Jackal Among Snakes

“Just so,” Jaray confirmed. “If you need more verification, the both of you, I’m standing right here.” He looked between them. “No? Then… let’s work something out.”

Argrave walked up to stand over him. “You’re insane if you think I’ll agree to any sort of armistice, any peace. Give you time to regroup? Give you time to marshal more forces? Nonsense. We work this out here, today. And as you’ve pointed out, I’m winning.” He waved. “Lorena—get back to the moon. We need eyes everywhere, in case this is just a distraction.”

Lorena shifted on her feet briefly, but she did heed his word. She began running, shifting her body into her draconic form before lifting into the air. With two powerful beats of her wings, she sped away with ridiculous speed, just as she’d come.

“I said that you’re winning… by all appearances,” Jaray clarified.

“The Shadowlanders? The Hopeful?” Argrave shook his head. “We’ve got plans. Listen… take your little under-the-table deal, crush it into a ball, and shove it down your throat. I don’t care if none of us can hurt you—somehow, you’ll die. This is going to end so poorly you’ll kill yourself before any of us have the chance.”

Jaray laughed. “That’s your plan? Sadden me until I quit voluntarily?”

“There’s a reason you’re here, now, only after I killed your damn vanguard.” Argrave looked around. “And it’s not because we’re on our last legs. It’s because you want to rattle us, have us make mistakes, have us act against our best interests. I know your playbook. I use it often myself. The difference between me and you, though, is that I’m fine getting my hands dirty because I believe what I preach.”

“Which friends would you like to say goodbye to? Which cities would you like to rebuild? Mateth? Relize? The whole of the Bloodwoods, perhaps?” Jaray pressed.

“As many as it takes,” Argrave said, then departed, carried away by teleportation to his blood echo back to Blackgard.

Once he’d arrived, he walked over to Elenore’s desk in a storm. “Where’s Sophia?”

“Sophia? What?” Elenore looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Jaray is the lynchpin to their entire operation,” Argrave walked around the room, feeling energized. “I’m going to ask her if she wants to help. And if she does… I’ll see if she can’t recreate Jaray to be vulnerable. I know that bluster—I’ve employed it myself. Jaray is about to bring forth a last-ditch effort. I’d like to cut him in two before he has the chance.”

“And what if that’s what he wants you to do?” Elenore rose to her feet. “What if that’s precisely the move that he’d hoped you’d make? Sophia is safest here, in Blackgard. After the silver knight came through, we’ve redoubled the defenses—even an ancient god like Law couldn’t break through the mountains. We shouldn’t jeopardize that, ever!” She insisted.

“The alternative is waiting for him to keep heaping on disasters, calling in favors, until millions more died than already have,” Argrave pointed out calmly. “After I talk to Sophia, call back everyone—everyone—that you’ve been using as a strike force. They’ll come with me to confront Jaray.”

“You could be playing right into his hands.” Elenore walked around the table. “There has to be another way. Send out Raven to probe him, or… or Anneliese. Not Sophia. She’s only weeks away from reaching ten! She’s not ready for a battlefield.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Maybe sending Raven or Anneliese would work.” Argrave nodded, closing his eyes. “Maybe. But I know this will work. And I know that Sophia would want to help the people, struggling out there even now.”

“Damn it all, Argrave…” Elenore put her hands to her head, clutching the roots of her hair. Finally, she looked up, gray eyes resolute. “Hause’s temple. She’s there.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ll be sure of that,” Argrave promised his sister. “And if you’ve doubts about my abilities, use those connections of yours to eliminate said doubts.”

#####

Argrave walked down the heavily-guarded corridor leading to Sophia’s room, listening to Elenore all the while.

“I can have a lot of hardened hands at the battlefield,” Elenore said. “But hardened things won’t mean a damn thing against a trick. We don’t know Jaray’s ability. Reconsider. Please.”

Hearing his sister’s earnest plea, Argrave did waver… but he knew that, despite the risks, this was worth doing. If Jaray could die, the threat of the Heralds would be ended forevermore. Sophia was the only surefire way he saw of eliminating the god of politics. Their sole advocate still on this planet would cease to be, and the only one remaining would be lurking in the Shadowlands—that is, if the Hopeful wasn’t shortly to make his appearance.

Before Gerechtigkeit came, Jaray’s poison had to be uprooted. Millions of people were at stake.

“Focus on thinking of ways to keep Sophia safe,” he told Elenore. “This ends today. Not tomorrow, not a week from now.”

With that, Argrave stood at the stone door leading to Sophia’s room. He took a deep breath, gathering himself, then pushed it open. Sophia sat at her bed, and lifted her head up when he opened the door. Her eyes hardened, and she got off the bed. She wore plain beige clothes well-suited for travelling—clothes she’d often worn when she’d travelled the countryside healing the injured.

“I’m ready,” Sophia said, staring up at him with resolute red eyes.

“What?” Argrave paused at the door.

“I heard what’s happening,” Sophia said, walking forward. “So I got dressed. My brother’s here, isn’t he? He’s… he’s hurting people? He’s coming for me? I want to help.”

“Sophia…” Argrave walked to her bed, sitting down. “It’s not your brother. But… yes, you’re right. That is why I came. There’s an awful person outside the city—someone that I might not be able to beat back on my own.”

Argrave lowered his head in shame, embarrassed to be putting this immense burden on a nine-year-old.

“I can do it,” Sophia said proudly. “I can help.”

“It’s not that simple, Sophia.” He looked at her. “It won’t be without risk. If things go wrong… if I make one too many mistakes… you could be taken.” He stared into her red eyes. “At worst… it could become like it was before. Sandelabara. Good King Norman. All of it, back the way it was.”

Sophia looked down. “Are people dying?”

“They are,” he admitted.

“Lots of people?”

“Yes.” Argrave nodded.

Sophia looked up at him. “I… I’m not scared of places without windows anymore. So… so even if I do go back… I won’t be scared. And you told me to treat others like I’d want to be treated.”

Argrave closed his eyes, nodding with bitter pride that choked his throat. Part of him wished that Sophia would express hesitance, any reluctance at all. If she did, he’d leave in a heartbeat. But she didn’t. He was equal parts proud and terrified.

“I’m sorry, Sophia. That so much has to be asked of you. That you can’t have…” He looked at her. “That you can’t have what you deserve.”

“I have you,” she said quietly.

“That you do. And you always will, Sophia.” Argrave felt a tempest disturb his innards, and rose to his feet with a clear head. “You know what? Forget what I said.” He knelt down and picked her up. “Nothing’s going to happen. You want to know why? Because me, your mother, your uncle—all your family, and all our friends—we’ll be there. And there’s not a chance in hell that we’re losing to some empty suit who’s never been in a fight once in his life. I’d never live that down.”

He started walking down the hall, Sophia in his arms.

“We’re going to beat the bad guys, and then you’re going to brag about your dad to all the other kids,” Argrave continued. “We’ll all live happily ever after, fishing by a lake, reading bedtime stories, whatever you can think of. I can promise you that much.”

Sophia could have what she deserved. And Argrave intended to give it to her. He could protect his daughter.