Jackal Among Snakes: Book 1, A GameLit Fantasy, page 8
Argrave picked up the stone quill and the tablet. He wrote on the tablet, ‘I seek wisdom beyond my years.’ The quill left no marks, but he was not surprised by this fact. He set the two items down, moved back a few feet, and waited contentedly.
The mouth of the statue split open, its stone teeth retracting back into its mock gums. Its lips widened further and further, acting more as flesh than stone. Then, a reddish, mercury-like portal spread out in the mouth from its throat. An arm emerged, skinny and long, and kept emerging; it could not have been any shorter than ten feet. Just after it a stubby arm pushed its way out, grasping onto the statue for purchase. The beast began to pull itself from the portal.
The emissary of the being Argrave had called upon started to reveal itself in earnest. It was anthropomorphic, yet all of its limbs were strangely proportioned and its skin resembled exposed flesh after being flayed. Its eyes bulged in and out of the socket in rhythm with its breathing.
The dread emissary looked about the forest, not displaying any hostility. One of its legs was far too short, so the creature awkwardly balanced on its one long arm and one long foot. The emissary opened its mouth, revealing a set of pearly whites so straight they looked fake.
“This shrine hidden amongst the ancient trees still sees worshippers. We had no idea,” the being said. The voice was very ordinary, entirely unbefitting of the creature itself.
“I suspect I am the first to come in many years,” Argrave answered calmly.
“We know,” the creature said passively. “And why have you come?”
“Why do people generally contact a god of knowledge?” Argrave stared the emissary of Erlebnis in its eyes without blinking.
Any single emissary of Erlebnis, the God of Knowledge, was capable of killing Argrave. Those elongated or stunted limbs were ineffectual, sure enough. However, the servants of Erlebnis knew magic far beyond what any order of mages might teach. Argrave recalled innumerable days playing Heroes of Berendar where he had attempted to kill one of Erlebnis’ emissaries for fun, only to be utterly pulped by ridiculous spells.
That said, Argrave was perfectly safe now. He could sleep in the strange creature’s revolting arms and no harm would come to him. Such a situation was unlikely to happen, naturally, but the point stood. The emissaries only defended themselves from attack. They were neutral beings because they were fundamentally merchants, taking no side in the affairs of mortals by and large. They only bartered, and their only good was knowledge. Harming customers was bad for business.
“You come seeking knowledge,” the emissary nodded. “Like so many before you.”
“Not true.” Argrave held a gloved finger up and shook it. “I come offering knowledge, in return for a blessing from Erlebnis.”
“Then you have wasted our time,” the emissary said levelly. “No knowledge possessed by one as young as you would be worth a blessing from our lord Erlebnis.”
“I know the location of Oril Valar, and the Viirtulfyr that he stole from your lord,” Argrave declared.
After Argrave’s words finished, all sounds died. The wind, the swaying of the trees, the bugs and the birds all suddenly ceased to make any noise at all. His own breath escaping his nostrils made no noise. He felt his heart speed faster, but he could not hear it. Even if Argrave knew he was safe, it was difficult to stop the natural reaction to abrupt stimuli. The emissary spoke, and Argrave heard only its voice.
“Even mentioning Oril Valar, you have drawn the eye of our lord Erlebnis.” The emissary did not display any of its emotion on its voice—it might as well have been talking about the weather. Perhaps it had no emotions to display.
“That was my intention,” Argrave responded, fortunately able to hear his own voice in this strange silence.
The emissary’s eyes withdrew back into its head, leaving behind the same reddish-mercury portal from which the creature had originally emerged from. Argrave waited patiently, expecting this might happen—the emissary had returned to receive Erlebnis’ will.
In simpler terms, it was talking to its boss.
Argrave used the time to calm his beating heart. Communing with ancient gods often was not particularly good on the health, Argrave would guess. Fortunately, this information was the only thing that he could currently offer Erlebnis, a God of Knowledge. If he wanted further rewards, doubtless he would need to become inextricably bound to Erlebnis.
