Jackal Among Snakes

Elenore had never been more on edge than upon Argrave’s declaration that he would leave Blackgard with Sophia in tow. Her number one concern was that he was falling for a manipulation of some kind from the god of politics—one that made him act against his best interests. But both Anneliese and Raven had seen the man, and claimed that he possessed no such power. But perhaps he’d manipulated them, too.

The only thing that gave her comfort was the logical assertion that if he truly did possess such an absolute persuasive power, he wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to draw them out. Jaray would’ve won long ago.

Still, she held nothing back, fully heeding Argrave’s advice to plug every insufficiency she thought he had. Law was recalled to where Jaray waited patiently, and he’d created a great Domain of Law to prepare for whatever was coming. After having slain Rook—himself a formidable god, and the inheritor of the bulk of Erlebnis’ spirits—Law was undoubtedly the most powerful deity in the world. His powers, consequently, amplified the strength of their allies to a ridiculous degree. Adding on to that, the allies themselves were ridiculously powerful already.

Raven. Anneliese. Durran. All three on their own were forces powerful enough to rival absurd gods like Almazora or Fellhorn—and they’d proven that point. Anneliese had completely destroyed the goddess of magic, taking in all her spirits as her own, and Durran had beaten Fellhorn back not once, but twice, finally landing the killing blow as he attempted to retreat from the mountains above Parbon. She was proud of the man she’d married, but wished he’d be more careful.

More than that, other strikers they’d been employing elsewhere had been freed up. Onychinusa had returned from the Bloodwoods, bringing along with her many of its potent spellcasters. Raccomen, god of space, had wavered upon news of Rook’s betrayal, but ultimately stuck at their side. Stout Heart Swan, goddess of hunting and Durran’s patron, had come along as well. Given the number of betrayals, Elenore was cautious about them, employing them on periphery tasks that’d never give them the opportunity to interfere with Sophia.

The situation elsewhere wasn’t entirely resolved. Battles in many places were fading, their fighting resulting in a complete victory. However, the goddess of earth that Jaray had contacted hadn’t come to assist him in the coming fight—instead, she’d turned her rage against the Great Chu. In the resulting mayhem that occurred as the ground itself split before her awful power, Elenore lost contact with several people that she’d been connected to there. The only ones that persisted in giving reports were Galamon and Orion, who constantly told her only one thing; the enemies keep coming, and they keep killing them. The two champions were remarkably consistent in that regard.

If the situation were different, Elenore might send more bodies to resolve the problems in the Great Chu… but right now, Sophia demanded the most urgent attention. Argrave carried her in his arms, having teleported a good distance only to walk the remainder as everyone else surveyed the scene to make sure that nothing was out of sorts. In the brief time that she had to prepare, Elenore felt she had as complete a grasp of the situation that she ever had.

Elenore expected a few things—the first, for Jaray to open a rift to the Shadowlands. It certainly wasn’t unfeasible. Lorena hadn’t detected any moves he’d made toward that end, but if the Hopeful was also waiting, this would certainly be his time to enter. The second was interference from other gods, who’d come in at the last second. Perhaps Jaray was lying about possessing no ability to fight back, or perhaps he had a means to communicate that was beyond Lorena’s scrutiny. Either seemed possible, almost likely. Jaray was an entirely unknown variable.

The third—and frankly, this was the thing that she most wished to be true—was that Jaray had pulled out yet another case of misdirection, and intended to attack somewhere else entirely. Perhaps Elenore herself was the target. If that was the case, Blackgard remaineda fortress without peer. They had harvested the vast bulk of the magic buried into the black stone to create potent defenses that Law, even in his present state, couldn’t break past. They’d emulated the defensive capabilities of the Palace of Heaven’s walls, and the sky was protected by an array of shamanic magic warding divinity. Furthermore, they’d reverse-engineered the wards on the flagship of the Great Chu to have a constant ward on hand to protect from any sort of bombardment.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Their preparations were excessive. Still, Jaray alone had claimed many more lives than all before him. Cities had fallen, prominent figures were either slain or had sacrificed themselves, and the god of politics himself boasted some strange manner of invulnerability in the face of all that. If anyone were going to surprise them, it would be him.

