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

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

#####

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

the eternal black dunes of sand. Not a bit of civilization could be seen in any direction, even

secluded to do me in?”

I don’t think seclusion would be

great wyvern continued to glide onwards, Argrave confidently 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, shielding her from the wind, giving her time

“Perhaps I should cut it. Given how

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

response. Argrave turned his attention back

sure that nothing was amiss—the Wraith’s Heart was fine, the Amaranthine

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, the prospect

temperamental… but he would be as eager to perform this surgery as Argrave would be to receive it. Such was his nature. Argrave was more worried about whether or not his companions would get through this

spotted a shift in the constant sand dunes and tapped Durran’s shoulder. “There!” he pointed.

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

spot, Durran,” Argrave

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. They circled around, and Durran eventually landed atop a dune of sand a fair distance away. The

breathed out, 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 to safety. Once Argrave came to a

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

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

“Desolate,” Anneliese noted.

“Depressing,” Galamon confirmed.

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

still holding his wyvern’s reins as he

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

to jump

repeated. “I thought you wanted to

Durran shook his head. “If I have to

to this degree. He had a purpose, certainly. He wondered what Garm had said to the man—it had to be something related to that. Argrave wished to simply ask, but he

he didn’t have the luxury to relax his vigilance—especially not when he was at the cusp of becoming Black Blooded. Argrave liked Durran. He wouldn’t mind having him tag along, temporarily

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

presence. If you wish to follow, follow.” Argrave rose to his feet with a grunt.

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

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

unstrapping it from the

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

a path