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.”

now… that possibility had never

to pack. We’re heading to Barden.” Argrave grabbed the satchel and threw it over

stoppers in the bottles and loading them in. “It’s the eve of

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

his hands as though to hurry

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

raised a brow in surprise but nodded. “The Veelstron sign, yes. I am surprised you know of it. But it’s only

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

exactly is in these

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

hair back. “I

on the door, but it broke recently—some stupid miners, you’ll

against a tomb of guardians? You overestimate my

something,” Argrave assured. “Just be sure not to

illusionist friend? The yellow-haired, short woman. Surely she, with proven stealth capabilities, would be

sense one's magic.

went mute, gaze

the end of the tomb. 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 well leave your weapons out front, barring that axe

chair and sat down. He

duty to help, I thought.” He pointed to Argrave. “That’s changed. I’m sending it to my family in Veiden,

only virtue. Once the fighting breaks out, you’ll be off to fetch them in short order. It’s my duty to hold out until then. We’ll parley with the Veidimen, kill the tomb

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

I think. He united all of Veiden; you challenge He Who Would Judge the Gods. Both are monumental

be fine,” Argrave hesitantly reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m more worried about myself. I have to hold out

became harmonious for

archers. Those… well, I’m

over Galamon’s

#####

was a set of statues atop it. It depicted various human figures in saint-like poses. Each seemed to represent something. The modest carriage was contrasted fiercely by an array of gold-armored knights on horseback. They

the horses to a slow, seeing something ahead in the road. It looked like a heap of black cloth, but it was large enough that the carriage would not be able to drive over it unimpeded. The royal knights moved ahead, well

throw it aside, but he paused. His back straightened, and then he kicked the cloth. It rolled over,

black plate armor. His black hair was bound into one large braid, dropping behind him to his knees. His eyes were gray and his brows were thick and bushy, giving

bowing from atop a horse. “There is a block ahead in the road. This will be only a