Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stood at the edge of the Cavern of the Lily’s Death. The dirt beneath his feet was loose, and his feet sunk into it like beach sand. Some of the soil was still damp with the poison they had poured over the entrance. He wore a full set of leather gear with long sleeves, but it still did not feel protective enough.

“Jesus. Everything on me is going to get dirty. I hate this,” Argrave waved his hands about as though trying to shake off bugs.

“You want to lead?” questioned Galamon, standing close behind him. As per usual, the elf wore his black armor alone, even with the gaping hole in its torso from the battle at Barden. His greatsword, axe, and bow had been set aside, and he carried only his dagger at the ready in his hand.

“Why would you even ask that? You can probably smell these things fifty feet away,” Argrave said indignantly, only to spot a faintly amused smile on Galamon’s mouth. It was perhaps a fortune the Veidimen helmet’s design exposed the mouth, or Argrave might never have noticed he was joking. Argrave prodded the elf’s shoulder in irritation. “Alright, enough with that.”

Anneliese looked about the fields of white and red, expression unbothered. “The fields are littered with these Lily Lurker’s bodies. I cannot say for sure that we will proceed unimpeded, but… it is certainly the best we can do in such a timely fashion.” Anneliese crossed her arms as she thought, and then she pointed to Argrave. “If you wish, I might break the druidic link with my pigeon and instead contract with a mole or other such subterranean animal. We can scout out the cavern in great detail before proceeding.”

“Not worth it. Any creatures still living will move, and I...” Argrave cut himself off from mentioning that he vaguely remembered the layout of the cavern. Anneliese had been asking pointed questions; he could not give her any more hints. Although… what am I afraid of her learning?

“We do this now, most of them will still be in the frenzy that Anneliese and I dealt with a few days ago. Because of the rattling tails, they’ll be easier to find ahead of time, though they might be bunched up in the cavern…” Argrave stepped forward and peered into the cavern. “…in which case, Galamon will step back, and Anneliese and I will deal with the issue with magic.”

Argrave took a deep breath and pulled his gloves tighter, dismissing his thoughts before he distracted himself further. “Whatever. Let’s start before I talk myself out of this. I’ll keep a spell up for light. Don’t forget to cover your mouth and nose, Anneliese.” He pulled up his own cloth before his face, and Anneliese did the same.

Galamon had no such covering. Being a vampire, Galamon did not need to breathe to survive, nor would he actually suffer if he inhaled any sort of noxious fumes. Habits built up over centuries were difficult to break, though, and Argrave knew Galamon made a conscious effort to breathe to keep in touch with the time he had been alive.

Galamon stepped ahead of Argrave without hesitation. He found himself envying his elven companion’s confidence, but Argrave only grit his teeth and followed close behind, ducking into the fortunately spacious entrance. To Argrave’s great displeasure, the mushiness of the soil only grew worse as they lowered further beneath the earth, and light quickly faded before Argrave cast a simple fire spell to replace it. Distant rattling echoed out from the cavern as the sounds of the outside faded.

Their party stepped around innumerable insect corpses as they trudged deeper into the underground. The light of Argrave’s magic reflected off the white exoskeletons brilliantly and so they were not especially difficult to avoid, but the sheer number of them made Argrave uneasy. Most of the path was wide enough for them to pass through easily, but at times they had to duck or slide to avoid a low ceiling. The air was dank, and Argrave could feel his skin sticking to his leather clothes. He was undecided if it was sweat or the moisture in the air.

The echoing rattling grew louder with each step deeper, making Argrave’s blood pump faster as his nervousness grew. Then, when the noise was unbearably loud, Galamon would lunge forward and stab before Argrave could even spot the danger. This game of anxiety repeated what seemed to be indefinitely; a constant rise and fall of nerves.

As the three of them proceeded lower like this, the smell grew very unpleasant even with a mask over their faces. It was a combination of the poison that they had been brewing and the innumerable other undoubtedly foul things in the cavern: corpses both of insects and eaten animals, the Lily Lurker’s waste, and general stale air.

At times, the path would branch, and Argrave would instruct Galamon on which direction to proceed. Though Galamon shot Argrave a curious look, he obeyed without question. Argrave moved slowly to avoid twisting his ankle in the unsteady ground.

“What is that light?” Anneliese asked, and Argrave jumped a little, bumping his head against a rock protruding from the ceiling.

Argrave took a deep breath and exhaled. “Touch me or something before you talk.” He paused. “Now, what are you talking about?”

“On the ceiling,” she pointed. “A faint purple trail of light—so faint I thought it was but a trick of the mind.”

