Jackal Among Snakes

“The sum total of my work,” said Durran, gesturing toward giant golden contraptions. “Barring what I absorbed with my shamanic magic, and what Elenore took, this is left. Thanks, by the by, for teaching me that. Or giving me those books, I suppose would be the better way to put it.”

Argrave looked upon the dwarven spirit collectors, marveling at the intricacy of them. They were half-spheres, almost like large buttons, yet their surface held innumerable grooves that hid countless mechanisms of varying purpose. They had glass gauges on them, lined up equidistantly along the surface. The gauges that were still full emanated a strange sound. At times, Argrave thought he saw glimpses of bodies and faces beyond the glass.

Argrave called upon the connection between himself and Elenore, turning it from inactive to active. “You’re sure you have all you need?”

After half a second of silence, Elenore’s voice resounded in his head. “Yes. We could supply an army and a half with dwarven metal with the spirits I reserved. Honestly, I’d feel more comfortable giving you more. You’re shouldering the risk in this venture.”

Argrave dismissed the connection, feeling it drop. He stepped forward to the contraptions, then looked to those around him. “Ready to play whack-a-spirit?”

Anneliese, Durran, Onychinusa, and Castro all nodded. And with that confirmation, he found a groove, pulling a lever.

Spirits burst free from the dwarven contraption, and Argrave cast his spell. As ever, Castro’s was the first to complete, and he drew the spirits into his body as though catching a waterfall. Argrave’s spell completed next, and then everyone else drew upon the flow of spirits.

The broken fragments of deities found purchase in Argrave’s very being, settling his body like a new home. He could feel dim remnants of what they had been before—the rage, the vengeance, the injustice, and every other such nasty thing that Durran had been slaying—but with shamanic magic, he marked them and made them his own.

As he collected, Argrave moved to other contraptions, opening them one after the other. The warehouse containing these dwarven spirit collectors became awash with a thousand lights before being subsumed by all present. There was a howling in the air, a screaming, as these primeval beings were adapted for their use.

And then… total silence.

Argrave gripped his hand tight, and then pulled his glove down. “Then, we’re ready.”

#####

Argrave walked down a spiral marble slope, his mind filled with two instances of nostalgia. The first came from descending down this spiral ramp in Heroes of Berendar. The second came from descending down here with Anneliese in pursuit of Llewellen’s method of A-rank ascendency, [Life Cycle]. He had come here with a small royal guard, last time. On this occasion, his retinue was far grander.

Orion and Melanie led the way, him for his incredible fortitude and her for her knowledge of the situation down here. Durran and Anneliese walked by his side, while Anestis accompanied them in awkward haste. Galamon was notably absent—he remained behind at the head of their army, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Taking the back were two incredibly formidable people—Onychinusa and Castro. They wouldn’t be joining in the heist, but rather accompanying for the journey.

And just behind them all was the Alchemist, his form changed.

The Alchemist had compacted a great deal, standing slightly wider yet far shorter. Even shortened, he towered over all of them, easily clearing ten feet. Though he generally wore a robe of his own silken black hair, he now walked with his body covered in gray bone that gleamed in the right light, almost like chitin. It covered all of his body, making him seem as some sort of bone knight. He had his huge obsidian staff in his right hand, and the bulky thing clicked against the marble as he walked as their rearguard. This was the form the Alchemist took fighting against Gerechtigkeit at the end of Heroes of Berendar. It was terrifyingly strong… and terrifyingly assuring to have guarding the back of the party. Argrave eyed the staff. It didn’t look different from the last time they’d seen it, but he knew better. He hoped Mozzahr thought it just as unexceptional.

Their party came to the end of the ramp spiraling down into the earth. Argrave spared a glance at the place Llewellen met his end, but then diverted his gaze back to where they were meant to go. He briefly checked on everyone, then continued onward into the hallway. The sloping descent grew harsher here, though still curved around and around at the same pace. The only difference was that the center of the place was a reinforced marble pillar.

