Jackal Among Snakes: Book 2, A GameLit Fantasy, page 30
“Right with you,” Argrave agreed, stepping up beside her. The harsh and piercing smell of iron still persisted here, but most other scents died. No insects made noise in the darkness beyond. Indeed, the only noise still present was the barely audible sound of the canal outside, but once they proceeded deeper, Argrave was sure it, too, would fade.
The central lobby was quite a large place. A statue fountain about ten feet tall stood decorating the center, but the fountain had been rendered useless, the faintest bit of polluted red water spouting pathetically out of the statue’s chipped mouth. This place was largely free of the foliage consuming all of Nodremaid.
The main square branched off into three paths, yet there were also two sets of spiral stairs leading up to a second floor. One of the stairs had collapsed midway. The ceiling was quite high. The light of their spell did not illuminate beyond the central lobby, so nothing could be seen of the second floor or beyond.
“Let’s get to a safer place, finally,” urged Argrave with a tired sigh. “Go right. There are some bigger rooms that way that only have one doorway. Good place to hole up. Anyone disagree?” He made sure to seek their opinion out this time.
No one dissented, and Argrave’s directive was obeyed. Galamon did not proceed as quickly as he had back in Nodremaid. The hallways were tall and ornate. Nodremaid had been unadorned, but the halls here were lined with jade and silver, and the walls were much more finely carved. Argrave kept imagining things in the shadows waiting with teeth bared, but no such things existed.
They first passed by an open area that was once a dining room, though like all other places in Nodremaid, it had fallen into ruin, the ceiling partially collapsed. Galamon examined the room for enemies a long time before he was comfortable proceeding.
After passing by many rooms that Argrave could not discern the purpose of, they finally came to the rooms that had only one doorway. They looked to be storage areas, for they were often blocked with thick iron doors and filled to the brim with shelves and crates. Galamon examined the insides of many, deeming most unfit for reasons Argrave did not begin to guess.
Finally, Galamon pushed open one door and looked around slowly. “This place… looks to be sufficient,” he said after a time.
Argrave pushed past him, eager to sit down and rest his feet once more. When his spell light trailed into the room after him, it illuminated a fairly empty storage room. Argrave was looking at one of the crates when something caught the light of his spell, reflecting back at him. It took him a second to process that they were eyes.
The vampire started to close the gap between them quicker than Argrave could even recognize what it was. Once Argrave realized it was a vampire, bad memories resurfaced of Barden, of him calling out for Galamon moments before being seized, his very blood stolen. He froze. The vampire didn’t seek to seize Argrave, though—its long nails aimed for his neck, hunting for a quick kill.
Galamon pushed Argrave aside, casting him to the ground. He met the vampire’s charge, seizing its arm and stopping its attack. He took two steps back before its momentum ceased. Once he had stable footing, he overpowered it easily, tossing it away. It staggered back, falling to one knee. Galamon drew his greatsword from his waist and swung in one fluid motion. The steel missed, but the wind blade created by enchantments leapt out, cutting it across the nose. It cried out and scrambled away quickly, knocking over a crate.
“You hid yourself well,” Galamon said.
Argrave came to his feet as quickly as he could. His arm hurt where he’d fallen, but in front of the task at hand, he barely noticed it. The vampire, who Argrave now recognized as a man, retreated further, joining up with two others.
All three of the vampires wore rich crimson robes. The passage of time had decayed them, though, and most of them were missing sleeves. The main robe itself was full of holes, some of it covered with patchwork cloth. It was all the same color, though—a deep red. Argrave considered that it was probably easy to keep clothes red in the Low Way of the Rose, but quickly dismissed that errant thought.
“Not the others?” one said, a woman, voice low and urgent.
“No. Not the sentinels, either,” the one who’d attacked answered, wiping his face free of blood. Once he’d done so, the wound was already closing.
Argrave preemptively casted a C-rank ward in case one of them should lash out with spells. Once that was done, he caught his breath, rubbing his arm to dispel the pain. An uneasy silence stretched out between them as each waited for the other’s actions.