“Oh.” Argrave nodded knowingly. He looked up, and just as she said, there was a faint line of purple on the rocks above. “It’s a vein of the Amaranthine Heart. It absorbs magic by spreading veins across surfaces, seeking out anything alive and stationary. Namely, the lily field.”

“And those veins are what is making those lilies change colors the way they are, if I am correct in assuming so.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but let’s cut the chatter,” Argrave said quietly. Galamon paused ahead, and then looked back.

The light from Argrave’s spell illuminated the elf’s face, and Galamon’s helmet cast a shadow over his jaw. Argrave could clearly see his fangs in the dark, and it brought back some unpleasant memories for a moment. “Ground ahead is stone. Carved, looks like,” Galamon said.

Argrave dabbed his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, feeling some sweat. “Whew. Alright, we’re near where we need to be. Just keep going.”

Galamon nodded and turned back. Argrave felt faintly tired, but he said nothing as he readjusted the cloth over his face and followed along. He felt a strong sense of relief as his feet hit something more solid than the dirt they’d been treading on before. Far ahead, Argrave’s spell illuminated a wall of taupe stone with a large hole marring its carved surface.

The elven vampire stopped at the hole, carefully looking around before entering inside. Argrave tried to follow, but Galamon stopped him.

“Hear that?” he questioned.

Argrave listened. “I just hear that damned rattling,” he said after some time.

“But only from behind—not a single one ahead. Is this out of your expectations?”

Argrave listened a bit more intently this time, realizing Galamon was right. He looked back into the cavern. “Well, yes… yes it is. You don’t hear a thing ahead?”

“Dripping water. Strange pulses—sounds like electricity, almost. No rattling, though,” Galamon summarized. “I see insect corpses ahead, but none living.”

“Hooh.” Argrave raised a hand to his mouth, adjusting the cloth. “The electricity’s just the Amaranthine Heart’s veins—it means we’re getting closer. The dripping…usual cave ambience, I guess. But no rattling…” Argrave tried to think of what it could mean. He shook his head and pointed forward. “Just stay extra cautious, keep moving as I direct you. We can’t stop here.”

Galamon nodded and turned without hesitation, his advance a little slower than before as per Argrave’s directions. Argrave and Anneliese passed the wall’s threshold and entered into the ruins proper. The first room was large and spacious, held up by four pillars in each corner of the room. The floor was the same smooth taupe stone as could be seen on the walls. Dead magic lamps hung from the pillars and walls. Sophisticated glass alchemical equipment was strewn about everywhere, most of it broken or half-broken. The tables were made of stone and had withstood time, but the wooden chairs were broken or badly rotted.

The new inhabitants—the Lily Lurkers—had very clearly made this place their home. Bones and waste occupied much of the room, alongside their corpses and mounds and mounds of dirt tracked in from the tunnels. The smell became stranger here—musky and sweet simultaneously. Argrave looked at the ceiling’s corners in paranoia but found nothing lurking there.

Argrave swallowed and followed behind Galamon, magic light swirling about his head. Anneliese cast her own spell and gave Argrave some space now that they were not in such tight spaces. Galamon walked to the only exit of the room and walked through. A hallway that went left or right waited.

“Left,” Argrave said confidently. His voice echoed uncomfortably well. “Follow the left wall until there’s a stairway down.”

The three of them walked down the hallways. Soon, the noise of the rattling behind them faded, and Argrave foremost heard the clanking of Galamon’s steel armor. They passed by innumerable rooms, and Anneliese all but stuck her head in each door, brimming with curiosity. When she paused at one door, falling behind the two of them, Argrave stopped and sighed.

“This place is an old alchemical laboratory. While I can tell you all about it later, at present, I don’t need you wandering off.”

Anneliese turned from the room, then back. Eventually, she turned and hastened her steps, catching up quickly.

“So many rooms of tools… this place looks like it was for mass production,” Anneliese pressed.

Argrave bit his lip, debating whether or not to answer at all. Eventually, he whispered back, “This civilization was studying a method to materialize magic.”

“And from what you’ve told me, this ‘Amaranthine Heart’ is their success—it extracts life and turns it into liquid mana. So why is it still here? What happened to this civilization?”

“The people are gone, stolen from us by time and other thieves. Why else would it be a ruin?” Argrave returned. “They died, and eventually this place was forgotten. I don’t know how or why. As for your other question, the Amaranthine Heart was not ever recognized as a success. It took thousands of years for its potential to manifest, after all.”

Her curiosity somewhat sated, Anneliese followed behind without more questions, though her gaze did wander to the open doorways. They passed by some rooms that had collapsed, entirely blocked off. The majority of the rooms were simple work areas, and Argrave knew they were all mostly like that.

