Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 177

“I’ve come to see my brother. It’s clear to me he needs help, despite his abundant capability. I’m told Prince Orion is ahead, tending to the plagued,” Argrave spoke to the Waxknight before him, staring at the man’s dead eyes barely visible behind his bandages.

“Do you mean to say our Holiness is your brother?” the leading knight demanded, taking a step forward.

“Half-brother,” Argrave removed his hands from his horse’s reins, holding his palms out. “But a brother nonetheless.”

The loose bandages wrapped around the leading Waxknight’s face slacked, blocking his vision, and he corrected it while pulling it tight.

“Prince Induen?” one at the side questioned.

Argrave shook his head. “No prince at all, elsewise I might have an escort gleaming as you knights do.”

“Argrave, then, the bastard,” the leading knight said.

“All are equal before the gods’ eyes. That’s what Orion says, at least,” he smiled warmly, defusing the situation.

The Waxknights sized Argrave up, then glanced back towards his companions, examining them in turn.

“For your own sake—the waxpox abounds here,” their helmetless leader informed him. “We will take you to Orion if you wish it to be so, but even our Holiness struggles to combat the disease, and more refugees show up daily.”

“I have an idea of how bad things really are,” Argrave turned his head, looking through the trees from whence they’d come. “Things get worse beyond these wetlands every day. Not all refugees had the good fortune to be tended to by my brother. And that’s precisely why I came here—to help him, and to help those that suffer,” he said seriously.

accepts all comers.

nodded. “My companions and I will follow

and Durran, “Drink your super juice, you two. I know you drank it this morning, but this is the heartlands. Disease

covering her face, and imbibed the liquid, wincing from its bitterness. Durran cursed too quietly to be heard, and

go,” said Durran, voice tight from his grimace. Anneliese nodded, then put the mask

he kept his Brumesingers close. Argrave could not say with confidence that Galamon was these knight’s superior in

was affected by the waxpox. This

asking shameless questions. Durran looked discomforted with the knights, transfixed with an expression of

the abandoned fortress, occupied by Orion and his gigantic camp of refugees, to come into sight. The wetlands of the northwest were tenacious and aggressive, and much of the fortress had been torn asunder by growth—trees, roots, fungi, and vines all consumed the gray stone. People lay in tents en masse. Despite the seclusion of this place,

at the door, the knights directed them to a makeshift stable that they’d been using, and Argrave left his horse there without complaint. Durran seemed hesitant to leave his mount there, and his eyes glanced from side to side as though paranoid, watching each and all of

the keep where more of their colleagues abounded, guarding the man that lay within. Orion

knees. His eyes were gray, with thick

Waxknights went ahead to speak to Orion. They spoke to him, and then pointed. Orion looked at him. He pushed past the crowd, coming to stand a fair distance away from

was nervous, recalling every experience he’d had with this man in ‘Heroes of Berendar’ all at once. A great deal of them ended poorly. Even still, Argrave held his arms out and

step seeming to shake the earth. His presence was intense—he outsized even Galamon—and he hurtled towards Argrave like a bull. Despite himself, he took a step back.

Argrave felt that he’d grown a lot the past month, but now he was being treated like a small child. After a moment of rib-crunching

paused, all of his mirth disappearing at once. Argrave tried not to show

he shouted. “This is my

expecting to receive. Orion heralded him proudly before

tower of old owls. You were mired in misery last I saw you. Now your back is straight, your gait is steady, and your will…” he whispered into Argrave’s ear, barely audible above the cheer of the crowd. “I see light in you, now. Gold amidst the dark, like Vasquer’s heraldry… and your eyes. Your strange eyes… that vex the voices.” He

crowd, too, another dark-haired figure. It took Argrave not

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