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.”

fly,” Durran

have him talk to people more,” he noted. “Happy to accept free transportation. I’ll need to get things together, secure them on the back of your wyvern… then we can get

#####

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

a bit of civilization could be seen in any direction, even from their significant height. To be lost in this place was

you aren’t taking me somewhere secluded to do me in?” Durran

I don’t think seclusion would be necessary,”

his guide. Beside him, he saw Anneliese struggling with her hair—one of her braids had come loose, and strands

should cut it. Given how

be a tragedy,” Argrave stated. “It looks too good

her head but said nothing in response. Argrave turned his attention back towards the dunes

approached Argrave’s final goal, he finally felt the nervousness set in. He had been obsessively checking everything to be sure that nothing was

Black Blooded as Argrave had a thousand times more weight than it had in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ Failure and success both promised to be monumentally emotional things. If Argrave failed, now… to say the least,

Alchemist might be temperamental… but he would be as eager to perform this surgery as Argrave would be to receive it. Such was his

constant sand dunes and

lighter shades of black?” Durran questioned, and Argrave nodded. “No, those are just quicksand pits. Must be somewhere

the spot, Durran,”

the pits of quicksand, the wyvern started to slowly descended, spurred downwards by its rider. They

His legs, weak from the ride, collapsed beneath him, and he slid down the dune a bit in a sitting

the center of one of the pits. It wasn’t meant to catch humans—it was meant for animals. Indeed, meant. They’d been constructed here, not

they had much to eat here—plenty of souls drifting about, ready for feasting. Anneliese stepped up to Argrave, her own fox held in her hands. It quickly jumped down from her arms and watched the pits ahead, eating

“Desolate,” Anneliese noted.

“Depressing,” Galamon confirmed.

an ill-fitting word, then sighed. “Now I’m thinking about Brium, that

still holding his wyvern’s reins as he walked. “Hope there’s something

hole, specifically,” Argrave pointed

us to jump

thought you wanted to give a ride,

want answers,” Durran shook his head. “If I have to tag along until I get

Garm had said to the man—it had to be something related to that. Argrave wished to simply ask, but he feared he might make Garm feel

was at the cusp of becoming Black Blooded. Argrave liked Durran. He wouldn’t mind having him tag along, temporarily or permanently. He was talented, diligent… but his loyalty

a word with Anneliese and Galamon, have them keep a closer eye on Durran, he decided with some measure of guilt. He felt paranoid. He wasn’t about to let guilt ruin months of blood, sweat, and tears, though. He wanted to trust Garm,

presence. If you wish to follow, follow.” Argrave rose to his feet with a grunt. “But maybe I’m just a madman

of the same coin,” Garm commented. “Fortunately, you’re none too genius, and by the law of inverse... I’d

said with a bitter smile as he walked back up

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

the thing probably isn’t deep enough to even take you. You’ll just

a path