Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave approached Anneliese, who’d slumped against the wall, and put his hands on his knees.

“Feeling queasy, or is it something else?”

She nodded to his open-ended question with her hand still covering her mouth, so Argrave did not know what exactly was wrong. He knelt down, perplexed, and looked to Galamon. He did not seem to have any idea of what to do, either.

“Those creatures,” she finally said, her voice no louder than a whisper. Argrave turned his head back to her. Her gaze was locked to the ground. “Do you know what they are?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Argrave replied. When she didn’t answer, Argrave said awkwardly, “Erm… well, they’re creatures made by necromancy.”

“Are they alive?” she asked, her amber eyes finally lifting from the ground and locking with Argrave’s own. “Can they feel?”

“They’re a soul locked in a vessel,” Argrave explained. “That’s the foundation of necromantic creatures. These ones have been sculpted to resemble horrors to damage morale. They’re usually made from the corpses of the Order of the Rose’s enemies.”

“No. I have seen other necromantic creations, fought against Veidimen who turned to the darker magics in search of greater power. Normal necromantic creations felt nothing and displayed no emotion—they were but a vessel for the soul and magic.” She ran a hand through her hair. “These things… they felt. They had emotion. They were alive.”

Argrave bit his lip, unsure of what to say for a time. He thought back to the creatures. Their appearances had been all but engraved into his memory. He felt an instinctual disgust seeing them in a new perspective, but he had been mentally preparing for that inevitability for months. He supposed that clinging to the notion that they were merely souls in vessels had been helpful, but Anneliese’s insights unsettled him somewhat.

When a long period of silence passed, Argrave tried to understand further, suggesting gently, “Be that as it may, they were trying to kill us—surely their emotions couldn’t be dissimilar to those during war. After Barden, you were fine… what’s different?”

“It’s not the same,” she shook her head. “Not the same at all.” She lowered her head once more, staring at the ground. Argrave knelt there, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Anneliese broke the silence.

“When a child is born, they lack all the usual methods of communication we possess. They cannot speak, nor understand speech.” She stared at Argrave. “As a consequence, the only way they understand others is through facial expressions, body language, or tone. One can make a baby cry by scowling alone. They experience emotions more intensely, and project them the same way.

“All I saw in each of those creatures was confusion, fright, dread, and… pain. Each was projected with a childlike innocence. It…” she lowered her head in defeat. “…it probably sounds ridiculous, having seen them. They are abominations. You said so yourself, and I myself do not deny they appear and act abominable. But there is something in them that is unwitting and unwilling. Something with all the naivete of a baby.”

Argrave shook his head. “It doesn’t sound ridiculous.” Anneliese looked up at him, some measure of surprise on her face. “I won’t act like I understand because I don’t. I won’t act like I felt it too, but I trust your abilities enough to believe you. That, at least, you can be sure of,” Argrave lined it out plainly.

“I see,” she said, voice cracking. She stared for some time, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“The question is…” Argrave sat down. “What do you want to do about it?”

When posed with that question, Anneliese’s demeanor shifted. Her back, slumped against the stone wall, straightened, and her shaking slowed. Argrave had hoped it might have that effect. Rather than focusing on what she’d seen, she would focus on what could be done—drastically different lines of thinking, and perhaps the route to recovery.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and looked at Argrave levelly. “Do you believe we will see these creatures again?”

them.” Argrave turned his

them,” she said resolutely. “Their makings, from beginning until end. Their creators, and if they knew their creations

happen,” Argrave spoke calmly. The words made Anneliese frown, but Argrave carried on without heed. “I would

never create such things,”

it. I certainly didn’t,” he reflected, thinking back to the month he’d spent

as she was lost in her own head. Argrave waited for a time, and

explain all of what I know of the Order of the Rose and their nameless creations. If you still feel unwell, we

here in an hour,” Galamon

be fine,” Argrave dismissed. “Don’t let that concern you. If you need to rest,

rose to her feet. Argrave stared up at her from the ground. “Your words and consideration towards me are respite enough. I will follow your

took her hand and pulled himself to his

Argrave, meeting with Galamon and moving towards the horses. Argrave cast one last glance

“Just when I was getting

#####

essence, what divides the creations made by the Order of the Rose from other, less aware necromantic creations is

Order of the Rose. Maybe it’s just

the information in silence. Argrave turned away and watched the black box containing the spellbook for [Electric Eel] bounce up and down in tandem with Galamon’s horse. The box was strapped to the horse with a makeshift

that difference has to come from somewhere,” Anneliese reasoned, pulling Argrave from his concern. “Perhaps that cognition—no, that emotion, both enables them to act without direct command and experience life. Presuming one has a soul from birth, if a soul is used in the construction of a necromantic creation, it would be very similar to a baby’s—inexperienced,

finding no fault in the theory. “But I’ve told you all I know, so that is only conjecture. You now understand as much as I do, I

her horse. Argrave turned

spotted Foamspire once again, and his gaze followed it. The sun reflected off its marble walls quite splendidly, and for a brief moment

are,” came a gruff voice from ahead, drawing Argrave’s attention. “Mmm, look at you, taking your leisure time. I suppose I would be in no rush to return what’s borrowed, either, but then

face sat on a tree branch, one leg bent atop it and the other dangling

Argrave

below him. He shifted, turning more of his body towards them. “Boss said he contacted some of the porcelain elves, just as you asked. They’ve been waiting for you before proceeding. Might

know well the cruelty of

right?” the man proceeded. “You elves might well be bold in your own eyes, but being cautious of cruelty is just a polite way

bold enough to put the ignorant in their place,” Galamon said, lowering the pitch of his voice until it was deep

on the important stuff,” Argrave interrupted before things could escalate further.

at Galamon while grinding his thumb against his fingers.

#####

fading suns. They headed in the direction of Foamspire, where Argrave saw the