/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-449
chapter-448

“Did you let me win?” Durran asked Garm.

Just as it had been in their fight many months ago, Garm stood on his field of roses, though strangely they were white roses this time. Durran’s desert was black and endless, just as before, in mirror of the Burnt Desert. These battlefields allegedly mirrored their minds, whether here in the White Planes or back then, when their souls had done battle to eat each other.

“Let you win?” Garm repeated incredulously, narrowing his eyes. “I was a head on a stake, and I still clung onto hope of survival. You think I’d really let you win?”

Durran ground his glaive into the sand. “I don’t think you would’ve even risked the possibility of defeat by engaging me in a soul fight if you really wanted to live, wanted to win. You would’ve just let Argrave ferry you around, just as he had been. And hell, who knows—he might’ve come up with a real solution.”

“What do you want me to do about it now?” Garm shrugged. “Cry and confess on my knees? That isn’t how this ends.”

Durran sighed and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know. I…” he shook his head, then focused on Garm. “After Sethia, after failing like that, I really wanted any sort of power I could get my hands on.”

“So you got it,” Garm pointed out. “You’re casting A-rank spells as easy as a kid throws stone, thanks to you chomping down on my soul. You’re a master necromancer. You could make any kind of abomination out of any kind of flesh that you wanted, provided you’ve got the souls to fuel it. It’d be like muscle memory.”

“Shame you weren’t at S-rank,” Durran quipped. “Could’ve made things even easier.”

“My bad. I should’ve been a better sacrifice,” Garm said drolly.

“…nah,” Durran shook his head. “You shouldn’t have been a sacrifice at all.”

“The blazes are you sputtering about?” Garm pressed.

“Not right, what I did,” Durran focused on him. “A man tells me that he wants to die, and I let him because it aligned with my interests at the time. Sethia, banishment from my tribe… I was ruined, but it was no damn excuse to let what happened, happen.” He laughed and threw his hands up. “And then after that, I got all uppity with Argrave, went against his orders in stealing the margrave’s wyvern. Even if it was a misunderstanding… no excuse, really.”

“You’d throw away all the things I gave you? They say hindsight is perfect sight, but these are the words of a blind man.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I would throw it away,” Durran nodded, stepping a little closer to Garm. “Throughout this whole journey, I came to really admire Argrave. Not because he’s talented, or because he’s some kind of saint… but just the sheer level that man will rise to say, ‘no, we’re doing it my way.’” He pointed as he said those words. “Very hard to insist you’re right when the whole word disagrees. But he’s kept up at it, I’ll be damned. And he is a decent person.”

“Are you in love with him? You’re both married. It’ll never happen, what you want.” Garm played the part of a sagely advisor.

Durran couldn’t muster laughter. “Fact is… I should’ve said no, Garm. I should’ve said that you’ll give me whatever I need from you, and you’ll live, you miserable prick.” He thumped his finger against Garm’s chest. “That’s what Argrave was doing, before I came along and ruined it.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” Garm conceded. “But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t,” Durran nodded, then turned away from Garm. “And maybe… because of that, I did get what I want. But I feel damned empty inside when I cast a spell and just know how. Necromancy comes easy to me, but it feels terrible. I don’t think I could’ve earned freedom for the Burnt Desert without it… but from here on out, I can’t just accept what’s convenient. We’ll do it my damned way. The right way. I’m strong enough to do that. Agreed, Garm?”

Durran looked back to see Garm, but instead he saw Galamon and Argrave sitting on the white ground and talking about something in detail. They spotted him, and Argrave rose up.

“Hey. You’re a fair bit slower than my sister,” Argrave called out. “She already went off to negotiate with the gods. How’d it go for you?”

Durran rubbed his neck, feeling out of sorts. “I, uhh… hmm.” He didn’t feel like talking, especially, after confronting Garm. Well—not quite. He wouldn’t mind talking to Elenore. “Where’d Elenore go?”

“That way,” Argrave gestured vaguely. “Or wherever. Whole places looks the same.”

“I think I’ll go,” Durran nodded.

“Alright,” Argrave nodded with a shrug, possessing tact enough to know not to press him. “Just remember what I told you. Wring those gods dry. You can be damned sure Elenore is.”