Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese sat in their tent, which had been pitched in a relatively dry spot of the wetlands. Argrave leaned up against Anneliese as she read, feeling a little exhausted. Galamon sat atop one of the crooks of the tallest trees, keeping watch vigilantly, while Durran read a book just beneath him. The two of them had separate tents just by each other.

There were two other guests—one anticipated, and the other wholly not so. Silvic laid down on the ground, doing nothing but merely existing. And Drezki the Coward… Argrave scanned their camp, looking for the woman.

“What will happen to my Lady and Light?” Drezki questioned, somewhat surprising Argrave. She stood just off to the side of the entrance to their tent, holding her sticks in hand. Up so close, Argrave could see the sticks she bore. Their core had been hollowed out and filled with the same glowing liquid light that resided within Silvic. To be struck with them was to be struck by an aspect of an elder spirit of the wetlands—that is to say it would hurt very badly.

Argrave gazed at Drezki, then cast a glance at Silvic. “I suspect… Orion will bring both of you along to aid in the expedition through the wetlands, and the fight against the Plague Jester. He may be zealous, but he isn’t stupid. He’ll know your help is important in traversing the wetlands, dealing with whatever enemies might abound.”

“And after?” Drezki insisted.

Argrave said nothing, searching for the right words.

“I will be killed,” Silvic answered before Argrave could say anything. Outside of the Marred Hallowed Grounds, her voice did not have the all-encompassing power it once did, but it was still bizarre.

Drezki whipped her head back. “What?!”

“Drezki, sweet child… if you had the opportunity to kill any of the gods of Vasquer, would you take it?” Silvic questioned, unmoving.

The woman stepped slowly to Silvic, wooden armor clanking. She knelt down, then collapsed to her knees ungracefully before Silvic. Though the wetland spirit did not move, the roots themselves curled out of the ground, bunching around Drezki’s legs as if in comfort.

“Silvic…” Drezki muttered, not quite crying but verging on that point.

“Would you rather I succumb to this disease of the Plague Jester, what the human calls the waxpox?” Silvic questioned, voice almost amused. “Let me die in service of the wetlands. This disease ruins all. That it came from this glorious land is tragedy enough. I must do what I can to right this wrong. It is not the natural order of things.”

Argrave was glad to be spared answering that question. Drezki grieved silently for a time, then went to sit elsewhere not far from Argrave’s tent. He felt sympathy for the woman of the swamps, yet he could not deny being mildly annoyed that he was denied privacy with Anneliese.

“I apologize for earlier rudeness,” Drezki finally said.

Argrave shook his head at once. “Rudeness doesn’t bother me. And we had not met under the best of terms. Were it something avoidable, I would not have slain those I did.” The words came easy because they were the truth. It wasn’t as though he had compromised his morals in killing Silvic’s guardians, but he generally did not like fighting. It was risky, and it hurt.

“Why do they call you ‘the Coward?’” Anneliese questioned Drezki after a long amount of time had passed.

turned to Anneliese. “’They?’” she repeated. “I call myself that. How do you know of it?

told her,” Argrave closed his eyes. He had neglected to inform Anneliese of the background for the nickname, largely because it wasn’t important. It seems her curiosity spurred her

answer, “It’s to remind me of what I

not yourself,” Argrave pointed out tiredly, and Anneliese nudged him

of what?” Anneliese continued, trying to

had weight, but she had moved past her grief enough to say them without shaking. “My Lady and Light welcomed me into her hallowed land. She protected me, sheltered me. She taught me. When the waxpox came and

my Lady and Light. I vowed to defend her to my last breath. And so, I call myself

die for something… on his first day here, that sentiment might have been foreign to him. He was beginning to understand it, though. Maybe it was because he was around people who would die

tilted her head and rested it against his. It was a simple act, but it made him

the waxpox is cured, you don’t need to die,” Argrave said slowly.

be something easy,” it pointed out. “The wetlands themselves balk in fear of him. I fear

Drezki looked greatly dispirited.

purpose?” Anneliese inquired of

beauty and ugliness all. I simply wish to see it prosper, as it always has. I am but a manifestation of the

the word ‘spirit,’ Anneliese nodded as things

long as this land persists, another of my kind will be born. Perhaps it will be different from me. Perhaps

into coal forests, Argrave mused,

what is special of this land to sow discord,” Silvic said. “That is

#####

she supposed, but she did not wish

knights escorted her. Mina watched them ever warily. She could see that their flesh had been afflicted with the waxpox, and though it was covered by bandages, she had no strong

royal knights stopped. “This is as far as we will take you, lady. This is the

reason she risked coming here

I meet Prince Orion?” Mina nonetheless

so long as they are willing to wait for him,” the knight said plainly.

of the great bulk of people wandering. Though she had thought Veden was bad enough, seeing this place now gave her

and their praises, they seemed more a religious congregation than a camp of refugees. In the back, towering over all of them, was Orion of Vasquer. He was free of the disease, and yet he mingled without fear. The people reached for him like he was the most precious gemstones, clutching at his armor. He embraced all of them, speaking and touching and tending

up towards the sky. Night was only just beginning. She looked at the vast crowd, biting