Jackal Among Snakes

“Just touch her snout,” Argrave instructed her.

She wished to tell him to shut up, but she kept those words locked in her head. She could feel the air move as the snake inhaled into its two nostrils. This snake could eat a wyvern, she was certain—she did not know how the beast was sustained over the years. In truth, she was deathly afraid of touching Vasquer.

Nonetheless, Elenore reached her hand out and rested it upon the tip of her nose. Her first impression was that it felt like touching real gold.

The second impression was a rush of cognition unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her fear flared, realizing too late this might’ve been a trap by Argrave… yet as she examined this cognition, she slowly started to grasp what it was. It was not a second internal monologue, per se, but rather a second consciousness—at the very least, a branch of a second consciousness.

Elenore could explore this branch as easily as her own memory. It did not possess words. It was only base thinking without the structure offered by words and numerals to shape and refine memories. Though it took her some time to grasp it… the snake offered Elenore unadulterated curiosity. These branches of curiosity swam about in her mind like sprites, not daring to harm her. And once she perceived that, Elenore found she could offer her own answer.

And so she did. Elenore sent forth her own thoughts, memories, emotions—a summation of her existence as understood by her mind. She surrendered the idyllic years of her childhood, when her father was firm yet generous. She offered the years after Induen’s birth, where her father grew cold and distant yet still remained proud of her. And she recounted his descent into low sadism, where she was blinded and awakened to the world in the same turn.

Once these thoughts had been conveyed, a great resonance formed between the two of them. Elenore’s emotions echoed back, redoubled by Vasquer’s own empathy. She cared for Elenore. She felt sorry for her. She wished her to feel better. The feeling of love was so incontrovertibly real as to shatter many of the barriers she had built. At once, Elenore’s throat seized, and she nearly started to sob. Hearing boots scrape around her kept her grounded, though, and she remained steady and stoic.

With the sadness came an indelible connection to Vasquer. Elenore felt more tied to this snake than any other person she had ever spoken to. She pressed forth once again, mimicking the curiosity Vasquer had sent into her mind—how had this titanic snake ended bound so? Why was she trapped in this den of depravity?

The answer came, detailed and segmented unlike Elenore’s crude deluge of thought. Vasquer had been betrayed by her own blood, the second son between Felipe I and herself. This man feared death and envied Vasquer’s immortality. The thread of memories led from one to another, each so complicated it made Elenore’s head throb.

But she gleaned valuable information. Vasquer had never intended to found a kingdom. She only ever led an order of warriors, each and all dedicated to overthrowing elven cruelty in a time past and preparing for a future Vasquer had only barely survived once before. Elenore questioned what this future was, exactly.

Elenore received her answer in the form of a single scene. In it, the hands of gods and demons both reached down from the skies, grappling with titanic, malformed creatures larger than mountains. Strange men wearing feathered armor Elenore had never seen before battled against armies of unparalleled scale. They battled demons, elementals, golems, corrupted men, elves, and towering mobile trees that formed a roving jungle of carnage. A million men alone must’ve been fighting… and her vision blocked off at points, so she could not be certain. Behind it all, lording over all this carnage…

Elenore could only distinguish a humanoid form before absolute horror set in and she reeled away, falling to her knees and bloodying them. Argrave knelt down in concern just beside her. There had been no words exchanged with Vasquer until then, yet now, one existed on the tip of her tongue so absolutely it was impossible to forget.

“Gerechtigkeit,” Elenore said loudly, cutting past Argrave’s words of concern.

Argrave stopped fussing and relaxed his hands. He sat on the floor just beside her. “That’s right.”

“That… thing. That event, that cataclysm. That is what you want my help for?” Elenore asked, feeling the answer was already set in stone.

Argrave adjusted his position until he sat cross-legged. He healed Elenore’s bloodied knees with a healing spell as he said, “Precisely so.”

Elenore raised her hands to her head, utterly floored by this new knowledge. Her breathing started to quicken as she saw the monumental task he was asking of her. Part of her wished that this truly was some trap designed by Argrave to brainwash her—the alternative was that it was all true, and they would be fighting that thing. Could they…?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Argrave said, lowering his hand as he finished healing her. “Can we even beat Gerechtigkeit? Seems like a tough customer,” Argrave leaned back on his hands. “My answer would have to be, ‘Christ, I hope so, elsewise we’re all going to the promised land.’ Do you see another option?”

Even thinking of that horrific scene spawned revulsion, Elenore found. She took some time to gather herself and her breathing, then felt guilty for leaving Vasquer in silence after parting.

“How did you learn of this? Why are you… why are you trying to stop it? How did you know this would work?” Elenore rattled her questions off one after another, finding they’d only increased now that Argrave had shown her what he intended to.

“So many questions,” Argrave mused as he shook his head. “I’ve got a lot of answers… but how will you know if I’m being honest? How can you tell how I might actually feel about you?”

Elenore’s mind, though overloaded, still worked quickly. She got what he was driving at.

