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.”

a little impossible to describe.

of Argrave, watching him. “You forget I worked alongside Traugott. All of us Magisters did, despite how he tried to isolate himself. Not many of us were exceptionally surprised to see him become a wanted criminal in

a little,” Argrave finished

to the center of the sphere. There, an incredibly dark altar awaited them—just like the Shadowlanders 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 fell upon it. Resting above it, like lurking claws or surgical instruments, were three daggers 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

opportunity to work with it.” His stubby fingers tapped against the dagger’s blade cautiously. “Gods. Quite sturdy, yet still light. It almost feels like

Raven nodded.

attacked Dirracha? I recall you displayed it boldly when you were demanding the submission of the southern nobles and the Order

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gave it to Hegazar and Vera when they became

scoffed. “Those useless wastes of space… I’d rather die than speak to

he didn’t care to pry. He smiled blankly

it. “I’ve never seen black be 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

depends,” Argrave crossed

“On what?”

with a smile. “Because we can open the Shadowlands wide enough for some of them to come out right now, and then you’ll never run out.” He looked at Raven. “We could take a lesson from Traugott, too, and

magic would work on their flesh so far removed from ours,” Raven answered back. “It would

offer in cautious contemplation. Ultimately, he shook his

was a little relieved, too. Though he was somewhat curious about what his blood magic could do to Shadowlanders, now, he wasn’t exactly eager to bleed on demand. He dismissed the notion, then sat on the ground and closed his eyes, diving deep

what he was doing, but was so intensely focused he was able to pay it no mind. He found the article pertaining to the altars to the Shadowlands. The daggers above

spare me a

some,” Raven pointed

can make

can you,” Raven

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

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

made them a little more acceptable—he almost thought of them as Halloween props. But then the inert knife rapidly descended, stabbing eighty times in half a second until eyes and ears both were reduced to a pink goo.