Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave awoke strangely early in the morning. He was used to waking early, but never so early that the sunlight was not yet through the windows. He considered it might be because the expedition began tomorrow—some psychological nervousness causing him to sleep worse. As his brain gained clarity, he heard shouts. He lifted his head groggily, paying more attention, and the shouts continued.

With that, he roused fully, turning his body and standing. Anneliese stirred due to his actions, and as he pulled on his boots and put on his duster to go see what was happening, she also moved into action without a word. Before a minute could pass, they were ready to go.

Trailed by his Brumesingers, they left their room in Orion’s keep, moving to see what was happening. Light was dim, and the suns still had perhaps two hours to appear over the horizon. It was sufficient to see without casting a spell, though.

A large crowd of refugees murmured as two Waxknights dragged someone to the keep. It took Argrave only a second to distinguish that it was Magnus. It took him seconds longer to distinguish that he was not resisting. Then, he placed it—the dead don’t offer much resistance.

The Waxknights set down Magnus’ body in the center of the square before Orion’s keep, and then one went off to fetch Orion. Argrave glanced around furiously, looking for Durran. He knew that the tribal had spent some time getting close to the man—everyone in the camp did, in fact. If Durran had killed him, this was truly a disastrous thing.

Having no luck in finding Durran, he stepped closer to the body. Argrave knelt down, examining it despite the stare of the crowd around. The cause of death was readily apparent. A knife of wood jutted out of the prince’s neck. The handle was ebony, smooth and polished wood. It sprouted roots in the prince’s neck, which seemed to be absorbing his blood.

As his mind whirled, what little tiredness still remained vanished. Anneliese put her hand on Argrave’s shoulder and pulled him away. He tightened his jaw.

“Find Durran. I’ll keep you safe while you look,” he told her quietly.

Anneliese nodded, and the Starsparrow on her shoulder darted up and away into the air faster than the eye could track. He held onto her elbow, keeping her steady. As time passed, the whispers of the crowd continued, and Argrave’s gaze stayed locked on the wooden dagger imbedded in Magnus’ throat. He wasn’t torn up seeing the man dead—it just didn’t feel real.

A big hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. Galamon looked upon the scene, brows furrowed.

“Where’s Silvic?” Argrave questioned at once.

“In her spot. Safe,” he said, not sparing a glance at Argrave.

“Get her,” Argrave commanded. “Be careful.”

Galamon nodded, then stepped away to where Silvic was staying, far from the camp.

had left, Argrave focused back on the scene before him. The Starsparrow disturbed the air as it landed back on Anneliese’s shoulder.

furrowed his brows, then nodded. He briefly considered if it would be better if Durran was found sleeping, but Magnus seemed to have been dead for some time, so finding the tribal

very bad,”

mind,” she shook her head. Argrave looked to her, about to ask what she intended to say,

Orion stepped out of the keep, passing right by Argrave. He came to stand before Magnus’ corpse.

wrapped around his armor. He pulled apart a bit of the silken cloth, and it came free. He knelt down in the dirt, ever-so-carefully wrapping the silk around Magnus’ body until

was expressionless, and he held his dead brother with a delicacy

bed, that he might rest in peace,” Orion held him out. “Send a rider out to Dirracha, informing my father of what has happened here.” His voice grew cold as he finished, “And

two Waxknights move diligently to fulfill their master’s command, one of them taking Prince Magnus’ body in their arms and moving off to

of the Waxknights

and pulled him up like he was a bag of cloth and not flesh and blood. “You drag him before a crowd of onlookers, humiliating the family?! You take him from the site

into his flesh, drawing blood.

before collapsing like a doll. He grasped at his throat, yet the breath still did not come. Durran had appeared just in time to witness this scene, and he took a cautious step back. Argrave glared at him, a thousand questions running through his head. He saw only

shouted as he moved towards the enraged Orion. “Any mage, tend to him,” he commanded, and some people moved

him, making Argrave’s heart skip a beat. Orion latched onto him,

he cried.

as fast as it ever had. His brain was scrambling to figure

Holiness, I would not embrace that

as quickly as it had fallen upon him, Argrave was relieved of the burden. Orion strode up to the person

That man is my

continued, undaunted. “That tribal began hovering near

just behind Anneliese. He took steady, heavy steps towards him, and Anneliese stepped aside in fear. Argrave moved, holding his hands out to stay Orion ineffectually. The prince pushed past him, coming to stand before

The Waxknight stepped up behind Orion, continuing, “The weapon used to slay Magnus was made

both guarding Silvic. Nothing occurred last night,” Galamon contributed at once,

frigid and stony. Durran seemed the size of a child before the gargantuan prince, and though the