Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 362: Stepping Outside

“This isn’t the same continent,” Argrave explained as his people looked around the vast open grasslands. “This isn’t even the same world. This is a different realm. Bridges between our realm and others can only form in specific, connected places—in this case, the bridge was that of a mirror image. On one side, trees as tall as anyone can imagine. On this one… only this,” he declared, spreading his arms out and gesturing about.

As far as the eye could see, brown-green grass spread out endless across largely flat plains with a few hills no taller than a few feet. There wasn’t a single tree or plant anywhere within sight. The only disturbance was various altars like the one they’d come from, the animals frozen in time, and Sarikiz, the centaurs’ Holy Mother. Above, the sky was a sapphiric blue. Argrave’s eyes wandered above, searching for a sun or a moon that he knew would not be there. Though the centaurs could see past the mysterious ice to glimpse this land, the same could not be said on the opposite side—it was a one-way window. Perhaps they stared at Argrave even now. He didn’t know what they’d make of his presence. It didn’t matter what they thought, though.

Back at that altar, each of Argrave’s party had taken turns getting into the basin of the altar filled with the souls expunged by the Brumesingers. As a display of confidence, Argrave had gone first. The experience was bizarre. After he dipped his body into the liquid, it was like falling asleep while driving, and then waking up only when the car slammed into a wall. Not as devastating, naturally, but after entering the golden pool the only thing Argrave remembered next was blinking his eyes open, standing here. And one after the other, all came through.

Everyone was having very different reactions. Orion removed his golden helmet and let his long black hair flow freely as he walked about in a daze. The Veidimen were the least fazed of all… yet a great many of them lost their discipline and wandered, touching and smelling the grass in confusion. There were animals strewn throughout this land, frozen midstride as though locked in time. The Magisters tried to take this development with dignity, observing their new surroundings with curiosity… but Argrave didn’t need Anneliese to tell him they were shocked to see it writ on their face.

Orion pushed his boot against one of the pigs, yet despite his tremendous strength the thing didn’t budge an inch. He looked to Argrave, confused and alarmed. He looked like he sorely needed guidance.

“Time wastes while the forest dies,” Argrave decided, clapping.

“Gather up!” Grimalt shouted, drawing everyone’s attention. The Veidimen were brought back to attention, and everyone else was spurred forth by the snow elf officer’s intimidating voice.

Argrave nodded once everyone was ready. “We’re in no danger, not here. I don’t intend to use this place as anything more than a junction, taking us where we actually want to go.” He turned his eyes to the distant sleeping Sarikiz. “So you can relax, somewhat. Don’t tempt fate, but don’t think the world is out to get you. Let’s go, all of you.”

With that, he walked fearlessly towards the resting god. Anneliese was the first to join by his side, keeping pace with him. Soon enough, everyone moved to follow.

“How in the blazes did…? What is this, Grave?” Mina asked as she struggled to keep up. “That… that woman ahead, are we going to…?”

“We’re going to split up into five groups,” Argrave said loudly, ignoring her question. “Grimalt, Bastal, and Rasten will lead three, Anneliese will lead the fourth, and I the last.”

The people behind Anneliese and Argrave started to falter as they grew near the giant Sarikiz. He could not blame them, exactly—even he balked when seeing that her foot alone was far larger than he was. It was one thing to know that she could not wake up yet, and it was another to test that theory. After all, much had changed.

“This place gives an opportunity to move quickly through the forest unmolested, so long as the entrances are not found. Even if they are found, I can’t imagine the elves would be eager to dive in.” Argrave paused, looking back at the pausing group. “Hell, when they see Sarikiz, they might want to turn tail as you seem to want to. We’re going to use this place as… crossroads, I suppose.”

Ganbaatar was the first to break past the fear, followed by Artur. “Five groups,” the elf said. “Will we open all of the portals to the different altars, then?”

“That’s correct. And then each of you will prepare something for me.” Argrave said, turning back and walking forth. They walked around her legs, heading for her head. “I know what you’re thinking—all of you don’t have the same pets I do, and you can’t open the altars. Well… look at this, will you?”

Argrave walked past the shoulder of the sleeping giant, to the head. Her face was tilted towards them, and her breathing carried wind out like a steady bellows. Being so close to her brought some trepidation, but it was nothing compared to the prospect of his idea to use the altar failing, and he’d endured that fine. Her dreads of golden, glowing hair cushioned her head. If counted, they would be sixty. Argrave stepped towards her face—specifically, he stepped towards the roots of her hair.

