Jackal Among Snakes

“Come on, check it out,” implored Durran, gesturing towards Argrave.

“No, I won’t ‘check it out.’ Where the hell did you get a hand, anyway?” Argrave said incredulously, looking at his companion’s hands. All three of them, that is.

Durran waved the hand, its fingers stiff and floppy. “From the vampires. One of them lost it, and I kept it. Not like they need it anymore—they all burned up beneath the sun.”

“You’re not going to be performing necromancy here,” Argrave said decisively. “Just give it up.”

“Come on,” Durran urged, moving to the trunk in the center of the room. “The manifest said this little bracelet stores souls—that it’s full of them. We have everything we need. I really want to try this out,” the former tribal said, golden eyes veritably glowing. “I’ve learned so much from what Garm wrote.”

Argrave caressed his temple, casting a glance at Anneliese. In light of the morbidity, it was difficult to treat this with any degree of amusement. Finally, he commanded, “Galamon, take the hand, please.”

The elven vampire moved to action. Durran backed away, holding his hand close to his chest—the detached one, that is. Rather than grab at the hand, Galamon grabbed Durran’s wrist and the tribal winced in pain. His grip loosened, and the vampire took it.

“Not in the city,” Argrave pointed at Durran as Galamon hid the hand somewhere. “Once we’re not in a city any longer, I’ll consider it.”

Durran shook his head. “If not now, then not ever. It’ll rot,” he said in lamentation.

“There’ll be more hands, and soon,” Argrave assured. “Felipe’s force might be crippled, the north and south arrayed against him… but the central stretch of the kingdom is still firmly in his hands. Our first priority is that fortification in Indanus Divide. And all of this is assuming that Leopold is indeed elected leader,” Argrave said slowly.

Everyone looked around, offering no response. Despite being in Leopold’s mansion the entire day, no news reached them. The Assembly was ironclad, and no information leaked from the Grand Council. It was impossible to tell how things were going. Of course, Anneliese could keep tabs on the meeting with her Starsparrow… but Argrave asked her not to. He couldn’t influence things—the prospect of knowing what was happening made him deeply uneasy, regardless of whether it was positive or negative. All he wanted was the result.

“So… to summarize…” Argrave warded his thoughts away by shaking his head and walked over to the things they’d been examining. “Durran… you are now the best-equipped out of everyone here.”

‘their necromancer,’ now.

within for later use. It kept them safe for a long while—centuries, even, given that it was partially filled even now. Souls stored in that manner lost all of their subtler touches, though, and were

that manner if it were kept in

them could be replicated by spell—soul harvesters, flesh sculpting knives, that sort of thing—but the fact remained that Durran had all he needed to create whatever manner of

had little doubt Durran could recreate the Guardians of the Low Way if he had the time, inclination, and the raw materials. Considering they were about to go to war,

him. “Most everywhere you go, you won’t be able to make

the judge of that,” Durran refuted. “I’ve been reading these books. I know

knowing he was right. In the distant future, necromancy was to be an incredibly useful skill, its potency doubled by some of the gods’ blessings. Argrave’s Brumesingers were testament to the strength of

you know what’ll happen when the boundaries between our realm and the gods’ realm weakens?” Argrave questioned. “It’s called corruptive magic for a reason. All these Order of the Rose fortresses… their creations lay idle. They guard what they were bid to guard. But Gerechtigkeit will bend their purpose, subvert their creators. And every abomination will come surging up from the depths of the earth, sowing discord by slaughter.” Argrave gestured towards Durran. “The necromantic things you make… you’re still alive, so they won’t be taken from you right away. But you’ll be fighting against that corruption. Knowing that, is this the path you

back at Argrave, seeming uncertain himself. Then, his eyes hardened, and he nodded decisively. “Be a shame to let Garm’s legacy

know,” Argrave concluded, deciding to drop the subject and move on. “Besides those things… we got some

its surface with glass that presently only displayed silver. The thing had a magic formation on the inside. It didn’t fit far up Argrave’s arm because of how thick his wrists had become, but it did fit. He

and the equipment slot had never been justified—players would suffer the HP hit from blood magic gladly. Now, though… casting blood magic

a

Galamon’s Giantkillers in a sense, but rather than catching whole spells, they collected a small charge from all lightning spells cast. The effect was like a tiny flame before the two blue infernos that were the Giantkillers they’d collected from the mountains in the Burnt Desert, but it could certainly help Argrave out in a

were man’s boots, but they fit her—she

the caster’s supply of magic instead of their own. Anneliese had used some magic of that sort in the past, so they probably fit her best in terms of aptitude. Whether moving faster,

at the heavy leathers, feeling glad it was Anneliese who would have them. Anything that kept her a little more able to avoid harm made

to trying them,” Anneliese said

this manifest… our battle with him depleted them, and they need to be recharged now that they’ve been identified,” Argrave picked up the paper. “Even still, once we have them? You all saw how long Induen held out against us. We’ll upgrade our defensive

to move on to Galamon and his black bowl, taking the

against you,” Durran corrected him. “Monster that you are. If we’re getting his gear, well…

of the ward blocking off their