Jackal Among Snakes

“...and that's all I can say about Fellhorn,” Argrave told Elenore, giving advice to Melanie through Elenore as he and Raccomen made to confront Erlebnis. They intended to fight him outside the Palace of Heaven, as it kept him from interfering with the operations within and, if all went well, they might turn the Stormfield against him.

He continued advising, “And the lich, his phylactery... it's hidden within a stuffed animal: a black bear, with big floppy ears. That's all I have, Elenore. No communication henceforth. Need no distractions.”

“Good luck,” his sister told him in parting. Then her voice was no more, and Argrave stood on the empty walls of the Palace of Heaven with Raccomen beside him.

The deity asked, “You’re done?”

“Yeah,” Argrave answered.

“I’ll keep it brief.” Raccomen played with the decadent rings on his fingers. “Erlebnis knows he’s outmatched. He’s given up on winning the fight.”

“You’re sure of this?” Argrave narrowed his eyes.

“He’s using his divinity to empower his attacks. He wants to leave nothing left for his foes. The god I killed for my domain did something similar.” Raccomen stroked his chin. “Eventually, though, our god of knowledge is going to get too weak to resist both of the ancient gods wearing him down. It’s our job to make sure his killer is someone on our side.”

“We all agreed that Law should inherit that power. His domain compels him to be our most steadfast ally,” Argrave pointed out.

“We did agree it would be best for all involved,” Raccomen confirmed. “But we should be happy simply if Sataistador doesn’t claim it.”

“So that’s your angle, volunteering to help me.” Argrave fixed him with the side-eye. “Whatever. If it plays that way, it plays that way. This is a partnership, not a subordinacy. Just don’t end up dead, like Rook.”

“Like Rook?” Raccomen laughed—a new noise from the god of space. “I won’t end up like him at all. The god with mastery over space—it’s a coveted title. It could be said that few other domains are its equal. For that reason, my champion, Melanie, has proven her worth countless time.” He looked at Argrave. “For this reason, the gods of space are often killed by those seeking to claim their domain. I’m the youngest of the gods in the Blackgard Union… yet throughout history, I’m still the oldest god of space. Does that make sense?”

“This is you being brief?” Argrave shook his head. “You’re a tough guy, I get it. What’s your point?”

you, I don’t often fight when I cannot win. Now—let’s wait for our opportunity.” Raccomen put his hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “I

long and protracted fight. “Why’s

#####

to me,” Erlebnis said, standing across from Sataistador as the Stormfield raged all around them on this mountain

war for me,

to get you to end

storm turned to a fiery hell in moments as the phases of the Stormfield shifted. Amidst all this, Sataistador looked amused. “Are

Erlebnis

cycle of judgment. And despite their tremendous success, I don’t doubt for a second Argrave is willing and able to retreat if things turned that quickly. But let me offer an alternative.” Sataistador raised

lurking, now, ready to step in and bring his friends at a moment’s notice.” The god of knowledge closed his eyes despite

this tale on Amazon, be aware

Sataistador scoffed. “You let go of those a long time ago. Sure they still work like they

small before the hulking figure of

a candle, the wax melting a little more every time you burn. If you’d kept your mouth shut instead of saying you’d desecrate the king’s wife, there might be some arrangement you could make… but after you talked, Argrave has no reason to trust a deal from you. This ends, Erlebnis, with you dead. The hand has been dealt. All you can do

run my mouth more… and

in the next. He flew at Erlebnis with his arms moving so quickly they appeared to be eight. Weapons lashed out at him in an inferno of fury. Erlebnis called upon his divinity, putting a vast amount of might in repelling the god of

not. Or better yet, do fret, louse. You think I don’t

don’t you?” Sataistador pointed an axe. “Then you’ll say nothing more. I put a lot of time, a lot of effort, into this. If you don’t waste my effort, you can harass Argrave

But most of all, I want to kill him. You got in my damned way, Sataistador. I’ll burn this scheme of yours to cinders—I’m not above that, not anymore. You deprived me of my chance. You still have yours, for now. And if you want to keep it, get out of my sight. And if

Sataistador shouted in rage. “It’s irrational. If

my ‘ally,’ stays on high, while I scramble in the mud for a knife. I’m not content with that.

“You’re going

Argrave suffer. Death alone isn’t the only way one can go about such a thing. Grief is painful. Despair is painful.

waist. “I ought to take my chances, keep fighting you,