Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave woke up early the next morning. He’d slept very soundly—it was one of those sleeps where it felt like he’d just blinked and the next day came. He stirred to his feet and woke up feeling fresh and pure. He stared at his hands and wiggled his fingers, each of them leaving behind a slight crimson echo that was much thicker than it had been yesterday. He’d accrued much practice and quantity with these blood echoes of his in the elven realms. He couldn’t say he was eager to try them, as that would mean he’d be in combat… but he was eager to see what they could do on things other than trees.

He walked to where his other companions slept, clapped his hands, and shouted, “So! Who’s ready to manifest some divinity?”

Everyone stirred, most of them grumbling. Barring the untiring Orion, only Artur looked to be awake, but that was only because he hadn’t fallen asleep. Dark circles marred his eyes from a tired night. Argrave sympathized, but he couldn’t slow his trot for the Magister with dwarfism, pitiable though insomnia was. After all, it was do or die time. And Argrave much preferred the do.

“Get up. Get up!” he shouted eagerly. “You can’t sleep while the world’s catching on fire.”

#####

When they came back to the Mother’s Steppes, Anneliese waited there for him on the grasslands before the first of many altars. They reunited with a hug, and the others stood around awkwardly as they caught up, still waking after Argrave’s greeting.

“You succeeded,” she said when she pulled away. “Congratulations.”

“Failed a lot before that,” Argrave admitted.

“Hmm,” she stared at him. “I see it. The echoes. Like faint maroon shadows following your movements. It is… rather bewitching,” she admitted.

Argrave smiled—he’d been nervous about how she might take it, seeing as she disliked Garm’s eyes so much. “Is everything prepared?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Anneliese nodded, refocused. “Exactly as you wanted it, I think. Provided you obtained the essence from the other side, then all that remains is creation.”

“I did get it, little lady. Let’s go,” he pulled her along, heading for the altar with determined steps. “Let me tell you how deep we’re into this, Anne…”

Perplexed, she followed after as he caught her up to speed with the foe they faced.

#####

The sole boon they had in rousing the elven pantheon was the ability to travel quickly by utilizing the Mother’s Steppes. Though allowing fast travel, walking across those grass plains frozen in time with Sarikiz sleeping amidst all of it made Argrave uncomfortable. The Holy Mother uneased him, like she might wake up at any moment and cause problems. But waking gods was rough enough work and doing it accidentally would be quite the feat. He only hoped that the centaurs paid him little mind from that icy lake they took refuge atop.

The key to allowing gods freedom from their other realm before their time was something well-documented in a side quest down in the old dwarven cities, where the Ebon Cult persisted. The most important factor was giving the gods on the other side an anchor to this one. With an anchor in place, they could manifest through their own efforts. There, the process of melding the mortal and the immortal worlds would begin for this cycle of judgment.

An anchor to the mortal realm required two things, primarily—something containing an aspect of the gods themselves, like the favor Argrave had been given, and something persisting on this realm that was directly tied to them. It might be, for instance, a weapon they’d used in battle during the last cycle, or a garment they’d worn while manifested on this realm.

Fortunately for them, finding items they valued had already been attended to. Argrave had merely circumvented the cycle in talking to Chiteng, using spirits from another source to empower him briefly. The other parties had been tasked with the more conventional method of awakening. Grimalt, Bastel, and Rasten, his Veidimen officers, had been assigned larger parties for the purpose of finding, securing, and using these items.

Anneliese dealt with the minutiae of the ritual for each altar—ensuring that the environment suited the god in question properly so as to ensure the process went smoothly, gathering excess items of sentimental purpose to strengthen the anchor, and other such tasks to make sure everything went flawlessly.

was the first place they stopped. The altar had been overrun by small bloodsucking woodland creatures, and so retrieving the man’s item—his crook—had come difficultly, she told him. But Moriatran had come with her, and she said that helped with that task. And in the

#####

rock altar of Merata, unadorned and unimpressive just as Chiteng’s had been. Wildlife bloomed up it, rising up the rock and onto the grasping roots of the Bloodwoods in a display of his unchecked yet unwitting power. Elsewhere, there was a sickle, a pair of sandals… all items of Merata’s, placed here to enhance the

had done well. Argrave felt rather uncomfortable seeing the crook that had been placed at his neck not yesterday, but he pushed past that and placed the silver coin acting as the elven pantheon’s favor in place atop the crook. He balanced

looked back. “The blood

the crook and

I didn’t know your circumstances about the whole disavowal,” Argrave clasped his hands together. “You can

do it, damnit,” Ganbaatar stepped forward, untying the loops on his leather bracers to free his

as Ganbaatar drew his knife and cut his forearm. He held it out, letting it pour out over the crook and coin both. Anneliese made to heal him, but

remained reticent as ever. Anneliese claimed he had been quite the large boon in clearing a path to obtain this crook. He didn’t quite have the measure of the man yet, but was thankful to him nonetheless.

about why you believed in the first place,”

Finally, he looked back and was about to suggest heading back when dancing teal sprites emerged from the silver coin, wreathing around the crook. In time, these sprites jumped to the sickle, then the sandals, and then every other item of import in

so much as a noise, they all vanished, fading away like breath on a mirror. The

go. That’s done it,” he

said lightly, handing him the coin back. “Despite their failings… if they can help us, I want

didn’t know how to respond for a moment, then said quietly, “…well, you’ll have to proffer a couple more last chances,

Ganbaatar sighed.

chance,” Orion’s voice came, hard yet

#####

All things considered, it had been quite a fruitful day and he was proud of the work he’d done. Though he hadn’t done much of anything—he’d let the others take care

enough bleeding for all of

happy to rest and catch up with her. They’d managed to knock out half of the

self-pity being useless spiel.

she praised him. “I cannot imagine going through

curb the Castellan of

smoke. “What does this

for a moment, then shook his head. “No use to think on that. I need help, Anne. The difficult part remains carrying out this ridiculous plan of mine to combat Kirel. Any

her mouth to respond, but closed it

Argrave turned his head to see Artur standing where

repeated, displeased to be interrupted. “We’ve been working hard all day, and

her head and looked at

let’s talk,” Argrave

you were in that realm…” Artur looked off to the side, his eyes dark and colorless.

Argrave asked, completely caught

Argrave’s eye, but could not hold it for long. “She was suddenly there—not a step, not a sound. White hair,

asked, her mind quicker