Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stood at the edge of the central courtyard of the Palace of Heaven. Whether from above or below, the tales said that this place had never been breached. Its walls could withstand the fury of gods, and apparently there were measures to prevent any entry from above. But here they stood, the first of history. Beyond was a verdant garden far removed from the stony plateau they’d come from. Considering the Stormfield still worked, there would be other enemies in here. Their silence, however, was deafening.

The small breach in the walls of the Palace of Heaven was soon blocked by their ally, Law—Erlebnis’ relentless pursuit was brought to a halt, if only for now. But if he had been able to leave, the garrison manning this place would let Erlebnis reenter just as easily. They didn’t have much time for rest, for the god of knowledge had become somewhat like Sataistador—alone, and highly mobile. Sataistador had dodged death countless time by keeping himself as little more than a man. Perhaps that had been Erlebnis’ conscious goal, or perhaps not… regardless, it was frightening.

“Where is Rook?” questioned Veid, resplendent in Veidimen-style armor. Other gods shadowed her—Raccomen, Lira, and even Almazora, who’d ceased her defense on Berendar for this fight.

“Erlebnis caught him,” Anneliese explained, looking around the courtyard warily. “I think he died, but…”

“You think?” Argrave repeated, then shook his head. “I watched him dissipate. He’s dead. But we don’t have time to think of that. We need to claim as much of this place as we can. We always planned on having Law inside the Palace, fighting Erlebnis, but he’s dealing with him on the outside instead. Roles need to change.”

“You need to take me to the Stormfield.” Governor Zen was the first to set foot on the grass ahead, and he held a strange red sword in his hand. “I can guide us there. I’ve studied this place, and the array, in great detail. I know this fortress inside and out.”

“So do I—lest you forget, all of my commanders, even myself, studied its layout. Is guiding us what Sataistador asked you to do?” Argrave said accusingly. Now that the governor had shown his hand in calling Sataistador as reinforcement, there was no need to be coy about these things.

The governor gestured to the spot where he’d torn out his ribcage. “I think I demonstrated amply I’m on your side in this battle. We made an alliance—I intend to keep it. I called him here to aid us. You’d be dead without that.” He turned his head back to the courtyard. “We can’t linger here long. Erlebnis has shown he can break free of Sataistador and Law, and lest you forget, we haven’t claimed all of the Palace of Heaven for ourselves—merely set foot inside it.”

Orion stepped forward and gripped the governor’s robes, jostling him. “What did Sataistador ask for you to do in this battle?”

“Win it. Nothing more… grandson-in-law.” Governor Zen spread his arms out, not touching Orion.

Argrave was expecting Anneliese to inform him that was a lie immediately, but looking at her face for answers told him the governor was being genuine. Argrave didn’t know what to make of that. He had anticipated the god of war to have at least one request of the governor… but none? Were they wrong? Was Sataistador not planning a betrayal of some kind? Then why had he worked with Zen in secrecy?

“Each deity needs to focus on one aspect of the fortress,” Argrave decided, then tapped his brother until he released Zen. “Almazora—accompany Zen to the Stormfield. Lira—deal with the pressure exerted by the walls, so our troops can approach. Raccomen—focus on opening the sky, so Durran can provide support from above. Veid—continue working with Galamon, commanding the troops. Everyone needs to get the hell away from me. Erlebnis is after me.”

“Meaning?” Anneliese prompted him.

“His anger surprised us. His hatred of me, his tunnel vision; we can use it to our advantage, now, if I plan something before he comes again. I’ve fought Mozzahr, Norman—I’m almost used to broken, ravenous monsters by this point.”

“You’re joking,” Almazora said, aghast.

Argrave turned to her and shook his head. “I joke less than I once did.”

“You’re overestimating yourself. I saw what he did with his magic—he’s quite literally burning himself away for a vague hope of ending you,” Raccomen criticized. “Veid can handle my role of opening the sky. I’ll come with, and aid you with my mastery over space. Erlebnis cannot be underestimated, especially not if he takes such drastic actions. You’re needed.”

“Alright,” Argrave easily accepted the god’s suggestion. “Then, let’s—”

“Melanie needs to confer with you,” Elenore’s voice cut into his head as he spoke. “She needs advice on how to deal with the lich if he hasn’t lost his mind. And, after, she needs to know how to fight against Fellhorn.”

Argrave had been thrown a lot of curveballs today, and impressed himself with his ability to roll with them. Nevertheless, this one caught him square in the face. He didn’t quite have an answer for that, just a question.

“The hell is Melanie dealing with?”

#####

Anneliese was never pleased when Argrave put himself in the most dangerous situation. Raccomen’s criticism and subsequent offer of help had been some anodyne to this development, and with his [Echo Step], he might well be the best fighter of any of them by this point. Still, this battlefield had the highest stakes they’d ever dealt with. She was tasked with keeping an eye on Governor Zen as they traversed deeper in the Palace of Heaven, where ambushes waited without doubt.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Yet something bothered her. Rook’s death… it hadn’t been at all as she’d been expected it. She’d seen gods die before, but that…? It had felt wrong, all the way from the scene itself to the fact that Rook was willing to sacrifice himself at all. It seemed contrary to his character. She didn’t know what to do with this suspicion for a time, until an idea came to her.

“Elenore,” she called upon her sister-in-law as she watched Argrave’s departure. “Ask Stain if he’s lost his blessing.”

Barring rare exceptions like the Alchemist’s intervention, gods’ blessings only dissipated in one way—if the god in question died. And if Rook had truly died, Stain would be without his ability to disguise himself.

“No. Stain still has his blessing.”

