Jackal Among Snakes

All of them convened back at where the paths branched earlier where Galamon was waiting. A spiral staircase had opened up, leading deeper into the lower levels. There, the name of ‘living fortress’ truly made itself readily apparent, as the stairs were constantly intruded upon by overgrown flesh and conspicuous bones.

“This whole place should be burned,” Hegazar concluded as they moved deeper. “I see, now, why necromancy is banned. How many corpses went into this project? Thousands? Such a despicable thing.”

Durran called from the back of the line, “Who says they were human corpses?”

Hegazar either had no response or did not deign to give one, as their advance went quiet once more. The narrow spiral staircase was not so long, and they soon came to a much larger hall. And this hall… it was precisely what Argrave needed. It was the golden nugget to flash to the ravens to draw their eye.

The sight before them was not pretty. If Argrave had been shown the room in isolation, he might’ve assumed it was the site of some depraved sacrificial cult. The stone room was held up by a giant ribcage, each of the ribs acting as pillars for the building. Each of the ribs had a crucified body nailed on them—the torsos of these bodies were especially large, and all flesh had been ripped away to leave only bone.

“Good gods,” Vera held her hand to her nose, but despite the horrific scene, there was no smell. There was no blood or gore to make a scent. Anneliese looked perplexed by the Magister’s action, and Argrave knew right away that Vera feigned disgust. After all, she dabbled in necromancy herself. It was why Argrave was sure this journey would entice her.

Argrave was the first to step forward. “The heart chamber. What we came here for,” he explained.

Upon closer examination, the bodies crucified to the giant ribs were unusual in many ways. Their heads had only ears and mouths, both enlarged. The torsos were simply a bonelike cage, and the one Argrave examined had books locked behind it. They weren’t bodies at all, actually—they were necromantic creations that served as lockboxes for the valuables within.

“What’s in this?” Argrave asked.

“Now, how would I—” Hegazar began.

“Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,” the head just above the skeletal cage answered in a groan of a voice. It raised its head up to answer the question, and once it was finished, sagged lifelessly once more.

Argrave nodded, feeling a similar repulsion to the sights around that reminded of his time in the Low Way of the Rose. He turned to where the rest of his party was.

“There you have it, Magister Vera, Magister Hegazar. Ask these what’s inside them. I think you’ll quickly find that this journey was worth your time. I’ll caution, though—don’t try and open any of them. Try and wrench them open, cast magic? You risk triggering the enchantments nearby, and the contents will be destroyed. Anti-theft measures. Even a Wizard of the Order of the Rose would resort to common thievery, it would seem…”

Hegazar stepped closer, his head tilted. “I think… you might be trying to upsell your value, Argrave. Why would a magely Order dare destroy any of their knowledge? It’s foolish. Nonsensical. No Order would ever install measures like that into their stores of knowledge, the same way no merchant would ever toss gold into the sea. It’s far too valuable to lose.”

Try it, Argrave wanted to say, but he knew Hegazar loathed being challenged or humiliated. He stood before the Magister, smiling as he thought of a way to let him down gently.

“These are just copies to be sold,” Argrave looked to the skeletal cage. “The Order of the Rose was strongly devoted to personal freedom—necromancy requires such a thing, after all, given how much it intrudes on others’ rights. Wizards pay the one who put these items up, and they’re open. Voila.”

The cage nearby must’ve misheard Argrave, for it rattled off, “Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,” as Hegazar brooded over Argrave’s words.

“Yet you said there were enchanted items here,” Vera stepped up, crossing her arms.

“Not here,” Argrave nodded, “But yes.”

The cage let loose its words once again, and Hegazar looked up to it in annoyance.

“Unique ascension to A-rank, hmm? Necromantic?” Hegazar held his hand up. “We don’t need that.”

He cast a C-rank wind spell, and it cut towards the bone cage before them. Before it even reached its mark, the cage compressed, sparking. The enchantments on the book and the cage both shimmered violently for a moment before the books were finally compressed to a ridiculous degree.

The head above the cage laughed at them—a long, dry, and wheezy laugh that echoed throughout the heart chamber. The laughter was returned by each and every other head, and before long it was as though a whole gallery mocked them.

Argrave watched the heads. It was difficult not to join them in laughter. Vera certainly had no such issue—her voice joined along with theirs in mocking Hegazar. Anticipating the Magister’s rage, Argrave quickly said, “What a useless feature.”

“Yes,” Hegazar agreed at once. “It seems there is a reason their Order has died. They waste their time on foolish things like these.”

“It laughs at fools,” Vera wiped tears from her eyes. “I think it’s a wonderful addition to this place.”

