Jackal Among Snakes

A bird of wind tore through the skies, keeping its mystic wings steady in its glide. A party of many sat atop it—Argrave’s coterie and the Magister couple of Hegazar and Vera. It brought back some memories. Argrave watched the terrain disaffectedly, focused more on the duty coming ahead than the scene before him. This ride had inspired awe the first time, but the second time not so much so, even with the time gap.

“Dispel it here,” Argrave looked back and told Vera.

The Magister nodded and the bird supporting them exploded all around in a great gust of wind that gently lowered them all downwards. Soon enough, they landed in a portion of the taiga that seemed remarkably similar in all directions. Even still, Argrave trudged forward.

There was an unusually somber air over their party, and even Argrave did not break the silence with his voice as he generally did. The area, much as the first shrine to Erlebnis, inspired an air of quietude and reflection. Things seemed gloomier in this stretch of the taiga.

Argrave did not fear betrayal from Hegazar or Vera once they learned of why he was here, not anymore. He’d won their loyalty by ensuring their future under his wing. Anneliese, empath that she was, had confirmed loyalty from Vera, though Hegazar was still the wild card with his illusory projection. Nevertheless, Argrave felt confident. Argrave’s association with Erlebnis would give the two Magisters no ammunition. They sailed on the same boat, and the two Magisters would never be so foolish as to sink it. Mutual interest was inextricable.

They walked far through the taiga, trudging through melted snow and densely packed soil. At a point Argrave had been searching for, the land sloped downwards ahead of them and ventured into the depths of the earth, half-hidden by the melting snow of a winter past. Argrave stopped at the mouth of this entrance, peering beyond.

“The magic is thick within,” Hegazar said as they made their first step downwards. “It’s dense all throughout this place. It almost tints the air black.”

Even Hegazar’s words lost some of their typical glib. There was something in their sixth sense that told them of the true nature of the power within this place. Argrave supposed that was a good feature to have for a place of worship. Argrave, too, could see the wisps of magic floating about the air with the sight offered to him by Garm’s eyes. He considered that the shrine in the south probably had the same features, but now he could simply see them clearly.

They pressed onward. Though they passed beneath the earth briefly, soon enough the scene once again opened up into an expansive cave with a hole in the top that allowed light to fall in. Most obvious was the gargantuan bear resting in the center of the beam of light pooling in. Argrave had seen grizzly bears and polar bears before, but none could compare to the sheer size of the black-furred beast ahead. It was fearsome enough Galamon stepped in front of Argrave, prepared to handle it should the thing stir.

Less immediately obvious were the walls of the cave. There was a single sculpture carved out of the stone and repeated in perpetuity until the stone cavern was completely filled with countless replicas. The carving depicted a great eye peering down into the cave, and just below it an arm held a book in its hand for the eye to read. In the back, like a nexus for all of these eyes, was a large head. It was perhaps fifteen feet both in height and width. It had no distinct features from this far away.

The bear slept… or hibernated, perhaps, given the winter that had just passed. Argrave cast a glance to Anneliese, and she took the signal to step forward. This bear had been born in this cave, had eaten its food in this cave, and had lived in this cave its entire life. Unwittingly, it had taken in many of the energies of this place throughout its life. Both in size and intelligence, it was incomparable to any of its species. Yet its fatal failing was its bestial nature—it had no resistance to simple druidic magic. Its soul remained mundane, unlike those of elves or humans.

The bear opened its eyes and raised its head as Anneliese approached. It began to prepare a roar, but a spell manifested in her hand—a B-rank subsidiary of [Progenitor], called [Family Tree]. Faint roots of green energy came from her hand and gently surged into the bear, like the faintest whisper of benevolence. At once, Argrave felt a new presence in the druidic network that he and Anneliese were bound in. Doubtless Durran would feel it, too.

“I was expecting… a smaller bear to transport,” Vera admitted. “The spell might not… well, it might,” she reasoned, sizing it up with her orange eyes.

The spell did nothing but improve the creature’s disposition towards them tremendously. Argrave hoped it would prove easy to direct—Anneliese could not control it directly with [Family Tree] alone.

“What in the world is this place?” Hegazar looked around. “How did you know of it?”