“…I think the choice of diplomacy or confrontation has been made for us. We must block the door. They cannot tell others,” Anneliese said quickly.
“Maybe we can…” Argrave started to suggest diplomacy, but his voice did not go beyond the ward and he did not trust he would not be attacked. “To hell with it. Too late for that. They attacked us the first chance they saw.”
Galamon removed his backpack, setting it on the ground alongside his greatsword. He quickly strung his bow and retrieved an arrow, nocking it. Seeing this, the vampires shifted on their feet, ready to move.
“Split them up,” urged Argrave. No noise reached outside the ward. “I’ll stun one with lightning magic, and Anneliese, follow up with something that’ll kill.”
Galamon nodded, drawing back his bow. Stepping free of the ward, he released, and the arrow shot towards the one in the center. They cast a ward to block the arrow, but Galamon had chosen an Ebonice arrowhead. Their low-rank ward shattered, and the three scattered. Argrave sent out the D-rank spell [Writhing Lightning] towards the one that split from the group. The vampire reacted quickly, trying to form a ward, but even its supernatural speed could not contest the fastest elemental magic. The [Writhing Lightning] struck the ground, traveling to the vampire’s legs and causing her to stumble.
Argrave saw Anneliese’s hand glow in his peripheries, and soon enough the powerful boom of thunder echoed out—the C-rank lightning spell [Skysunder]. A white bolt struck the vampire, and she was cast to the ground, smoke rising from her waist where she had been struck. Argrave followed up, casting the same spell Anneliese just had. Argrave lowered his hand, watching the vampire spasm, only for an arrow to fly by and pierce her head, ending all struggles.
“Gods!” one of them shouted. “Damn it all! Just break through! Rush! Rush!” he insisted, urging his fellow towards them.
They strafed through shelves and crates, heading towards their position. Galamon set down his bow and drew his dagger, waiting. Argrave waited nervously, stepping back behind Galamon. He held his hands out, and a C-rank spell matrix manifested. A blue eel sprung from his hand, dancing about within the ward—the C-rank spell, [Electric Eel]. It waited for Argrave’s direction as he conjured more.
The two vampires broke out from the shelves, rushing towards them. One conjured a D-rank blood magic spell, and his wrist split open, a knife forming in his hand from his own blood.
Galamon grabbed a crate and threw it into his path with one hand while retreating back behind the ward, but the vampire nimbly dodged it, thrusting his dagger through the magic barrier. After some strain, the C-rank ward shattered. Galamon advanced, catching the hand that held the dagger of blood. Galamon thrust his dagger at the vampire’s neck, but it was caught, and the two struggled.
The other vampire rushed forward, but Argrave had been devoting his attention towards that possibility. One of the [Electric Eels] struck out towards it, but the vampire ducked back behind the shelves. While Galamon grappled with the first vampire, the second tipped over one of the shelves towards the two of them.
Galamon ducked low and disentangled himself, shoving the vampire towards the falling shelf while stepping back nimbly. The shelf struck the first vampire, and the one who had pushed it tried to rush past Galamon. The elf held out an arm to stop him but failed.
Anneliese grabbed a crate and slid it into the vampire’s path. He slowed for a second, and then eventually leapt forth, jumping right over it. Anneliese had been expecting this, evidently—she ducked low, spell matrix forming as he descended. Unable to change his path, the C-rank spell [Wargfire] rushed from her hand and slammed into the vampire. She fell forward, narrowly avoiding a flaming ball of fire.
Argrave stepped around the crate and held his hand out, and all of the [Electric Eels] he’d conjured swarmed down, meeting the vampire all at once in a grand display of light. The vampire spasmed and writhed in agony, and Argrave watched, hesitant to use more magic. Eventually, its movements became slower and less intense, and Argrave dared a glance back towards Galamon.
Galamon and the last vampire faced each other. The vampire clearly wanted to rush past, but Galamon waited patiently, refusing to advance. Eventually its patience broke first, and he lunged at Galamon, preparing to grapple. Galamon stepped and thrust his foot out, slamming its knee. The vampire howled in pain. Galamon caught it by its shoulder and jammed his dagger into its neck. It grasped at his arm, but he ruthlessly tore the dagger upwards. It died in a most gruesome manner.