“Well, shall we see what we’ve earned from this trip?” Argrave suggested, tugging at their greed to distract from the tension.

#####

At a certain point on the path of magic in this era, one reached the end of the line. There was only so much that the forefathers of the Order of the Owl had left behind, and consequently there was only so much that one could learn before one had to study independently. Methods for A-rank ascension and spells of the higher rank were quite rare, even despite the Order’s close attention to collecting and preserving them.

Even if a spellcaster had this knowledge, they might not share it so eagerly depending on their nature. After all, they essentially offered another a key to their power. By sharing knowledge, they ostensibly created a direct rival—a direct competitor. There had to be trust between the two parties, or something binding them.

In most cases, the motive to share was loyalty to the Order—all helped the Order rise, and in turn, each and all would rise up with it. It was a reasonable exchange that created a natural loyalty… in theory. In reality, the higher-ups enforced strict regulation of resources that allowed only a select few protegees of the elite cadre to advance. Even someone relatively benevolent like Master Castro could not change that system. He was one S-rank mage among many, just with a little more authority and a fancy title.

The leaders don’t lead, unless they’re creating new leaders to take their place. An age-old problem, reflected in the Order of the Gray Owl.

All of these factors lent Argrave a great deal of leverage over people on the path of magic. He had freedom from that system because he knew secrets most could not even dream of. He had his A-rank ascension, Anneliese’s, and even Durran’s all planned out. He knew where to get all the spells he needed. Nothing blocked him from advancement except his own ability, ostensibly.

But for the two Magisters he brought with him? That wasn’t the case at all. Everything here was an invaluable piece of knowledge that could help them win talented people to their faction within the Order. For the sake of their future, all knowledge was beneficial to have. Magic was only one facet of their power—knowledge was every bit as important.

Argrave led the two Magisters around like a child through an ice cream shop—they could see their prize just beyond the glass, reading about all of the delicious flavors they might sample. Every new thing they saw made them hungrier. Blood magic flavor, earth magic flavor, illusion magic with mint… he let them engorge their eyes and ears with everything nice.

I’ll buy you ice cream, Argrave thought. So long as you behave on the car ride home.

Argrave’s analogy was a bit diminished by the absolutely vile necromancy around them—it made it a bit difficult to think about ice cream at all. Nevertheless, these two kids he’d brought with him couldn’t get what was behind the glass—they’d have to ask him.

“A collection of S-rank spells that deal with earth elemental magic, primarily regarding fine, large-scale manipulation of metal,” the head above a skeletal cage described.

Though both of the Magisters were rather adept at concealing what they thought, after hearing that they were both practically trembling from excitement. Hegazar’s illusory form stalked to Argrave.

“So… partner,” Hegazar began, trying to wrap his arm around Argrave in a friendly, brotherly manner. Given both Argrave’s height and his large frame, it was a rather awkward maneuver amounting to a waist wrap. Argrave felt doubly uncomfortable because of the distinct realization he could feel Hegazar’s illusion, like it was flesh and blood rather than spell. “Now that we’ve taken the tour… perhaps it’s time to divulge how to crack inside these beauties, fulfill your end of the bargain. What do you say?”

“Don’t coerce him, Hegazar,” Vera reprimanded.

“We’ve all been dancing around the issue like a boy afraid to confess to his first crush,” Hegazar said, freeing his arm. “Fact is, you’ve clammed up a little, Argrave. I’m a bit hurt. I thought we shared a moment back there. You can trust me… can’t you?”

Argrave stepped away, joining back up with his three companions. The two Magisters watched him carefully, their arms crossed.

Before this whole journey, Argrave had been deliberating about how he was going to play this. He’d talked about it with Anneliese and the others countless time, and the conclusion was this: if he said the wrong thing, these two might unite against them. That was the worst possible outcome. And so…

“I know how to open them,” Anneliese stepped forth, past Hegazar and to Vera. “Argrave told me everything. And I was there the first time we visited one of these fortresses.”

Vera’s face morphed quickly—surprise, then pleasure. When Anneliese positioned herself behind Vera, Hegazar’s illusory body remained calm. Seeing as how quickly his true body moved in front of Argrave, he was very far from it.

“So you do,” Argrave nodded, perplexed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Piece it together, Argrave,” Anneliese said at once. “If you cannot, perhaps you will finally face the reality that you are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Hmm…” Hegazar’s illusory form moved to stand beside his true body. “What’d I tell you, lover boy?”

Argrave tensed up. Hegazar had been absolutely one hundred percent correct about what he said.

Smart is sexy, Argrave thought.