Jackal Among Snakes

Sarikiz sat before Argrave, much of the tension in her shoulders drained. Her eyes did not wander from place to place so frantically, and she did not fear an attack from any direction. Indeed, it might be said that she seemed somewhat happy.

“Kirel Qircassia had made that rift. So long as he wills it, the thing will stay open,” Argrave explained to her. “More precisely, so long as he is willing and able to exert his divinity, it will stay open.”

“Do you intend me to bring my centaurs to act as warden of the land around this rift?” Sarikiz questioned, not fully pleased.

“Realms like this one we’re in now…” Argrave turned his head, looking out across the endless sea of grass where the animals prowled without a care. “They’re not like the mortal realm. Here, the rules are different. Here, you have true divinity. As you slept, this world was locked in frozen time,” he pointed at her to emphasize this point. “But just as it is here, so would it be there.”

Her back straightened as the point came to her. “You wish for me to pass through the rift, and enact my divinity to close the breach Kirel made.”

Argrave nodded. “You’d be leading a conquest of sorts. And it wouldn’t be you, alone, passing through. The centaurs could come with you.”

“But Kirel Qircassia would still be there,” she pointed out. “I was a god born on the last cycle of judgment. I am nothing compared to him.”

“But it isn’t the mortal realm,” Argrave shook his head. “You cannot die there, and nor can the centaurs if you decide to take them into your service. You have access to divinity far beyond anything you can muster on the mortal plane. You can fragment his realm, casting it adrift in the astral sea… and then, you and yours have a realm unto your own. No offense, but I imagine it’ll be somewhat grander than this one,” Argrave looked around. “You’ll still have to endure the cycle of judgment. We all will. But nonetheless, I think you’ll be tremendously advantaged if you follow through.”

“This must be your plan,” Sarikiz looked to Ghan. “No mortal possesses knowledge of this caliber about the divine and their workings.”

“It was his, from the beginning. It was what he intended even before Erlebnis made his presence known.” Ghan shook his head, holding his hand near his wound. “He knows more of the divine than he ought. But you know as well as I do that what he says would work.”

“I do…” Sarikiz confirmed hazily, placing her hand below her chin. “Then what of you, of your family?”

Ghan pulled his hand from his wound and said, “I will surrender myself as spirits, bestowing them upon Argrave that he might call upon a potent shamanic magic.” He looked to the side, where his wife stood even now. “And then… my sweet Ujin, or whoever still lives, will close Erlebnis’ breach.”

“Magic over divinity?” Sarikiz narrowed her eyes.

“I am wounded,” Ghan answered. “We were beaten by the thousands of spells Erlebnis summoned, and I was cut nearly in half by Chiteng. We were being hunted through the forests, and they would have overtaken us if not for that man,” he gestured towards Argrave. “My wound might heal, but it will take too long for me to be of real use. These spells… they might turn the tide. They combine the mortal and the immortal in a way I’ve never seen before. They were the work of Emperor Balzat, I’m told.”

A grim silence set over them as they confronted what was to happen. Sarikiz managed, “You elves always did seem keen to fight the strongest enemies, letting us take the easy pickings.”

Ghan laughed. “Well… it was the way things worked out.” He focused on Argrave. “I only hope that you can end the cycle of judgment better than we did, Argrave.”

Argrave lowered his head without words to say.

“And perhaps as more than a king,” Merata contributed.

“What do you mean?” Anneliese asked curiously, breaking her silence.

“That you act in this way… you’re bound to catch the attention of the universe,” a saddened Ujin said. “If you carry on this path, wayward spirits will claim you, change you…”

“That won’t happen,” Argrave shook his head certainly.

“How can you know?” Sarikiz asked him. “Do you think I intended for this form? At one point, the line between who I was and what I am blurred, and so I became the Holy Mother to the centaurs. If you are like me—”

“I know it won’t happen, because this continent is Gerechtigkeit’s point of contact,” Argrave interrupted. “Divinity cannot coalesce in his presence.”