Conveying this knowledge to Erlebnis had been a secret quest in Heroes of Berendar. If one found out about the Viirtulfyr, one could offer that knowledge to Erlebnis. More simply, one could return the book directly. Hoarding this knowledge was useless to Argrave, as the book only contained top-level spells beyond his ken that he had no ability to retrieve, at present.
Argrave was confident in this trade. Further trades, though—forget it. Beyond the very high possibility of early-onset baldness from stress, he was tampering with a power that could very well lead to his insanity. A god was, fundamentally, impossible to understand. Ancient gods were further insidious and manipulative. He did not have the hubris the Greeks so loathed—Argrave knew his limits as a mortal and was not certain he could continue to meddle without losing his mind.
Only one of the emissary’s eyes returned, refocusing on Argrave. “Our lord is watching this conversation through my eye, Argrave. He will be very displeased if you are toying with us.” Argrave could not help but shudder—he had not mentioned his name, yet the emissary knew. Perhaps he should not be surprised.
“The master is interested in this deal,” the emissary continued. “You would be willing to submit to a spell to determine the veracity of your words?”
Argrave considered the question, ensuring there were no loopholes in its phrasing. “As long as the spell only discerns truth from falsehood, that condition is amenable.”
“Cautious one,” the emissary noted. “A valuable trait for all of life. And you asked for a blessing in return?”
Argrave nodded. “A specific blessing from your lord: the Blessing of Supersession. It should be of the highest quality—the best your lord can give.”
The Blessing of Supersession would be an invaluable acquisition for Argrave on his path as a mage. It would allow him to connect his pool of magic to Erlebnis, an ancient god, for a period of five minutes. In effect, he would be granted unlimited magic during its duration—every emissary of Erlebnis had this ability, and it was precisely why they were such potent spellcasters.
For Argrave, who intended to use the very costly electric magic as his primary form of attack, it was invaluable. The blessing had its drawbacks—he was borrowing the magic, and he could not use the ability again until he had paid back his magic ‘debt.’ Ordinarily, one could not even use magic until they paid the debt back. The highest-quality Blessing of Supersession Argrave requested completely removed that condition. Argrave could pay back the magic debt at his leisure and remain capable of using his own pool of magic without issue.
After Argrave had stated his request, the emissary turned its eye to look at the portal where its other eye once had been, communing with Erlebnis in total silence. Its gaze refocused on Argrave after some time had passed.
“You ask a very high price,” the emissary said slowly. “Even amongst our lord’s direct mortal servants, few possess a blessing of that sort.”
“I ask for a high price because I know the value of my knowledge.” Argrave shrugged. “The grudge your lord bears against Oril Valar is deep, and I know well the value of Viirtulfyr. If I could retrieve it myself, I might. Alas, Oril Valar is a very powerful person, and not someone a humble mortal like me can meddle with.”
“We see.” The emissary once more looked to the portal in its vacant eye socket, and Argrave waited longer. “The lord tells us that He can agree to provide a Blessing of Supersession of the highest quality, under the condition you answer three questions under a spell that differentiates truth from falsehood. In addition, the information contained in these questions must first be proven accurate by His emissaries. Simply put, we would retrieve the Viirtulfyr before you receive the blessing.”
Argrave hesitantly nodded at the conditions, but he was not entirely content. “Tell me the questions, first.”
The emissary raised its long arm, holding its hand close to its face as it counted down. “First, the location of Oril Valar in detail. Second, the location of Viirtulfyr in detail. Third, how you came to possess this knowledge.”
Hesitation crept in at the third question. If Argrave admitted where he originally came from, even indirectly, Erlebnis might take an unwanted interest in him.
“Is the third question necessary?” Argrave tilted his head.
“If you wish for the highest quality blessing,” the emissary answered quickly, almost anticipating his words.
Argrave clasped his hands together, staring at the gloves as he rubbed his thumb against his palm. He wanted the highest-level blessing—an inability to use magic after its use would be very annoying. No, not just annoying, it might end in his death.
