Jackal Among Snakes

Ganbaatar slid a thin wire into a door’s keyhole, Svetlana kneeling just beside him while watching an adjacent door. Something clicked from within the hole, and then the elven man tried the doorknob. It opened, creaking slightly. Svetlana’s head whipped back around, and then the both of them entered quickly, shutting the door just behind.

Svetlana cast a simple spell, and light illuminated the room in the form of a ball of light. In one corner, Magister Vasilisa slept rather soundly on her bed. Ganbaatar remained by the door, alert, while Svetlana stepped up to the Magister.

“Auntie,” Svetlana called out in a terse whisper, shaping the woman. “Auntie, wake up.”

The force that Svetlana used gradually compounded until she was practically tossing Vasilisa about like a doll, yet the Magister did eventually wake. She was still half-drunk, drooling, and altogether unfit for a conversation.

“Ganbataar,” she called out. “The smelling herbs.”

Ganbaatar reached into his pocket and threw a small jar at Svetlana. She caught it, unscrewing it as quickly as she could while Vasilisa mumbled something. Svetlana’s face twisted as soon as the jar opened, and she held it near Vasilisa’s nose. The jar was glowing.

“Ah!” Vasilisa winced, recoiling away. She shuddered as something came over her, then her eyes gained some clarity. “What in the gods—Svetlana?”

“Those are magic herbs to combat drug-induced slumbers,” Svetlana said, screwing the jar tight again until the glow faded. “Rather effective at purging the blood near instantaneously. It’s used for drugs that vampires employ to subdue victims, but it works on alcohol, too.”

Vasilisa rubbed at her nose. “That was the worst smell I’ve ever experienced. What are you… why are you here, Svetlana? Who is… he?” She stopped rubbing. “I’m almost certain I locked my door.”

“He—no, we picked the lock. Ganbaatar is a vampire hunter,” Svetlana said at once. “Auntie, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to you in private. The men you’re with, the Veidimen—I don’t know how you’re associated with them, but one is not as he seems.” She fixed her blue eyes on her aunt’s own. “One of them is a vampire.”

Vasilisa grew rather still. “Svetlana…”

“Please, hear me out,” Svetlana continued. “Ganbaatar came here in search of a vampire possessed of certain powers—strong powers. He fought with this man. That man was sitting beside you in the Drawnwater estate… and we know he’s been staying here the past while, in the room over. He was the one in the heavy armor. Ganbaatar can even point out the dent in the armor that he caused during their battle.” She shook her head quickly. “I’m not sure the others are vampires, but we can say for certain that the armored snow elf is.”

The Magister slowly sat up in her bed. “Svetlana, I know.”

Her niece slowly edged away from her on the bed. Ganbaatar raised a judgmental brow from his spot beside the door.

“You… know?” Svetlana repeated.

“I know,” Vasilisa nodded. “I didn’t initially, but I do now.”

Ganbaatar leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Why is he still alive?”

“Because of the two with him. And because of the intent of their actions,” Vasilisa said at once. “Silvaden, their leader, is helping me recover the flame of Quadreign—actually called the Flame of the Tenebrous Star. And he intends to use it to cure this man, Vulras, of his vampirism.”

mightily perturbed, but Svetlana

don’t know,” Vasilisa admitted. “Silvaden has brought to light many truths about the flame. It is something crafted by the snow elves, not by

that followed, Vasilisa rubbed at her nose, still bothered by those smelling herbs. Then, she

come in here now?” Vasilisa asked, looking between the

sure the vampire wouldn’t hear our approach. He is

touched Vasilisa. “We needed privacy. But

repeated. “You mean to say we have it

Svetlana nodded. “After all, the three of them went

hardened.

#####

awoke to noises. She lifted her head up as they crystallized in her senses.

that Argrave had left in her care. They were just outside the tent, but their focus was on something else. She heard

that Durran had carved for her. The royal knights just outside stepped away, speaking about collecting water. And then… others entered her sphere. The way they travelled was clever, taking full

she

end, Elenore felt frozen, her hands trembling too fiercely to even put the prosthetics on her feet. They came ever near to her tent, and she could see blades in their grasp. Trying hard to stay quiet, she crawled away, seeking out a portion of her tent that had been occupied with supplies. Just as she hid beneath a stretch of unused tarp, she saw the men

to hide her existence as best she knew how. Just as she feared being discovered, so too did she desperately search for something to enter her senses, someone to call

saw a peculiar gray scale boot enter her sense, then exit just as quick. Nevertheless, without hesitation she screamed

supplies she had hidden herself under. She kicked out at things in the pile with the stumps that once had been her

the range of her senses, running with determination as he emptied a bucket of water onto the ground. He pushed through the tent flap,

called out again, trying to move closer

the bucket he held at the nearest assailant, then rushed towards her. Magic was already swirling in both of his hands. Just as a man took a swing at her, Durran fired a spell—a lightning spell. It struck the man squarely in the chest, and

Durran. She pulled the blade free of her thigh and offered it to him, and he seized it without missing a step in his sprint. Two men were closest to her, and Durran became a whirlwind of steel

then prepared to press inwards and crush him with a coordinated attack. With his body shielding

screaming? Am I

she said, pained. “You’d

the other three—his blade darted towards one,

enough to stop the attack. He grabbed the man’s shoulder with the other

before Elenore. The last two both rushed synchronously. Durran prepared another spell, yet the man

to stab her through… yet Elenore had not been remaining idle. She threw a fistful of dirt she’d dug at the man’s eyes, and

through his neck. The other backed away, panicked and undecided, until his back met with the still-active ward Durran had conjured. He looked back for but a moment… but it was long enough for Durran to come at him. Their blades met—overhand met underhand, a stab met a hilt, yet Durran surprised his foe finally with a simple punch to

but Durran moved and mercilessly dispatched the two men that had been caught on fire. Only then did he walked towards

camp, they let this happen…”