Jackal Among Snakes

“The sum total of my work,” said Durran, gesturing toward giant golden contraptions. “Barring what I absorbed with my shamanic magic, and what Elenore took, this is left. Thanks, by the by, for teaching me that. Or giving me those books, I suppose would be the better way to put it.”

Argrave looked upon the dwarven spirit collectors, marveling at the intricacy of them. They were half-spheres, almost like large buttons, yet their surface held innumerable grooves that hid countless mechanisms of varying purpose. They had glass gauges on them, lined up equidistantly along the surface. The gauges that were still full emanated a strange sound. At times, Argrave thought he saw glimpses of bodies and faces beyond the glass.

Argrave called upon the connection between himself and Elenore, turning it from inactive to active. “You’re sure you have all you need?”

After half a second of silence, Elenore’s voice resounded in his head. “Yes. We could supply an army and a half with dwarven metal with the spirits I reserved. Honestly, I’d feel more comfortable giving you more. You’re shouldering the risk in this venture.”

Argrave dismissed the connection, feeling it drop. He stepped forward to the contraptions, then looked to those around him. “Ready to play whack-a-spirit?”

Anneliese, Durran, Onychinusa, and Castro all nodded. And with that confirmation, he found a groove, pulling a lever.

Spirits burst free from the dwarven contraption, and Argrave cast his spell. As ever, Castro’s was the first to complete, and he drew the spirits into his body as though catching a waterfall. Argrave’s spell completed next, and then everyone else drew upon the flow of spirits.

The broken fragments of deities found purchase in Argrave’s very being, settling his body like a new home. He could feel dim remnants of what they had been before—the rage, the vengeance, the injustice, and every other such nasty thing that Durran had been slaying—but with shamanic magic, he marked them and made them his own.

As he collected, Argrave moved to other contraptions, opening them one after the other. The warehouse containing these dwarven spirit collectors became awash with a thousand lights before being subsumed by all present. There was a howling in the air, a screaming, as these primeval beings were adapted for their use.

And then… total silence.

Argrave gripped his hand tight, and then pulled his glove down. “Then, we’re ready.”

#####

Argrave walked down a spiral marble slope, his mind filled with two instances of nostalgia. The first came from descending down this spiral ramp in Heroes of Berendar. The second came from descending down here with Anneliese in pursuit of Llewellen’s method of A-rank ascendency, [Life Cycle]. He had come here with a small royal guard, last time. On this occasion, his retinue was far grander.

in awkward haste. Galamon was notably absent—he remained behind at the

behind them all was the Alchemist,

staff in his right hand, and the bulky thing clicked against the marble as he walked as their rearguard. This was the form the Alchemist took fighting against Gerechtigkeit at

to go. He briefly checked on everyone, then continued onward into the hallway. The sloping descent grew harsher here, though still curved around and around at the same pace. The

Anestis muttered as they walked on. “It’s

descent. Argrave was the only

what I’m saying,” Anestis looked up at Argrave. “The stupidity of our decision is utterly baffling. We descended deeper into the crust of the earth until magma exploded outwards whenever our picks met the rock. And why? To escape the wrath of gods and Gerechtigkeit? We act

he was being partially truthful. Argrave supposed he related, as the small fellow

light crept in. Argrave spotted two armored figures standing beneath faint magic lights dancing above their

top of the kneeling man’s

the size of Nodremaid… but comparing that city to the sheer magnitude of this area made

that power than I remember,” Argrave said after a time, though he supposed that it was

her Truesight, taking in the sheer power of it. She lagged behind as they

overwhelming,” she whispered to

diplomatic meeting area, but in clear distrust, the dwarves built a great fortress here that any invaders might be greeted with defense immediately. Argrave could see that much of it had been repurposed to protect from that within the city just

fortress rose, and a large retinue of Stonepetal Sentinels waited to receive them. They all greeted him, but

“They’ve just been standing

He took a deep breath. “Sounds like the Ebon Cult, alright. Tell them to

listening to countless greetings of ‘Your Majesty’ for him or ‘Your Highness’ for Anneliese as they walked by the Stonepetal Sentinels. When they saw the Alchemist, intense fear and confusion was the

they entered, given it was a patchwork fortification built perhaps a month or two ago—the city itself opened up to him, nestled in a depression just below this fortress. Stairs led

of Rome—well, more accurately, it was the historian’s idealized version of Rome. There were flawlessly measured roads paved across the whole of the cavern, immaculately maintained even after all these years. Marble dwarven statues held their arms to the cavern’s ceiling, appearing to hold up the earth like Atlas. There were great buildings and works of art everywhere one looked. They were all bathed in the teal light of Mozzahr’s

lament. “This is the greatest of our cities,

point where the stairs descending into the city ended. Just as Melanie had informed him, they waited with an iron lantern held in their right hand. Mozzahr’s Emptiness twisted in a cage atop its sconce, illuminating the area around the

“Not much, but… it’s there. I can see it flowing within