Breathing heavily, heart beating quickly, Argrave kept alternating his gaze between the ball of flame and Galamon. The entire exchange had taken no longer than two minutes, perhaps, but it had felt far more stressful than their entire trek through the Low Way.
“Good Lord,” Argrave said, throat dry. “Are we safe?”
Galamon said nothing, cautiously examining every bit of the room. After an insufferably long period, he nodded.
Argrave let off a variety of curses, leaning against the wall. As he began to calm, he felt vomit rise in his throat as the smell of burnt flesh invaded his senses once more. He breathed slowly, trying to calm himself. He saw Anneliese still on the ground and offered his hand to help her up. She accepted his help and stood, and after gathering herself, moved to extinguish the flame.
“No diplomacy.” Argrave heaved out a long sigh.
Chapter 42
“They were more experienced with this life than I am,” Galamon stated, before pushing up a shelf loaded with rocks in front of an iron door. The thing could not have been light, but he pushed it very casually. With both the enchanted crown from the elven tomb and his vampirism, his raw strength was something to marvel at.
After the battle had finished, the three of them elected to find another place to seek refuge. Argrave thought it might be a bad idea as they might run into more of the vampires, yet Galamon persuaded Argrave when he mentioned some might come seeking the source of the sound. Lightning-based spells were not quiet. They had decided to barricade the doors for the night, leaving room enough only for air.
Certainly, it would be difficult to survive an assault against every vampire within Nodremaid. That said, there was a tenuous balance of power in Nodremaid between the Stonepetal Sentinels, the guardians, and the vampires. The three were always wary of the other—neither of the two sentient groups would risk such an overt move for what might be a trap by the other.
“You overpowered them pretty easily,” Argrave responded to Galamon, feeling a bit guilty watching the elven vampire do all the work while he sat atop an overturned shelf. The presence of Anneliese, who was reading just beside him, assuaged that feeling somewhat. “Vampires grow in strength when they kill by feeding—they call it drinking the Lifeblood. Considering most of the blood they drink doesn’t come from that, they can’t be exceptionally powerful vampires.”
“Experience isn’t strength.” Galamon shook his head, dusting off his hands against each other. “And vampirism isn’t just a passive state. The beast, the curse within… some vampires suppress it, resist it—like me.” He tapped his chest, the gauntlet ringing out against the metal chest plate. “In return, we receive minimal benefits while largely retaining moral reasoning.”
“Others embrace it.” Galamon stepped forward towards Argrave until he stared down at him. “They court the curse within, unable or unwilling to resist it. They succumb to bloodlust, lose their sense of morality… but in return, they gain the power of the curse.” His gaze turned back to the door. “Back there… They stopped their heartbeat, ceased their breathing, eliminated all trace that they were alive… embraced undeath fully. I have to be more vigilant,” he scolded himself, voice low.
Argrave tilted his head, looking up at Galamon. “How do you do it?”
Galamon removed his helmet, and his matted white hair fell to his shoulders. “Do what?”
“You never sleep. You’re always vigilant, always watching, always ready. You never falter. Despite all that… I never hear you complain,” Argrave said.
Anneliese looked up from her book, evidently intrigued by the line of questioning.
Galamon stepped away, turning his head. “…it’s different than what you think.”
“Help me understand,” pressed Argrave.
“I don’t get tired. I don’t get headaches, or aches, or fatigue. I only grow… unsated.” He raised his helmet, looking into the twin sockets. “There is but one need I must monitor.”
Argrave leaned back, resting his elbow against the shelf to support himself. “If you’re trying to turn me, you’re doing a great job selling it.”
Galamon’s head snapped towards Argrave, and he took two quick steps forward. “The curse is not to be trivialized. The vampire’s very existence is a scourge upon the living. Their life is sustained by misery and death. All of them deserve death,” he said intensely. Argrave tensed.
