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.”

that possibility had never

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

paused, but eventually moved and grabbed his bag, putting stoppers in the bottles and loading them in. “It’s the eve of

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 to

his hands as though

won’t 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

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

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… Veelstron sign,” Argrave pronounced each

exactly is in

ancient race of elves that—well, I could talk about that place for hours, but I’ll skip the

back. “I am not sure that I

miners, you’ll find them dead just about everywhere. From the entryway, you’ll need to head to

a

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

short woman. Surely she, with

They sense one's magic. Besides,

went mute,

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,

sat down. He turned his

that you paid me. You were fighting against the world-ending calamity. It is my duty to help, I thought.” He pointed to Argrave. “That’s changed. I’m sending it to my family in Veiden,

“Listen, I know your capabilities. These guys are slow and clumsy. Being heavy is their 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

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

makes me question your sanity. You possess the same sort of boldness Dras did, I think. He united all of Veiden; you challenge He Who Would Judge the Gods. Both are monumental tasks beyond

more worried about myself. I have to hold out against a tide of Veidimen while you get the

harmonious for a moment. Argrave

only dangerous guardians are the archers. Those… well, I’m sure you’ll be

over Galamon’s

#####

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

driver brought 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

pick it up and throw it aside, but he paused. His back straightened, and then he kicked the cloth. It rolled over, revealing that that pile was actually

opened. A 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

royal knights greeted, bowing from atop a horse. “There is a block ahead in the road. This will be