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.

altar she’d visited was Merata’s, and it 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

#####

planted the crook into the ground before 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 strength of the

neck not yesterday, but he pushed past that and placed the silver

back. “The blood and prayer

gaze, then looked to the

know your circumstances about the whole disavowal,” Argrave clasped his hands together. “You can still contact your people,

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

out, letting it pour out over the crook and coin both. Anneliese made to heal him, but he waved her

remained reticent as ever. Anneliese claimed he had been quite the large boon in clearing a path to

believed in the first

annoyance. Argrave stepped away, letting him do his work in peace. He looked at Nikoletta, Mina, and Anneliese in turn, waiting patiently. Finally, he looked back and was about to suggest heading back when dancing

away like breath on a mirror.

“There you go.

one last chance,” Ganbaatar said lightly, handing him the coin back. “Despite their failings… if they

said quietly, “…well, you’ll have to proffer a couple more

Ganbaatar sighed.

chance,” Orion’s voice came,

#####

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 of it all. That

again, he’d done enough bleeding for

and catch up with her. They’d managed to knock out half of the anchors today, and the rest would come tomorrow. Now, the burden rested on the

about that self-pity being useless spiel. Hell

praised him. “I

between realms, causing gods to emerge earlier there,” Argrave explained to Anneliese. “Presumably he sought to curb the Castellan of the Empty and his waxing power, as Gerechtigkeit viewed them

looking at distant rising smoke. “What does this mean for the

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 refinements to what

mouth to respond, but closed it and

a man’s voice, and Argrave turned his head to see Artur standing where Anneliese looked. The Magister continued,

been working hard all day, and you didn’t sleep.

arm. When he turned his head, puzzled, she shook her head and looked at Artur in concern. Evidently whatever

let’s talk,” Argrave eventually gave

realm…” Artur looked off to the side, his eyes

mean, appeared?” Argrave asked, completely caught off guard. “She snuck

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

Anneliese asked, her mind quicker than