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.

by his side, while Anestis accompanied them in awkward haste. Galamon was notably absent—he remained behind at the head of their army, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Taking the back were two incredibly formidable people—Onychinusa and Castro. They wouldn’t be joining

behind them all was the Alchemist,

them, easily clearing ten feet. Though he generally wore a robe of his own silken black hair, he now walked with his body covered in gray bone that gleamed in the right light, almost like chitin. It covered all of his body, making him seem as some sort of bone knight. He had his huge obsidian 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 the

gaze back to where they were meant 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 only difference was that the center of the

muttered as they walked on. “It’s

was the only to answer the dwarf,

into the crust of the earth until magma exploded outwards whenever our picks met the rock. And why?

at the dwarf, and then gave Argrave a wavy hand, indicating by that signal he was being partially truthful. Argrave supposed he related,

at every turn, the descent reached its end and evened off into a short hallway where teal light crept in. Argrave spotted two armored figures standing beneath faint magic lights dancing above their head. They were Stonepetal Sentinels, even now adorned with the sashes pinned with stone roses common in their

the kneeling

the sheer magnitude of this area made the Low Way seem like a small stroll. And it was all lit by

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

the Emptiness with her Truesight, taking in the sheer power of it. She lagged behind as they advanced, and then rapidly made to catch up

is quite overwhelming,” she whispered

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

iron gates to the fortress rose, and a large retinue of Stonepetal Sentinels waited to receive them. They all greeted him, but one came up to Melanie and relayed some news. She walked over to Argrave to

cultists sent someone to wait outside for you,” she said quietly. “They’ve just

nodded as response. He took a deep breath. “Sounds like the Ebon Cult, alright.

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 general response. Argrave was in

was less formidable than the one 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 downward, beckoning

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 emptiness,

of this… abandoned,” Anestis said in lament. “This is the greatest of our cities,

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 person a great deal. They wore purple

it’s there. I can see it flowing within them as constantly