Jackal Among Snakes

Darkness loomed ahead, starkly contrasting with the red lights shining behind. Argrave tried to peer beyond to little effect.

“I don’t sense anything ahead,” said Galamon. “Only… debased viscera,” he contributed after pausing a moment to find the word. “The vampires may be using magic to disguise themselves. You mentioned they were apprentices of a mage group—the Wayward Thorns,” Galamon turned to Argrave.

“Doubtful. They know rudimentary magic, nothing beyond that. Centuries mean very little if you don’t have access to spellbooks, or the genius needed to make your own spells. They have ridiculously deep magic pools, but no spells beyond D-rank. There are reasons for that, but… I’ll share them when we aren’t caught in a vice.” Argrave raised up his hand, a spell matrix forming. A ball of light jumped into the air, banishing some of the darkness before them.

The headquarters of the Order of the Rose in Nodremaid may once have been grand, but its residents had changed it. Much of the place had been dyed red from centuries-old blood. It wasn’t the site of some bloody slaughter—instead, the roses of flesh that gave off light winding about the ceiling had been torn down and destroyed by the vampires to shroud the place in darkness. The ‘bodies’ of the flesh plants were much less frightening than the things themselves. Once the flesh rotted away, all that was left was long stalks of ivory.

“Is light wise?” Anneliese questioned, staring at the ball of flame cautiously.

“They’re vampires, the majority of them older than Galamon. Darkness means nothing for them.”

Anneliese stepped forward, contributing her own light and further illuminating the place. “It’s… quiet here. Figuratively and literally.”

“You mean… not picking up any feelings? Empathy meter goes cold just ahead?” Argrave inquired.

“Yes.” She spared a glance back, then examined the bottom of her boots. Her eyes stayed locked on the corpse of one of the Guardians. The thing’s arms had been torn off. It had been drained of blood. “Still… I cannot say this place is particularly soothing.”

“Right with you,” Argrave agreed, stepping up beside her. The harsh and piercing smell of iron still persisted here, but most other scents died. No insects made noise in the darkness beyond. Indeed, the only noise still present was the barely audible sound of the canal outside, but once they proceeded deeper, Argrave was sure it, too, would fade.

The central lobby was quite a large place. A statue fountain about ten feet tall stood decorating the center, but the fountain had been rendered useless, the faintest bit of polluted red water spouting pathetically out of the statue’s chipped mouth. This place was largely free of the foliage consuming all of Nodremaid.

The main square branched off into three paths, yet there were also two sets of spiral stairs leading up to a second floor. One of the stairs had collapsed midway. The ceiling was quite high. The light of their spell did not illuminate beyond the central lobby, so nothing could be seen of the second floor or beyond.

rooms that way that only have one doorway. Good place to

were tall and ornate. Nodremaid had been unadorned, but the halls here were lined with jade and silver, and the walls were much more finely carved. Argrave kept imagining things in the shadows waiting with teeth

open area that was once a dining room, though like all other places in Nodremaid, it had fallen into ruin, the ceiling partially collapsed. Galamon examined the room for enemies a long

areas, for they were often blocked with thick iron doors and filled to the brim with shelves and crates. Galamon examined the insides of many, deeming most unfit for

Galamon pushed open one door and looked around slowly. “This place… looks to

room after him, it illuminated a fairly empty storage room. Argrave was looking at one of the crates, when something caught the light of his spell, reflecting back at him. It took him a second to process

a vampire, bad memories resurfaced of Barden, of him calling out for Galamon moments before being seized, his very blood stolen. He froze. The vampire didn’t seek to seize Argrave, though—its long nails aimed for his neck, hunting

back before its momentum ceased. Once he had stable footing, he overpowered it easily, tossing it away. It staggered back, falling

yourself well,” Galamon

fallen, but in front of the task at hand, he barely noticed it. The

full of holes, some of it covered with patchwork cloth. It was all the same color, though—a deep red. Argrave considered that it was probably easy to keep clothes red in the Low Way

one said, a woman,

Not the Sentinels, either,” the one who’d attacked answered, wiping his face free of blood. Once he’d

case one of them should lash out with spells. Once that was done, he caught his breath, rubbing his arm to dispel the pain. An uneasy silence

choice of diplomacy or confrontation has been made for us.

did not trust he would not be attacked. “To hell with it. Too late for that. They attacked us the first time they

quickly strung his bow and retrieved

the ward. “I’ll stun

They cast a ward to block the arrow, but Galamon chose an Ebonice arrowhead. Their low-rank ward shattered, and the three scattered. Argrave sent out the D-rank spell [Writhing Lightning] towards the one that split from the group. The vampire reacted quickly, trying to form a ward, but even its supernatural speed could not contest the fastest elemental magic. The [Writhing Lightning] struck the ground, travelling to the vampire’s legs and causing

C-rank lightning spell [Skysunder]. A white bolt struck the vampire, and she was cast to the ground, smoke rising from her waist where she had been

break through! Rush! Rush!” he insisted,