Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave opened the door to the abandoned house. He was greeted by a harsh smell. Galamon stood at the table, a fire heating up a large glass bottle that had been turned black by the flames.

“Jesus,” Argrave said, coughing. “I forgot how bad that stuff smells. You get used to it when you live next to it, but…”

“You’re back,” Galamon said. “Sleep well?”

“Better than usual.” Galamon nodded at Argrave’s answer, then picked up the glass bottle. He smothered the flames with a blanket.

“This was the last potion. Eight bottles of the calming brew, four stamina-restoring potions. I fixed the Ebonice arrow. It was bent.”

“I presume your leeching session went well?” He strode in, waving in front of his face to dispel the smell.

Galamon looked at Argrave coldly.

“Come on,” Argrave urged, tapping Galamon’s elbow. “Laughing at something is how you learn to live with it.”

The snow elf set the potion down and picked up a cloth to wipe his hands. “It is a curse. An affliction. An illness is no laughing matter.”

Argrave pursed his lips. “You don’t have to sleep, you don’t age, and the only price is a strange diet and heliophobia.”

“I will not rest with Veid when I die. Instead, I will be lost in the abyss.”

“So, don’t die,” Argrave said, then laughed. His laughter trailed to a stop as Galamon’s pure white eyes stared at him like he was a bug. “Well, whatever. If it’s so terrible, once we’ve killed the world-ending ancient calamity, we can cure you. Until then, keep those fangs sharp.”

“Vampirism cannot be cured,” Galamon said quickly.

“Not by you alone. Me? I have my ways.”

Galamon shook his head. “Erlebnis’ method would be costly.”

“Pfft, where'd that come from?” Argrave waved his hand dismissively, then looked around for his satchel. “Why involve an ancient god? There are plenty of ways.”

Galamon stared. “Supposing that is true… you assume I will not die in your fool’s quest.”

Argrave looked at him, pausing. “You won’t.”

never entered your head before I mentioned

“I’ll die centuries before you do. Stop with the morbidity. We’ve got to pack. You’ve got to pack. We’re heading to Barden.” Argrave grabbed the satchel

and grabbed his bag, putting stoppers in the bottles and loading them in. “It’s the eve of war, and you’re sending me away?

as I’d like you to hold my hand through these stormy tides, these past few days of reviewing my plans mentally have led me to one conclusion; getting an audience with Patriarch Dras is going to be extremely difficult. I need a little something to turn his head. In the chaos of battle, no one is going to listen

his hands as though to

get to the point. I refuse. Anyway, I was thinking of some ancient traditions the Veidimen have that I might be able to take advantage of. I remember that in case of a snowstorm, the Veidimen would signal each other, even if they were

But it’s only accepted if there are extremely pressing circumstances that require cooperation or prevent conflict.

grabbed a few of the bottles off the table and put them in his satchel. “I’m glad you confirmed, because frankly, I wasn’t quite sure I got it right. I also don’t know how to make the signal. Simply put, you need to head to the ruins to create the circumstances for the…

frowned. “What exactly

before Galamon. “It holds some ancient race of elves that—well, I could talk about that place for hours, but I’ll skip the details. When their warriors grew old, they’d cover their bodies in melted metal and trap their souls

back. “I am not

seal on the door, but it broke recently—some stupid miners, you’ll find them dead just about everywhere. From the entryway, you’ll

a tomb

unless you take something,” Argrave assured. “Just be sure not to kick anything around, you’ll

not send your illusionist friend? The yellow-haired, short woman. Surely she,

one's magic. Besides,

mute, gaze

It’s on top of their dead king’s head. You’ll have to take it and run. All of them will wake up, but they’re pretty slow-moving. As long as you’re quick, it should be fine. They hit pretty hard, though. Don’t get hit,” Argrave emphasized, pointing. “Might as

the chair and sat down. He turned his head up at

me. You were fighting against the world-ending calamity. It is my duty to help, I thought.” He pointed to Argrave. “That’s changed.

short order. It’s my duty to hold out until

his head and sighed. Argrave had rarely seen such an expression on the big man’s face. He stood, and Argrave looked

Judge the Gods. Both are monumental tasks beyond my ambition. I was proud to serve under Dras; let us see if things are as you suggest, and I will live long enough to

shoulder. “I’m more worried about myself. I have to hold out against a tide of

atmosphere became harmonious for a moment. Argrave

the archers. Those… well, I’m sure you’ll

back over Galamon’s

#####

made road. It was wooden, and though it looked well-crafted, it was unadorned with fanciful things. Its most notable feature was a set of statues atop it. It depicted various human figures in saint-like poses. Each seemed to represent something. The modest

something ahead in the road. It looked like a heap of black cloth, but it was large enough that

but he paused. His back straightened, and then he kicked the cloth.

and they concealed a set of black plate armor. His black hair was bound into one

“There