Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!
When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliskeâs shadow?
QUEST 11: SLISKEâS ENDGAME
The eclipse is nigh. The end of Sliskeâs games draws near. All the gods gather for one final race for the Stone, taking them through a shadowy labyrinth of the devious Mahjarratâs design. Not only does Jahaan have to survive the trials Sliske sets out for them, but he has to compete against every major deity in Gielinor. Then, and only then, will he have a shot at ending Sliskeâs madness once and for allâŠ
CHAPTER 8 - THE OTHER SIDE
As soon as all the gods were spat out of the labyrinth and into the sweltering desert heat, Seren informed the gathered crowd about the fate of the Stone, and how the World Guardian and Sliske were left behind when it exploded. Though it was implied that they would have perished, Icthlarin knew otherwise, as did Death.
Zamorak and Saradomin left soon after, not caring to spend anymore time among one anotherâs company than they had to. The Stone - their prize for these tedious games - had been destroyed, therefore what was the point in remaining?
Armadyl decided to stay. When he noticed Icthlarin and Death hadnât left, he didnât want to either. Their presence meant there was still hope for Jahaan. He discussed with his avianse about the feasibility of tunneling down to provide the World Guardian with some assistance. Even though it was agreed that such a feat was impossible, Armadyl refused to leave until he saw either Jahaan or Sliske emerge from below. He prayed it was the former.
Seren stayed too, as did Zaros. If Sliske was the one to crawl out from the depths below, they wanted to be the first to greet him.
After what felt like an age had passed, Zaros suddenly vanished. There was no teleport spell cast - he just vanished. Naturally, panic and paranoia followed, Azzanadra nearly coming to blows with the elves that guarded Seren. He was convinced she had something to do with his disappearance, despite her affirmation that she knew nothing and there was no evidence suggesting otherwise. It took Armadyl and Icthlarin to quell the tension, but they barely managed it.
After only a few minutes, Zaros blinked back into the gathering like heâd returned from a ripple in existence, though considerably angrier than when he left. Seren tried to call out to him, but he simply stormed over to his entourage and teleported away with them, a dark cloud lingering where he left.
Not long after that, Jahaan returned to them.
Or at least, what was left of him.
Jahaan was conscious when he hit the ground, though that sharp return of his agony made him wish he wasnât. What happened next, however, barely registered for him - the dirt and tears in his eyes, coupled with the deafening ringing in his ears, made focusing impossible. All he could concentrate on was the pain, hoping it would get to the stage where he would black out from it. At least then he wouldnât have to endure it.
Instead, he felt hands grab at him, rolling him over. He didnât realise just how much blood he was lying in. An involuntary, blood-curdling shriek escaped from his lips when hands tried to put pressure on the wound.
He felt a cool ice coat his abdomen, a subtle pressure attached to it - a female voice followed it. Seren had temporarily stopped the bleeding with a layer of crystal. Not that Jahaan noticed. All he felt was a nauseating jolt as he was lifted up into the air, head-spinning and limbs crying out in protest.
Seren told the others to follow her to Prifddinas, which to Jahaan was nothing more than an echoed mumble. Whenever he was going, he hoped a bed was on the other side of it. A nice, warm bed⊠canât I just sleep now?
Fortunately for Jahaaan, he got his wish.
The spell was intended to comatose the World Guardian during the operation. Elven medicine was far superior to anything else on Gielinor, therefore Seren knew Jahaanâs best chances were with her. But there was a lot of blood lost already, alongside damage to the small intestine, some of which would have to be removed. It would take days to see if the procedure had worked, and Jahaanâs condition could deteriorate in a matter of hours if they had missed a source of internal infection. Herbal remedies were infused into him to keep his vitals stable and to provide nutrients.
Whenever Jahaan was awake, he wasnât ever âthereâ. Some delirious mumbles, a glazed expression, and a refusal to eat. Then, he would fall asleep again, sometimes for the rest of the day.