“No one can predict Gerechtigkeit,” Gunlik shook his head, rising. “We waste time. We must make haste.”

“Indeed,” Sarikiz said, rising up. “Then… I believe it time to see my people once more.”

Though Argrave felt the conversation was settled, Anneliese still stared at him, her brows furrowed in thought. It seemed there was something that would not exit her mind. In the end, she shook her head to dismiss it, and then prepared for what was to come.

“Why does my hair have…?” Sarikiz said, touching a knobby, cut bit that Argrave remembered sawing through.

“First, we need to manifest you,” Argrave cut in hastily, getting to the point. “With the centaurs spectating from the Mother’s Steppe, the process will be a little different… and I definitely need your good word.”

“Right,” Sarikiz nodded. “A final resistance, with my old allies at my side… what fun.”

#####

Argrave stood on Ghan’s shoulders as the centaurs moved rampantly through the woods now free of impeding roots. There, at their front, Gunlik and Sarikiz proceeded to where Kirel’s breach stood strong today. The Holy Mother had manifested a physical form on the mortal realm, true enough, but she was far from full strength by any stretch. To that end, Gunlik accompanied her. And if all went well, Orion and the elves would offer their aid.

“She trusted you rather quickly,” Argrave spoke to Ghan.

“Because she wanted dearly to trust them,” Anneliese answered Argrave before Ghan could speak. “It is easy to fall back into what you know.”

“Your queen speaks true,” Ghan answered. Argrave still felt it strange that he had been speaking with the god on relatively even terms not moments ago. Now, they were back here, and he stood on the shoulders of giants.

They marched solemnly towards the Bloodwoods, heading for the coast. Argrave had no specific information on where the breach might be, but the fact that Anneliese had learned from Onychinusa that it was underwater was good enough to find it.

“Are you comfortable with what you’re doing?” Argrave asked.

“Dying to preserve my family?” Ghan questioned. “I do not think of that. All I see is giving them freedom to fight longer.”

The march continued, Argrave bracing against Ghan’s scarred neck for stability. There was so much he wanted to ask the old patriarch—if he was satisfied, if there was more he wanted to do… but at the end of the day, Argrave knew it was in his best interests to stay silent. And though it bothered him, tore at him… he held his tongue.

“I thought soldiers were foolish, once,” Ghan said, not holding his. “Fighting, and likely dying, for something… a cause, a country, a belief… seemed so foreign to me. If they are fools, at the very least I understand that foolishness now, as I did in the last millennium.”

Argrave listened intently, wondering the god sought to impart a lesson.

“Build something you would die for, Argrave,” Ghan finished. “Then you will not think about death even unto the end.”

Ahead, Merata came to a stop, holding his crook wide to halt the other elven gods marching with them.

“Chiteng,” Merata said. One word, one name, but enough to stir them all.

Argrave felt the tension take root in his chest as all the gods slowly advanced forward. Merata stood at the front, but all the others watched elsewhere as if suspecting an ambush. Argrave was with them on that front. And ahead, standing with his menacing ivory sword leaning on his shoulder, Chiteng waited.

“You’re here,” Chiteng said, staring them down. “What’s changed?”

“That’s not your concern,” Merata answered.

“You’re right,” Chiteng nodded slowly, then paced around slowly as he thought of his next words. He paused abruptly, then asked, “Would you ever trust me again?”

“I’m afraid not, son,” Ghan shook his head.

“And if I offered to close Erlebnis’ breach?” he broached hopefully.

“We couldn’t leave that task to you,” Dairi said, holding her arms at attention cautiously.

“Why did you do it, son?” Ujin asked sadly.

Chiteng looked at her with his red eyes. Argrave had remembered him being fierce, terrifying, indomitable, sitting on his ivory throne in a sea of blood… but now, he looked broken, even with that sword by his shoulder.

