Jackal Among Snakes: Book 2, A GameLit Fantasy, page 34
“What are you thinking?” asked Anneliese, shutting her book.
“I’m thinking… I have an excuse to talk to Ossian.” Argrave stood. “And I think I have a way to turn this curse outside our door into a blessing. And it may just be the defining point I need to win the sentinels over to my side. Allow me to explain.” Argrave beckoned Galamon and Anneliese closer.
***
“You wanted to speak to me?” said Ossian, his hands held on his hips. He was not alone, but he was present, and that was enough for him. To be fair, Argrave was not alone, either—Anneliese and Galamon were just behind him, the former holding Garm. Argrave might’ve left Garm back at their camp, but he didn’t trust one of the sentinels wouldn’t meddle with him as he rested there. Though the severed head wasn’t defenseless, it was better safe than sorry.
“I did,” said Argrave, some of his confident spark returned to his voice. For the first time in a while, he felt that things were going right.
“So?” Ossian held his arms out. “Speak, then.”
Argrave was somewhat dissatisfied by the brusque tone, but he began unaffected, “I’ve been doing some thinking. The common problem that unites us, right now, is the mass of guardians just outside our door.”
“And this revelation is what you call ‘some thinking’?” Ossian said drolly. “I trust that’s not all.”
“Peripherally, though, we both want to deal with the vampires,” Argrave carried on as though Ossian had not spoken at all. “And I’ve been thinking, you see, that the two would be best pitted against each other,” Argrave said with a smile.
Ossian said nothing, so Argrave launched into an explanation.
“I have in my possession what the sentinels have lacked for centuries—a key into the lower levels of the headquarters.” Argrave pointed to Garm. “The vampires think that they’re safe in the lower levels, because they’re tightly warded by enchanted doors. I say we set the horde of guardians against them. I say we open the doors to the lower levels and leave them open. We let the guardians rush in, tear them apart.”
“And how do you suppose that’s possible?”
“The only issue in this plan is that we would need to leave safety,” Argrave said. “I’m not suggesting that you guys go and do everything for me. I’d lead the charge outside, have no fear.”
“Lead us into a trap, more like,” a sentinel at Ossian’s side said.
“You have an awfully high opinion of my capability,” Argrave noted amusedly. “Yes, I’m the master of the Low Way, capable of setting traps in every corner of this place to lure the unwitting paragons of justice like yourself to early graves.” Argrave waved his hands about with grandiose sarcasm.
Ossian sighed and shook his head. “Traps don’t need to be set by yourself. The point is—”
“Listen,” Argrave interrupted. “You don’t agree, I go alone. Simple as.” Argrave shrugged. “I hope you’re honorable enough, at least, to open the gate for our return.”
“Hah. That would be worth watching, if only for the spectacle of your inevitable death,” the same sentinel beside Ossian commented.
Argrave pushed his tongue against his cheek, frustrated by their obstinance. “The only reason I let you inside my little sanctuary here was because I was confident I could defend against all of you. A B-rank mage, a couple of C-ranks…” Argrave pointed them out, remembering Garm’s insights. “I’ve got my own bag of tricks. Be it all twenty of you, or that horde banging on the door… I can handle it,” he said calmly, careful to make his words sound like stated fact more than bravado.
Ossian snorted in disbelief but did not rise to challenge the statement. “If you’re willing to come with, I don’t see the problem with this idea of yours. The problem lies in that thing your menial is holding,” Ossian pointed. “You say it opens the lower levels, yet I’ve never seen that.”
“A fair point,” Argrave admitted begrudgingly.
“Like hell it is,” Garm snarled out. Argrave stepped aside, giving the floor to the severed head. “Listen here, mutt descendent of mine,” he ranted. “The doors to the lower levels of the headquarters only open to a magic signature registered with the Order of the Rose. Those vampires, bloodlappers and bastards though they may be, are indeed members of the Order of the Rose. They’re mere apprentices, but they have access to the basic level.
