Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave eyed a wriggling bag made of poor cloth handled by one of the men of the tribes of Vysenn. Some animal lovers would undoubtedly take umbrage with the treatment of the amphibians, suggesting that they would be traumatized being transported in such a manner.

“Your Majesty… what are your plans for these creatures?” the Firevein, standing off nearby, questioned as he looked into the distant land of greenery where the spring taiga reigned. “Do you intend to raise them?”

Argrave looked to him. “It would be hard to prepare an environment for them. They live in heat and need volcanic gases to get proper nutrients, something that I lack on both fronts. I might sustain them for a time, but I cannot keep them.”

“What of the crystals?” Anneliese suggested. When Argrave furrowed his brows, she elaborated, “From my homeland. They were embedded in the roads to ward away snow and keep the path clear.”

“Oh!” Argrave said, pointing to her. “A brighter idea than I could ever hope to think of. But… the other point remains true.”

“You say that you do not desire our lands… yet these creatures are the only reason we can persist amidst the harsh rocks and dense miasma,” the Firevein asked without asking.

Galamon stepped up and took the bag from the other’s hands, holding it out before his body as though he didn’t care to have the salamanders touch his body.

“I have other uses for them than preparing a force for colonization. I’m not exactly sure why you’re so protective over land near a volcano,” Argrave said ponderingly. “If you’re smart, you’ll heed this. You probably won’t, but here’s the advice anyway: migrate. That volcano will erupt once again. Your homes will melt and fuse with the earth, and your flesh and bones will be unrecognizable in the liquid rock. Doesn’t matter who you sacrifice to appease the volcano or what measures you take to prepare—unless you migrate, you’ll die.”

“Those of the green lands have been saying such a thing for hundreds of years,” the Firevein shook his head, then respectfully appended, “Em… Your Majesty.”

The Snowrock, however, was somewhat more serious. “Where would we even migrate? The lands beyond all belong to Your Majesty, and we are strangers in appearance. How would we survive?”

“Hmm…” Argrave thought for a few seconds, then continued, “Your people are well-suited for the earth. Most of your homes are built from it. Miners are always welcome. As a matter of fact… I can think of a few areas they’d be in rather high demand in the coming years, to the point where I’d accept migrants myself.”

“As slaves?” the Snowrock guessed.

“That custom is long gone,” Argrave shook his head. “And even if it wasn’t… it’s better than death, I think. Life outside Vysenn is of much higher quality than that within it.”

“Yes… it is better than death, Your Majesty,” the Snowrock nodded slowly.

“Given your leave, Your Majesty…” the reticent Tender of the Grasses spoke. “We would return, our matter… settled?”

“It’s settled,” Argrave nodded. “Don’t soon forget the lesson taught here.”

Taking that as their cue to leave, the three chiefs and their small entourage that had delivered the salamanders made to leave. As they left, the Snowrock paused.

“Your Majesty… those salamanders… though they can be eaten…”

“Speak not another word!” the Firevein shouted at his compatriot.

“I’d agree,” Argrave nodded, holding his hand out to stop the other. “I already know the ritual, so save your words.”

The Snowrock blinked, and the Firevein grabbed the man’s arm to shepherd him along. The tribal chieftain resisted the older man, then asked, “Is there aught you don’t know?”

“Only how this world came to

was final. Argrave turned away, trusting Galamon to watch his back. Anneliese joined him, commenting, “What strange naming customs. Did

what was ahead as he laid

attention—a rather effective strategy, Argrave noted. “The blue-eyed one… I

took a deep breath.

be wrong,” she shook her head, then fixed some of her

I are in the same boat, it would seem. I appreciate your vigilance. We’ll have to relay that information

#####

hands on his knees as Durran and Elenore sat before

and the red moon were especially bright tonight, almost to the point the campfire was necessary only for warmth. They decided to camp here—it was far from Vysenn, yet nevertheless Argrave’s royal guard kept watch. After Anneliese’s display of prowess with her A-rank ascendency, he was markedly less worried about the barbarians offering any genuine threat. Their strength was their tephramancy, yet that power of

to stay,” he tried his best to rhyme, though he wasn’t confident the mnemonic would stick. “A

already—it was a rather unassuming black creature with moist skin. Whatever it breathed out was visible as some sort of black mist. It squirmed uncomfortably in her hand, yet she held it

coming to him readily. Then,

As for that option, my jaw is rather weak and my stomach not so strong. What is the

Their blood is highly flammable, but it

it might be, I’ll take a few scales trapped between my teeth and an uncomfortable meal any day over being set alight.” He pointed at

observing the creature.

“Even better.

do the ritual,” Elenore

in

leaned in. “You, uh… you’d prefer being set on fire than eating

was

does that mean much? He was puking blood and turning

“Who said today that Argrave was usually right, and

that’s…” Durran trailed off, scratching the top of his head where his dark hair was thick. “I was talking about what I do, not what you

then rose to her feet. “Let us

what we needed. No need to throw caution to the wind. I’d think you,

I do, and focus

his words. Then, his bear roared loudly

this now?” Elenore asked, crossing her arms. She

most comfortable with Anneliese doing it, given the nature of the, uh…” he gestured towards her body. “…the ritual. I’ll be nearby if

she said neutrally. “I hadn’t considered that.

the

“I want

lack confidence in the plan. Eventually, he said jokingly,

She offered

and then walked with Anneliese, heading for