“This place… utter disrepair,” Anestis muttered as they walked on. “It’s embarrassing.”

They passed through a hall which led to yet another descent. Argrave was the only to answer the dwarf, saying, “Your ancestors were the one who left this place.”

“Precisely what I’m saying,” Anestis looked up at Argrave. “The stupidity of our decision is utterly baffling. We descended deeper into the crust of the earth until magma exploded outwards whenever our picks met the rock. And why? To escape the wrath of gods and Gerechtigkeit? We act as though if the world were to come to an end, we would be spared. I prefer your way better.”

Anneliese furrowed her brows at the dwarf, and then gave Argrave a wavy hand, indicating by that signal he was being partially truthful. Argrave supposed he related, as the small fellow must’ve been desperate to return to his home.

After perhaps ten minutes of walking down into the depths with only cold walls greeting them at every turn, the descent reached its end and evened off into a short hallway where teal light crept in. Argrave spotted two armored figures standing beneath faint magic lights dancing above their head. They were Stonepetal Sentinels, even now adorned with the sashes pinned with stone roses common in their order. They waited for his arrival, and one kneeled when he saw Argrave.NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

Melanie rapped her gauntleted knuckle against the top of the kneeling man’s helmet. “Don’t kneel, Cadoc. You’re an escort.”

The one she called out stood up nervously and adjusted his helmet. After leading them to the end of the tunnel, they finally entered into the deep underground. Argrave stepped out from the hallway and looked around. He had remembered being awed at seeing the size of Nodremaid… but comparing that city to the sheer magnitude of this area made the Low Way seem like a small stroll. And it was all lit by a great teal spiral of pure energy deep within the cavern: Mozzahr’s Emptiness. The walls and ceiling of the cave were made teal from his light, and crystals embedded in the walls and ceiling glimmered like stars in the sky.

“…lot more of that power than I remember,” Argrave said after a time, though he supposed that it was only natural.

Anneliese stared at the Emptiness with her Truesight, taking in the sheer power of it. She lagged behind as they advanced, and then rapidly made to catch up once she shook herself out of that trance.

“It… is quite overwhelming,” she whispered to Argrave.

He agreed with a silent nod as they came onto a fortress shielding most of the dwarven city out of sight. The place they exited was a diplomatic meeting area, but in clear distrust, the dwarves built a great fortress here that any invaders might be greeted with defense immediately. Argrave could see that much of it had been repurposed to protect from that within the city just as much as that without.

When they entered, the iron gates to the fortress rose, and a large retinue of Stonepetal Sentinels waited to receive them. They all greeted him, but one came up to Melanie and relayed some news. She walked over to Argrave to convey it.

“Apparently, the cultists sent someone to wait outside for you,” she said quietly. “They’ve just been standing there ever since we sent the message, holding some sort of magic torch.”

“We sent out the message three days ago, but they’ve been standing there?” Argrave said, and Melanie only nodded as response. He took a deep breath. “Sounds like the Ebon Cult, alright. Tell them to open the gate—I’ll go out and see this person.”

Argrave walked through the fortress, listening to countless greetings of ‘Your Majesty’ for him or ‘Your Highness’ for Anneliese as they walked by the Stonepetal Sentinels. When they saw the Alchemist, intense fear and confusion was the general response. Argrave was in no mood to explain.

When he came to the gate at the other end—which was less formidable than the one they entered, given it was a patchwork fortification built perhaps a month or two ago—the city itself opened up to him, nestled in a depression just below this fortress. Stairs led downward, beckoning them inside.

The cities of the dwarves possessed the pristine white marble and architecture of Rome—well, more accurately, it was the historian’s idealized version of Rome. There were flawlessly measured roads paved across the whole of the cavern, immaculately maintained even after all these years. Marble dwarven statues held their arms to the cavern’s ceiling, appearing to hold up the earth like Atlas. There were great buildings and works of art everywhere one looked. They were all bathed in the teal light of Mozzahr’s emptiness, giving the place an ethereal and otherworldly air. Argrave felt like he was about to walk into another reality.