The chief healer, Lady Heledd, estimated that he would be sitting up, talking and eating within five days. Eight had passed, and all he did was sleep. Often, Jahaan would talk in his sleep, a crude blend of languages, some that even Lady Heledd and the other healers didnât recognise.
Heads turned whenever Icthlarin and Death visited the affirmed, and assurances had to be made that, if they were there to claim Jahaanâs soul, they wouldnât be coming in through the front door.
While Icthlarin was unaware of when Jahaan would pass, he knew that Death held that information. Death knew the âwhenâ and âhowâ for every being on Gielinor. Of course, Death never parted with this information, not even to Icthlarin. Doing so would âupset the balanceâ, he would always say. Icthlarin couldnât resent his friend for doing his duties, but hated not knowing if the next time he saw Jahaan would be in the Underworld. Not that Jahaan wanted to go through the Underworld, or to an afterlife. Icthlarin knew that, if the time came, he would have to respect the World Guardianâs decision.
Jahaan was never awake for their visits, nor was he awake for the handful of times Armadyl dropped in on him. The avianse deity had diligently stayed at his bedside, sometimes for hours on end, never getting anything more than a delirious groan from the World Guardian. Despite trusting the elves and elven medicine, Armadyl invited Gawâkara to join him in a visit to Jahaanâs hospital room, just to see if he had a different take on Jahaanâs condition. Unfortunately, he didnât, reaffirming what Lady Heledd and the elven healers had told them: time will tell.
When Jahaan slept for thirty-six hours straight, having to be kept alive by the constant chanting of an air spell to assist his breathing, there was the fear he might never wake up.
Groggily, Jahaan dragged himself back into consciousness, blinking away the haziness of his vision and trying to sharpen up the world around him. It was bright, very bright. Everything seemed to shine, like the walls were made of pure cyan crystal. It reminded him of Prifddinas, or what little he had seen of it.
Has Icthlarin accidentally taken me to Serenâs afterlife? Jahaan thought to himself, though reconsidered the likelihood after trying to sit up slightly and feeling a searing pain in his abdomen. Surely the afterlife doesnât come with lasting agony?
Then, he heard a voice beside him, âDonât move. Iâll get Lady Heledd.â
A brush of turquoise flittered past his vision. Soon after, a tall elven woman with curled blonde hair tied into a high bob entered the room. Her gown was white and pristine with a turquoise diamond emblazoned on it.
âWhere am I?â Jahaan hoarsely whispered, his croaky throat coughing with the effort. A straw was forced near his mouth, and Jahaan hungrily sipped down the contents like he hadnât drunk in months. More coughing followed.
âSteady on, love,â the pointy-eared healer cooed. Her warm voice was reassurance incarnate. âYouâre alright now. Can you tell me your name?â
âJahaan,â the World Guardian replied, needing to take a deep breath as he continued, âJahaan Siad-Samak.â
âAlrighty Jahaan, and can you tell me your age?â Lady Heledd asked with a soft tone youâd usually use when addressing a child. In fact, she continued on with about a dozen more questions Jahaan deemed as asinine, his repeating inquiries as to his location ignored every time.
âI donât understand why you wonât tell me whatâs going on,â Jahaan huffed, feeling slightly more invigorated now. Not enough to move, no. But enough to sound slightly irate. âWhere am I?â
Setting down the notebook sheâd been penning his answers into, alongside other comments and remarks, Lady Heledd perched on the bed beside Jahaan with the friendliest smile heâd ever seen. She probably gave this smile to everyone, but Jahaan wanted to think that it was reserved purely for him. âYouâre in Prifddinas, love, in hospital. Youâve been out a while. I needed to ask all those questions to make sure you were fully with me this time.â
âFully with you?â Jahaan queried at the odd turn of phrase. âWhat do you mean? How long was I out?â
âJust under two weeks, dear,â Lady Heledd replied. âYouâve been awake before now, but you werenât all that responsive, talking slightly delirious and all that.â
Jahaan tried to run his mind back over the last two weeks, but came up empty. He remembered nothing from that period. He forced his mind back further, but it was a mighty effort.