Galamon continued to follow the leftward wall when they came to an intersection just as Argrave had directed. Far ahead, a single stairway as wide as the hallway waited. The purple veins of the Amaranthine Heart were especially concentrated in this area, surging on the walls and the ceiling and the floor. Had they been actual veins, the sight may have been unpleasant. As it was, Argrave found it rather serene.

Galamon walked cautiously to the stairs and stood before them, eyeing the purple lightshow. He looked back to the two of them, confirming that these things were harmless. After Argrave gave one nod, Galamon proceeded down the stairs. Argrave’s spell went out, and he cast another quickly. The magic made some of the veins twist and move in response, and the two of them were startled. Argrave was unaffected, and quickly set the two of them back down the stairs.

The trio walked down the first set of stairs, turned, and continued down to the second. A long hallway waited for them at the bottom, lined with pulsing purple lines. It was a little more intense than it had been before—enough to light up the hallway, even. Argrave saw Lily Lurker corpses, but none of the insects themselves.

“B2F: the Archives. No noises, Galamon?” Argrave questioned. When the vampire shook his head, Argrave took a deep breath and directed him forward.

“Why do its veins travel along the hallways? Why not move up the stone?” Anneliese questioned.

“It seeks out life; in other terms, it only follows the path the Lily Lurkers take to reach the surface. We follow the light, it’ll take us right to the heart,” Argrave remarked, eyes locked on the trail of purple. “So… I think you can find the way, Galamon.”

“If the veins follow the creatures’ path…”

“Yeah. We might find them.” Argrave nodded. “I don’t know what’s going on. We can only be careful.”

Galamon nodded, but Argrave thought he spotted some hesitation. The elf’s steps were unfaltering, though, and he carried on down the hallway. Argrave felt a rising tension in his chest. Even he could hear the static noise coming from the veins around them. It sounded like the buzzing noise one might hear if they were close to a power line.

They went down another flight of stairs, and Argrave forced Galamon to slow further and walk quietly. Though he feared the buzzing noise of the nearby veins might be masking a rattling, Argrave could still hear the faint ambience of other things in the ruins. The corpses grew fewer and fewer. Eventually, a room practically bursting with purple light waited ahead, and the three of them proceeded unimpeded.

Galamon entered the room and looked about. Argrave was briefly distracted by the beauty of the room. Each table, each wall, all of the ceiling and floor, had been consumed by dancing purple lights. It was like travelling through a galaxy of purple stars at light speed; Argrave briefly held his hand to the wall, overcome by dizziness. All of it came from a rather unremarkable cabinet in the corner of the room, its wood mostly rotted over the centuries. There were many glass bottles lined up on a table. Argrave walked, scanning the largest bottles for damages or contents. Finding one empty and undamaged, he took it.

Argrave took many tentative steps forward and reached out, opening up the cabinet. There, a stone no bigger than a fist waited alongside various other unremarkable objects. Its shape was rough and unrefined, though it did vaguely resemble a heart. It glowed like the veins dancing about the room. Argrave reached out, breathing quick. He took it and pulled. The veins moved with it, strained, like pulling on a wired plug attached to a wall. With a soundless snap, the veins started to break away. They all faded into nothingness, fading from the edge like a spark travelling along a fuse.

Argrave placed the stone on the bottle’s top. It was just barely big enough not to fall in. As the Heart’s glow faded, a black liquid started to drip out. The drip soon turned into a steady stream as though someone was wringing the stone. When the bottle was half-full, the stream slowed, and once it ceased altogether, the last light on the Amaranthine Heart died out. Argrave retrieved a cloth, wrapped the Heart, and then stowed it in a bag in his satchel.

With a deep sigh, Argrave turned around to watch the purple lights fade out of the room. “We—" he stopped quickly. Neither Anneliese nor Galamon were in the room. Argrave took a slow step forward, listening carefully. Eventually, he peeked his head out into the hall.

When he saw the two of them standing and looking into a room, some of his tension was relieved. But then he saw Anneliese shaking. Even Galamon was rattled. Argrave took cautious steps out into the hallway, and then peered into the room they were looking at.

At first, Argrave thought the room was collapsed. As his brain made sense of it, he realized what he saw seeing was too white. The light reflected brilliantly off it, like polished marble. Twinges of pink decorated it at points. Then it set in.

Argrave stared at a great mass of Lily Lurkers. There must’ve been a hundred, if not a thousand. He thought they were dead at first, but the faintest twitch of a tail told him he was wrong.