He cast a simple D-rank spell of blood magic, calling upon the silver bracer on his arm to supply the blood. Once he had a blackened red dagger in hand, he regarded Sarikiz cautiously and kneeled down, cutting through the hair with the tool. It cut through quite easily, and Argrave watched with morbid curiosity as the blood seeped into the edges of the hair, staining it.

Once cut, it fell to the grasslands soundlessly. Despite being severed from the source, her golden hair still shone with light. Argrave hefted the weightless blood dagger and said quietly, “Drag that away.”

Argrave stepped after the Veidimen as they hesitantly dragged the long braid of hair away, each of them casting uneasy glances at the sleeping giant. “Listen carefully. The five of you are going to haul the pieces of hair I give you to the altars. You’re going to place them in the basins, and then you’re going to burn them. This should open things up fine.”

Nikoletta had gathered up to listen, yet her eyes stayed focused on the sleeping mother. Argrave said annoyedly, “I know you like blondes, Nicky, but focus. This is important.” At his words, she turned back, miffed and nervous at the same time. Argrave changed the subject once again, continuing, “We’re going to be doing something very dangerous. Gerechtigkeit has made the borders between realms here very thin. He’s deliberately expedited things. Now, something strong enough to poke through the thinning fabric has poked through, and it’s posing a major problem.”

Argrave walked to the dread and began measuring out the size of the pieces he was going to cut. “Now, before whoever breached into this world takes the Bloodwoods over completely, we’re going to do something very simple. We’re going to open the floodgates.” He stuck the knife in a spot and began to cut through it delicately.

“All of the old gods of these wood elves… we’re going to wake them up.” Argrave grunted as he kneeled. Anneliese ran her hand across the dread, her curiosity evident. “We’re going to take them to our realm, and we’re going to set them loose.”

“Hold on a moment,” Vasilisa interrupted. “Are you just trying to make the situation more chaotic? How does this help us?”

Argrave stopped cutting, then reached into his pocket with his left hand. After a moment, he pulled free a silver medallion. “Recognize this? Of course you don’t,” he said before any could answer. “It’s the medallion of inheritance for the Lord of Silver. I kept it on a lark, but it has a very nice purpose here.” He stowed away the medallion once again, almost out of fear it might be lost. “Some people say in diplomacy… that it’s not about how smooth your tongue is, but who you know and what they’re willing to do for you. I don’t think the elves we just fought can rightly protest if one of their gods thought long departed vouches for me.” His eyes refocused on another. “Sorry if this mellows the importance of your role, Ganbaatar.”

Orion stepped up to Argrave as he worked at cutting apart the hair. “But what of safety? Your safety?”

“Not concerned for yourself?” Argrave mused, not looking away from his task. “You’re a capable knight-commander. You’ll be with me. But the real danger comes from the A-rank ascension I’m going to attempt. The risk is a bit mitigated in the spot I intend to perform it, however.” Argrave waved his hand dismissively.

“Your Majesty… are you saying we’re also expected to converse with…” Grimalt said cautiously, hands arranged before him politely.

“Oh, no,” Argrave waved the dagger to dismiss the idea. “Just me. I’m the only one talking, here. And I’ll be speaking to the elven god of flesh and blood.”

#####

“…and lastly, Argrave disappeared into the golden portal. All of his allies followed shortly after, and I could not follow,” said Onychinusa, lying down on the floor as she spoke in unwitting defiance of common mannerisms.

The emissary of Erlebnis did not seem to care what she did. It was remarkably normal in all but its face, which had two large eyes and a mouth alone. One of the eyes was missing, revealing a reddish-mercury portal. It looked down upon her and repeated questioningly, “Could not?”

Onychinusa blinked. “He entered a portal into another realm.”

“And you were barred how?” the emissary pressed calmly.

“By fear of death,” she said in shrill defensiveness.

“We see.” The emissary crossed its arms, and the reddish-mercury portal disappeared. “Our Lord has no further use for you at this time. Depart back home. Wait for another mission.”

“Those elves in the forest…” she began, eyes closed. “How could they come from my people? Those pale giants, too?”

Onychinusa waited for an answer, but none came. When she opened her amber eyes again, the emissary had departed. She leaned up, looking at the shrine to Erlebnis. Her face distorted in dramatic anger—she was unused to managing her facial expressions.

“Home…” she muttered to herself. “No.”

With that last word, she dispersed into black magic smoke, dispersing through the environment.