“All of this… abandoned,” Anestis said in lament. “This is the greatest of our cities, Eumabad.”

Argrave spotted someone at the point where the stairs descending into the city ended. Just as Melanie had informed him, they waited with an iron lantern held in their right hand. Mozzahr’s Emptiness twisted in a cage atop its sconce, illuminating the area around the person a great deal. They wore purple robes and had a mask of purplish dwarven metal, so no features could be distinguished.

“That person has that Emptiness inside them,” Anneliese informed Argrave. “Not much, but… it’s there. I can see it flowing within them as constantly as their blood.”

“Yep. Mozzahr imbues them with his power,” Argrave nodded. “Anestis… you’re staying here. The rest of us proceed.”

Orion looked back at Argrave, and with a nod, led the way as his guard.

“This place always was a wonder,” Argrave spoke in a quiet tone to Anneliese. “You enter, and immediately you see that blue swirling trail in the sky, like a living beacon. It tempts the player deeper in, deeper in, and when you arrive…” He snapped, the noise ineffectual with the gloves he wore. “Best fight in the game.”

Anneliese was not so at ease as he was, looking around the city in quiet paranoia. Before long they arrived at their escort, and all regarded the person cautiously. They wore a rabbit mask, meaning they were a non-combatant of the cult.

“You are Argrave?” she asked, distinguishable as a woman by voice. “Mozzahr waits. Will you come?”

“King Argrave,” Orion corrected her, rolling his shoulders.

“I’ll follow if you lead,” Argrave cut past Orion’s correction, having no desire to engage on that.

Without another word, she turned and advanced into the city. At Argrave’s bidding, their convoy slowly followed after her. They entered into Eumabad itself, its buildings all the grander now that they walked among them. Statues and dead magic lamps lined the streets as they proceeded deeper inward. Step after step, they moved closer to that swirling vortex illuminating this entire cavern.

In time, cultists made themselves known. They were few at first, sparsely watching from the streets with their eerie purple metallic masks. Then they were many… and in time, they were uncountable. Orion and Melanie were on edge, but Argrave trusted that he would be safe so long as that giant teal vortex didn’t move into action. The rabbit leading them broke off into the crowd. They’d cleared a large pathway for this audience, and no other route existed for them. The whole of the cult was gathered here.

In time, Mozzahr’s spiral of power loomed above them like a tower, and they came to the public square of Eumabad. There in the back, four people stood, each with masks of different quality. One bore an owl, another a fox… they were of varying powers magically speaking, but Argrave could tell from the look on Anneliese’s face that they were brimming with Mozzahr’s Emptiness. They all stood before a huge palanquin, with a curtain of thin fabric. And from this palanquin rose the spiral of Emptiness.

Orion did not seem fully comfortable with the situation, but still he advanced. In time, they all stood before this curtained palanquin, and the four lieutenants under Mozzahr. Argrave knew only two of the four for certain—High Priestess Mial, his daughter, and a nameless ancient vampire wearing a mask of a fly. The palanquin’s curtain was thin, and brightly lit by the light of Mozzahr’s Emptiness, and so Argrave could clearly see the silhouette of the Castellan of the Empty behind it. He seemed to be no more than a man, but the curtain would not reveal more than a shadow.

With all the Ebon Cult around them, and with Mozzahr and his Emptiness right here, it seemed the perfect place for an untimely death. But then… Argrave had been expecting such a thing from the beginning, and however this went down, Argrave had his own intentions. He did not feel that he was at a disadvantage, given what the Alchemist carried. But even still… that didn’t mean he knew what was to happen here today.

“I’m here. Let’s parley,” Argrave said, holding his arms out. “After all… this is going to be real peaceful-like, right?”