jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-583

Dario had stared down death before. She had a much uglier visage than anticipated—too much to bear without flinching from it, and so he strayed from her kiss. Now he was mentally prepared for that homely face, and if it should come time to stare her down again, he was certain he wouldn’t flinch away this time. If he did, death might grow offended and decide to claim him regardless. She was clingy, and didn’t like being refused.

Traugott. The Heralds, as they were apparently called, had shown him countless visions of the former Magister who’d mastered walking into the Shadowlands. There was something special about that land, something that differentiated itself from this realm or the countless others beyond it. Traugott had mastered walking into and out of it at will, and had even managed to overcome the ferocity of the denizens within. It wouldn’t be easy to kill him. After all, if one shines light, shadows aren’t banished—they merely move.

“We came all this way for a bunch of spheres?” Melanie asked, drawing him from his haze.

Dario looked back from the box full of orbs just before him. “Not spheres. Cores. They powered the golems that traversed the lava. They’re empty, but Elenore gave me permission to power them with spirits.”

Melanie nodded understandingly, but furrowed her brows after she thought deeper. “Not sure if hunks of metal have the agility to catch the shadows. And you don’t have golems, do you?”

“No.” Dario sifted through them, picking one up. “I intend to ignite them.”

“Good god…” Melanie sighed. “Argrave mentioned something about them exploding. Is that what you mean? He didn’t clock you for a terrorist.” She caressed her forehead than asked, “Bombs? Against a spellcaster? Sounds like we’re asking to be buried and forgotten.”

“Powered with spirits, one of these could heavily wound a Shadowlander.” Dario looked back and tossed one, and though it was unpowered, Melanie’s face still flashed with caution after his bold statement and she caught it delicately. “One of Traugott’s wards might block it, provided he was far enough away...”

“Yet you’re still bringing them,” Melanie criticized, hefting the thing in hand.

“I said ‘one.’” He looked back. “We have more than one.”

The former mercenary’s mind worked, calculating the possible outcomes of her mission with a would-be martyr whose first instinct was to retrieve a huge load of bombs. She couldn’t say she had many points of reference to draw upon—only this lunk, and he had a poor track record.

“Set a few off near him, he’s red mist and bone meal. Ignite it, throw it into the Shadowlands… won’t even be gore, just a forgotten man and a rapidly-closing portal. If I touch him, if he comes close enough for me to grab… no matter what’s between us, I’ll end him.”

Dario stuffed some cores into the pockets of his clothes. They’d likely remain there, keeping an explosive finish to any fight as a ready option. Pushing a button, turning a knob—a lot easier than succumbing to a slow death. He wouldn’t even have time to feel the pain before it was all wiped away, along with a few stories of whatever building they found themselves in. And hopefully, Traugott himself.

“How the hell did you live this long, even? Your first solution’s always killing yourself.” Melanie tossed the core back in the box, and the metal clattered noisily. “Ever heard of throwing things? It’s worked for me.”

“Don’t want to die. Historically, things trend toward that, though. We’ll see how the dice land.” Dario put the lid on the box, then picked it up.

“They’ll land far the hell away from me, I hope,” Melanie muttered under her breath.