Jackal Among Snakes

“I don’t want her to hate us, but I understand why she does,” Argrave nodded as the dryads grew closer. “So long as she knows that we did what we did to hurt Erlebnis, not her.”

“Please, give this to her!” Anneliese called out, retrieving a paper from her pockets. She dropped it in the air, and then grabbed Argrave’s hand. With that left behind, she cast shamanic magic to transport them elsewhere.

When Argrave adjusted to his surroundings, he realized they were once again outside the Bloodwoods at the fringe of the giant redwoods where the battle between Kirel Qircassia and Sarikiz had taken place. He looked for Anneliese and asked, “You wrote a letter? When?”

“At Elenore’s office.” Anneliese crossed her arms defensively.

“Well… we know she’s alive,” Argrave said with as much brightness as such a statement could muster.

“We have to keep visiting her.” Anneliese told Argrave. She generally always made suggestions instead of demands, and Argrave was surprised to hear her speak so absolutely.

“If we receive the same reception every time… we’ll be burning through the spirits painstakingly collected from Chiteng’s sacrifice,” Argrave reminded her.

“I believe that would be more prudent than allowing a force of dryads persist in the center of allied territory. A force that might seek revenge against the elves at Onychinusa’s behest,” she rebuked in turn. “Please, Argrave. I will go alone henceforth to conserve spirits. I was the one that insisted on this to begin with. Let her be my responsibility.”

Argrave sighed and stepped away, thinking on this. He was greatly hesitant to allow spirits to be expended for something that might not even work. But then… this was Anneliese. She had been promising to die with him not days ago. Thinking of that, Argrave felt a little guilty for his hesitation.

“She’s too old for adoption,” Argrave looked back. “And we’re both too young for a child that age.”

Anneliese smiled, knowing from his disposition he wasn’t genuinely refusing her. “It’ll be practice.”

“Alright, go ahead.” Argrave threw up his hands. “But be very careful, Anne. Promise me that.”

“Of course.” Anneliese nodded. “For now, you must work closely with the elven armies. I shall visit every day until I am no longer refused.”

#####

Onychinusa rested in a feverish stupor, the dryads attending to her every need atop a bed of soft grass. The chain that the emissary of Erlebnis had struck her with still persisted in her shoulder… and it still debilitated her A-rank ascension. She could not transform her body into magic and dance through the air… indeed, she could not even reconstitute herself as her magic supply replenished. Her leg had been severed in the fighting, and it remained so—the only reason that wound had not been the death of her was because the dryads wove branches through her flesh, staunching the bleeding.

So much went through Onychinusa’s head in the time after the emissaries’ attack. In the first few hours after her report to Erlebnis, she hated the dryads for interfering in that moment. She clung onto some vain hope that she might’ve remedied things with Erlebnis… but that hate vanished in wake of their earnest devotion, and further upon the persistent chain lodged in her shoulder.

Her tie with Erlebnis was severed.

The emissaries had been fully ready to attack her, to kill her. The red chain of liquid metal came from a spell she did not know, but it had been on-hand for the sole purpose of ending her life. She could not cope just thinking of it, and denial pushed her to hate those that had caused this—Argrave and Anneliese, king and queen, devil and deviless.

Even as she realized that Erlebnis only cared as much as she was useful, so too did she blame the royal pair for turning Erlebnis against her. And when she learned they had returned to this forest, to deliver a message… she was livid enough to crawl to hunt them down. Her futile crawl only served to reopen the wound on her leg, though. The dryads kept her safe as was their duty, but her hate burned hot enough to keep her lucid.

A letter and a message. That was what they offered after destroying all she knew. Onychinusa heard Argrave’s message, but refused to read the letter for days on end. Still Anneliese came, again and again… offering words, offering comforts. She knew they were lies. As had always been the case, the snow elf lied. Even still… her consistency was such that Onychinusa lessened the dryads’ assault. And eventually, she dared read her letter.

The empty platitudes and impossible promises within Anneliese’s letter stoked Onychinusa’s fury, and she ordered the dryads resume their assault redoubled. She was angry at herself for allowing her fire to wane, and so read the letter night after night to keep her rage elevated.

But slowly… the empty platitudes became words of startling clarity. Onychinusa hated that she cried reading them, but cry she did. Just as this woman had been the source of her greatest misery, so too did she understand precisely what that misery was. And with that taking root, Onychinusa’s feverish swings between wrath and solemn sadness came day after day until they were more unbearable than the chain digging into her shoulder.

One day, in one such solemn mood, Onychinusa commanded, “Place me beneath the tree in the clearing where she visits.”

The dryads obeyed without question, and though it was perhaps her imagination, she thought they seemed almost eager to obey. Onychinusa slept there that night, her heart stirring in nervous anticipation.

And when Anneliese arrived…

“By Veid, Onychinusa…” Anneliese began the moment she stepped into sight, holding her hand near her mouth in shock. “Your leg… I…”

Onychinusa felt so many emotions in that moment, but she was still unversed at talking to people. As her head grew white with rage, she only managed, “I hope you drown!”

