Jackal Among Snakes

“You want to give us a ride?” Argrave questioned Durran.

“I do,” Durran nodded, spinning his wyvern scale helmet about in his hands. Up close, the armor was quite impressive—a coat of gray lamellar wyvern scales stretching down to the knees, held together with studs of what looked to be brass. His glaive was made of wyvern bone. It was done in the style of the southron elves. All-in-all, impressively armed.

Argrave crossed his arms. “Why?”

“You probably saved me from Titus,” Durran answered at once. “I owe you a debt.”

“I’d expect you to default on the first payment of any debt you got,” Argrave shook his head. “And it’s not ‘probably.’ I did save you from Titus.”

Durran laughed. “You act like you know so much about me. It’s a bit perplexing.”

Argrave stared at Durran. The man was obviously in better spirits—he couldn’t help but spare a glance at Garm.

“I know an uncomfortable amount about you,” Argrave nodded. “Your favorite color is gray… particularly when supported with burgundy.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m coming,” Durran suggested.

“Because your favorite color—”

“No, because you know so much about me,” Durran interrupted.

“There is something I don’t know,” Argrave confessed. “Your father. You said he was dying?”

“Well… he improved in time to dish out some spiteful, life-ruining nonsense, but yeah,” Durran nodded.

Argrave looked to Anneliese, and she nodded, confirming he was being honest. Argrave turned away. Did he just catch an illness randomly? It’s certainly possible… but it could be foul play, too. Argrave juggled the idea, but then realized, Does it really matter, now?

“How in the world do you know so much about me while being ignorant of common knowledge within the tribe?” Durran stepped forth back into Argrave’s sight.

“For reasons you couldn’t comprehend or codify,” Argrave snapped back to attention. “Listen… the place we’re going is very out-of-the-way.”

“That’s fine. It’ll be nice to have a last long voyage with my girl,” Durran looked to where his wyvern was. Some of the southron elf children played with the creature cautiously. “She isn’t mine. She’s the tribe’s. She’ll go back to the tribe when I set her loose. She’s still young, and she needs to have children. Not many females left living after the battle.”

“Finders, keepers, maybe?” Argrave suggested.

Durran was confused for a second, but he placed the meaning after a time and laughed lightly. “She’s a social one. She won’t last long away from the others.”

Argrave sighed. “Maybe you can get another, then, bring it too. I’ll take it.”

a sight, watching you try and fly,” Durran turned his head back. “But you still never answered

he noted. “Happy to accept free transportation. I’ll need to get things together, secure them on the back of your wyvern… then

#####

hours past sunrise, and the suns had not yet come over some distant mountains, keeping the black desert illuminated only by the pale blue light

a bit of civilization could be seen in any direction, even from their significant height. To be lost in this place was a death sentence, it seemed—nothing lived here. Even the Brandbacks, titanic predators, did not lure

to do me in?” Durran shouted

people hate you now, I don’t think seclusion would be necessary,”

directing Durran where he knew to go. He used the mountains and the compass as his guide. Beside him, he saw Anneliese struggling with her hair—one of her braids had come loose, and strands of hair battered about everywhere. Argrave leaned in,

I should cut it. Given how much we travel,

“It looks too good to cut.

tilted her head but said nothing in response. Argrave turned his attention back

felt the nervousness set in. He had been obsessively checking everything to be sure that nothing was amiss—the Wraith’s Heart was fine, the Amaranthine Heart still functioned, the Unsullied Knife still retained its power, and the Crimson

promised to be monumentally emotional things. If Argrave failed, now… to

be as eager to perform this surgery as Argrave would be to receive it. Such was his

and tapped Durran’s shoulder. “There!” he

Durran questioned, and Argrave nodded.

the spot,

descended, spurred downwards by its rider. They circled around,

then stepped off the wyverns. His legs, weak from the ride, collapsed beneath him, and he slid down the dune a bit in a sitting position. His Brumesingers abandoned him immediately, jumping

deadly quicksand. As long as one wasn’t stupid, they could easily get out, even if they landed in the center of one of the pits. It wasn’t meant to catch

ready for feasting. Anneliese stepped up to Argrave, her own fox held

“Desolate,” Anneliese noted.

“Depressing,” Galamon confirmed.

alliteration with an ill-fitting word, then sighed. “Now I’m thinking

treacherous path you mentioned?” Durran walked up, too, still holding his wyvern’s reins as he

hole… actually, that hole, specifically,” Argrave pointed one out. “I’ve taken

jump into quicksand?”

you wanted

have to tag along until I get them, so

the man—it had to be something related to that.

cusp of becoming Black Blooded. Argrave liked Durran. He wouldn’t mind having him

paranoid. He wasn’t about to let guilt ruin months of

don’t exactly loathe your presence. If you wish to follow, follow.” Argrave rose to his feet with a

insanity are two sides of the same coin,” Garm commented. “Fortunately, you’re

said with a bitter smile as

Argrave tussled with his backpack, unstrapping it from the wyvern’s back,

to… jump in? I mean, the thing probably isn’t deep enough to even take you. You’ll just get stuck. What is it you’re expecting to

path below,”