“I, too, am a true scion of the Rose,” Garm continued. “The doors will open for me. If you doubt me…” Garm’s eyes opened and glowed, and then a burst of flame shot out towards Ossian. The master sentinel leapt back warily, but the flames stopped short of where he had been standing.
“Don’t,” Garm finished conclusively.
Argrave enjoyed the silence that followed, but the entire camp of sentinels now watched their conversation warily. Argrave stepped forward, walking up to Ossian once more.
“Not sure if that suffices. Maybe you can quiz him on some things only a member of the Order of the Rose would know,” Argrave suggested in jest.
“That thing should be put down,” one of the sentinels pointed at Garm. “Sentient or not, it can’t be controlled, obviously.”
“Like how you tried to put me down, because I couldn’t be controlled?” Argrave questioned. “I don’t understand why you feel the need for absolute control.”
“Confine you, not put you down,” Ossian corrected again, teeth clenched tight in irritation.
“The point stands.” Argrave shrugged. “Don’t get all pissy with me. I keep trying to help you, and you keep spurning me. We’re at a crossroads, the way I see it. Distrust me, and continue fading as you are.” Argrave pointed to them as he said so. “Trust me, and prosper once more, eliminating the biggest obstacle to your progress into the Low Way.”
Ossian turned away, lost in thought.
***
Galamon turned the turn wheel for the gate to the Menagerie, raising it upwards just slightly. Ossian crouched low, peering beyond into the darkness appearing in the door’s small crack. Their entire party was silent, everyone listening carefully. Argrave had a spell at the forefront of his mind, ready to conjure [Skysunder] at a moment’s notice to blast away any two-armed creatures that came scuttling beneath the iron gate.
Ossian held his arm out to stop people from advancing further, then held up two fingers. Argrave looked to Galamon, and surprisingly, the vampire nodded, confirming the sentinel’s sense. His observation did not have much time to be doubted, though—a hand shot out, grabbing the gate and trying to force it open.
The creature raised the door slightly, allowing sufficient time for another guardian to slip through. Each of its eight black eyes darted around independently, looking for a target, before locking on the closest—Ossian. The master sentinel stepped back, drawing his sword as he rose to his feet in one fluent motion. Argrave elected not to cast, considering the sheer bulk of people nearby who could do the task without magic.
The creature swung its arm, and a flail attached to its hand whistled through the air. Ossian nimbly dodged with a backstep, then placed his foot on the flail’s chain once it impacted with the ground. Another sentinel stepped forward, stabbing the creature with a short spear. It grabbed at the spear for a moment before sagging limp with a soundless death. The hand holding the gate struggled to win against Galamon, who held the turn wheel patiently and kept the door suspended.
Ossian crouched and kicked the creature holding the door, then stood. Argrave heard the creature’s hands slapping against the ground as it fled. Ossian waited for a time, then said to Galamon, “We can open it all the way. We waited for their numbers near the door to thin, and we were right to do so. None are near.”
After Argrave nodded to confirm Ossian’s order, Galamon raised the gate up.
“Right. Down the stairs, through the central hallway, then down the stairs to the right,” Argrave outlined aloud, mostly for himself.
“You’ve said that plenty,” Garm noted from Anneliese’s hand. She held the head like a staff, though it was much too short to meet the ground.
“You said you’d lead the charge.” Ossian turned back to Argrave.
One of the spellcasters stepped forward, conjuring a ball of light that illuminated much of the room. At once, guardians on the walls and railings turned their heads, eyes locking onto their party.
“…so lead quickly,” Ossian finished.
Argrave took a deep breath. Galamon stepped up beside Argrave, grabbing his shoulder.
“Be calm,” he soothed. His deep, grating voice did not make it especially so.
“Easy to suggest, hard to enact,” Argrave muttered. After another breath, he stepped out into the central lobby of the headquarters, a thousand black eyes watching him from every corner of the room.
Chapter 48
Ossian and Argrave did not enter the headquarters of the Order of the Rose without proper planning. What they intended to do was already established long beforehand, both offering some contributions based on experience.
