continue.”

Azzanadra had no idea what to do with that, so he continued.

“Sliske and I have captured Zemouregal.”

It was generally difficult to read Zaros’s expressions, but Azzanadra was fairly sure that he was now rather shocked.

“Excuse me?”

Yes, that was shock.

Azzanadra was even more unsure of what to do with that.

“We’ve… captured Zemouregal?” he said again. He hoped against all reason that Zaros simply hadn’t heard him correctly, because otherwise it would seem that he had made a grave error.

“Why would you do that?” Zaros asked. Was that bafflement? Anger? Disappointment?

This wasn’t going at all as Azzanadra had anticipated, and he was beginning to feel a chill of anxiety down his spine. He had miscalculated. He had screwed up. His future did not look bright.

“The Ritual is coming up,” he explained. “I thought… Isn’t it best to keep the Zamorakians weak? If they can’t attend…”

Zaros was having none of that.

“I gave them a fortnight,” Zaros said coldly. “You have sullied my promise, and made a fool of me.”

Azzanadra’s chest might have suddenly collapsed for all the air he was getting. “I am sorry, My Lord,” he managed. “I didn’t… I wasn’t aware that this would—”

“The situation is still salvageable,” Zaros interrupted. “You will free Zemouregal, and I will inform Zamorak of the mistake that had been made. Perhaps we can renew our temporary truce. I will be sure to enforce it more carefully this time.”

Azzanadra bowed his head, wishing fervently that he had some power over time. How could he have misjudged the situation this badly? He had been sure that any attempt to hinder the opposition would be well received — after all, wasn’t the point of this whole thing to win? But it seemed that Zaros was determined to make it a properly fair fight.

Azzanadra was beginning to feel that he didn’t know his Lord nearly as well as he thought he had. The world had changed drastically during Azzanadra’s long absence, but he never would have thought that Zaros would have been included in that change. Zaros was constant. Or he had been.

It was all far too much for Azzanadra to process just then, and he followed Zaros out of the temple with low spirits and a whirling mind.

---

Had he possessed a chair or the ability to sit down, Zemouregal would have been on the edge of his seat. He was sure that he had never in his life been this anxious about the outcome of a battle. His and Enakhra’s fates were both on the line, and he was powerless to affect anything that was happening in front of him. This helpless immobility was something he never wanted to feel again.

At Sliske’s pronouncement that everyone had “given up on her”, Enakhra’s gaze moved up and caught Zemouregal’s. He had no idea what she was thinking but it must have helped, because a moment later her eyes hardened with determination and she rushed at Sliske.

Good on her.

Zemouregal noticed that Khazard was just standing off to the side, his face contorted into some strange mix of confusion, indecision, and a lingering amount of surprise that implied he was still coming to terms with his new situation. At least he hadn’t done anything stupid yet. Considering the conversation that Zemouregal had witnessed before Enakhra’s arrival, he had been worried.

His attention shifted back to the ongoing fight when Sliske used his shadow trick to sneak up behind Enakhra. Every atom in Zemouregal’s body made a sudden, intense, and utterly fruitless attempt to break free. He wanted to shout, “Behind you!” or something equally annoying and distracting. But it was probably in Enakhra’s favor that he couldn’t, and she managed to nimbly fend Sliske off at the last moment.

She had the upper hand for barely a millisecond before Sliske disappeared again. Zemouregal was just as intent on finding him as Enakhra was, and so was almost as surprised as she was when Khazard stepped up and grabbed her from behind. Evidently he had overcome his crippling indecision.

Zemouregal quite wished that he hadn’t.

He watched the three of them avidly, until Enakhra suddenly flung the Staff in his direction.

The cage burst apart, and Zemouregal felt as though he had been released from a tank of molasses. The cool air of the Wilderness washed over him as he fell to the ground, and he thought he had never felt anything quite as freeing.

On the other hand, his limbs felt like rubber and he was certain that his head was going to implode. The Staff was lying not three feet away from him, and a massive wave of vertigo prevented him from doing anything to retrieve it. He tried to at least sit up, but his brain seemed convinced that he was attempting to launch himself into the ether and shoved him back toward the dirt.

As he lay there, disoriented and battling his own limbs, Sliske walked over and calmly picked up the Staff.

“Checkmate,” he said.

Zemouregal could have punched him, the smug bastard.

“What now?” Khazard asked. “Do you have another diamond or… something?”

“No,” Sliske replied, moving back toward them. “No more diamonds. No more traps. Let’s move on, shall we?”

For some reason, that last sentence sounded incredibly ominous.

“What does that mean?” Enakhra asked suspiciously, her thoughts clearly in a similar place.

“It means,” Sliske said, “that I’m not going to trap you.”

“Oh really,” Enakhra said flatly. “I suppose that’s why you’ve got your new lackey holding me here.”

“I’m not a lackey,” Khazard protested, annoyed. “I’m his…”

“Son?” Sliske finished. He imbued the word with amused disdain, but Khazard still seemed ridiculously relieved that he didn’t have to say it himself.

“Yeah,” he said. “That.”

There was an awkward silence.

The silence stretched on, somehow gaining an air of malevolent intent. Zemouregal tried once more to move. The attempt proved just as futile as the last, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was going to lie there like a dead shark while something really bad happened.

“Okay, well, this is fun,” Enakhra said, “but I have other things to be doing.”

Sliske smiled. “I’m sure we all do, so I suppose I’ll get on with it.”

“Get on with what?” Khazard asked. “What are you—”

Enakhra took that opportunity to aim a kick behind her, catching Khazard in the knee. He let out a yell of pain, and she pulled forward out of his grip. Zemouregal grinned.

Then Sliske repositioned himself slightly, and the grin slid off Zemouregal’s face.

No.

The Staff’s end was now barely a foot away from Enakhra’s chest. Her eyes widened as forward momentum carried her across the very short distance.

No, no, no.

The Staff went straight through her.

Zemouregal shouted, not even sure if the noise contained any intelligible words.

Khazard stood dumbly, his expression a mask of shock.

Sliske disappeared with the Staff.

Enakhra dropped to the ground, and her life force flickered half-heartedly.

Then it went out.