Jackal Among Snakes

“The dangerous thing about Brium is…” Argrave trailed off as he stared out over the city of Sethia, standing atop the mound of sand that had been built by the Sand Courser.

Argrave had chosen what he thought was the ‘right thing.’ He’d endeavored to liberate the city from the hands of the Vessels, even if it did create some uncertainty and loss of time. Yet now… Sethia was the worst he had ever seen it. ‘Heroes of Berendar’ never had an outcome with such devastation, such loss of life.

“What is it?” Anneliese interrupted Argrave’s thoughts.

Argrave shook his head. “The dangerous thing about Brium is that he always fights as though the opponent is stronger: cautiously, with contingencies. All the desperation of a cornered rat. Guess that was something taught by being surrounded by two powerhouses—silver and gold.” Argrave kneeled down. “Those damned southron elves… I’d ask what they’re thinking, but I know. Honor and glory.”

“Argrave,” Galamon called out. “Skyward.”

Heeding Galamon’s words, Argrave looked upwards, scanning the blue sky marred by drifting black sand. A gray wyvern cut through the air at them. Argrave stood, readied, yet it began to slow.

Durran’s wyvern gripped onto the side of Argent, using wings and legs both. The claws against metal creaked unpleasantly—sounded like nails against a chalkboard, almost—yet the creature did stop.

“Hey,” Durran called out, shouts rising above his wyvern’s labored breathing. “I’ve got a trade for you.”

“War profiteering?” Argrave returned. “Hardly the time. I’ve got things to do.”

“Heal my leg,” he pointed down. “And I’ll take you to the skies.”

Argrave furrowed his brows, looking to Anneliese. She nodded and whispered, “He is being serious.”

Argrave turned his head back. “We want to get near the fight with Brium.”

“Gods above…” Durran shook his head. “Fine. I’ll land near the bottom of this mound—come quickly. Think I feel my damned leg bone pushing against the armor.”

Argrave flashed a thumbs up, then turned to move. Behind, Durran’s wyvern soared through the sky. Powerful winds assailed them, loosening sand, and Argrave slipped. He collapsed to his back and started to slide down the hill of sand nauseatingly quickly. The Brumesingers in his clothing yelped in terror as Argrave used all of his spatial coordination to stop from careening off the side.

The terror ended when Argrave’s feet met the ground outside Sethia. He straightened his back and shook his duster free of sand, doing his best to act as though he wasn’t on the verge of vomiting in fear. Durran’s mount landed a fair distance away, walking on its two legs towards them.

The southern tribal fell off his mount’s back ungracefully, landing on his side. Anneliese rushed down, but instead of tending to Durran, asked Argrave at once, “Are you hurt?”

“Some bruises tomorrow, maybe,” Argrave shook his head, very proud his voice didn’t waver. “Deal with him.”

Anneliese moved to Durran and started to treat his wound. The man did indeed have bone sticking out of his leg, but with everything still attached, he could be healed. Argrave and Galamon put their things in the wyvern’s saddle, preparing to ride. They paid special attention to Garm’s situation, ensuring nothing would come free. In two or so minutes, they were ready to move. It felt like hours to Argrave.

“Magic… is a thing of beauty,” Durran sighed as he tested his leg.

“Ruminate later,” Argrave directed, pointing to the wyvern. “Liftoff, pilot.”

With one final step, Durran moved towards his mount, gracefully assuming the rider’s position. Argrave got atop its back as well, followed by the other two.

“Heavy load,” Durran noted.

it,” Argrave shook his

back. “How do you know it’s a she?” he questioned as

tail,” Argrave said

of its wings, the gargantuan reptile started to gain altitude. Argrave was fine with heights, but he could not

really kill the Lord of Silver?”

shouted back, holding

the southron elves and the Lord of Copper,

him, and his body shifted slightly every time it moved its wings. The wind battered at him intensely, wearing at his grip constantly unless he kept a low profile. The speed was not ludicrous, yet it

one hand, using his own magic reserve to conjure more electric eels. He stopped at eight, for he felt half of his magic was gone by that point. The sparking constructs

land with my allies,” Durran called out. “They’re preparing to help

“Yeah,” Argrave answered.

Argrave soon realized where he wanted to land. Men cleared out of the way for the wyvern to land atop

nipped his ear, as though to express its displeasure

called out Durran,

things from here,”

out. “All the deaths, tribals and

was loud enough that it could not be ignored, and Argrave turned

our side, but they are not

Many in the crowd echoed Durran’s

cannot bring back my brother!” another disagreed—a guardsman from Sethia, likely under Titus. “That elven magic—we see it happening even now, in their battle against the Vessel! There is a reason our ancestors wiped the southron elves out. Let them

outsider flanked by elven companions—and moreover, none of these people knew him.

she might think of

southron elves now, having them speak

Argrave nodded, then grabbed her elbow, moving her along to the distant fight between the

out, and everyone’s attention was directed to that. Once the loud

He held something to help project his speech—only a cone, but it

“Archers. We should be ready to find cover… especially if they still

spotting them with

battle were not from the southron elves,” he disclosed grandly. “It is their magic… but they did not give them to the

of things followed, but Titus turned around and

elves got involved in this fight because of one man,” Titus held his hand out. “They gave this man supplies, relics of their people… and

where this was headed. The southern tribals within the crowd, too,

elven war relics to agents within the city!” Titus pointed. “The elves trusted that man with their weapons… and

garbage! I didn’t even know the elves were coming

Titus spread his arms out. “It was Durran! He was the sole

bad sensation in his stomach as his

the intermediary between the

leave the tribes and enter the city, usually secretly—the tribals had no