Anneliese stepped closer, coming to stop at a comfortable distance. “Because it’s the most painful way to die?”

Onychinusa struggled with her arms to prop herself up, and even as she did so thousands of dryads emerged from the forest to stand near her protectively. “Stop coming here,” she commanded. “I don’t want you here. I’ll never trust you. You ruined my life.”

“Argrave told me that you could heal yourself by regenerating magic… but… is that chain stopping it?” Anneliese asked.

The concern made Onychinusa’s throat strain, and as tears rose she yelled, “It’s your fault! You just wanted to hurt the Lord! Stop coming here! You don’t care,” she finished, weakly raising her hand to cast magic before her other arm failed to hold her up and she crumpled down uselessly.

“I will ask Argrave about this,” Anneliese vowed. “I will help you remove that chain, I promise.”

The dryads began their assault, but Anneliese vanished, carried away by her spirits and her shamanic magic.

When next Anneliese came, she brought the name of the spell she’d been hit by. Onychinusa barely paid attention, thinking only of what she might say to hurt Anneliese…

But Onychinusa stayed. Day after day, she stayed in that clearing. And in turn, Anneliese’s return was as constant as her pain.

One day, when Anneliese arrived… Onychinusa could not muster anger behind her words. She had thought about the situation half a thousand times, and Anneliese had explained herself just as many… and there was nothing left but understanding. So she called off her dryads, letting Anneliese speak as she endured her pained haze.

For a while, she only listened to Anneliese. They were nothing more than words of comfort, of promise. When she thought back on the moment the emissaries had attacked her… they gave not a single word of it. Yet Anneliese… still she came, day after day, no matter how much Onychinusa wished her dead. It perplexed how the two could be so different.

After many days, spurred by the inequity of it all, Onychinusa simply asked, “Why did Erlebnis give up on me?”

Anneliese was silent for a time, and Onychinusa stared at her as she waited for an answer. Eventually, the snow elf managed, “Erlebnis likely determined the likely risk versus the likely reward. You must know this.”

Onychinusa instinctively rebelled against the words, but as she sat on them confronted a certain fact.

Erlebnis dealt with all things logically. Why did she believe herself exempt from this?

“You may think that we obstructed you from finding your purpose, Onychinusa,” Anneliese cut in just as Onychinusa’s thoughts led down that road. “But Erlebnis never wanted you to have purpose. He wanted you to be an extension of himself, doing the things that mortals could that he could not. He wanted you to feel purposeless, that he might give you promises of purpose and work you until he had all he wanted.”

“What would you know?” Onychinusa shot back, burying her face in leaves.

“We defeated him,” Anneliese countered. “He closed his breach and left this realm. All of his shrines in this forest, and indeed in all of Berendar, are being destroyed. Erlebnis believes that results are proof… and this result is proof that we do know him well enough to beat him.”

Onychinusa looked at Anneliese, finally allowing the more terrifying emotions to surface—uncertainty, fear, anxiety, loss, all of those that grandly summarized her complete isolation in this new world. Her existence was completely tied to Erlebnis, and now all of that had ended. She was totally adrift.

“I think I can remove the chain in your shoulder, Onychinusa,” Anneliese said. “Can I come closer?”

Onychinusa hesitated, her hand hovering near the foul magic embedded there. She waited a minute, but eventually nodded. When given permission, Anneliese walked forward, coming to sit beside Onychinusa. She removed her duster and placed it over her lap, and then placed Onychinusa there. Strangely, she didn’t protest at being moved so.

Anneliese removed her glove and reached out, touching the broken chain with her long, pale fingers. “I want to tell you a story about my husband,” she began gently. “He lost everything he ever knew… even his very body. Perhaps it might offer you comfort.”

Anneliese began a tale of the place Argrave came from—Earth. Onychinusa listened, enraptured, as all the woman divulged was wholly new to her. And after, Anneliese spoke of Argrave’s journey, of his search for purpose in the battle against Gerechtigkeit. It was a winding tale, as there was much Anneliese needed to explain—the Veidimen, Mateth, the Tower of the Gray Owl… Onychinusa was totally ignorant of the institutions of the mortal realm. After hours passed…

“See? The chain is fading,” Anneliese finally pointed out.

Onychinusa looked at it, startled. Indeed, just as Anneliese said… the chain was dimmer than it once was, and far too much so to be mere illusion.

“I must go. If I am away for too long, Argrave might fret. But tomorrow… I can tell you of the Burnt Desert. And as the days pass on, I will heal you,” she promised.

Onychinusa listened to the words… and try as she might, she couldn’t disbelieve them.

“Tomorrow,” Onychinusa repeated, nodding contentedly. “If you’re not there… I’ll hate you.”

Anneliese smiled, gently setting Onychinusa aside back in her bed of leaves. And unlike all the times before, she left on foot.