/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-103
chapter-102

Argrave stared into the rushing red water, watching it rise and writhe against the red-stained stone. He leaned against a railing just before the canal. Anneliese stood just beside him, looking around Nodremaid with Garm in her hand. Evidently she had grown to tolerate the place much better, for she was less troubled than Argrave.

He was coming to terms with the fact that Berendar had changed him. Beyond the initial rush of fear, uncertainty, and panic that cropped up in the act itself, he wasn’t bothered by what had happened today. Four people had died, their bodies cast into the canals. He had been the engine behind their deaths, even if he had not killed himself. Despite that, their deaths did not weigh at his thoughts as the druids had. Perhaps it was because he had come to loathe the Sentinels. Perhaps it was merely that he was different, now.

The smells, the sounds, and the horrors of Nodremaid and the Low Way had already made their effects known, Argrave supposed. Experiencing day after day of the horrible and the bizarre… he didn’t dare think he was some sort of mentally untouchable iron man now, but the tasks ahead seemed less harrowing. Confronting the grim realities of the Low Way, morbid though they might be, might have served as the tempering he needed to continue.

If I can survive this, I can handle anything, surely?

“Maybe this was a good thing,” Argrave muttered, straightening his back a little. “A jolt to the system to wake me up.”

“What?” Anneliese asked, not hearing Argrave.

“Nothing,” he dismissed.

Galamon stepped out from one of the sluice control buildings, stepping up to Argrave. “You said that was the last one?”

“Should be,” nodded Argrave, not looking away from the canal.

The change in the water was not instantly perceptible. It continued to rush along its path, spattering the walls with wetness. Argrave noticed he saw more of the walls, first, and after, the constant flow of the water started to slow. Eventually, as more and more water came by, the flow ceased entirely, the water dispersing across the surface.

The bottom of the canal was filthy—all sorts of twisted aquatic growth grew from the bottom, unpleasant crimson barnacles blocking most of the smooth stone. Much of the canal had eroded over the years from the constant rush of water, and the terrain was uneven and jagged. That, coupled with years of debris, made a very unpleasant and wet walkway. There were weapons and bones in abundance, likely from the corpses of Guardians that had fallen into the canal.

Argrave stopped leaning against the railing. “There’s our path. We should move quickly.”

“And if someone raises the sluice?” questioned Anneliese. “The remainder of the Sentinels will emerge eventually. If they notice something amiss…”

“The whole walkway isn’t on the route of the canal,” Argrave disclosed, walking up to a set of stairs leading down into the canal for maintenance. “It branches off into a cave. This cave leads up to the Crimson Wellspring.” Argrave looked at the sluice. “Even if we’re really unfortunate, and a tide of water comes rushing towards us… I suspect our B-rank wards in tandem should be enough to buy us time sufficient for an escape.”

“Two wards against a tide of water? Gods, you’re mental,” Garm said from Anneliese’s hands. “Throwing everyone into danger time and time again. Perhaps I would have been better with the Sentinels.”

“Maybe,” Argrave adjusted his pack, and then descended down into the canal below. “We’re at the final stretch. A fight awaits us. It’s the one I told you two about, way back when we still had grass beneath our feet instead of corpses and gore. We’re well-prepared for it, despite the setbacks we faced here.” Argrave stopped a little down the stairs, glancing between Galamon and Anneliese. “Let’s finish this with the same caution we entered.”

The two of them nodded. Garm raised a disbelieving brow at the mention of ‘caution’ but seemed somewhat relieved.

With a quiet nod and as deep a breath as his scarred lungs would allow, Argrave stepped down the stairs, heading for the drained canal.