“Yet before becoming a vampire, you campaigned at the head of Dras’ army, killing tens of thousands of your own kind in warfare,” Anneliese commented, closing her book. “Is that not an utmost display of this ‘misery and death’ you speak of?”
Argrave’s face slacked at the unexpected contribution. Galamon turned his head towards her, brows furrowed.
“Do not misunderstand me. I am not admonishing you.” She raised her hands innocently. “I am merely questioning if it is truly misery and death you have a problem with. You united Veiden alongside Dras. You even expressed that, if you had not become a vampire, you would have aided him in invading Berendar.” Anneliese stared up at him.
“…that was different. It was for the greater good,” he said, his back straightening. “For Veid. For the good of all Veidimen.”
“Therein lies the true answer, I think,” Anneliese said calmly. “You take issue with vampirism because Veid fashions vampires as an abomination before Her eyes, to be purged.”
Galamon took a deep breath, and then turned away. He raised up the helmet once more, gazing into it. “Aye. I hate that which I am. I hate myself… and my cowardice.”
“If you’re a coward, I have to seriously reevaluate my own standing on the spectrum of bravery,” Argrave rebutted incredulously.
“I am good at fighting because I fear death,” he told Argrave, slightly shaking his head. “Fear spurs me towards martial perfection.” Galamon hefted the helmet in his hand, and then looked back at the two of them. “And because I fear death, I violated the thing I was most proud of—my faith in Veid.”
‘Most proud of’? You have a son, remember? Argrave was tempted to say, but felt it was better left unsaid.
“You’re right, Anneliese. The curse lies not in the hunger, the beast. The true curse is what it deprived me of. My homeland. My wife, my son. My friends. The Patriarchate that I helped create…” Galamon clenched his hand tight on his helmet. “There are nights when I think of what is behind me… and I think of what I did to stay alive that day. I just want the day to end.” He looked to Argrave. “But sleep never comes. I am left alone with myself, who I hate.”
Argrave said nothing. He wasn’t sure there was something he could reasonably say to that.
“And yet… despite what has happened to me… Veid did not abandon me,” Galamon said finally, tone lightening somewhat. “She gave me a path to atonement. Gerechtigkeit. He Who Would Judge the World. A desperately pitched battle, and one that I must throw myself into fully.”
Galamon walked up to Argrave. “Dras knew I was afraid of death… and he used that to secure victory, placing me in impossible situations time and time again. And now, another fool of the same nature has come along,” Galamon said somewhat bitterly, white-eyed gaze locked on Argrave. “I will atone. I will prove myself before Veid. That is the truth of how I do not falter.”
Argrave was a bit taken aback by the abrupt shift of the conversation’s tone. His mind harkened back to his thoughts earlier this day.
“Even if…” he began, his voice shaking. He took a deep breath and began again. “Even if I’m not who you think I am? Even if all that nonsense about Erlebnis is made up?” His gaze moved back and forth between the two of them. “Because it is,” he continued when neither spoke. “I’m no agent of Erlebnis.”
In the silence after his confession, Argrave’s heart was beating rapidly. Both stared at him, saying nothing. Galamon eventually broke the silence, asking, “At Mateth… you went to that shrine, communed with Him. What was that, then?”
“That was to receive the Blessing of Supersession. It was a business deal—nothing more, nothing less. Second time I’d had contact—and the last, if I have my way.” Argrave spread his hands out. “I strung you two along with nonsense, acting like I had the world in the palm of my hand. Now we’re here, and I’ve proven my incompetence.”
Argrave’s uneasiness spiraled further upwards in the silence that followed. Galamon stepped away.
“Even barring your punishment of me, the ‘indentured servitude,’ as you called it…” Galamon crossed his arms. “Not six months have passed since I was hired. I am still bound by contract. I would be here regardless.”
“Wasn’t exactly honest about the terms and conditions.” Argrave shook his head.
“You wanted me to stay by your side and protect you and perform the occasional menial task. The fault lies with me for not inquiring more about who you were and what you intended to do.”
Argrave found those words a little difficult to swallow. Eventually, he only nodded when no words came up to counter Galamon’s words. He looked to Anneliese.