Elenore’s calm declaration sent a chill through Anneliese as the complications mounted higher and higher. The god of deception and subterfuge was deceiving everyone with some hidden stratagem—perhaps not surprising, given it was in his nature. Considering this wasn’t mentioned to any of the other gods of the Blackgard Union or Argrave himself, though, it sparked some concern. At least Rook, unlike Sataistador, was bound by the dictates of the White Plane. Nevertheless…

“Another problem,” she muttered aloud.

#####

Melanie had honestly been exceptionally eager to take this little side-task with Dario, heading to the Burnt Desert. It wasn’t the region, nor the company—both were miserable. It was to get out of being on the battlefield against a bunch of gods and their servants. She’d had enough of people that could break her wrist with a flick of their finger, and didn’t much care for the spectacle of gigantic battles. That was where errant attacks had claimed the lives of many.

They began their descent into the lich’s palace about six hours before Argrave’s assault of the Palace of Heaven began. Traugott had proven extremely adroit at preparation, and so by acting just before the time of the assault, they hoped to have both ample time to prepare while not time enough for Traugott to find vulnerabilities. To start, they did find the grand palace of the lich easily enough—Argrave had impeccable directions, as ever.

That was the last thing that went according to plan.

This supposedly ‘crumbling’ palace that Argrave had described containing half-baked traps and decrepit edifices was anything but. The moment Melanie and Dario breached the secret entrance beneath the oasis and entered into the narrow corridors leading to the palace proper, incongruities arose. The entrance was a long, winding stone maze. Argrave had told them of this, but promised it was largely useless and filled with dumb undead. But against his promises, all of it looked identically well-maintained, sleek and gray—and worse yet, southron elf illusion magic obscured the way forward, alongside traps and the undead. These undead certainly weren’t dumb, and their master spoke through them.

“Unwelcome visitors,” echoed the lich’s voice throughout his palace. “If you’re the ones that aided me in regaining my mind, then surrender. You have nothing to fear from me—indeed, I owe you a favor of sorts. And if you are not… then surrender is the only thing that would make your death a painless one. If you resist, you will scream in anguish far beyond the instant you die.”

Chilling words—and ones that a necromancer could actually enact. Neither her nor Dario paid them any heed, and Melanie’s blessing from Raccomen took them both through the complex maze, seeking the place where the lich laid his bony head to rest. Dario led them, using her blessing and his impeccable sense of stealth to avoid conflict. False walls and endless illusions made a difficult maze all the more troublesome, and Melanie regretted not bringing along someone like Anneliese to see past all the falsities. Despite all the problems, Melanie had to admit… Dario knew how to infiltrate quietly. The few times they were caught, they quickly slipped away without injury.

Dumb luck, and Dario’s thorough understanding of how traps were laid, led them to a breakthrough in the maze. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t right to call it luck—it had taken four hours of ceaseless bumbling about, avoiding undead, sticking to the shadows, and dodging traps whenever they triggered them. Dario’s adroit stealth helped them avoid wasting energy in battle, but even still they were drained.

Their party of two exited out of the maze into the palace itself, discreet as they’d been moments before. It was a beautiful and spacious room that fit the title of palace. There were four entrances, each at the cardinal directions. From these entrances, stairs descended downward to a central platform. A bottomless abyss surrounded the platform and the stairs. They scouted the place out, peering through a portal Melanie made just at the entrance.

Melanie’s gaze went upward, where she saw an unending mass of water that, for some reason, didn’t fall down. Within that water, Melanie spotted a gigantic man. She barely processed this fact before she instinctually shrunk away, back to cover, in a panic.

“Dario. Up,” she whispered, pulling him back.

Dario’s gaze was fixated into the portal to the platform below. “Can you feel it?” he asked her, in the same low whisper she gave.

“The big guy in the water? Yeah, I s—”

“No,” Dario’s whisper was strained, pained. “The lich. You see him, don’t you?”

Melanie followed his gaze. As he said, there was a skeleton sitting upon a throne in the central platform. It wore faded red robes just as she imagined a lich king might, and fortunately for them faced a direction it could not see them from.

“Yeah, I see him. But look up, there’s—”

“You can’t feel it, can you?” He looked at her. “I can. It’s familiar as it’s ever been. One of the Heralds is using the lich’s body as its anchor. It must be protecting him from Gerechtigkeit’s influence. It must’ve come here to prevent Traugott from claiming an Undying Soul.” Anger came from him, a shrill whip hidden by his whispers.

“Isn’t…” Melanie looked back, searching for what he saw. She couldn’t see it. “Isn’t that a damned good thing? They nullify magic attacks. We can get out, let Traugott kill himself trying to fight this thing.”

“Nah,” Dario shook his head. “Not a chance. I said I’d kill Traugott. I meant it. Besides, he has the Shadowlands at his disposal. The Heralds can’t fight against that—they feared them more than anything.”

Melanie felt a little courage leave her. “What about the big guy in the water? What in the world is that?”

Dario looked up, scouting it out. “That’s Fellhorn. I’ve seen him in my dreams, before… and I’m guessing that strange watery portal is the entrance to his divine realm.”

“We need to get out of here,” Melanie decided, ready to beat a speedy retreat. “This place is a death trap.”

Dario looked back. “What’s changed? We don’t use magic—the Herald is no obstacle. Fellhorn is a weakened god after what Durran did.” He looked back at the lich. “And Traugott needs to die. Leave if you want, but I’m staying.”

Melanie took a deep breath and exhaled quietly. “You’re too stupid to live a long life. But what the hell does that make me…?” she questioned, as she stayed fixed in place.