Jackal Among Snakes

Though the siege against Kirel Qircassia persisted above the skies in the Great Chu, Argrave was infinitely more engaged with the changes that had taken place within himself. He and his family returned to Blackgard, and thereafter to the mountains, enduring Raven’s constant scrutiny. Along the way, he explained to his companions what he believed he had experienced. But rather unexpectedly, he received contact from the source of all of this the moment his foot stepped back on Berendar soil.

“You work quickly. I thought we would again speak long after Vasquer had remembered that which she has forgotten,” Lindon observed, his voice bringing pause to Argrave’s step. “You walk a route that few before you have travelled. Only the dead, by this point.”

Argrave looked around, only to see that none of his people were moving. Another trick of the mind brought about by Lindon, but seeing it still made nervousness flourish in Argrave’s chest.

“Seems like the first order of business I have is shutting you out, somehow.” Argrave looked around, trying to sound disaffected despite the futility of deceiving the deity. “I was in the middle of something, Lindon.”

“That’s the second order of business. I’m sparing you the time you’re about to spend,” Lindon countered.

“You could’ve spared me the time a long time ago.”

“No. The terms of the treaty I forged were clear. I am disallowed to reach out to people unless they seek me out first, under extraordinary circumstances. In return, I am entitled to be able to perform some protective mental measures, such as obfuscation of my presence or that of the Gilderwatchers. I never expected to be able reach out to someone. The dictates of the treaty are so strict it was a wonder you met them at all. But circumstances are extraordinary, and you did seek me out. Dumb luck? Some grand plan? Shrewd planning in the negotiation, millennia ago? It hardly matters.”

Argrave poked Anneliese in the forehead to be sure she was still, then said idly, “By extraordinary circumstances, you’re talking about the changes to Gerechtigkeit.”

“I’m talking about Traugott, actually.” Lindon manifested before Argrave’s eyes—now a small serpent, comparatively, about twenty feet long.

“Him?” Argrave raised his brows. “We learned a little of where he’s been when we were travelling through the Tree of Being. What did we miss?”

“The glaring red flag. The Shadowlands,” Lindon explained, coiling his body until his head rested at Argrave’s height.

Argrave broke free of his companions, coming to stand just before the silver serpent. “I thought this would be about the Undying Soul he claimed, but it’s the Shadowlands? I’ve read about them more. According to Erlebnis’ records, they always appear when Gerechtigkeit descends. The creatures there are brutal, barbaric… but they’re not new. Even if Traugott did open a large portal, what’s the worst he could do?”

“You and he are parallels. You possess mortal sensibilities, but with immortal husks.”

repeated. “That dream was real, then? And Traugott, he…?”

vivid memories rose to Argrave’s mind unbidden. “With Norman’s body, born of Sophia’s power, he had a template. Through

Chu as clearly as if he’d been there only yesterday. There, Traugott had made Good King Norman be born again innumerable times. It was only a small comfort that apparently Norman experienced unimaginable torment during this process. Traugott had claimed hundreds of

admirable, as is the depth of his intelligence. He saw Sophia’s power not as just creation, but as the potential for recreation. He was rather efficient with his use of raw materials. You

recalled Traugott possessing the thing with druidic

almost sound like you admire

simply. “I thought to impart some of that to you. If he could imbue that creation of his with the soul of a dog, why could he not imbue it with the soul of a

created a Norman with

thoughts filled Argrave’s mind. He saw various stages of experimentation, at a location rather like what Lindon had described—deep underwater, in a dome of air that persisted despite the ocean all around it. Argrave saw another figure there, with him—Fellhorn. The two seemed to be collaborating deeper after their victory versus Melanie

Norman. Countless creations were cast away into the ocean after he was done with them, their human bodies succumbing to the high-pressure of the

has been taken without consent.

to a rather eerie guess about

immortal husk…” Argrave focused on Lindon. “Did you mean Traugott managed to imbue the body with the Undying Soul,

the leap, but not a wholly incorrect one.” Lindon’s silver eyes stayed fixated on Argrave. “You’re missing one

a misshapen black lump that exuded unpleasant energy. As it became more human, Argrave began to recognize it, too. The way it seemed to eat

and received a silence he knew was affirmation. “This is

The both of you are mortals with mortal sensibilities, yet possess a power that could be likened to a god. As you came to

The blackness was so intense that it was impossible to make out distinguishing features. Argrave thought that the way it moved seemed familiar, and knew in his heart of hearts that that thing was Traugott. The former Magister of the Gray Owl had discovered a way to reform his

believe me, my kind watch everywhere. Watching, waiting—in these things, we excel. Traugott has not revealed himself again.

coming to him with a plan and help. Now, at the final hour, help reared its head. Unconditional help,

Argrave, you’ll find people seeking you out of their own volition. People like to feel good. There’s no denying that Traugott was able to come so far because of your

felt a strange swell of pride. A goodly man? Him? He’d always tried to be,

“Do you know something about the

one unversed in contentment or accepting of refusal will result in disastrous consequences. You have the anchor, Argrave. You have Sophia, and she’s been freed of the box the Heralds made for her. That means more than anyone knows, save the ones who placed her there. Traugott wants her desperately, and even I cannot say what he gleaned of her power