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

people more,” he noted. “Happy to accept free transportation. I’ll need

#####

hovered above endless blackness. They were only a few hours past sunrise, and the suns had not yet come

thing they’d be able to see better would be the eternal black dunes of sand. Not a bit of civilization could be seen in any direction, even from their significant height. To be lost in this

to do me in?” Durran shouted over the

how many people hate you now, I don’t think seclusion would

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

should cut it. Given how much we travel, it only

looks too good

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

goal, he finally 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 Wellspring had

both promised to be monumentally emotional things. If Argrave failed, now… to say the least,

as Argrave would be to receive it. Such was his nature. Argrave

the constant sand dunes and tapped Durran’s shoulder. “There!”

questioned, and Argrave nodded. “No, those are just quicksand pits. Must

spot,

staring Argrave down, but then eventually swallowed and nodded. As they neared the pits of quicksand, the wyvern started to slowly descended, spurred downwards by its rider.

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 to safety. Once Argrave came to a stop, he overlooked a vast plain

wasn’t stupid, they could easily get out, even if they landed in the center of one of the pits.

glowing. Apparently, 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

“Desolate,” Anneliese noted.

“Depressing,” Galamon confirmed.

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

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

actually, that hole, specifically,” Argrave pointed one out. “I’ve taken this path too many times to

us to jump into quicksand?”

Argrave repeated. “I thought you wanted

shook his head. “If I have

He wondered what Garm had said to the man—it

Blooded. Argrave liked Durran. He wouldn’t mind having him tag along, temporarily or permanently. He was talented, diligent… but

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

follow.” Argrave rose to his feet with a grunt. “But maybe I’m just

and insanity are two sides of the same coin,” Garm commented. “Fortunately, you’re none too genius, and by the

Garm has volunteered to enter first,” Argrave said with a bitter smile as he walked back up

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

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

path