“If I had not…” Chiteng closed his eyes. “They would have gone for the elves, first. Ambush them, wipe them out… I feared for them. I needed to secure their safety. Even had I not contacted Erlebnis, this would have happened. When I learned that, when I knew that…!” His voice grew in volume in tandem with his anger. “What could I have done? Abandon the Woodschildren? This was the only way to secure their safety!”

“But why turn against us?” Ghan asked, his voice hoarse. “Why turn your back to us?! You could have brought us into this!”

“Erlebnis did not care to keep you around,” Chiteng shook his head. “He only allowed what concessions I earned because I divulged Argrave’s plans, promised betrayal. He sought to take all of what you were for himself. And I… did not think we could win.” He lifted his head to the sky. “I still find it difficult to think you will not fail. His emissaries are too powerful, and they are greater in number than they were before. Their power has waxed, even if yours has done the same. So… I tried, dad, mom. I did.”

“Son…” Ghan raised his hand up, rubbing at his face. “I cannot risk the same happening again. I can’t believe you.”

Chiteng closed his eyes, accepting that fate. “I’m not giving you the option to doubt me, father. And I now realize what I should have from the beginning. I believe in you. And you will accept my help, one way or the other.”

Ghan took a step back, perhaps expecting an attack… but that was not what awaited them. Chiteng’s blade, leaned up against his shoulder, spun fiercely as the god twisted his wrist. But rather than coming to attention to prepare for the fight, it cleaved straight through his neck.

Chiteng’s head fell downwards as his body’s knees gave, collapsing to the earth as though kneeling in a final show of filial piety. Dancing, corporeal spirits rose from his neck and from the bottom of his severed head like smoking rising from a urn. The humanoid spirits held hands as they rose to the sky, and Argrave thought briefly that they were singing… but the surprised screams of all the elven gods drowned out whatever sound they might have made.

Argrave and Anneliese both were tossed from Ghan’s back as the father lunged toward his dying son in shock. The slowfall of Artur’s enchantment took effect, gently lowering Argrave and Anneliese even as they were tossed to the air. He held his hand out, a spell at the edge of his mind even amidst the shock… but he hesitated. In the end, he gritted his teeth and cast the first of the shamanic spells one learned: [Lure of the Mortal].

The spirits that rose from Chiteng’s wounds like smoke changed their direction, heading for Argrave. They surged around him, dancing wildly as they sought purchase in his being. He looked to Anneliese, saying, “Don’t waste his sacrifice.”

Anneliese nodded, and though she seemed to have tears in her eyes, held her hand out and cast the same spell he did. Chiteng’s body slowly fragmented bit by bit, partly joining with his crying family and partly coming to Argrave and Anneliese as they fell through the air. The first of the spirits joined with him, settling into his body where they were bound by the chains of his magic.

After an eternity, nothing remained of Chiteng barring his blade of ivory that had fallen to the ground after his suicide. There was silence as Anneliese and Argrave slowly alighted on the ground. The family grieved alone in this clearing, and as outsiders Argrave and Anneliese felt out of place.

But then… Ghan’s fingers slipped over the blade of ivory. He rose up to his feet, his chest now unmarred by any wound after taking in Chiteng’s spirits. He hefted his son’s blade in his hand, and then looked back to Argrave.

“We will end this,” Ghan said simply.

Argrave nodded. “We will.”

#####

A single emissary stood on the coast of the Bloodwoods, while the North Sea battered mildly against the sandy shore. Its head turned from place to place, watching and waiting. Then, its head fixed ahead on something between the trees. In the far distance, the forest itself stirred. And with a nod, the emissary’s eyes retracted within, conveying information to Erlebnis.

Then, it turned, its eyes returning. It seemed to speak to the sea as it said, “They come. Misfortune led us here… but fortune does not decide all. Let the Lord compensate for all else.”

The sea offered no answer. But still, the emissary turned back to the approaching elven gods. Ghan led at their head, his son’s blade of ivory held firmly in hand. Both sides, defender and attacker, seemed to have the confidence of victory in their eyes.

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