Jackal Among Snakes

The capital of the wood elves in the Bloodwoods was not grand at all. It couldn’t be, for it never stayed in one place for too long. The only thing notable about it was that it was a true building, and presently surrounded by an army well-prepared for war. It looked like a longhouse placed atop a thick branch, supported by curling branches. It had only two entrances, one on each side. Within its largely empty halls, four stood with a rigid posture and alert red eyes.

A man entered into the doorless entryway of the hall, landing gracefully. He brushed his hands off and stepped toward the waiting four. With golden blonde hair and eyes wholly red, each of them looked greatly alike. One had to study their faces closely for differences, but even then they were remarkably uniform. All save one, that is—there was one female in their number.

“We greet the Supreme Myriarch,” the four waiting elves said in tandem as he moved to them.

“At ease,” he commanded them at once, and they lowered their hands back behind their back. “I received word that there was a heavy engagement with the Holy Army of the Wind in the south. Batbayar—that was your station. Report details of this force.”

“Sir,” Batbayar began, stepping out of rank and file from the other three. “This group entered from the south at the first quarter of dawn. They numbered three hundred and eleven. Nine of them were spellcasters of probable high ranking. Three were confirmed as A-rank. One was confirmed as S-rank. Others cast no spells, but observation of their magic quantity from myself and my juniors suggests they may be B-rank or higher. Three hundred others were identified as warriors the humans call snow elves. One among their number—one who gave orders—resembled the leader of the invasion against us years ago.”

The Supreme Myriarch clenched his fist at the last part, then nodded. “Report what happened.”

Batbayar did not hesitate a second in responding, “We attempted to intercept, but they managed to reach a forbidden area before they could be stopped. Though we made heavy use of arrow and spell rain, all attacks were intercepted by a ward. My Tumen was diverted by a high-ranking spell of flame, and personal intervention from a monstrous warrior caused the formation to collapse. My personal attempt to intercept their force with an S-rank spell was met with a counter of the same rank. They sustained no casualties, and the interception was a complete failure.”

The myriarchs looked briefly shocked at the news that not even one of their foes had died, but their military discipline kept their surprise from leaking into their posture. They looked at Batbayar not with disdain, but with sympathy. Their camaraderie was undeniable from their gaze alone.

“What forbidden area, myriarch?” the Supreme Myriarch questioned.

“They sheltered in the entrance to the holy land of the centaurs, sir.” Batbayar stared unflinchingly. “From scout observation, that was their target from the beginning.”

Stress seemed to overwhelm their supreme leader for a moment, and he caressed the ridge of his nose before remembering his place.

“I haven’t wanted to do this… but it must be. I have three Tumens locked in dealing with the anomaly in the northern forest. With four Tumens, we lack the manpower for a total screen of all exits from the centaur’s holy land.” He looked to the myriarch to his left. “Myriarch Otgon. You are to take your Army of the Roots and head to all known exits from the centaur’s holy land. Take whatever measures necessary to block them off.”

“Yes, Supreme Myriarch,” the man in question pounded his fist against his heart.

“Respectfully, sir, I believe another course of action should be taken.” Batbayar, too, made the same gesture of fist upon heart. “We cannot risk provoking the centaurs to action while dealing with the forest-wide changes. It may be a message from the old gods.”

“There are no gods in these woods. If there were, they’ve long abandoned us,” the female myriarch butted in. “Even if it were, the roots expanding has been a blessing. We can walk upon the ground without fear of centaurs.”

a personal matter. We all struggle in the same woods, so beliefs are to be kept private. You are to flog yourself twice in private for speaking out of turn in a military meeting.” He turned his gaze to the next. “Batbayar. For your failure to intercept foes, you are to flog yourself twenty times while those that were injured in the battle watch.

flog. As he walked, Batbayar closed his eyes. A face flashed in his mind… an elven face with

brought to your home? Ruin? Or…

#####

their party entered were massive and complex… but that worked to their advantage, Argrave supposed. There were many entrances and exits to this place, each and all leading to holy ground of the centaurs. Maybe in the distant past he would have been able to direct their party through this place by memory. No longer—things were familiar, but only that and nothing more.

his age, he seemed the least exhausted of all of

nodded, missing no chance to brag about Anneliese. He saw her ears

staring at him cautiously. At that, Artur and

Ganbaatar. “I had intended to reach the place in question through a different path at the edge of the woods, but given the troubles I’m forced to do it at a rather

eyes as Argrave spoke and shook his head but said nothing. Neither did Moriatran, for that matter. Argrave couldn’t get a grasp of the S-rank Magister’s personality, whether it had been in Heroes of Berendar or here in this reality. He was Castro’s ‘rival,’ but the Tower Master ignored the proclamation and paid him little mind. One

had been so stalwart Argrave still couldn’t erase that scene from his mind. What was the man’s game? Argrave couldn’t say. He’d been nothing but generous. Intuition dictated that spelt trouble.

called out. “You used up all of your magic reserves, more or

wish to be crushed? My apologies,” said the Magister with a facetious smile

enchantments might not

simply. “And others

flash of gold move in his vision, he realized what it was and said at once,

“A path. Heavily patrolled, however. Argrave, that

sight, don’t you think?” He put his hand on her shoulder. “As for the patrols, let my pups do their

the floor. They let out their eerie chiming, then vanished into the mist they conjured. Everyone watched with surprise—most of them didn’t even know Argrave had the pets on him. They had become so omnipresent that he forgot sometimes, himself, almost like they were an extension of his

for illusions. None of the centaurs are above B-rank, so

himself. “Your Majesty… you don’t

aren’t you?”

Mina shook her head. “Even for C-rank, I doubt they’d send people capable of seeing past my illusions on common patrols,” Mina shook

quiet shrug. With that ringing endorsement, Argrave looked at her and

vast caverns diligently. They were easy to hear, for most were armored in steel. They were easy to see, too, standing at well over ten feet tall. The sheer size of the beasts enabled their party to take smaller,

bout… Mina was hard-pressed to provide illusions thorough enough for their entire party. But regardless of how hard she was pressed, she rose to the task ably. She seemed almost eager to make herself useful. It was a great relief to Argrave,

hours of their steady advance, Nikoletta spoke to Argrave in a moment of rest in

said out of

or something?” he questioned, thinking nothing of it.