Jackal Among Snakes

All of them convened back at where the paths branched earlier where Galamon was waiting. A spiral staircase had opened up, leading deeper into the lower levels. There, the name of ‘living fortress’ truly made itself readily apparent, as the stairs were constantly intruded upon by overgrown flesh and conspicuous bones.

“This whole place should be burned,” Hegazar concluded as they moved deeper. “I see, now, why necromancy is banned. How many corpses went into this project? Thousands? Such a despicable thing.”

Durran called from the back of the line, “Who says they were human corpses?”

Hegazar either had no response or did not deign to give one, as their advance went quiet once more. The narrow spiral staircase was not so long, and they soon came to a much larger hall. And this hall… it was precisely what Argrave needed. It was the golden nugget to flash to the ravens to draw their eye.

The sight before them was not pretty. If Argrave had been shown the room in isolation, he might’ve assumed it was the site of some depraved sacrificial cult. The stone room was held up by a giant ribcage, each of the ribs acting as pillars for the building. Each of the ribs had a crucified body nailed on them—the torsos of these bodies were especially large, and all flesh had been ripped away to leave only bone.

“Good gods,” Vera held her hand to her nose, but despite the horrific scene, there was no smell. There was no blood or gore to make a scent. Anneliese looked perplexed by the Magister’s action, and Argrave knew right away that Vera feigned disgust. After all, she dabbled in necromancy herself. It was why Argrave was sure this journey would entice her.

Argrave was the first to step forward. “The heart chamber. What we came here for,” he explained.

Upon closer examination, the bodies crucified to the giant ribs were unusual in many ways. Their heads had only ears and mouths, both enlarged. The torsos were simply a bonelike cage, and the one Argrave examined had books locked behind it. They weren’t bodies at all, actually—they were necromantic creations that served as lockboxes for the valuables within.

“What’s in this?” Argrave asked.

“Now, how would I—” Hegazar began.

“Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,” the head just above the skeletal cage answered in a groan of a voice. It raised its head up to answer the question, and once it was finished, sagged lifelessly once more.

Argrave nodded, feeling a similar repulsion to the sights around that reminded of his time in the Low Way of the Rose. He turned to where the rest of his party was.

“There you have it, Magister Vera, Magister Hegazar. Ask these what’s inside them. I think you’ll quickly find that this journey was worth your time. I’ll caution, though—don’t try and open any of them. Try and wrench them open, cast magic? You risk triggering the enchantments nearby, and the contents will be destroyed. Anti-theft measures. Even a Wizard of the Order of the Rose would resort to common thievery, it would seem…”

Nonsensical. No Order would ever install measures like that

he knew Hegazar loathed being challenged or humiliated. He stood before the Magister, smiling as he thought of a

such a thing, after all, given how much it intrudes on others’ rights. Wizards pay the one who put these items up, and they’re

nearby must’ve misheard Argrave, for it rattled off, “Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,” as Hegazar

items here,”

Argrave nodded, “But

let loose its words once again, and Hegazar looked up to it

Hegazar held his hand

cage compressed, sparking. The enchantments on

them—a long, dry, and wheezy laugh that echoed throughout the heart chamber. The laughter was returned by each and every other head,

heads. It was difficult not to join them in laughter. Vera certainly had no such issue—her voice joined along with theirs in

agreed at once. “It seems there is a reason their Order has died.

tears from her eyes. “I think it’s a

what we’ve earned from this trip?” Argrave suggested, tugging at

#####

path of magic in this era, one reached the end of the line. There was only so much that the forefathers of the Order of the Owl had left behind, and consequently there was only so much that one could learn before one had to study independently. Methods for A-rank ascension and spells of the higher rank were quite rare, even despite the Order’s close attention

it so eagerly depending on their nature. After all, they essentially offered another a key to their power. By sharing knowledge, they ostensibly created a direct rival—a direct competitor. There

the motive to share was loyalty to the Order—all helped the Order rise, and in turn, each and all would rise up with it. It was a reasonable exchange that created a natural loyalty… in theory. In reality, the higher-ups enforced strict regulation of resources that allowed only a select few protegees of the elite cadre to advance. Even someone relatively benevolent like Master Castro could not change

leaders don’t lead, unless they’re creating new leaders to take their place. An age-old problem, reflected in the Order of the

leverage over people on the path of magic. He had freedom from that system because he knew secrets most could not even dream of. He had his A-rank ascension, Anneliese’s, and even Durran’s all planned out. He knew where to get all the spells he needed. Nothing blocked him from advancement except his

Everything here was an invaluable piece of knowledge that could help them win talented people to their faction within the Order.

the two Magisters around like a child through an ice cream shop—they could see their prize just beyond the glass, reading about all of the delicious flavors they might sample. Every new thing they saw

ice cream, Argrave thought. So long as

bit diminished by the absolutely vile necromancy around them—it made it a bit difficult to think about ice cream at all. Nevertheless, these two kids he’d brought with him couldn’t get what was behind the glass—they’d