Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 124: Death in Toto

Argrave was the farthest thing from a hunter.

But the people with him both hailed from a northern island where hunts made up a large portion of the food supply. Galamon had been a part of many hunts, and Anneliese knew much of the process by virtue of her sheer curiosity. As such, Argrave had learned that their people took two approaches to hunting animals in Veiden: trapping, or cornering.

They could not afford to make any traps, and so they had worked at cornering the Brumesingers. Galamon had steered them towards that end. Now, the creatures lay beyond a veil of mist, entrenched deeply. As the saying went, a cornered rat will bite the cat. Patience was their largest virtue. Their venture to capture the Brumesingers became a siege.

The four of them would press into the mist—never enough to leave them vulnerable from all sides, but far enough to evoke a reaction from the animals hiding within. And indeed, time and time again, the warriors of mist would appear, and their party’s patient caution proved more than enough to receive all comers.

Brium’s Vessel, Yarra, proved to be well worth the trust bestowed in her by the Lord of Copper. Once she learned how these warriors summoned by the Brumesingers functioned, she was quite adept at dealing with them. Her control over the water springing from within was masterful, to the point where she left not a drop behind no matter how she attacked. She seemed to have a penchant for manipulating the water within herself to weapons. She would reform her hands into swords, spears, and all manner of war instruments.

This process took an uncomfortably long time. Argrave felt tempted to leave and ensure their backpacks left outside were truly hidden, but he kept those thoughts inside. Over the course of many fatiguing hours, during which Argrave ran out of magic, the fog that had been near as thick as milk began to dwindle. The place started to look like a graveyard sauna.

At a point, the warriors conjured lacked form and distinguishing features—it had been obvious they were southron elves, at first, and their skin had looked truly real. Now, they truly fought warriors borne of mist.

With a retreating slash of Galamon’s greatsword, the last two remaining warriors finally dispelled not into mist, but into nothingness. Argrave had grown well used to their unnatural and grim howls, yet this last’s death knell did not echo out across the ancient tomb. The silence that followed was all-consuming.

“Hoo,” Argrave breathed out, some of his tension dissolved in the wake of excitement. The process of getting to the Brumesingers in the game was much the same, though admittedly infinitely more reckless and far less time-consuming. “Alright. Yarra, Galamon, stay near the entrance. Make sure the little ones don’t scamper out.”

Yarra nodded, far more amenable to direction after the nonstop conditioning of the misty siege.

With the two of them standing near the entrance, waiting, Argrave and Anneliese advanced ahead. The room had coffins lined up on each of its two walls, but in the back of the room, stairs rose up to an elevated portion that housed one single, grander coffin.

Argrave stepped around, watching the floors for any movement. Neither he nor Anneliese spotted anything for a long time, but then he heard a faint, rapid sound—it sounded like a dog’s squeaky chew toy, almost. It took him a bit to place it, but then he knelt down, lowering his face to the ground and peering beneath one of the coffins. At once, he smiled in triumph.

He saw the Brumesingers he’d been seeking crouched low beneath the coffins. The white-furred creatures were canids. Their appearance bore the most resemblance to that of a fox, with especially large ears. Considering they were desert creatures, the fennec fox seemed a close relative. Their fur was like snow. Their eyes, too, were especially striking—they were like moving pools of gold, a glimpse into another dimension.

The Brumesingers were wheezing in exhaustion, all of their energy spent. Argrave lifted his head up and beckoned Anneliese over. She came to the other side, and her presence made the creatures sidle away in panic, moving closer to the center of the coffin.

“Aren’t they neat?” he spoke to Anneliese. “Had we found them earlier, they would’ve been as black as night. Their fur changes color as the consume the souls of the dead—white, gray, to black.”

“They are fascinating,” she agreed, white hair scattered everywhere on the stone as she pressed her face to peer under. “What should we do now?”

“I count… four,” Argrave concl

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