Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 627: Grasping Something in Total Darkness

“Don’t you think this is a little morbid?” asked Anneliese. “Bringing Llewellen back… feels perverse, in some manner.” She rubbed her hands together uneasily.

“I thought you might be eager to meet him,” Argrave answered, leaning up against the wall disaffectedly. He was still quite bothered by the conversation with Garm. No one liked hearing another was so utterly depressed. He’d said what he felt was the right thing, but he couldn’t say everything would be all right.

“…I don’t know. Maybe I am?” Anneliese questioned, then nodded in confirmation. “No, I am. I am looking forward to it. At the same time… perhaps it’s a bit much to ask him to work on our behalf immediately. Despite everything, he’ll still be a living, breathing person with his own wants and desires.”

“It’s a lot like what Sophia tried to do, in a way.” Argrave closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s crueler. Giving others a few months of life and expecting them to work. But Llewellen died in extreme pain, not knowing how he’d be remembered. Look at it as a remedy to the way he died rather than a corruption of his memory. And if he’s half as intelligent as Raven praised him as being, he’ll be a tremendous boon to us.”

Anneliese nodded. “I’ll try. But if he’s resistant…”

“Then he’s resistant, and we’ll deal with what comes,” he assured her. “If you could, keep an eye on Garm, would you? I think he’s fine, but you’d know better than I ever would.” He kicked off the wall. “I’m going with Artur. He wants to take a look at the Shadowlands before he decides what to craft.”

“Does that mean you’re going to create an opening in that location you scouted out?” Anneliese questioned.

Argrave nodded. “A partial one. But he needs to feel and experience the existence of the Shadowlands to craft something to combat it, I should think.”

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“What ideas did you have?” Argrave asked Artur as they walked through the obsidian caverns. Or rather—he walked, as Artur floated along on his cloak. Raven followed, ensuring that everything was safe. Argrave talked partly because he was uneasy. In these caverns of obsidian, reflections of oneself were all too common and unnerving. It felt like they were already in the Shadowlands, in a way. “Would you craft goggles, maybe? A spectacle?”

“I was under the impression that the artifact I would create should be able to affect a large group, Your Majesty,” Artur said uneasily.

“You’re the craftsman,” Argrave reminded him. “What’s on your mind?”

“…the running idea I had was a lantern,” Artur disclosed in a quiet voice. “It was the first thing that came to mind when dispelling a land of shadows. A glass box in a metal frame held upright, dangling from a firm rod by a single chain link. I would place the fruit inside the glass chamber, then set it alight.”

His description brought to mind vivid imagery, and Argrave nodded in approval. “Maybe its light could fight more than merely shadows.”

Artur gave a nod of his own in return. “Still, seeing the Shadowlands is the most important part of this journey.”

little impossible to describe. I’ll just leave it to

he tried to isolate himself. Not many of us were exceptionally surprised to see him become a wanted criminal in the kingdom, but I’m surprised to learn he takes such priority as a threat. He often spoke of the Shadowlands joyously, but to everyone

understating it a little,” Argrave finished

themselves, the altar was so black that it was impossible to distinguish its features in any great detail beyond its basic shape. It seemed to eat any light that

and Argrave paused at the entrance, Raven advanced boldly. He touched one of the daggers, and then the altar. His eyes glowed green as he scrutinized them with [Minor Truesight], and once his observations were done, he looked back. “These items aren’t of this world. They’re made of the bones of one

never had the opportunity to work with it.” His stubby fingers tapped against the dagger’s blade

Raven nodded.

Dirracha? I recall you displayed it boldly when you were demanding the submission of the southern

without permission

it to Hegazar and Vera

to them, or even see them. But I’d much rather them die,

his grudge was, and he didn’t care to pry. He smiled blankly as he waited for

this beautiful. It’s like a night sky, or… or more than that. An abyss. It almost eats light. It eats everything. I can’t say

depends,” Argrave

“On what?”

fight?” Argrave asked with a smile. “Because we can open the Shadowlands wide enough for some of them to come out right now, and

unsure if necromantic magic would work on their flesh so far

the offer in cautious contemplation. Ultimately, he shook his head. “All I need for now is a sample of the place they

bleed on demand. He dismissed the notion, then sat on the ground and closed his eyes,

He found the article pertaining to the altars to the Shadowlands. The daggers above were the

Raven.” Argrave stood up. “Could you spare me a set of eyeballs, and a set

some,” Raven pointed

can make infinite,”

can you,” Raven

such a thing.” He held his hand out, and a pair of gray eyes and matching white ears appeared, then promptly popped loose with an

Argrave casually pointed to a basin that was part of the altar. “Just fill one of those. That should make the dagger above

fact they were bloodless made them a little more acceptable—he almost thought of them as Halloween props. But then the inert knife rapidly descended, stabbing eighty