“If you don’t ask for details on the third question…” Argrave said slowly, ensuring his phrasing was ironclad. “I will agree to those three questions only.”
The emissary bowed its head lightly. “It shall be so. Then, we shall cast the spell per the arrangement.”
Argrave gestured for the emissary to proceed. It held its hand out, and a red line of light shot towards his heart like the bite of a snake. Argrave did not resist, and he felt the oddity of another’s magic for the first time in his life.
The emissary’s one eye stayed fixed on Argrave’s face. “What is the precise location of the spellcaster Oril Valar, who wronged our lord Erlebnis and stole the Viirtulfyr?” the emissary spoke, enunciating every word clearly.
“Oril Valar inhabits an island known to locals as ‘Black Isle’ off the coast of the northern point of the continent of Berendar, near the town of Kumdan. The island is host to a volcano which Oril Valar has tampered with, making it shroud the island in ash. Oril Valar has a castle on the northern side of the island, concealed by illusion magic. He rarely leaves the castle, and even less so the island.”
Argrave held back no details, even giving more information than the spell would probably compel. The earlier they recovered the Viirtulfyr, the earlier he got his blessing.
The emissary carried on without missing a beat. “Where is Viirtulfyr, the book stolen by the vampire Oril Valar?”
“Oril Valar keeps the book close. It is in the same fortress in which he currently resides. It is likely still on the third floor down, in the library at the end of the hall on the right,” Argrave said, almost entirely sure of the details.
“How did you come to possess this knowledge regarding Oril Valar and the Viirtulfyr?”
“I confirmed it personally,” Argrave said slowly.
And it was true—he had gone there multiple times with each character from Heroes of Berendar. He was the primary contributor to Oril Valar’s wiki article.
The emissary said nothing for a time, staring at Argrave. The red light persisted—Argrave was worried the spell might react.
“Well? It’s the truth, no?” Argrave remained stone-faced. If he had been lying, the red light would have broken.
The emissary snapped, and the red light retreated. “Indeed it is, mortal. Or at the very least, your mind and body believe it is the truth. We will confirm the value of your truth in the days to come.”
The sounds of the forest returned as suddenly as they had left—it was a little like one’s ears popping from a change in altitude. The other eye of the emissary emerged from the portal resembling red mercury.
“Our business is concluded, then.” Argrave nodded. “I presume you will give me a token that will notify me when you are ready to offer payment?”
“Most curious. You almost lead us to believe you have done business of this nature with our lord before. Perhaps an ancestor of yours provided you some knowledge… yet even still, that does not explain how you confirmed the presence of the Viirtulfyr and Oril Valar personally…” The emissary produced a red disk in its hands, seemingly from the air.
“Here. Keep this on your person and you will know when we are ready to receive you. If you have somehow tricked us… Oril Valar is the only one currently in this realm who has done such a thing. And if your information is correct, that will be rectified.”
Argrave took the red disk. It had no markings and looked to be made of simple stone painted red. “I look forward to receiving the blessing, then.”
Chapter 12
Elias alighted from the carriage at the gates of Vendleber, scanning the small town’s streets thoroughly. He had removed the gray robe of the Order of the Gray Owl, instead donning the traditional white and gold of his House Parbon. After searching the streets for a time for the banner bearing the golden lion, he walked to the men guarding the gate.
“Excuse me,” Elias asked, touching one guard’s shoulder lightly. “Have you seen a large party of horsemen come through here with the banner of House Parbon?”
The guard jumped a little, and then looked up at Elias. “Errm… yes, we did. The lord told us to… well, I probably shouldn’t say,” the guard stopped himself.
Elias frowned. “Are they here, then?”
“Aye.” The guard nodded. “Most of them are camping outside the walls. I think they let a few stay in the inn on the western side of town, though.” The guard pointed. “The Rattled Rain, it’s called.”
