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.

it landed back on Anneliese’s shoulder. She opened her eyes, inhaling deeply, then disclosed, “He was sleeping.

if Durran was found sleeping, but Magnus seemed to have been dead for some time, so finding the tribal sleeping was not evidence he had nothing

bad,” Argrave

she intended to

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

Orion reached for the robe 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

standing there in his dark gray plate armor. His face was expressionless, and he held

commanded quietly, “Take him to my chambers and place him on the bed, that he might rest in peace,” Orion held him out. “Send

Prince Magnus’ body in their arms and moving off to the keep. Orion stepped

one of the

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

for air as Orion’s gauntleted hands dug into his flesh,

not come. Durran had appeared just in time to witness

the enraged Orion. “Any mage, tend to him,” he commanded,

Argrave’s heart skip a beat. Orion latched onto him, weeping into his shoulder.

he cried.

ever had.

Holiness, I would not

quickly as it had fallen upon him, Argrave was relieved of the burden. Orion strode up to the person who had spoken—another Waxknight—and grasped his

of? That man is my

the knight continued, undaunted. “That tribal began hovering near Magnus at all times not days

the knight’s gorget. His head turned to Durran, who stood just behind Anneliese. He took steady, heavy steps towards him,

stepped up behind Orion, continuing, “The weapon used to slay

Nothing occurred last night,” Galamon contributed at once, voice low and

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