The labyrinth, the fight, the stab, he winced at the last one, tying it to the ache in his stomach. Then, his eyes widened. âJas!â
âSteady on, dear,â Lady Heledd held him down as he bolted up in bed, the World Guardian instantly regretting the action, crumbling back into the bedsheets with an extended groan. âWhatâs this âJasâ anyhow?â
Panting from the exertion, Jahaan said, âI need to talk to Seren.â
âWorld Guardian!â Seren cheerily greeted when she glided into the room. âIâm glad to see you compos-mentis.â
There were pressing concerns on Jahaanâs mind, oneâs he wanted to share urgently before they were forgotten in the depths of his memory. But naturally, he first wanted to say, âThank you for everything you have done for me, Seren. It sounds like you saved my life.â
âMy elves saved your life,â Seren corrected, humbly. âIt was touch and go at some points, I must say. But itâs a relief you pulled through. Your death would have been a loss for all of Gielinor, after all you have done. What happened down there, after the Stone exploded?â
Briefly, Jahaan informed Seren about the battle with Sliske and how the drain on the Mahjarratâs energy weakened him severely. He told of how he was stabbed by the Staff of Armadyl, and how Sliske stabbed himself too, no doubt trying to forcefully siphon Jahaanâs soul into himself. But, for some reason, the process failed, and Sliske turned to stone.
Then, he finally arrived at what he needed to tell her the most, about his meeting with Jas.
After the tale ended, the elven deity was rendered speechless.
Jahaan had to prompt her, âWhat should be done?â
Seren gulped. âI⊠am not quite sure. I am not surprised at my brotherâs attempt to ascend to elder godhood, and I am glad he was denied. But Jas said that mortal life has to prove it is worthy of existing, or the Great Revision will commence again⊠how do we prove ourselves to a being that considers mortal life a mistake? How can we...â
Her tone became faint, trailing off towards the end. To Seren, she had been burdened with the task of ensuring all life in the universe continued. To Jahaan, heâd relieved himself of the issue for now. No doubt it would weigh on him at a later date, but for now, tiredness was crawling back into his mind, his eyes suddenly feeling a whole lot heavier.
After a few minutes of solemn contemplation, Seren noticed her audience was waning. âI shall leave you to rest. Perhaps tomorrow youâll be up for an audience? Icthlarin has been visiting repeatedly, much to the disconcertion of the elves.â
âIâd like that,â Jahaan said with a faint smile before allowing his eyes to close.
When Icthlarin walked through into his room the next day, Jahaan was finally sitting up and managing to get some soup down him. Solid foods were still too much of a struggle, and his appetite was far from its usual self, but this soup was divine. Never had hospital food tasted so damn good. Maybe it was because he hadnât eaten much of anything in a fortnight, but this soup was one of the finest culinary delights he had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. This was a hill he was prepared to die on.
âIcthlarin!â Jahaan grinned, the soupâs warmth and happiness increasing his mood tenfold. âI must be the only human alive whoâs glad to see the god of the underworld.â
âIt is good to see you here, alive and almost in one piece, my friend,â Icthlarin replied, a broad smile that revealed his large canines. It soon faded, however, as he said, âI⊠apologise for the state I was in during Sliskeâs labyrinth. I am embarrassed you had to see me like that.â
âDonât apologise,â Jahaan fervently finished up the last of the soup. âIâm just glad youâre back to your usual self now. Canât say the same for me though. Lady Heledd - the chief healer here - thinks Iâm going to be bedridden for a while.â
Jahaan didnât frankly care, as long as he had his soup.
Naturally, Icthlarin was curious as to what occurred after he was ejected from the maze, and Jahaan regaled him with the tale in full. Afterwards, there was a prevailing question on Jahaanâs mind he had to ask, even if the subject loomed over his good mood like rain clouds threatening to burst.
