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.”

had never entered your head before I mentioned

Stop with the morbidity. We’ve got to pack. You’ve got to pack. We’re heading to Barden.” Argrave grabbed

grabbed his bag, putting stoppers in the bottles and loading

with Patriarch Dras is going to be extremely difficult. I need a little something to turn

waving his hands as though to hurry

traditions the Veidimen have that I might be able to take advantage of. I remember that in case of a snowstorm, the Veidimen

nodded. “The Veelstron sign, yes. I am surprised you know of it. But it’s only accepted if

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

frowned. “What exactly

stand 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

back. “I am not sure

go in there. There’s a seal on the door, but it broke recently—some stupid miners, you’ll find them dead just about everywhere. From the entryway, you’ll need to head

me to fight against a tomb of guardians? You overestimate my

take something,” Argrave assured. “Just be sure

yellow-haired, short woman. Surely she, with proven stealth capabilities,

don’t have the normal five senses. They sense one's magic. Besides, it’s dark in there. You

mute, gaze growing

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

down. He turned his

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

them in short order. It’s my duty to hold out until then. We’ll parley with the

an expression on the big man’s face. He stood,

Gods. Both are monumental tasks beyond my ambition. I

Argrave hesitantly reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m more worried about myself. I have to hold out against a tide of Veidimen while you get

harmonious for a

the archers. Those… well,

back over Galamon’s face

#####

it. It depicted various human figures in saint-like poses. Each seemed to represent something. The modest carriage was contrasted fiercely by an array

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

heap of cloth to pick it up and throw it aside, but he paused. His back straightened, and then he

very large man dismounted. He wore a set of white robes, and they concealed a set of black plate armor. His black hair was bound into one large braid, dropping behind him to

bowing from atop a horse. “There is a block ahead in the road.