For Ossian’s part, he knew how the guardians would attack. They had all the reckless abandon of a locust plague—they had numbers, and knew well how to take advantage of them. Despite this, they were not unintelligent in their attacks. They had weapons bolted to the backs of their hands, and they knew how to use them effectively. They would lurk in corners or hang off ledges, waiting for an opportunity to capitalize on a mistake or simply surprise an unwitting wanderer.
Argrave knew simply that being encircled would be the least ideal situation, and the rough path that they needed to take. Beyond that, he left the strategizing to Ossian. The man was competent, and he could be trusted to see their plan to fruition despite his lack of trust in them.
The key in this situation was simply this—a burst forth. They would need to move quickly, never allowing the creatures to obtain an advantageous position.
Argrave took the first step forward, Galamon just beside him, sandwiched between him and Anneliese. They moved in a steady jog, heading across the balcony of the second floor that overlooked the central lobby towards the stairs. The spellcasters working with the sentinels strove to light the place as best they could, uncaring about the attention attracted—they wanted to attract attention, at least somewhat.
Galamon served as the protector, warding off stray attacks from guardians lurking in places unseen. Anneliese and Argrave served as the wedge to open a gap. Whenever a group of guardians would block their advance, they would need to use magic to dispel them forcibly. Despite their fierceness, the guardians were light compared to humans—a sufficiently powerful spell would knock them away. Fire, lightning, and wind elemental magic danced through the air, sending the creatures flying.
Their initial rush from the Menagerie to the stairs proved to be no issue. Yet as the sounds of the elements echoed out across the stone building, fell noises returned—metal grating against stone, flesh slapping against the ground… all signs the guardians heard their advance and already moved to stop it.
Progress slowed at the stairs. The guardians climbed up the side, thrusting at the three of them through the railings like wolves nipping at the heels as a pack. The sentinels, though, moved forward with unity, pushing back against the tide that rose up the stairs. With their parties grouped closer together, Argrave proceeded further once again, careful not to stumble on the stairs.
Once Argrave’s feet stepped off the stairs and met the ground floor, he thought the anxiety might be relieved somewhat… but looking out across the room only stoked his unease ever higher. Despite the haste Argrave had endeavored to achieve, the creatures already pooled in the central lobby. Gleaming black and gold eyes moved towards them, so numerous they were uncountable.
“Gods be damned,” Ossian cursed, stepping up beside Argrave. “There’s too many. Cut our losses—we return to the Menagerie.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Argrave disagreed, panic making his tongue more commanding than normal. “I’ll carve a path.”
“What?!” Ossian said in disbelief.
“Didn’t want to use this at all.” Argrave shook his head. He gestured his hand backwards. “Don’t send anyone forward.”
Argrave triggered the Blessing of Supersession. It felt as though his whole being was being flooded, magic welling up from his chest like a spring freed from the rocks. Erratic thoughts about preserving his magic and minimizing his debt vanished to the wind, whisked away by the tornado of panic disturbing his guts. He stepped past Anneliese and Galamon, conjuring a B-rank ward with his enchanted ring to protect them from errant magic. With the central hallway in the distance in his mind, he held his hands out, spell matrixes forming.
White lightning, fiery wolves, spears of ice, and blades of pressurized wind danced out across the central lobby, sending debris and flesh every which way. The entire place became awash with spell light. The sheer sound, sight, and smell of it all consumed Argrave’s senses until nothing else occupied his thoughts. He sought out the creature’s black eyes as his targets, conjuring spells as an indiscriminate butcher. The sheer sense of power he felt in that moment combatted his anxiety, crushing it utterly.
He could feel the heat before him, as though he were standing before a blast furnace with hands outstretched. Every bolt of lightning that sounded out resounded in his chest like a giant drum. Spears of ice hurtled forth, meeting flesh or stone and shattering into a fine blue mist. The wind cut all it moved past, setting anything loose within the room in motion.
It was only once he felt a hand on his shoulder did Argrave remember himself. His ears rung, and he turned to see Anneliese mouthing words. As the ringing faded, he made sense of her words.
