Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 92: Menagerie of Morbidity

Galamon had his hands on the handles of a turn wheel. As he turned it, a heavy iron gate rose upwards, the sound of chains echoing out into the spacious central lobby. Argrave kneeled low, trying to peer into the opening that appeared to little effect—the place beyond was dark. Argrave gave up and turned around, peering out down to the first floor of the headquarters of the Order of the Rose. He felt exposed in the open place, having grown used to the constancy of the stone walls in the room they’d slept.

“There,” Galamon finished with a grunt, looking up at the iron gate which hung suspended.

Argrave turned around. “Nothing… lurking out there, right?”

Galamon took his hands off the wheel and moved to look around. After ten or so seconds, he nodded. “Nothing near. But still… be cautious. Don’t want you freezing up as you did last time if I missed something.”

“Nor do I,” Argrave agreed, stepping forth. The magic light he’d conjured to light the way followed with him, illuminating some beyond. Anneliese evidently felt the light was insufficient, for she conjured a spell of much grander light. A ball travelled forth from her hand, dispelling the darkness.

The Menagerie of Morbidity lived up to the ‘morbid’ part of its name at once. Compared to the lobby, where one might see the occasional body of a Guardian or the ivory stalks left behind by the destroyed flesh plants that illuminated the area, this place was quite intense.

Despite being a bit ominous, the entrance was quite a stunning sight. The skeletal remains of a dragon hung down from the railings of the second floor of the Menagerie, cracked and decayed but nonetheless glorious. A tree with red, oak-like leaves grew out from its left eye socket. Dozens of other skeletons surrounded the dragon’s corpse. Some bore rotten crimson robes and were decidedly humanoid. Others consisted only of a skull and two arms protruding from where the ears might’ve been—the remains of some Guardians of the Low Way.

The place was wrecked far more so than the other areas of the Low Way. The tile was cracked, both from battle and from growth. Moss covered most of the floor beyond the entrance, ranging in color from purple to blue to red. Trees with red leaves filled up much of the place, at times so dense it was difficult to tell they were inside a building. Their roots disturbed the stone, making the path uneven and awkward. Some of them had white berries growing from their branches. The fruits had rings on the bottom, making them look a bit like eyes from a distance.

“This is why I didn’t eat,” Argrave said, stepping up slowly and pulling a berry from a tree. He put it in his mouth and chewed. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it actually tasted quite pleasant. Then again, after the day he’d had yesterday, anything would likely taste pleasant.

“Are you sure that…?” Anneliese trailed off when Argrave swallowed.

“Pretty good, actually. Kind of like… grapefruit, I guess, but less tangy.” Argrave pulled a few more off.

Anneliese watched with obvious concern. “I do not know what grapefruit is.” When Argrave swallowed another, she quickly said, “Maybe you should not eat so many.”

“It’s safe, don’t worry,” Argrave assured. Argrave held his hands out, the white fruits balanced atop his bony palm. “Try some. Every bit helps. Besides, we don’t want to cut into our rations too deeply.”

“I…” Anneliese said hesitantly, staring at the berries. “I think I will stick to our preserved meat.”

“Do not be frivolous, Argrave,” Galamon said. “The gate. I think it would be best to leave it open, even if it might attract attention.”

Argrave considered that. “Let’s break it down. Even if someone discovers it, which is unlikely, who says they’re to assume it’s us? Better to leave the possibility of speedy exit open, in my estimation,” Argrave nodded.

Both agreed with his assessment of the situation, then spent their time examining the surroundings.

“Seems a straightforward path,” Galamon noted.

“For now, it is,” Argrave nodded, peering out into the crimson forest beyond. “It opens up into a grander area later—much more open.”

“Do you have an idea why there are so many of the Guardians of the Low Way dead here?” Anneliese questioned, noticing the abundance of their corpses laying about.

“Because the Guardians and the things within the Menagerie aren’t exactly allies.” Argrave pushed one with his toe. “This place… uncomfortably crowded, a lot of places to hide,” Argrave looked ahead. “We should probably be more cautious than normal.”

Galamon stepped ahead without a word, proceeding in silence. Argrave followed just after him, and Anneliese took the rear. This place was much more difficult to traverse than even Nodremaid. The growth of moss and plants made the strain of walking less on the back and feet, but the uneven terrain made watching one’s step paramount—twisting an ankle would be less terrible than on Earth because of the presence of healing magic, but Argrave still did not wish to use magic for something that was ostensibly easily avoidable.

Argrave and his companions walked through the red forest in single file. Though the berries had only vaguely resembled eyes from the entrance, inside the forest, Argrave got the chilly feeling that a thousand gazes were on him at once. Argrave tried eating more of the berries to dispel that feeling, but the taste was ruined when he perceived them as eyeballs and he found them a little more difficult to swallow.

