Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave turned his head to Onychinusa, placing both of his hands upon his hips. She looked up at him, perhaps already knowing what it was he was going to ask.

“Would you be willing to help them?”

The unwrinkled hag looked bitter, and her hands fidgeted as she grappled with the idea. Eventually, Onychinusa’s voice came with resignation, “The Lord sent me to help you.”

Argrave wasn’t fully pleased with that answer, but it was acceptable. He looked back up to the dryads. Instead of just their faces peeking beyond the roots, some of them had emerged fully, sitting on roots and playing childish games with each other. They wore dresses and tiaras of interlocked leaves. The green-skinned creatures seemed to be princesses of the woods. Seeing them conjured memories of Drezki the Coward, Silvic’s servant in the wetlands.

“My friend here can help you if you want her help,” Argrave declared.

The dryads stopped playing, and some of them cheered upon hearing that. The voices came so quickly it was difficult to distinguish them.

“However, if you want her help... she wants you to give some, not all, of your mist to these little guys.” Argrave picked up one of the Brumesingers by the scruff of its neck and raised it up into the air. “Can that be done?”

The place grew still, and the dryads whispered between each other. Finally, one of them descended to the ground, while others came to stand beside Onychinusa, trying to hold her hand.

“Not our choice. Mommy has the mist. We borrow it. But mommy likes us. We can try and persuade!” the dryad promised innocently.

“If it helps, you can tell your mother that we’re going to get rid of the mandragora.” He paused. “Actually, I’d like to tell her myself, once the task is done.”

“The mandragora? It’ll die? But what about its friends? The big squirmy things that eat everything are trying to get married to it!”

Argrave narrowed his eyes, thinking. Squirmy things... she must be talking about the Yateveos. I was wondering why I’d seen none of them. Perhaps they came here after the disturbance of the roots.

“I can get rid of them. But you have to be extra positive when you talk to your mommy,” he said, pointing his finger.

“Okay!” the dryad answered, then looked back. “Old lady, come outside! Big bastard gave you to us.”

Argrave chuckled after being called as such, then looked at where Onychinusa avoided the touch of the dryads. Anneliese caught onto Argrave’s thoughts, for she raised her hand and volunteered, “I’ll go with her, Argrave. The mandragora, will it pose any problems...?”

"No," Argrave said dismissively, casting a spell to make his Brumesingers follow her. They bounded into her arms eagerly, docile and obedient before her. “I’ve got Orion, you forget,” Argrave said, patting his brother’s worn golden armor. The man jumped, as he was lost observing the dryads. “And Myriarch Batbayar will come, too. But the books... best give them here.”

nodded, then discretely retrieved them from her pack and handed them off as the Brumesingers turned into butter in her

trick

was ready to leave after placing the books in his pack, but Batbayar was staring at him. “Perhaps

his pack over his shoulder, then nodded. “Sure, but... on the

Batbayar repeated

held his hands out.

#####

did not explain

elves. Argrave was especially conscious of the fact he deliberately deceived an ally for convenience after Dimocles called him out for it. Still, just because he was aware of it didn’t mean he

taking all of the warmth from these cold stone ruins. All outside light dimmed, and the only thing that illuminated their path was Argrave’s spell. The building wound downward in a long, prolonged spiral. There were branching rooms at points, and though Argrave remembered them being open for exploration, now many of them were caved in

looked like a goblin who’d had a losing argument with a thorn bush. Its giant eyes widened terribly wide

they saw

rushed right into the fray at once without even a weapon on hand. They cast rocks at him with slings, and he took them all without breaking stride. When he came upon them, they scrambled back like monkeys, swinging vine whips or crude implements of wood that looked like pickaxes. Orion merely raised his foot up and slammed it upon the ground, calling upon one of his myriad blessings still with him to send out

rather efficiently—by slamming them against the walls, the floor, or the ceiling, he needed only one arm to crush an opponent. Orion ended them ruthlessly one after the other, leaving large craters in the stone carvings that shook

was done, Argrave cautiously broached,

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

walls and then said, “...maybe don’t slam them against things, given how many

gave a

rolled his shoulders. “I behaved imprudently,

sagely wisdom imparted, the three of them advanced yet further. More things blocked their path, but Argrave conjured a blade of blood magic for Orion to use. The weapon proved to be quite effective, speedily clearing a path as the winding spiral descent leveled off.

Indeed, this area was illuminated well enough that Argrave could see into the room somewhat. What he saw made him hasten his step,

life. This stream then wrapped around a serene building, its serenity disturbed by a mandragora taking root just at its entrance. This place had been the secret garden of the ancient elven imperial

a stump, the top of which had a dozen heads that resembled venus fly traps. They were clearly intelligent, moving

was

abyss. The mandragora stood atop the only remaining solid land, supporting a lone pillar with its partially-exposed root network. One small mercy was that the library Argrave had been seeking was close enough to the mandragora that it had been spared collapsing into the sinkhole. The massive chasm between him and said library killed any joy he

writhing abominations that had a core that looked like a brain and palpi with tiny mouths at their ends—slowly crawled up the base of these roots, eating away with their disgusting mouths. The mandragora bit at it, but its were of yet insufficient to catch them. One small mercy

and whispered, “Given how white you’ve

shook his head.

now the only thing keeping that library from plummeting into the abyss... and looking down into the hole, Argrave didn’t have high hopes for getting the shamanic magic he