Mentally preparing himself, he breathed deeply before asking, âHow was Ozan when you saw him?â
Icthlarin furrowed his brow. âOzan?â
âYou remember Ozan, donât you?â Jahaan checked, slightly puzzled. The two had met on adventures in the past, and Icthlarin never forgot a face. âHe was one of Sliskeâs wights. Heâd have passed onto the afterlife after Sliske died, right?â
âI remember Ozan well, but he never passed into my domain.â
For a brief moment, Jahaan could have sworn he felt his heart stop. âC-Can you explain that?â
âI⊠I do not know how,â Icthlarin looked as concerned as he did confused. âIf Ozan was bound to Sliske as a wight, Sliskeâs death should have released Ozanâs soul. That is the natural order of things.â
Jahaan didnât want to say it. He didnât want to dare get his hopes up. The pain of having them crash down around him might finish him off for good. And yet, he couldnât help himself. âAre you saying⊠Ozanâs alive?â
âI can only confirm that he is not dead,â Icthlarin spoke slowly, like he was calculating equations in his mind, ones that were written in a language he couldnât quite decipher. âAt least, not fully. Perhaps he is still trapped as a wight, but that should not be possible. He should-â
He was interrupted by a tight hand squeezing his own. Jahaan bolted upright in bed, wide eyes showing more signs of life than they ever had. âCan you find him for me? P-Please, I⊠I need to see him, please can you try to find him?â
Features softening, Icthlarin rested a paw on top of Jahaanâs hand. âI shall try, my friend.â
When Icthlarin shut the door to Jahaanâs room, he leant back against the firm mahogany, his thoughts trying to catch up with him. Indeed, Ozan was still on this world - something the god of the underworld just knew. But how? Icthlarin never saw the man as a wight, but if indeed that was the fate that befell him, Sliskeâs death would have released the man into his domain.
Something was off. Something was also off about Jahaan, though he couldnât quite put his finger on it. There was just a smell around him, something about his usual scent that didnât match.
Rubbing his temples, Icthlarin resolved to sleep on the matter, then locate Ozan in the morning. Perhaps by talking to him, Ozan could shed some light on the situation.
The next evening, Jahaan heard the swish of a teleport spell land outside his door and the faint mumblings of Icthlarinâs voice. When he spoke to the elves, he spoke in elven, so Jahaan had no idea what was being said.
But Jahaan didnât care what they were talking about. All he could think about was if Icthlarin had brought company with him.
Scrambling to sit up in bed, Jahaanâs heart beat faster and faster, making a home inside of his throat. The anticipation was killing him.
Then, after one twist of the door handle, his heart threatened to burst.
Ozan walked through the door.
He was still a ghostly green, translucent in some places, with robes that seemed decayed and withered. In fact, he looked exactly the same as he did in Sliskeâs chasm, though thankfully without the damage to his legs that Jahaan had inflicted.
Both men just stared at each other in disbelief for too long, debating the chance that the other was a mirage.
Eventually though, Ozan plucked up the courage to remark, âWow, finally someone that looks worse than me.â
Jahaan practically choked on his own tears as he started to laugh. Just to hear Ozanâs voice again made all of this worth it. Every single memory heâd be forced to relive, every single injury heâd have to endure for the rest of his life⊠Ozan made it all worth it.
âI canât believe youâre here,â Jahaan stammered through the tears, desperately trying to wipe them away with his bedsheets.
âNeither can I,â Ozan laughed, nervously scratching the back of his head. He was never good with hospitals - they freaked him out, but he tried his best to hide that fact through a broad smirk. âNow, you arenât going to break if I hug you, right?â
Grinning, Jahaan beckoned him over. But as soon as Ozan embraced him, the man recoiled suddenly, inhaling a sharp breath.
Jahaan froze. âAre you okay, Ozan?â
Gulping, Ozanâs hand slowly moved to gently rub his neck, taking a tentative step backwards. âDidnât you feel that?â
âThat⊠shock,â Ozan cleared his throat, exhaling a shaky breath. Shaking his head, he tried to chuckle, âMaybe itâs the side effects of being dead?â
Jahaan forced a faint laugh, but he was unnerved by the scared look in his friendâs eyes.
The two talked for ages long after that, but Ozan sat firmly on the other side of the room, as far away from Jahaan as possible. For a man with no sense of personal space, it was rather concerning, but Jahaan refused to think too much about it. He had his best friend back - nothing else mattered.
