Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave steadily stepped up the jagged red crystals that bit at his boots. If there was one thing he had not expected to appreciate, it would be the enchanted boots. There was a limit to the level of comfort one could offer for footwear on Earth, even with advanced technology. Here, though, despite the sharp, ruby-colored crystals sticking up into his soles, he felt nothing. The only pain he felt was from the gradual wear and tear of walking.

The confines of the crystal cave were narrow and dark. There was a certain comfort to the narrowness—Argrave felt as though he was freed from the constant oppression that the openness of Nodremaid provided. Back there, the vast open space and looming buildings made him feel as though something could swoop down at any moment and end him. Here, he felt walled. This came with its own set of problems, naturally, but they paled in comparison.

“You’re sure this leads… anywhere?” questioned Garm, voice unlabored.

“Yes,” replied Argrave simply, finding himself annoyed by the head’s presence. Perhaps it was simply jealousy Garm did not need to endure this trek as Argrave did.

Ahead, the crystals cast eerie shadows like jagged teeth as the spell light dancing above Argrave’s head illuminated the cave. They came to a branching path. Galamon stopped, turning around and silently asking Argrave for direction. Argrave furrowed his brows, a bit uncertain—it was difficult to be certain the way he followed was right. It had been months since he’d been here in-game. He looked for obvious identifiers, and then he spotted a faint difference in the constant red. Movement.

Argrave knelt down and lowered his fingers. They came up red, and he felt an uncomfortable warmness seeping into his gloves. He followed the trickle of thick, viscous blood with his gaze, watching from where it flowed.

“We’re close, I think. Just follow the flow,” Argrave pointed, then wiped the blood off on his duster.

Galamon proceeded. The crystals started to grow from small, sharp things into large clumps, as though increasing in quality. At times, it made navigation a touch difficult, requiring uncomfortable stretching and twisting. Argrave had to stop the party to be sure his lungs were not overtaxed multiple times.

Yet their uncertain advance started to feel like genuine progress as the things around aligned themselves with Argrave’s memories of ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ The crystals grew larger yet, until the floor beneath them solidified into one giant crystal. The space continued to open, and Argrave greatly appreciated the opportunity to stand straight without fear of bumping his head against something. With it, though, came a whirling sense of nervousness and excitement both. With the Knight of the Wellspring lying ahead, it felt finally time to test his practice—his efforts over the months he had been here.

“Gods… the sheer level of power needed to create crystals this—”

“Shut up,” Argrave insisted in a whisper, turning back to Garm held in Anneliese’s hand. “Make no noise. I told you a fight lies ahead—don’t attract attention.”

Garm stared up at Argrave, saying nothing. He turned his gaze away, and Argrave took that as acquiescence.

Galamon proceeded deeper into the red crystal cave, his metal boots ringing pleasantly against the ruby-red crystals. Argrave could see the flow of blood beneath his feet grow thicker as they neared the Crimson Wellspring. Then, for the first time, there was a light ahead. Argrave stopped Anneliese, canceling his spell light and directing her to do the same.

sight he remembered well, he took a deep breath as

pillars. Stone chairs were arrayed in a circle around the center, while a chair in the

the pillars, as though reinforcing them. Many of the chairs were fully obscured by the crystals, the humanoid figures sat atop them encased in the ruby growth. In the center, the Crimson Wellspring floated, suspended in the air while emanating a bright red light that reflected off the surface of the crystals. The light made it difficult to make out its shape, yet a constant pour of blood emerged from it like water

It was a knight in armor. A sash of stone roses hung across his chest, marking him as a Stonepetal Sentinel. The stone roses had been turned into the same red crystals

Grandmaster Sentinel, sat in the chair with all the vigor of a corpse, a mace leaning up against his leg. To call him a corpse was an apt comparison—he was a husk controlled

down, pulling everyone down with him. “There’s our foe.

many questions,”

usually do,” Argrave acknowledged. “It’d be

nodded after a

safe spot as he spoke. “If we step into the room, I’m sure he’ll come alive. But, we have the initiative. To begin: Galamon,” Argrave pointed. “You’ll hit him with arrows enchanted with fire—his armor will negate most of the damage, but fire is especially effective against him. After

as he removed his own pack. “I’ll use my greatsword in the other hand. The dagger… I need to

the pillars. Easier to take cover. We can watch each other’s backs,

nodded. She raised Garm up. “Should

another variable—unpredictable, and I hadn’t really expected to… well, make use of

his lips, then closed his eyes. “Won’t complain at this

Argrave had suggested, perching Garm in an area that he was facing upright. Argrave took the time to stare at Claude. Watching the Knight of the Wellspring sitting there, immobile, made him wish to rush

distance away. Argrave looked between the

my side, so I don’t see that happening. Still, just to reiterate… we stick to what we discussed. Any questions, uncertainties? Now’s the time.” Argrave moved his head between the two of them, waiting. When nothing came, he took a deep breath, the dull ache of pain in his chest serving to ground

the

an arrow that shone with red light

then touched Anneliese’s shoulder to get her attention. They moved along the edge of the room, Anneliese watching the bodies encased within the crystal with an insatiable curiosity even amidst the tension. Argrave knelt up beside the crystal-encased stone pillar and spared a glance at Galamon before refocusing on

a complex spell matrix in hand, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Argrave, though, had something else in mind. He held both of his hands out, and eels of blue lightning emerged from his hand, dancing up into the sky in

set Argrave’s heart beating faster every second. A twang sounded out in the soundless cavern, and a flaming arrow coursed out through the center of the room. It struck into the visor of the helmet, and Argrave could not help but be awed at the elf’s marksmanship in

Wellspring immediately sprung to life. It fell forward, sending the mace leaning against its legs rolling out across the floor. Claude rolled, then came to his feet in a fluid motion. He pulled free the bloodied arrow, casting it aside, then held both of his hands out. The flowing stream of blood pouring from the Wellspring diverted its course, surging through the air as though alive. It split near Claude’s hands, gradually coalescing into two twin blades—simple broadswords with flat