They passed by many stone cells with the corpses of creatures within. It was difficult to perceive what exactly they were. The things within the Menagerie of Morbidity had been made of human parts. Because of the imperfect spell used in their creation, they slowly morphed back into the shape they had been molded from. They would see the body of a tiger, for instance, yet the head had been morphed back into an arm or leg. Even as bone, it was a disturbing sight.

Sound started to echo out across the crimson forest of the Menagerie, and eventually, the stone cells housed the still-living. A great black bull huffed at them as they passed by, the horns on its head morphed into two skeletal arms that moved with an apparent will of their own. The creature approached the steel bars that held it, and the two arms reached out, bony fingers grasping the bars as any human prisoner might. It unsettled Argrave more than he cared to admit, and he did not feel at ease walking by it. He checked behind him at times to be sure Anneliese was coping, and she seemed stable enough.

Sounds and smells grew more intense as they proceeded. Ape-like noises, barking, yelping—it was enough that each and every step was ever more uncertain. The smell of rot made Argrave nauseous. The hallway they had been travelling on opened, and the forest of red trees thinned, opening into a large room. Cages were placed equidistantly throughout the grand room, holding up the place like pillars.

Though many malformed animals made noises from within their cages, the centerpiece drew Argrave’s attention at once. A wyvern lay within. Though it was normally proportioned, where it might’ve had scales, veiny skin covered instead. Uneven patches of hair grew at random portions, with varying colors and lengths. Cuts and scratches marred its body, many of them leaking pus. Seeing it now, he was certain it was the strongest smell in the room. Argrave grabbed at his throat, feeling like something was rising. Fortunately, he managed to suppress it.

Galamon kneeled, casting his eyes about the room to be sure nothing was amiss. A dog-like animal of indeterminable species barked at them, and Argrave felt like every animal locked in this room was watching them.

Argrave leaned on Galamon’s shoulder. “Maybe we don’t need to go so slow,” he suggested, only half in jest.

“Don’t see anything out of sorts, but… hard to hear. Hard to smell,” Galamon reported.

“Then…?” Argrave pressed.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Then we proceed. Cautiously.” Galamon looked up at him, white eyes shining within his helmet. “Where do we head next?”

“That hallway over there,” Argrave pointed out. “Right side. We follow it until the end. Whether we weave through the cages or follow along the wall… I’ll leave it to you.”

Galamon nodded, rising to his feet. “Along the wall.”

The elven vampire stepped forward. The animals watched them as they passed. They passed by the monkeys. Their tails had turned into human arms, which made their movements awkward and jerky. They screeched horribly as the three of them passed. The sight that made Argrave most uneasy, though, was an empty cage. Its bars had split like something had burst out from the cage.

Though moving through the area was unbearable, it passed quickly and without escalation. They entered the second hallway, moving along to the end of the line. This place was much more open than the entryway and largely free of obscuring vegetation, which assuaged some of Argrave’s fears. This place was the personnel’s branch of the Menagerie, if Argrave recalled correctly.

“End’s not too far. Third on the left,” Argrave eventually broke the silence.

Galamon nodded, and Anneliese let out a sigh of relief. They proceeded upwards, and Argrave stopped them at the door. It was made of iron and largely intact, though spots near the doorknob had rusted.

“Alright. Let me do the talking,” he whispered.

“Talking?” Anneliese repeated, confused. “Is someone in there?”

“Don’t be loud,” Argrave said, lowering his hand as though urging her to lower her volume. “I told you that the head we’re looking for retained its cognition, right? And the ability to use magic?”

“You said it retained its magic signature, not its ability to use magic..!” she whispered back, a bit louder.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Argrave apologized. “It’s not that big of a threat, honest. I didn’t consider it because it’s not worthy of consideration.”

She stared at him with mouth agape like he was a fool.

“Come on. No use dwelling on this,” he tried to dismiss. “Let’s just get ready.”

Anneliese looked at the door, face taut, while Argrave pushed his tongue against his cheek. “Alright. Now’s a good time to test out the B-rank wards conjured by our rings, I suppose. I’ll use mine when we pass through the door.”

“Galamon,” Argrave gestured towards the doorknob.

The elf reached a hesitant hand out and turned the doorknob slowly. He made sure Argrave was prepared with the ring, and then swung the door open. With will alone, Argrave conjured the B-rank ward before the door had even left his vision. A semi-visible golden shield filled his vision at once. He had expected to see a room beyond it—instead, a blinding flash of light filled his vision as flames hurtled towards them.

Argrave could not help but jump back. The golden B-rank ward stayed strong, though, and the flames hurtled upwards. The fire battered against the ceiling, floor, and walls. They continued for a great length of time, and then slowly began to diminish. Once they had faded, what was left beyond was a scorched mess of a room. It the center of it, untouched by anything, stood a stake. This stake had a head atop it.

“You bastards had a trick, I see,” the head said.

“Nice to meet you,” Argrave said, stepping forth through his ward despite the earlier display of power. He remained ready to jump back at a moment’s notice. “We got off on the wrong foot, I think, but we have much to discuss.”

The head squinted.