“You want to use Vasquer as a conduit for tacit understanding. Can that…?”

“Since we’re of her bloodline, yes,” Argrave nodded. “Durran, for instance, would just feel a big angry snake and nothing else.”

Elenore thought the claim was dubious at best. As she deliberated on whether or not to go through with it, she realized there was a third party she could ask. She rose again and stepped up back to Vasquer. The branch of cognizance returned. At once, Vasquer displayed sorrow for having shown such a gruesome scene. Elenore, too, offered her sorrow for backing away without a word of goodbye. This amused the giant snake, and even Elenore laughed at her own foolishness.

Elenore conveyed her conversation with Argrave in the strange, mystical communication. The snake returned with an answer, and Elenore pulled her hand away.

“She does not know if you are truly of her bloodline,” Elenore said. “You’ll need to touch her, first.”

Argrave rose to his feet and wiped his gloved hands off. He pulled one glove free without a word. His fingers danced with hesitance, and then he jutted his hand out. At once, his face contorted bizarrely—surprise, shock, discomfort, curiosity… it made Elenore amused until she supposed her face had probably gone through much the same ritual.

After a time of silent communication, Argrave pulled his hand away. His face was that of anger and trepidation, and Elenore wondered what had occurred. His breathing grew a little heavier, and he clutched at his chest.

“Unpleasant… that resonance. Made me confront some things.” Argrave turned his head to Elenore. “Not sure I’m ready for as long a talk as you endured. But… we can gain that tacit understanding you wanted.”

Elenore touched Vasquer once again, and the snake expressed sympathy for Argrave. She did not know if it was merely a sympathetic creature, or if his past was hard… though she kept those thoughts contained. Nevertheless, the snake confirmed what Argrave had said—they could communicate with each other the same way as she had with Vasquer.

A fear and anxiety stronger than any other welled up from an unknown source, and Elenore removed her hand. For some reason, the prospect of learning Argrave’s true intentions was a greater source of anxiety than confronting Vasquer had been.

“Ready and waiting,” Argrave held his hand to Vasquer. “No holds barred. Time to learn the ugly truth of things.”

Elenore didn’t reach her hand out at all. She felt paralyzed.

“Gods above… you threw such a fit and now you’re taking minutes to get the answer you wanted,” she heard Durran call out behind her. “Hurry up. I can’t wait for you to see how wrong you are,” he said confidently.

Durran’s words ignited a quiet fire of anger within her, burning away some of the unease. It did not disappear… but it faded away enough to free herself of that paralysis. Elenore reached her hand out, touching the gold scales of Vasquer.

The feeling did not come instantly. That stoked her anxiety, nearly compelling her to pull her hand away… yet then, she sent an inquiry into Vasquer. All of her hesitancy, doubt, about this situation. It carried with it her fear of abandonment. Even Induen had expressed he would discard her if she displeased him—why would Argrave be different? Why had he come to her?

Uneasy seconds passed. Then… she felt a branch reach out. Though carried by Vasquer… it was not quite Vasquer’s. Elenore accepted it and felt human emotions spring in her mind.

Argrave’s thoughts of her unfolded like a brilliant flower. Pity loomed overhead, like a raincloud over the landscape. He knew her situation—not the common perception given to those at large, but how she was truly butchered. He knew the utter depths of her betrayal—not her father, but the other. She could not deny he understood her situation. That terrified her.

Anxiety was next. Argrave was anxious he would ruin things with Elenore. He feared that if he could not gain her support, all would be lost, and those he loved would perish. He loved all of his companions, she could tell. Barring that… no others.

Dozens of other feelings existed in equal measure. He respected her abilities. He felt nostalgia looking upon her. He felt some minor affection towards her. There was greed, too—he knew the extent of her finances, and how it might service his goal. There was awkwardness. He was her brother, but hesitated to call her his sister in case it might not be appreciated.

Elenore turned her face straight to Argrave. “I tried to kill you. I tried to use Induen to kill you.”

She watched Argrave’s face change—a raised brow, tightened lips… and the emotions came back again through Vasquer. They were unchanged. And running beneath it all, like a river formed of the various currents of emotion… Argrave wanted her to be a part of his journey so that both of them might have a happy ending in this miserable situation.

Elenore’s hand slipped off of Vasquer, like she could keep her arm up no longer. Argrave stepped back, too, staring at her. Having experienced what she had, it felt like she could comprehend every expression he made and what it might mean. She stepped up to him and fell forward, wrapping her arms around his back.

It was quite an awkward embrace. Elenore was a fair bit shorter than he was, reaching only the bottom of his chest. After a time, though, he hunched down and wrapped his arms around her. Durran turned away and scratched at the back of his neck as though he was looking at something he shouldn’t.

“…guess I’m not as big an ass as I thought,” Argrave said quietly.

Elenore could think of nothing to say. She merely felt that this was what she wanted to do… and she could do so without repercussions.