Elenore waited for news with bated breath.

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“Is that him?” asked Sophia as Argrave carefully walked across the war-torn fields.

“Yeah. Jaray,” Argrave answered, not relaxing his vigilance for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“He killed all these people?” She asked—something a nine-year-old shouldn’t see, let alone comment on.

“Not himself,” Argrave answered back, glancing at a few of the margrave’s men scattered about the field as he walked. “But he’s responsible for all of it. He convinced people to do it. That’s his thing, you see. He can’t hurt anyone himself, but he also can’t be hurt by anyone. So he shares secrets, gives other people reasons, and preys on people’s insecurities and vanities until they end up fighting for the wrong causes.”

“I don’t know what some of that meant,” Sophia confessed. “But… I think… I think I know what you mean. There were people that never hit me, but they told the people that would hit me the bad things I’d done when they weren’t around. They told them all the mistakes I’d made. And Norman would—"

“Well, that’s over now.” Argrave held her a little tighter. “Come on.”

Argrave was soon joined by Anneliese, who gave some words of comfort to Sophia before joining their solemn walk to condemn Jaray. It felt as though they were walking to an execution—only, the headsman’s axe was a child. It was a barbaric display, but this was what the cycle of judgment had made out of them. Animals, employing every necessity.

In time, a great many of the people Argrave trusted most parted ways for his advance. All made way for the king, queen, and their daughter. Jaray sat there, as calm and composed as ever, as he smoked upon his pipe.

“You’re back,” he greeted. “Hello, Sophia.” He looked at Argrave squarely. “I’d almost believe she’s your daughter. There is some resemblance, but the eyes tell the truth of the matter.”

“Be quiet,” Sophia said loudly—the harshest words she could muster. “You made people die. I need to stop that.”

“They died seeking you. Coming after you. Who can say the blame—" Jaray began.

“She isn’t to blame for the choices that you made,” Anneliese fired back, anger on her tone. “You’re the cause of all this.”

“I give people what they want,” Jaray said. “I—”

“Sophia, if you can, I want you to remake him into an ordinary person,” Argrave said to her, interrupting him once more. “And then… we’ll go home.”

“You will go home,” Jaray cut in, rising to his feet finally. Everyone around braced, prepared to fight back against something. “And you’re also right on your other point—I will be remade, even if I fall here today. Death is a temporary measure in the face of the power of creation. I’ll keep living because I deal with everyone, Argrave. I would’ve dealt fairly with you if only you’d listened, but you removed one party from the negotiation table and refused to negotiate yourself. The natural course, then, is to consult the only other still left.”

“The Shadowlanders, yes. Dead gods that eat everything in sight.”

“I was up there, not far from the suns with you,” Jaray continued, pointing his pipe. “I couldn’t speak with them. But there was another, wasn’t—”

As Argrave watched, Jaray’s flesh began to morph and twist. At first Argrave feared some assault of some kind, and shielded Sophia with his body. Then, however, Sophia clutched his coat, burying her head.

“I did it,” she said. “He’s… he’s like everyone else, now.”

Raven slammed his staff down mightily, and in the following gruesome explosion, was glad he’d shielded Sophia. Her eyes were spared the sight of someone being shattered. She flinched and clutched him tighter, but Argrave sorely hoped she’d seen nothing. Argrave stared at Jaray’s pipe—shattered in two, while he was in several more pieces than that. Was this some trick? Was he like Sataistador—was that merely one of his many bodies?

“Argrave…” Anneliese grabbed his shoulder, and when he looked at her, her eyes were trembling. “Before you conversed with the suns…”

His mind followed the track hers did, revisiting that monumental encounter he’d had moments before speaking to the Heralds and Jaray in tandem. Moments later, revisiting it became entirely unnecessary.

Argrave felt a presence behind him, and so did everyone else—they whipped their heads north, where he at once saw a familiar scene. It existed north of the city of Elbraille, above the towers of Jast, just barely visible beyond the horizon… a crack in the world, right in the place that Argrave had seen it half a thousand times in Heroes of Berendar. He didn’t need to tell his companions what it was, because he’d told them enough for all to understand what was happening.

The world was opening, and the calamity was here.