“Stick around long enough, you’ll learn,” Argrave answered simply and stepped forward, running his hand along the bear’s coarse dark fur. The creature relaxed as though it was among members of its family instead of potential threats. Argrave’s nose curled—the animal would need to be washed, definitely. As its black nose curled, Argrave suspected it thought the same of them. Galamon paid the creature cautious attention as Argrave made his way to the head, joined by Anneliese in short order.

Argrave looked upon the stone head in front of him. Unlike the shrine he recalled near Mateth, this one was both grandly carved and decently maintained. Though the stone had gone green, many of its features remained. Though bald, Argrave gradually distinguished from facial features that this statue depicted a woman, not a man. Other than that, it was hard to say more—it was, after all, but a statue.

Kneeling, Argrave retrieved a stone tablet off the ground, and picked up a stone quill. He looked back to Hegazar and Vera.

“I’m going to speak with an emissary of an ancient god,” Argrave said with a face of stone. “I thought you might want some forewarning.”

Hegazar let out a small chuckle from his nose, latching onto the statement as humor. Vera, though, recognized at once that Argrave was being serious.

“Elaborate,” she demanded, and Hegazar looked at her before refocusing on Argrave. Both looked concerned.

“Erlebnis, one of the ancient gods of knowledge,” Argrave said, not expecting them to know the name. In a vaguely religious state like Vasquer, other gods weren’t widely remembered. “And there. You know one of my secrets.”

“An ancient god?” Hegazar repeated. Even though the name sparked no memory, they knew enough for that alone to spark some unease. Ancient gods were not viewed kindly in Vasquer. Much like the Hellenic gods were viewed by Greeks or Romans, the ancient gods of Vasquer were viewed as temperamental, selfish, and prone to rampant destruction in the face of hubris.

Most matched those descriptions, granted.

“Leave if you’re uncomfortable. Stay if you aren’t,” Argrave summarized briefly.

“Argrave,” Anneliese looked at him. “Do not manifest your tension to create a poor situation.”

Argrave realized only then how tense he truly was. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed. “She’s right. I asked you to escort me here, but I didn’t hope to involve you in this. If you want to leave while I take care of this, I will think nothing of it.”

“I suppose this explains the tremendous strides you’ve taken in magical growth,” Vera reflected. Argrave felt she was misunderstanding things, but she was right in a sense.

“I know one other Magister who consorts with an ancient god,” Hegazar continued. “He’s mad. None associate with him. He lives in the sea.”

“This is transactional,” Argrave explained. “I offer knowledge for knowledge.”

“That’s how it all begins,” Hegazar noted. “I hope, for your sake, you understand what you’re doing.”

“But we should go,” Vera nodded. “We will wait far beyond this cave.”

Hegazar nodded in agreement, then turned, regarding the multitude of sculptures cautiously as he walked out. Their quiet footsteps were deafening in their conviction as the two walked out. Argrave was left with Anneliese, Galamon, and the bear. He held the stone tablet in his hands, feeling it was a bit heavier than before.

“Argrave,” Anneliese knelt. “We have the aid of three Magisters. They gather an army of spellcasters, prepared to head south to remedy a severe deficiency we’ve been struggling with. We will have all the north, the majority of central Vasquer, and Orion prepared to surrender Dirracha once we arrive.”

“And no one seems to have faith in this idea of mine,” Argrave finished. “I could use Erlebnis’ knowledge. And you’d benefit, too.”

“I will do as you do. But I think you should take a minute to reflect why you have chosen this, then examine the choice once more,” Anneliese said. “Once you have… I will relax completely. All I fear is that you act brash for my benefit. Self-sabotage is a real phenomenon, and I do not want you to engage in folly.”

Argrave touched her cheek, then nodded. He rose to his feet and stepped around the cave, reflecting.

To start, a simple question came: what did Argrave want? At his core, he wanted this war to end so that they could focus on Gerechtigkeit. He had come to the north to personally facilitate that development. But no, that wasn’t the crux of things—he wanted to be prepared for Gerechtigkeit. Even deeper than that, he wanted those near him to make it all the way. Anneliese’s strength was his, too. He did wish to help her.

But there was something deeper than that. In Relize, Argrave felt stagnant—A-rank loomed above, almost unreachable. Now, he’d seen a light. He enjoyed progressing in the ranks, enjoyed the feeling of growing both in knowledge and power. Working with Elenore, who’d assumed most administrative duties, he felt his importance in the fight against Gerechtigkeit lagging behind. He was envious of her intelligence, he realized.