“…over. We have a path, Argrave.”
Argrave nodded, shaking. “Yeah. Yeah, right. Let’s…”
“What in the gods’ name are you?” Ossian asked, looking out across the carnage.
Argrave clenched his fists, feeling the leather gloves soaked in sweat tight in his grip. He slowly gathered himself as the feeling of invincibility began to fade. If these are C-rank spells… what carnage I could wreak at A-rank? He briefly thought. Not even a minute had passed, and yet he had achieved this.
Realizing he left Ossian unanswered, he quickly said, “What am I? I’m just in a hurry. Let’s go, before more take their place. They are legion, after all.”
Argrave stepped out into the central lobby, passing the sight of carnage. A strange quiet had settled over the place. As he stepped into the sight of his attacks, he felt the damage he’d caused directly—the heat beneath his feet, the icy mist in the air, the still-spasming guardians writhing with electricity…
The Blessing of Supersession lent Argrave’s advance a sense of urgency. He was the first to rush into the central hall. Before long, he was joined by Galamon and Anneliese, who kept up easily on account of being more athletic than he was. Some guardians stopped their advance. Argrave dispatched them, using the C-rank lightning spell [Skysunder] with reckless abandon, uncaring of how deep he grew in debt to Erlebnis.
They reached the stairway that led down, and Argrave caught the wall just before it, pausing to catch his breath.
“Chest feels tight… think my cardio got worse, actually,” he huffed. He looked back, watching the armored sentinels still rush to catch up to them. “Alright, Garm. If this doesn’t work…”
“Don’t let the thought enter your head,” Garm assured, breaking his silence from his place in Anneliese’s hands. Anneliese took the first few steps down the stairs. Argrave followed just behind, where ahead, he saw a stone door that shimmered with lights. It was circular and had no handles.
“You… have done your task,” Garm said as Anneliese stepped to the door. “I will do mine. Your presence, now, is… well, overpowering. The magic within you…” he muttered. “I can hardly bear to look at you. Just press my head to the door, sweetie,” he said to Anneliese.
Anneliese did so. At once, a black, flower-like pattern bloomed across the door. It slid to the side. Someone had been leaning against the other side, and they fell backwards. Galamon mercilessly dispatched the vampire before he had a chance to recover. He looked beyond, watching for more enemies.
Ossian stepped down the stairs, leading the other Stonepetal Sentinels. “Gods… it opened. The lower levels… I can’t believe…” he trailed off.
“You can’t believe, yet you came with us?” Garm questioned.
“We can celebrate at a later date. Did you forget the next part?” Argrave pressed, almost having recovered his breath. His inhalations still felt shallow, and he felt some measure of pain. He knew something was wrong but did not have time to address it.
“Right.” Ossian directed one of the spellcasters with his hand. The woman stepped forth, conjuring something, and a hunk of stone moved to block the door from sliding back in place. It would likely not be sufficient for long term, but it was only to prevent the door from moving long enough to allow the guardians to enter.
Ossian stepped back up the stairs, watching the hallway beyond. “Plenty of guardians coming, following the noise. We enter, lead them in, and go to this other exit you talked about.”
“Watch for falling vampires,” Argrave said glibly to disguise his own unease, then stepped into the lower levels of the headquarters of the Order of the Rose.
The lower levels had the same darkness common on the entry floor, yet here was different in a way Argrave found difficult to wrap his head around. Rather than simply being dark, it felt like light had not touched this place in a long while. It was mostly free of dust and dirt and had the same elaborate carvings as in this first floor. The hallway stretched on for a long time. Argrave hurried down it as fast as his labored body would allow.
Eventually, the hallway opened up into an open space. The room was massive, its ceiling stretching high into the air. It seemed split into halves—the front room was an administrative center, housing desks and reception areas that had long ago been repurposed to the vampire’s needs. The other half was blocked off by thick iron bars, and housed a grand library still illuminated by light even after the centuries since the Order’s fall.