âI just woke up back at the Barrows,â Ozan recalled. âI didnât have that grip on me anymore - I had control again, free will. The others were there too, Ahrim and Dharok⊠all of them felt the same way. Sliskeâs hold over us had gone.â
Jahaan replied, âIâm just confused⊠when Sliske died, you should have passed on, not be trapped on Gielinor.â
âIcthlarin said the same thing when he found us,â Ozan informed. âSaid he had no idea why we were still here. He offered to take our souls to the afterlife though, if we wanted it, since we were already dead and all. Some of the Brothers are considering it.â
âWhat about you?â Jahaan tried not to sound nervous.
Fortunately, Ozanâs grin reassured him. âOh Iâm not going anywhere. A world without Ozan would be a very dreary place indeed.â
More guests visited him throughout his weeks in bedrest, but Ozan was the regular, bringing him books and sneaking Coal in to visit him when the healers werenât looking. The man had gone back to the Wizardsâ Tower and received a tearful reunion with Ariane, which warmed Jahaanâs heart. He and Ariane had shared their differences in the past, but she made Ozan happy, and that was all that mattered.
It took severe persuading from the cityâs elders, but eventually, upon Serenâs insistence, Azzanadra was allowed to visit Jahaan. Not that the Mahjarrat was pleased at all with having to enter Seren's domain. In fact, he loathed the idea. But he felt a duty to Jahaan to at least visit him once. If the World Guardian can fight alongside him in a Mahjarrat Ritual, this was the least he could do.
But he didnât stay long. In fact, as soon as he entered Jahaan's hospital room, he wanted to leave. Something was not quite right. There was a feeling, a pull, a familiar presence lingering⊠like a ghost trapped within the walls.
Azzanadra listened intently to the story of what happened after he was cast out of the labyrinth, trying not to let his stony features betray the trepidation he felt.
One part of the story stuck with him, however, threatening to bring his darkest theories to light.
âWhich end of the Staff did he stab you with, again?â Azzanadra checked, biting on the inside of his cheek
âThe bottom part,â Jahaan replied, âThank the gods he did. If I got stabbed with those wing things on the top, wellâŠâ
It was as Azzanadra feared. He had seen the work of the Staff, the Siphon, first hand before. Memories of the Empty Throne Room and Zarosâ assassination by the Staff were still fresh in his mind, just like it happened yesterday. Zamorak had used the Staff to siphon power from Zaros into himself. Sliske must have intended to use it to extract Jahaanâs soul, but instead he made a fatal error.
Wahisietel did not want to visit Jahaan.
Jahaan understood. The wound was too fresh; he would not want an audience with the man who was effectively his half-brotherâs murderer. If Wahisietel would accept him, Jahaan would visit him when he could, explain what happened, and apologise for the role he was forced to play.
It would take time, Azzanadra had told him. The Mahjarrat had visited Wahisietel in his Nardah home to find the place a wreck, and Wahisietel himself was in no fit state.
âCan you tell him...â Jahaan started to ask Azzanadra, but was unsure how to sum up everything he wanted to say in just one sentence. âJust⊠can you tell him Iâd like to see him at some point, and that Iâm sorry.â
The words would sound hollow to Wahisietel. âSorryâ? Would âsorryâ bring back the only family heâd had for generations?
Jahaan quite enjoyed his time confined to bed rest. For once in gods knew how long, there was no weight inside his chest, no looming shadow of Sliske to cloud over his mind. Responsibilities could take a back seat. He had earned his repose.
Of course, there was the issue of the elder godsâ ultimatum to prove that life was worth existing, but Jahaan decided heâd cross that bridge when he had to. In fact, from how he felt right now, Jahaan was rather content with never crossing that bridge. Heâd been Gielinorâs hero enough for one lifetime - someone else could take over the role for all he minded.
Yes, the idea of retirement seemed pretty good right nowâŠ
...until Jahaan heard a disembodied laugh rattle through his mind.
As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.
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