Jackal Among Snakes

“You sold my daughter to a brothel?” Melanie’s father asked. There wasn’t anger in his voice—not really. Just disappointment.

“I wasn’t really going to do it,” her mother insisted. Red hair, green eyes, tall and robust—minus the scars, she was a mirror to Melanie today. “But you never visit me anymore! What else was I supposed to do?”

“But you accepted money from them, didn’t you? And I imagine you’ve already spent this money.”

Melanie looked upon this scene with a humorous smile on her face. For her mother, Melanie’s only worth had been attention from her father. For her father… she wasn’t quite sure what she was worth. It felt like he sent money only so that others couldn’t disparage him. In the end, her mother had spent most of it on gaudy dresses, jewels, and expensive perfume.

Until today, that was.

“You’ve made your bed,” her father said. “Sleep in it.”

He made to leave, but her mother threw herself at him. She clawed at him with her long, painted nails, and he cast her to the ground. She fell into a vase, shattering it. He looked down at her contemptuously, while she had the look of a wounded animal on her face. There was brief indecision—pity, almost—before he made to leave without another word. In hysteric rage, Melanie’s mother grabbed a shard of the broken vase and lunged, stabbing him in the calf.

With a shout, her father fell on her mother. He bludgeoned her face again and again until she stopped moving, then wrapped his fingers around her neck. She was so badly beaten she could barely offer resistance, and she breathed her last after a few minutes. When she finally died, he fell away from her, examining his calf and grimacing. He muttered foul curses, and it was only after about half a minute that he spotted Melanie.

Melanie’s father rose up and walked over to her, limping. He could see the child version of her, but Melanie herself seemed to be a spectator in this memory. The dead-eyed girl looked up at her father, not saying a word.

Even though she had no memory of this event, Melanie knew how this ended. She remembered this place well, after all, and it occupied much of her earlier life.

Without saying a thing, her father left, shaking his head. On his way past, as he winced with pain from his leg, he kicked her mother once again. Melanie couldn’t help but laugh, and the little girl that she’d once been looked over.

Feeling guilty from that silent stare, Melanie said, “Come on. Sometimes, things are just so colossally wrong you have to laugh.”

The child continued to stare.

“Brothel owner made a fat stack of coins for this little event. Blackmailed my granddad. Ruined his whole damned business. Then my dad drank himself to death.” She patted the little kid on the head. “But take it easy, kid. Life gets a lot better from here.”

Those green eyes never stopped staring.

Melanie finally looked away, and rose to her feet. She walked to her mother’s body and looked down on it. The little Melanie walked up, too, staring up at her as she watched.

“There’s a lot you can learn from whores,” Melanie reflected, rambling to distract her thoughts. “And it’s not just ‘where not to end up in life.’ You learn how to talk to people. You learn how to size up someone’s worth. You learn how to shake people down, too. Well, I guess I learned that from the owner.” She laughed, then pulled up a chair. “You learn what someone can sell themselves for. And you learn how to laugh at stuff like this.” Melanie prodded her dead mother’s stiff leg with her boot.

Melanie rubbed her palms together. “You’ll meet a mercenary. He guards the place. He’ll teach you a thing or two, finally get you the hell out of this place. In the end, he’d prefer you fight in the bedroom rather than a battlefield. He’s not exactly the asking type, either.”

Melanie took a deep breath and sighed, leaning back in the chair. “He’s the first one you kill. Not sure what count we’re at, now, but there you go. After all that stuff, you’re free. Maybe that’s what you want hear.”

with the little girl still watching.

here. Looks like that’s not my ticket out.” She stared at her mother’s dead body. “I’ll admit, I don’t remember this memory, so the White Planes have got me there.” She shook her head. “But all this, all of this,” she said, anger finally seeping into her tone. “It made me tough, made me strong. I learned how to fight, how to struggle, how to earn. If we had been accepted into the family, started living in that peachy estate of my grandfather’s back in Relize, sucking down caviar and slurping

from the little girl, even

the king. Most powerful man in the world. And once I’m done with this stroll through shitty memory lane, I’ll be talking to gods. And because of

“Are we happy?”

looking down at the ground. She caressed her forehead as a headache

want,” the

she needed to answer, then. What did

#####

carrying her zweihander on her shoulder. She had been walking for a long, long time, her thoughts

bore countless scars all over his body, and sported a giant mane of red hair. The largest scar—a huge gouge in his stomach—was partially concealed by his long beard. His green eyes carried a madness

of Sataistador?” she

Erlebnis,” he said without answering her question. His voice was deep and

have for me?”

He bore an axe on his left waist, two daggers strapped to his chest and one to his calf. He had a bow on his back, and two scimitars on the right side of his waist. And his

side or betraying people when doing so outweighs staying true.” He raised his fist up and pounded it against his chest. “This is

a drink and discuss

But I stand to benefit much more from protecting his interests.” He held his gigantic hand up.

there were measures to protect us, but… so

one’s loose tongue.” He crossed his arms again. “Gods are petty things. Do you think your king—or the Alchemist behind him—would risk disclosing his plans of a heist so blatantly, were there not certain guarantees in place? Not even my memories are exempt from this

true for mortals?” Melanie

the experience you just endured, and think that is all there is to those doors. This place was built by gods in the distant past to have some advantage against

using it, now,” Melanie pointed out. “Alright, whatever. You need a traitor. What

never before consorted with mortals,” Sataistador looked off to the side. “But in so doing, I have never before shared my power with another. I have no divine servants, no mortal champions. But I can promise you two things. The first:

Melanie said

before.” He held one of his hands up, explaining, “You must be far from Gerechtigkeit—he hampers

like that,”

would be weak these first few cycles, but as I said, you would be my ally. There is no higher honor. As you kill other deities you will strengthen your divinity to be worthy of the position. I know this to be true, as

first cycle?” Melanie

more,” Sataistador crossed his

thing, but how do I know you’ll keep this deal?” Melanie

White Planes leave their mark. Both of us must abide by these scriptures absolutely, or face a

disagreed.

no need of lesser beings. And more than that…” the deity reached for the scimitars on his waist, pulling one free. He held it out before him, and then… it changed. She’d not for a moment doubted the solidity of Sataistador, but his scimitar gained a tangibility to it, and she felt the