Jackal Among Snakes

“Feels like I can think again,” Argrave said loudly into the wind, one arm wrapped around Anneliese.

He hadn’t realized how much being stagnant in Relize had been weighing at him until he was gone. He hadn’t been doing anything too grandiose. His time had been spent giving his name to things, ordering that things get done in his name… but real, genuine progress? It was hard to come by. Certainly, this maneuver might damage his reputation somewhat… but Argrave was sure that would be overshadowed when they returned with an army of spellcasters under his command. Already, his mind worked quickly to pull himself up out of the situation.

“You elves enjoy the cold that much?” Vasilisa spoke to him suddenly, and Argrave turned his head. Whenever she came around, he felt an urge to be sure his white-haired wig was on properly and concealed his ears well, but he resisted it. It was secured with adhesive—it was fine, he reminded himself.

“Well…” Argrave looked to Anneliese. “What do you think, Sanora, Vulras?”

“We were made for it,” Galamon nodded quickly, showing no reaction to the alias.

Vasilisa stepped on the railing and looked over the sea as it passed on and on, an endless plain of tumultuous water that whipped up winds. Her blonde hair danced as she noted, “I should hope you travel the cold half as well. We’ll be on foot.” Her blue eyes fixed on them—she didn’t seem particularly happy, but then maybe that was her natural disposition. “What business have you with the flame of Quadreign? It’s for those beginning their journey on the path of magic… not midway through it,” her eyes lingered on Anneliese.

“I feel comprehending something borne of magic sufficiently grandiose may give insight into something I research,” Anneliese described succinctly.

“Do you even know what the flame does?” Vasilisa stared at her coldly.

“We know what your house used it for… and we know what it does,” Argrave answered for her. “The two are separate. It burns away the magic inside… but more than that, it burns away mental fatigue, stress, fear, and some insecurities. Physically, it improves fertility, fights disease, and generally improves health… for a time. These are the things your house used it for,” he shook his head.

Quadreign used the flame much like Argrave used the Blessing of Supersession—in repaying his magic debt, he drained the magic within himself quickly. Continued depletion and replenishment was pivotal to growing one’s magic supply—that, coupled with his black blood, was why Argrave had been advancing so quickly.

House Quadreign used the flame on their family and their loyal vassals’ families since birth. In essence, by the time they reached adulthood, they had already been performing highly efficient training as spellcasters for nearly two decades. Those that they favored became magical juggernauts, while those that they didn’t had to struggle just as all the rest. Like this, Quadreign secured hegemony over the region.

“But that’s not the sum of what it is. You called it… the Flame of the Tenebrous Star?” Anneliese looked to Argrave, and he nodded in confirmation.

and crossed her arm. “Then, what can

We have our contract. If you’d

“So be it,” she decided levelly, then turned her head to the

a stunning sight nonetheless—there were pine trees as far as the eye could see, blanketed by a thin layer of melting snow. Like

the railing and looking at it with

to him as he sat. “…correct,” she said begrudgingly. “These lords here, House Prenvia… they were once vassals

voice. It was part jealousy, part longing, part sad defeat, expressed so clearly Argrave

said. “I won’t travel by night.. too risky,” she decided. “You

admiration of the coastline. “Let us

#####

enchanted leather gear, and Galamon put his armor back on, making some effort to conceal it with fur. Vasilisa looked at him peculiarly but did not question that—Argrave imagined Vasilisa viewed it as inconsequential if he failed during their travels. Such a thing would be their problem, not hers. If she asked why their companion remained stalwart, Argrave would explain merely

dangerous and mythical both. The soil was poor,

capacity. It would facilitate getting a little souvenir for their friend back in

allowed them only one day of rest at

the Order of

needed to look to answer, but

stone building, a branch of the

them. “People tore it

his brows. “What?

have heard grand tales in Relize… but they’re a new presence here, a foreign presence. This building was like a token of the north’s fall. I think it’s a waste, but the people did what they did.” She stepped down the simple dirt road. “Don’t gawk, elf. People

gave some insight as to the culture of spellcasters

formed by game than humans.

from densely packed soil with pine needles scattered everywhere to hard stone and rock, slick with the water from the melting snow at many points. With both breath labored and mind taxed, he devoted