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.

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

neglected to inform Anneliese of the background for

heard Drezki shift, then answer, “It’s to remind

other people, not yourself,” Argrave pointed out tiredly, and Anneliese nudged him with her shoulder in slight

Anneliese continued, trying to

a coward. I let my family die alone,” Drezki said. The words 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 ate away my flesh, she imbued her own

with my Lady and Light. I vowed to defend her to my last

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 for a cause—people like Titus, Orion, or the southron elves. Or maybe it was because he had something to value

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

need to die,” Argrave said slowly. “You can

man you call Orion’s grasp will be something easy,” it pointed out. “The wetlands themselves balk in fear of him. I fear I am powerless before him, even were my power not waned

Drezki looked greatly dispirited.

your purpose?” Anneliese inquired of

all. I simply wish to see it prosper, as it always has. I am but a

‘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 it will not be called ‘wetlands’ any longer. There is something special to this

wetlands will progress into coal forests, Argrave mused,

uses what is special of this land to sow

#####

entered deep into the wetlands, riding alone. She wore nothing to identify herself as the daughter of Count Elgar—it was a double-edged sword, she supposed, but she did not wish to announce her presence to any and all who looked. But just because she rode alone did not mean she

their flesh had been afflicted with the waxpox, and though it was covered by bandages, she had no strong desire to contract this disease. Despite their affliction, these knights seemed as capable as any of the royal knights she had seen

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

come here searching for Argrave, having heard from her father’s knights that he’d gone this way, the only reason she risked coming here was because Orion was not near as dangerous as the other princes. Yet seeing his knights and hearing their

meet Prince Orion?” Mina

prince, so long as they are willing to wait for him,”

looked towards the keep that they had pointed out. She drove her horse a bit closer, mindful of the great bulk

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 to

horse in line as she pondered this scene. She looked up towards the sky. Night was only just beginning. She looked at the vast crowd, biting her lip and debating herself fiercely. Something drew her eye—more golden-armored