“Thank you,” said Elias, retrieving a gold coin and handing it to the guard.
“Oh…!” the guard brightened. Elias turned and strode quickly to where the guard had pointed. “Thank you!” the guard yelled out, but Elias paid it little heed.
Half-running through the streets, Elias kept an eye on the wooden signs hanging above doorways. Once he spotted the Rattled Rain, he paused, catching his breath before entering the doorway. Some familiar faces turned to meet him—some of his father’s knights.
“Lucain. Mystle,” Elias greeted, walking towards them. “Where’s—”
“Elias,” a deep voice echoed through the inn. Elias turned his head towards the stairs, watching as his father slowly walked down into the inn’s common room. He looked disheveled, his long red hair splayed out across his plate mail in thick, greasy strands.
“Father,” Elias said, moving to greet him. “I came as soon as I heard that you had left Parbon.”
“Why are you here?” Margrave Reinhardt asked angrily. “You’re supposed to be in the Tower of the Gray Owl.”
“My term as a student is over,” Elias explained quickly. He held out a steel badge that bore an owl on it. “I’m a Wizard of the Gray Owl, now. My research was admissible.”
Reinhardt prodded his chest with a finger, sending Elias back a step. “And so you come here, instead of heading back to Parbon?”
“I should stand idly by while you go to help my uncle?” Elias spoke, matching his father’s bravado.
Reinhardt grit his teeth for a minute. Then, he stepped forward, hugging his son tightly. After a moment, they pulled away. The margrave kept a firm grip on Elias’ shoulders. “Congratulations, Elias. I did not think a son of mine would ever become a Wizard, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am proud.”
Elias smiled slightly. It seemed a rare expression on both of the men’s faces. They sat at one of the tables in the corner, alone.
“In truth, I didn’t think I would be able to find you at Vendleber,” Elias told his father as he took his seat. “I assumed you would already have started onwards to Dirracha.”
“I wanted to. I received some information from an anonymous source. We ran into trouble. A cunning snake,” Reinhardt said resentfully. “I knew I should have taken my wyvern instead of a horse…”
Elias placed his hands on the table, looking at his father as he slouched on the table. “Trouble with such a large host in tow? Was it one of the king’s eldest sons?”
“No. Argrave, the royal bastard.” The margrave looked to his hands, a grim and wrothful look settled on his face.
“What?” Elias asked incredulously. He’d seen his father have that expression before, but it was only after a great defeat. “But he’s… I don’t believe he’s even reached C-rank magic, yet. How…?”
“His magic was hardly relevant.” Reinhardt shook his head, eyes growing distant with reflection. “But his words… even thinking back, he led me by the nose like a fool. He was traveling with the Duke of Monticci’s daughter and… a child of House Veden. I forget who.”
“Mina,” Elias filled in the blanks.
“Right.” Reinhardt nodded. “I thought to take him as a hostage. He came willingly. It made me let my guard down,” the margrave lamented. “The whole way, he complained about horses and hating them. He played my temper, stoked my doubts, made himself appear weak, and ingrained his hatred of horses into my head… I thought to punish him by having him sleep next to the horses.”
The margrave ground his teeth. “Moving him to the horses… probably what he wanted from me the whole time. From there… he frenzied them. A firepit and illusion magic, they said. He stole my horse, rode towards the coast. The men spent hours getting the mounts back in order.” Reinhardt slammed the table slightly.
Elias leaned back in the chair, holding his hand to his chin.
“He has the cunning natural to the House of Vasquer. Their banner bears a snake, and it suits them. That one is a snake with a silver tongue,” Reinhardt brooded. “The men were up for hours chasing horses. They need rest, as do the horses.” His head snapped to his son, refocused. “We’ll head to Dirracha tomorrow. If you’re to come with me, you should sleep. Some rooms are available upstairs. We rented out the whole inn.”
“Right,” Elias said absentmindedly. “You said Argrave rode towards the coast? Mateth? You must’ve sent someone after him.”
