Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave was the farthest thing from a hunter.

But the people with him both hailed from a northern island where hunts made up a large portion of the food supply. Galamon had been a part of many hunts, and Anneliese knew much of the process by virtue of her sheer curiosity. As such, Argrave had learned that their people took two approaches to hunting animals in Veiden: trapping, or cornering.

They could not afford to make any traps, and so they had worked at cornering the Brumesingers. Galamon had steered them towards that end. Now, the creatures lay beyond a veil of mist, entrenched deeply. As the saying went, a cornered rat will bite the cat. Patience was their largest virtue. Their venture to capture the Brumesingers became a siege.

The four of them would press into the mist—never enough to leave them vulnerable from all sides, but far enough to evoke a reaction from the animals hiding within. And indeed, time and time again, the warriors of mist would appear, and their party’s patient caution proved more than enough to receive all comers.

Brium’s Vessel, Yarra, proved to be well worth the trust bestowed in her by the Lord of Copper. Once she learned how these warriors summoned by the Brumesingers functioned, she was quite adept at dealing with them. Her control over the water springing from within was masterful, to the point where she left not a drop behind no matter how she attacked. She seemed to have a penchant for manipulating the water within herself to weapons. She would reform her hands into swords, spears, and all manner of war instruments.

This process took an uncomfortably long time. Argrave felt tempted to leave and ensure their backpacks left outside were truly hidden, but he kept those thoughts inside. Over the course of many fatiguing hours, during which Argrave ran out of magic, the fog that had been near as thick as milk began to dwindle. The place started to look like a graveyard sauna.

At a point, the warriors conjured lacked form and distinguishing features—it had been obvious they were southron elves, at first, and their skin had looked truly real. Now, they truly fought warriors borne of mist.

With a retreating slash of Galamon’s greatsword, the last two remaining warriors finally dispelled not into mist, but into nothingness. Argrave had grown well used to their unnatural and grim howls, yet this last’s death knell did not echo out across the ancient tomb. The silence that followed was all-consuming.

“Hoo,” Argrave breathed out, some of his tension dissolved in the wake of excitement. The process of getting to the Brumesingers in the game was much the same, though admittedly infinitely more reckless and far less time-consuming. “Alright. Yarra, Galamon, stay near the entrance. Make sure the little ones don’t scamper out.”

Yarra nodded, far more amenable to direction after the nonstop conditioning of the misty siege.

With the two of them standing near the entrance, waiting, Argrave and Anneliese advanced ahead. The room had coffins lined up on each of its two walls, but in the back of the room, stairs rose up to an elevated portion that housed one single, grander coffin.

Argrave stepped around, watching the floors for any movement. Neither he nor Anneliese spotted anything for a long time, but then he heard a faint, rapid sound—it sounded like a dog’s squeaky chew toy, almost. It took him a bit to place it, but then he knelt down, lowering his face to the ground and peering beneath one of the coffins. At once, he smiled in triumph.

He saw the Brumesingers he’d been seeking crouched low beneath the coffins. The white-furred creatures were canids. Their appearance bore the most resemblance to that of a fox, with especially large ears. Considering they were desert creatures, the fennec fox seemed a close relative. Their fur was like snow. Their eyes, too, were especially striking—they were like moving pools of gold, a glimpse into another dimension.

The Brumesingers were wheezing in exhaustion, all of their energy spent. Argrave lifted his head up and beckoned Anneliese over. She came to the other side, and her presence made the creatures sidle away in panic, moving closer to the center of the coffin.

spoke to Anneliese. “Had we found them earlier, they would’ve been as black as night. Their fur changes color as the consume the souls of

she agreed, white hair scattered everywhere on the stone as she pressed her face to peer

tapped the ground, thinking. “You should take one for now,” he looked to Anneliese. “Eventually, I want you to have a bird familiar for hyper-effective scouting. For now, though… these

her palm—Argrave couldn’t distinguish the spell, but he recognized it as druidic magic. One of the Brumesingers lifted its head,

the Brumesingers reacted to Argrave’s change—one bolted from beneath the coffin, surging towards the exit like a maniac.

out his hand, casting the C-rank druidic spell, [Pack Leader]. At once, he felt a strange sensation in his chest. The feeling was vastly different from when he had linked with the

understand death in that

this newfound and entirely unexpected epiphany, Argrave’s entire body seized up. His arms lost strength, and he collapsed to the ground. His heart started to beat at the pace of a hummingbird’s wings, his skin felt like it was crawling, and he started sweating uncontrollably. He sight

had come to pass, but Anneliese knelt over him. His vision slowly regained clarity, and he felt something warm on his cheek. Two ‘somethings,’ in fact—on one side, something soft, and

got his wits about him, he realized Anneliese held his face while the two Brumesingers sat by

“I had no idea something like this might happen. I should have warned you. The spell

voice

did you feel?” she

he croaked out a

said nothing, eyes

want to die,” he could only say. “I thought I knew

fell,” she said.

the three of them. There was something more between them. These creatures ceased to be mere Brumesingers—they felt like an extension of Argrave, every bit as important as his arms or legs.

likely due to Anneliese’s healing magic. She moved him, leaning him up against the coffin. The little white creatures bounded on top of his lap, all of their timidity vanished—rather, it felt like they were now protecting Argrave. Just the

the roughest

them. The one she’d claimed stood near her leg. “Furthermore, it seems there is definitely a

rest atop them, some of his

The spell I used merely changes their soul’s disposition towards me. Were I to connect to them with a direct link, as I often did with the bird… I expect I would experience much

around the coffin, coming to stand before Argrave. He held the last Brumesinger in his hand, and the creature dangled uncooperatively from his hand. It let out small little yelps, though dared not bite at the gauntleted

do with