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?”

everywhere, and many of them are inhabited with creatures like we saw and worse. In the future, I must enter more of them.” Argrave turned his head to the stone

makings, from beginning until end. Their creators, and if they knew their creations felt this way. I am certain their emotions

I will tell you what I know. Perhaps, in time, you can learn even how to make them yourself. I can make that happen,” Argrave spoke calmly. The words made Anneliese frown, but Argrave carried on without heed. “I would not suggest it. It would

never create such

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

as she was

If you still feel unwell, we can rest and talk for an hour or so. Otherwise, we will ride slowly back to Jast, and I will explain

an hour,”

let that concern you. If you

from the ground. “Your words and consideration towards me are respite enough. I will follow your example.” She

and pulled himself to his

the horses. Argrave cast one last glance

muttered. “Just when I was getting used

#####

by the Order of the Rose from other, less aware necromantic creations is their permanence on this realm and their capability

why they do what they do. Maybe it’s some last directive from the Order of the Rose. Maybe it’s just their nature. All said, the things we killed today have been wandering those

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

‘independent action,’ 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

I’ve told you all I know, so that is only conjecture. You now understand as much as

horse.

finally neared the black walls of Jast. Off to the side, Argrave spotted Foamspire once again, and his gaze followed it. The sun reflected off its marble walls quite splendidly, and for a brief moment Argrave considered it was a shame that it

from ahead, drawing Argrave’s attention. “Mmm, look at you, taking your leisure time. I suppose

pockmarked face sat on a tree branch, one leg bent atop it

You’re Rivien’s man,” Argrave called

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

Galamon. “We know well the

elves might well be bold in your own eyes, but being cautious of cruelty is just

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

race war for another day and focus on the important stuff,” Argrave interrupted before things could escalate further. “Mister… Man,” Argrave said,

the man said, staring at Galamon while grinding his thumb against

#####

in the direction of Foamspire, where Argrave saw the light reflected off its surface gradually turn from orange to a deep, rich night purple. As ever,