Jackal Among Snakes

The Supreme Myriarch stared ahead at giants moving through the trees, trampling the overgrown roots of the Bloodwoods beneath their feet as though they were common twigs and not the redwoods comprising their homeland. From this far away, they almost seemed like normal-sized elves walking in one of the small forests beyond these lands, where one determined human with an axe could fell a tree in less than a day. But that image was ruined in seeing what rode on their shoulders—namely, people.

“Reporting, Supreme Myriarch,” Batbayar pulled himself onto the branch the Supreme Myriarch perched atop, then gave a salute. “My scouts confirm that those riding on the shoulders of… our gods… are the very same who broke past the southern border and sought refuge in the centaur’s tunnel. Should we take further action?”

In thinking what was best for the nation, the Supreme Myriarch often first thought of what would be worst for the nation. And what would be worst for the nation… surely, it would be angering their gods. That would sow irreparable disunity in all Tumens. With the centaurs rampaging, the winged demons seizing their high homes, and the grounded monsters nipping at them from below… many felt it the end times. Already, people thought this coming a salvation—a light amidst darkness.

The gods asked to meet with him. And as a leader, he could not refuse them, even if they brought humans on their shoulders.

“I shall receive them with the Kheshig,” he decided, then reached into his Amarok-leather armor’s pocket.

The Supreme Myriarch blew a whistle quickly, and then jumped down from the trees. He nimbly maneuvered through the canopy with elven wires in a show of extreme prowess, and in a few moments was joined by a coterie of his kin moving quickly enough to put even his skills to shame. These were the Kheshig—guards of the Supreme Myriarch, and archers skilled enough to strike a man down even if he hid beyond the horizon.

As they grew near, the elven god with long golden hair stretching down to his feet—Merata, god of agriculture—slammed his crook upon the ground. The nearby redwoods all bent and contorted to his will, and the Supreme Myriarch and his Kheshig slowed in caution. Roots and branches and trunks all heeded the god’s directive, pushing through the forest ahead of where they walked. When they stopped, all the forces called upon converged to make a platform.

The scarred patriarch of the gods, Ghan, reached up to his shoulder. Those standing by his neck walked out to that hand, and he lowered it to the platform where they stepped off. As the Supreme Myriarch watched, he noted their group was not human alone. There were elves of impure heritage in great numbers coupled with one of their true kin, undoubtedly born in these woods.

“Do not act rashly,” the Supreme Myriarch reminded his Kheshig, and then began his departure towards this platform.

The wood elves landed on the sturdy wood platform that felt as alive as any branch one after the other. Even in this extraordinary position, the Kheshigs maintained a disciplined formation that was well positioned to protect the Supreme Myriarch in the event of any danger. And as they watched, four approached.

Their apparent leader was an exceptionally tall human with obsidian-colored hair reaching his shoulders and calm, confident gray eyes. He had a heavy gray duster on, beneath it a metal breastplate depicting a sun with four biting snakes as its rays. His movements left a bewitching maroon trail, lending every action he took an otherworldly dignity and grace to it. With gods standing behind him, all felt small before this single man.

At his side walked an impure elf of the northeastern continent. Her clothes matched the human’s perfectly. Her long white hair fell past her waist, presently braided back in a half-crown to keep it from blocking her vision. Her amber eyes seemed like a calm that came before a storm—the Supreme Myriarch had seen their like on great commanders. His intuition about the measure of a leader had made him successful as commander of all Myriarchs, and he felt this woman had that measure.

in his bracers. Though he was well and truly born to this place without a doubt, the Supreme

Argrave,” the leading man introduced himself, placing his right fist over his heart. “I reign over all the lands of Vasquer with an army in excess of one hundred thousand

as those who held it caused great wars of ages past and ostensibly stood responsible for the dissolution of the Old Empire. Yet now this title was conveyed in a manner customary to their people, not in the belligerent fashion in which kings reputedly acted. Tumens often had disputes, managing ten thousand soldiers as they did. Disputes or negotiations began

responded in kind, explaining, “I am the Supreme

as he continued, “Standing at my side is my queen, Anneliese, and my treasured brother, Orion. I have come here at the behest of this good elf, Ganbaatar, as the leader of all humans in Vasquer, as the protector of my family, and as the favored of your gods.” As though to prove this claim, the man held up a worn coin, though the Supreme Myriarch was ignorant of its

establishing the purpose of the meeting—both the purpose behind them and the gravity of the man who spoke them caused the Supreme Myriarch to feel a rising nervousness. Discipline

aside, even if we both will it to be so? Wounds linger

love for my

times without a precedent come,” the queen, Anneliese, spoke. “If your people seek restitution, let us aid in

the Supreme Myriarch’s gaze wandered to the gods standing behind as silent authority behind the king’s words. Ghan and Ujin, patriarch and matriarch, and Chiteng, Dairi, Gunlik, Merata, Lunho, Orda, Murgid, and Volgar, the five sons and three daughters… this could be no human trick. Even as his gaze wandered, he saw elves filling

religious nor irreligious elves in the Tumens. The law dictated religion was a personal matter, and never to be used as excuse for disputes. But this… this spoke of things afoot grander than

even if they come to our defense,” the Supreme Myriarch shook his head. “Our borders

en masse,” Argrave said with the faintest smile. “Just as you faced winged demons, my people face the risen dead—and soon, far worse. I cannot spare enough to send an army.

do you intend?” the Supreme Myriarch

sought Argrave’s aid in securing us, alone, as sole vying species in the Bloodwoods.” The one named Ganbaatar stepped out and kneeled.

soldier, not a subject. Rise.” When Ganbaatar came to his feet, he turned his gaze away and stared

their kin with them, brought the backing of the gods themselves… certainly, everything was in place for easy acceptance. But the Supreme Myriarch defended against conquest by deception as much

your

in battle, perhaps? We have time for nothing

the king had said of his love for family,

take one of your kin with us to establish