Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stepped into Orion’s camp in the ruined fortress, walking past the vast tents and buildings full of refugees. His stride was confident, but the Brumesingers walking at his feet were somewhat frenzied, betraying his true nervousness. Everyone watched him walk—this time, not because of his imposing height, but because of the two following behind: Silvic and Drezki.

His entry into the camp was like a great ripple that intensified rather than weakened. Though the sick could not be bothered to stir, those tending to them did, and soon enough, near half the camp was bustling with activity. Nothing would ever abate the nervousness of being the center of attention, Argrave thought.

Two golden armored knights rushed up before Argrave, drawing their glimmering swords from their scabbards. Argrave stepped out to meet them, holding his arms wide as he yelled, “You will stop!” His authoritative words did slow them, but they kept proceeding, forcing Argrave to add, “I am Orion’s brother!”

With their Holiness being invoked, the Waxknights did indeed draw to a sliding stop not two feet away from Argrave. Already, mist from his Brumesingers danced in the air, ready to attack if anything threatened him.

“Orion sought proof,” Argrave began, gaze alternating between the two Waxknights. “I have brought it.”

#####

The camp remained bustling in the time that passed since Argrave had brought Silvic to Orion’s camp. A retinue of twelve Waxknights guarded them. Everyone able enough to walk in the refugee camp gawked at the humanoid wetland spirit. Silvic remained largely silent and still, but the sight of her wooden body flowing with radiant liquid light was awe-inspiring even when she did nothing. Fewer stared at the short and squat swampland woman Drezki with her greenish skin and yellow eyes, but her presence only intensified the scrutiny placed upon them.

Anneliese looked greatly discomforted by the attention—she had once confided to him large crowds were difficult for her—and so Argrave did his best to keep her at ease while they waited for Orion. Regarding his other two companions, Galamon was ever unflappable while Durran somewhat enjoyed the scrutiny of the crowd, all but striking a pose for those watching.

It was easy to notice Prince Orion coming. He himself stood a foot and a half above the taller people in the crowd, and the people parted for his coming like the Red Sea had for another prophet of myth. Argrave kept his gaze on him as he walked closer, Argrave’s dark golden eyes meeting Orion’s gray the whole way through. Eventually, Orion strode past the Waxknights, ordering them to put their swords away with a simple gesture. They obeyed without question and kneeled before him.

Prince Orion stood before Argrave. His eyes were markedly colder than their first meeting had been. Argrave was glad to be spared of a back-breaking embrace, but that was about the only good feeling swirling around in his chest at that moment. Orion stood above him, above even Galamon, and seeing the anger writ in his face was like having the roaring jaw of a Kodiak bear near your throat.

“What profane thing have you brought into this camp of followers of the faith, Argrave?” Orion questioned, his voice cold and unsympathetic. The affectionate calls of ‘brother’ were gone.

Argrave kept his composure despite his fear—he was growing quite adept at that. “You asked for proof, brother. I brought it before you.”

Orion looked past Argrave, staring at Silvic. He stepped around him, looking down and locking gazes with Galamon briefly. After, he took heavy steps that seemed to shake the earth. Drezki stood between Silvic and Orion, posturing like a child trapped between two adults. She was only barely to Orion’s stomach, but she stood strong nonetheless.

“Rest assured,” Argrave called out. “I would not have brought Silvic here were she a danger to everyone.”

Orion turned his back to Silvic, his white robe brushing against the muddy ground below as his gaze fixed upon Argrave. “What is it?”

“I am Silvic, one of many spirits of the wetlands, and a god to the swamp folk,” Silvic answered, her voice without an obvious source emanating from all directions causing a great stir in all of the people present.

Orion turned his head back to the wetland spirit ever so slowly. His fists were clenched tightly enough to trigger the protective enchantments on his gauntlet, and they shone brightly, barely preventing the metal from folding in on itself.

wants to stop the plague. If you care about the followers of the faith, I hope you will hear her out. If

form. Slowly, his gaze turned back to Argrave. The insane frigidity in his eyes had faded somewhat, making his expression seem

smallest of nods, and Argrave let out a

towards the keep where Orion had taken him, Anneliese, and Magnus. Orion put one hand on his hip and shifted his feet, considering

something that needs to be kept secret from the people?” Magnus chimed in, pushing his way past. The crowd did not part for him as it had Orion, evidently, and indeed, it seemed he had little goodwill among the people here. Even though Argrave thought it was a reasonable enough sentiment

true,” Orion said, though,

in private, much the same way she would tap his foot if someone lied—if

though. Orion spoke again, asking, “Then tell me, brother, why do you consort

odds felt stacked against him… but the fight yesterday

agreed with Magnus, seeking to mitigate his influence. “The people have every right to know why they are wrought with

whispered in Argrave’s ear, “Magnus is desperately terrified. Of what, I cannot

somewhat difficult for Argrave to process fully—too many possibilities abounded in

was born of the extermination of the people of these swamps, when Vasquer conquered this place decades ago.” Argrave turned on his heel. “Silvic.

her wooden, rooted hand behind her back

swamp that survived the invasion by Vasquer,” Silvic explained. “Many of the spirits had died in the invasion… and of those that persisted, one sought revenge against Vasquer for the deaths of many: Rastzintin, the strongest of us wetland spirits. He collaborated with one of the last great shamans of the swamp folk.

constructed,” Silvic continued, none daring to interrupt. “One after another they fell, each House established succumbing in a multitude of ways. If you seek proof of the truth of my tales, I will show you the magic they weaved to turn this fortress

They were growing a bit incensed, he noted, but they did not seem at risk of exploding anytime

plague. I, and many other spirits of the wetlands, attempted to stop this folly. Yet Rastzintin was always the strongest of us all, and in my endeavors, the Plague Jester struck me and others with her fell disease, leaving me

element of sympathy to things—seeing even a so-called

can prove this fortress fell to this Rastzintin’s

“I can,” Silvic confirmed.

before all you hold

I speak the truth. If I do not, may the world itself

looked back to Argrave. His gaze was

Orion. Argrave watched him carefully, ready to interject

is no room for argument,” Magnus conceded,

Magnus leaned in and whispered something to Orion’s ears, and

his head from Magnus’ whispers. “What has Silvic informed you of regarding this… heretical god, Rastzintin,

a little closer. “Much and more. I can tell

settles things.” He turned his head to Silvic and Drezki. “Will the two of you accept the gods

shook her