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.”

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

transportation. I’ll need to

#####

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

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?”

hate you now, I

he saw Anneliese struggling with her hair—one of her braids had

“Perhaps I should cut it. Given how much we travel, it

be a tragedy,” Argrave stated. “It looks too good to cut. Though, your choice,

said nothing in response. Argrave

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 not a single

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…

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

in the constant sand dunes and

Argrave nodded. “No, those

spot, Durran,”

the pits of quicksand, the wyvern started to slowly descended,

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,

could easily get out, even if they landed in the center of one of the pits. It wasn’t meant to catch humans—it was meant for animals. Indeed, meant. They’d

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 pits ahead, eating souls

“Desolate,” Anneliese noted.

“Depressing,” Galamon confirmed.

then sighed. “Now

Durran walked up, too, still holding his wyvern’s reins

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

want us to jump

thought you wanted to give a

have to

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 feared

his vigilance—especially not when he was at the cusp of becoming Black Blooded. Argrave liked Durran. He wouldn’t mind

He wasn’t about to let guilt ruin months of blood, sweat, and tears, though. He wanted to trust Garm,

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

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

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

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

“You’re just going to… jump in? I mean, the thing probably isn’t deep enough to even

path below,”