Jackal Among Snakes

A fire crackled, sending smoke up into the night sky. For the first time in a long while, Argrave sat before a man-made campfire instead of one born of magic. The flame was contained in a bowl of some sort that seemed to be resistant to heat and kept aflame by chopped logs. Above it, goat meat sizzled, dripping fatty grease into the fire which would let out a cascade of sparks.

Argrave and Anneliese sat near, each using the campfire to read. Galamon had his back turned to the flame, watching out into the fading light of dusk. His helmet was off, disguising Garm from sight atop Galamon’s backpack. Across from them sat Titus, the leader of the merchant caravan.

Titus was taller than most, just shy of Anneliese’s height, and had a body clearly adjusted to physical labor. He had golden eyes and dark skin, marking him as a former tribal. Argrave found that, in the three days they had been journeying, he wore only extravagant red and gold clothing. He displayed the mark of Fellhorn, leaving the blue cross on his backhand exposed.

“That should be sufficient,” Titus narrated as he leaned forward, gingerly seizing the skewered meat’s stake. He lifted it up, taking it off the flame.

Anneliese shut her book eagerly, placing it inside her bag. Argrave took his time, watching Titus set things up.

Titus reached off the side and retrieved four thin yet wide purple leaves. “These are the leaves of a Bitterbite. It is said if one eats too many, they will lose their taste—yet I have had thousands, and they do nothing. Worry not, gentlemen, madam,” Titus spoke smoothly.

“Just call us by name,” Argrave held his hand out. “The term might apply to me, but Galamon definitely isn’t gentle.”

“I would not dare show disrespect to one who dined with Mistress Tatia,” Titus quickly refuted at once.

Argrave didn’t press the issue further.

Titus wrapped the goat meat in the leaf, and then slowly pulled it free of the skewer. “The leaf of a Bitterbite has tangy juices that go well with the spice. Please, gentlemen, madam—enjoy the first bite.” He held out the leaf-wrapped meat, and Argrave touched Anneliese’s elbow, gesturing for her to take it.

She took it, holding it in hand but waiting to take a bite. Titus diligently wrapped another piece of meat, offering it to Argrave. Argrave took it, refraining as well.

“The gentleman Galamon?” Titus questioned.

“He has his strange ways of eating,” Argrave interrupted. “He packs his own food and throws a tantrum if he cannot eat it his way. Don’t mind him.”

“Ah… certainly.” Titus nodded. He bit into his wrapped meat, and only once he had chewed and swallowed did Anneliese and Argrave do so, as well. Argrave knew the leaf itself was not hazardous, but some caution was warranted with a stranger.

The leaf added a flavor reminiscent of lime to the meat, though it was much fainter than the fruit might’ve been. Anneliese seemed to enjoy it. Argrave didn’t find it terrible, but frankly he’d rather just eat the meat as it was. That said, Titus’ skills were impressive. The Burnt Desert certainly had cuisine far beyond that of Vasquer, at least in Argrave’s opinion.

“On the morrow…” Titus looked out across the dunes of sand. “I suspect we will reach Malgeridum by this time.”

“The mining city?” Argrave questioned. “That’s good. Fast progress. Hopefully we aren’t blocked by another sandstorm.”

“The gentleman knows the city,” Titus noted, minutely surprised.

“Yeah. Prime example of Fellhorn’s infinite generosity,” Argrave said sarcastically.

Titus said nothing, staring into the fire. Argrave and Anneliese ate in silence

were a tribal

“Yes,” Titus confirmed.

underneath Mistress Tatia as a merchant,”

nodded in confirmation this

now—which would

between starvation and servitude.” He looked up at Argrave, his golden eyes reflecting the fire well. “I was born when our tribe was already dead. The tales my elders spoke of—glorious battle against the men of Vasquer, where strength ruled the desert, where we toppled great beasts and rode wyverns across

like it underneath the

flame. “I know suffering with an empty stomach, and I know life underneath Fellhorn’s eternal rain. They are different in many ways, similar in some.” He stabbed the

pressed, moving closer

easy place to live. Yet within the walls…” Titus rubbed his hands together near the fire. “The Vessels need to Drain to grow in power, be it from the people or from the world. They constantly

gaze briefly flitted to Galamon when ‘accursed bloodsuckers’ were mentioned, but he had tact enough to

only way to ensure your continued existence is to make yourself valuable.” Titus held

of Fellhorn—how are they made?” Anneliese inquired

is rarely a welcome thing, and so most resist. It usually ends in the family’s death, especially if they

interrupted Galamon loudly.

walking to where Galamon

said, “I see them. The gentleman has

spring in the rocks,” Galamon noted. “Tribals, probably. They have

and watching. He could see nothing for a time, until he caught

Galamon confirmed

small stones? Is there

around, scanning. Eventually, he nodded. “Seems

I’m wrong, but that’s no oasis. It’s

did not turn his head away as he complimented, “The gentleman has

“Brandback?” Anneliese asked.

a little, and lets its saliva pool. When something steps near to drink, it opens its mouth fully and swallows them whole.” Argrave scratched

know it is there,” Titus stated. “The

questioned. “What makes you say

people have decided to choose

“But how can you…?”

a tribe would not know of a Brandback.” Titus

of black sand exploded into the air like a geyser. Once the sand cleared, a thick, fat lizard creature plopped onto the sand, its entire body covered in black, rock-like bumps. It threw its head with its throat swelled like a pelican, something clearly stuck in there. After a time, it settled, its

is

tribe,” Titus stood from where he knelt. “The hunter may only eat when he

prize…” Garm spoke, causing Argrave’s

“Hmm?” Titus looked back.