Argrave closed his eyes, doing his best to strip away both desire to advance and envy of someone better than he was. He tried to frame things logically. Erlebnis had no history of malevolence. Argrave had already met with the ancient god’s emissaries once before. If they failed to make a deal, nothing would happen. At the same time, other repercussions might rear their head—Argrave had used Erlebnis’ name, and he had allowed the black flame of House Quadreign to affect the Blessing of Supersession.

But… no, Argrave refuted with a shake of his head. Erlebnis had demonstrated clearly in Margrave Ivan’s basement the god could cause repercussions whenever he wanted, and they had not come to him yet. There was no logical reason this could be dangerous. Erlebnis didn’t need Argrave to knock on his door to kill him.

Argrave had a desire for success, true enough. But a desire wasn’t wrong, and Argrave’s logic was sound. There was a large divide between those who achieved success and didn’t: that divide was having the courage to act when the plan was sound. No one succeeded sucking their thumb.

“I’m going to do it,” Argrave opened his eyes and declared.

“Okay,” Anneliese nodded neutrally. “Then there is nothing more to say.”

Argrave stepped back to the stone head and picked up the tablet once again. He grabbed the quill, heart pumping blood as he wrote, ‘I seek wisdom beyond my years.’ The stone quill left no markings, just as the first time.

He set the tablet down and waited. Slowly, he noticed a shift in the surroundings. The black mist pervading the air swirled and danced, then started to whirl near the entrance to the cavern. Argrave turned his body to watch his development. Before he could process what was happening, he saw a hand materialize out of the air—a tan female hand, with long nails that were wholly black.

A spell matrix manifested in this hand, and a mana ripple spread throughout the cavern. Argrave’s eyes widened, and as he opened his mouth, his whole world was shrouded in darkness. His head whipped about in panic, and yet his head felt heavy and incapable of thinking. How did he defend himself, again? Who was he?

As these questions resounded, humanoid figures rose up, their arms held in a triangle pointed at their head. Their heads were strange symbols, and they whirled around Argrave, slowly converging. He recognized them. They were spirits of other planes. Those symbols marked them as spirits capable of transferring people vast distances. This was shamanic magic—manipulation of spirits to achieve near anything the caster desired.

Argrave couldn’t think of how to attack. He didn’t know what was wrong with his brain, but he could think of no way to resist. His heart pumped quicker as he questioned how he had miscalculated. Yet then… calm set over him. He didn’t need to defend himself. This was just a misunderstanding. All he needed to do was stop the spirts of the other planes from transporting him.

And to do that, he needed to be too heavy to lift.

Argrave activated the Blessing of Supersession and the shamanic magic exploded, unable to contain the vastness welling within him. The spirits howled out and rushed away from him. Argrave staggered forth and grabbed Anneliese and Galamon, who both confronted the new arrival ahead of them.

In Argrave’s brief absence, a tan woman’s arm had formed of the magic mist whirling about the air. Now, a face and eye converged from pure magic, and he recognized who exactly this person was. This was the champion of Erlebnis, last of the living ancient elves, and a mage of unparalleled strength who had mastered the art of transforming her body into magic.

“Why do you resist?” the woman’s voice asked, her mouth formed from the whirling black wind. It looked like true flesh. “You cause me problems. My spirits…”

“I made a clerical error,” Argrave said, clenching Anneliese and Galamon tight before they did something untoward. “This deal involves all of us here,” he explained, and managed a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Sorry. We seek wisdom beyond our years. Bring all of us.”

“I see,” the woman’s full body started to emerge from the whirling magic mist. “So be it.”

She held her hand up, and the magic mist whirled up towards the hole in the top of the cave offering light. It whirled around the walls of the cave, spiraling downwards. Where it touched, the inanimate eye and hand sculptures on the wall came to life as eyes and hands both. Before long, each and every sculpture became flesh, including the gigantic head just behind them.

The eyes all focused on them. The hands closed the books they held all at the same time with a deafening pop, almost signifying court was in session as thousands of eyes fixed upon them. The woman took full form before them—white of hair, tan of skin, and with ears near one feet long, she was the last of the pureblooded elves alive in this world. She was uncomfortably bare, to put it kindly. Her eyes were amber and reminded Argrave strongly of Anneliese’s, to his great discomfort.

“Hello,” she greeted.

“Hello,” Argrave responded in kind, straightening. “Nice to meet you, Onychinusa.”

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