Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave grabbed Anneliese’s wrist weakly. “When I die…you go see Orion. You’ll need his help for the jester,” he mumbled. “After, you should deal… with the war. I think. If you like Orion, help him. If you don’t, help the rebels. You’re a smart… cookie. You’ll do it fine.”

All while Argrave was talking, Anneliese was repeating his name time and time again. He didn’t seem to hear it at all.

“Just remember to get Elenore on your side—she’s the Bat,” he continued, slurring. “After that… the steppes. Go there. The centaurs… and the elves…. You’ve gotta deal with the malfeasance… and the dryads. Side with the centaurs… they’re better. Cooler.”

Anneliese finally shook Argrave, and his bloodshot eyes came to focus on her, open wide in surprise. “Argrave. It is over. You have been treated. You are not dying.”

He stared for a moment, mouth agape. He smacked his lips together, and his eyes rolled back into his head before coming back to attention. “That can’t be right. I feel terrible.”

“Just let him be,” Garm spoke, causing Anneliese to turn her head back. “That spell drains a lot from the one subject to the disease—he’ll probably need to eat and drink a lot before he’s back to working order. Even then… his lungs probably have some scarring. Minor, though, and it should heal given time.”

Anneliese lowered him back into the makeshift bed that Galamon had constructed. Argrave spoke, staring at Garm. “What are you… a doctor? An… anesthesiologist?” he spoke the word incredibly slowly, as though he could barely remember it. Once he laid back in his bed, he shifted. “Shitty hospital bed… I want to go home. The HOBwiki is nothing… without…”

Anneliese looked up at Galamon. “What is he talking about?”

“Doubt anyone could answer that.” Galamon crossed his arms and shook his head. “He’s delirious. Let him be. We should prepare some easily-chewable food for him—crush those berries, dice some of our rationed meat.”

Anneliese leaned away from Argrave, letting out a deep sigh of relief that caused the stress to veritably drain from her face. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, with deep dark bags beneath them.

“I hope you won’t forget our deal, sweetie, now that your little friend isn’t one toe into the grave,” Garm spoke from behind her.

Anneliese’s expression tensed once more, and she looked back to Garm. “I will honor that arrangement. And… thank you for your tutelage.”

“Don’t expect more… unless I benefit, somehow.” Garm smiled. “If you think that’s selfish, realize you’re speaking to someone worse off than a cripple.”

She turned her head away and nodded, then rose to her feet. Galamon was staring at her.

“You should rest,” he stated. “Hard to tell time here, but I estimate you’ve gone two days without sleep… your job is done, and now you must come back to form. I will take care of things from here. Nothing will disturb us.”

“But you must be near devoid of blood—perhaps I should—”

“Sleep,” he commanded. “Do not be as bad as him about taking care of yourself.”

“Wake me should anything happen. You said the Sentinels are still clearing out the lower

what we did, to be

out. “Please, do not dwell on

#####

hoarse and speaking still hurt. His mind had gathered somewhat—enough for conversation, at the very least. “Most kids bring home a pet, it’s something like a dog… or a cat, maybe, if you’re lucky. But Anneliese… a head,” Argrave outlined, then nodded

few small

to speak, and she seemed to be glad he was back to snuff. Galamon was off collecting some of those berries from the trees. Argrave and Anneliese sat near the wall, Argrave well-supported by a bed of cloth that

this now?” shot

debt to the Sentinels… good enough for me.” Argrave frowned. “How are we… going to bring you anywhere? Not exactly easy luggage. You pass through any city gates, the guards won’t know how much to charge for the toll. Three and a quarter? And that’s assuming

very funny. Mock a head on a stake. Do you mock amputees? Cripples? The mentally deficient? Are

Garm’s situation. After a time, Argrave looked him in the eyes and nodded. “You’re right. It’s

what’s on my face. If I think there’s something behind me? All

going to be easy to bring you anywhere. I’d say

so strange?” Garm

being serious?” Argrave

walk about with their necromantic

finally realizing the culture gap. “After the Order of the Rose fell, their creations started going out of control, and… well, things have been extremely unpleasant for everyone involved. You’ve seen this place,” Argrave waved his hands

make sense. Unless they all vanished overnight, something like this… makes

looked between them, then raised his arms up. “Why are you looking at me? I don’t have all the

looking disappointed, and Anneliese nodded as though

know the

and Anneliese also straightened her posture, both

last recorded meeting of the Order of the Rose was called by its last Grandmaster,” Argrave began. “This was when the southern tribes were invading the Low Way. He called together all of the High Wizards of the Order to the Low Way, in a gathering now known as the ‘Night of Withering.’” Argrave’s gaze

or what actually happened in it… but that night, when the southern tribes made it deep into the Low Way, trying to push into Vasquer… what awaited them was a river of blood. Everything in

He was a master of blood magic and

shrugged. “No one knows what happened. Some people say the Grandmaster and the High Wizards both gave their flesh to wash away the invaders with blood strengthened by their own magic. Others say they were a victim of their own project and died

Order sacrificing themselves like that to stop a mere invasion,” Garm looked

move again… tomorrow,” Argrave looked

surprised. “You

it back to their fortress. We can't hope to match them there.” He looked back to

there’s no other

it’s a