by Matthew Ward
‘At last, she sees sense.’
Magnis reached out as Yelen rose, but she ignored him. Sulphur choked the back of her mouth. Her left wrist prickled with sudden heat. She didn’t need to look to know that the clock had advanced, that another sliver of her soul had been lost. Then the thunderous pulse of the Clock of Ages swept across her, and her tempo broke free of reality’s grip.
Serene was the nearest, no more than an arm’s length away, but under the circumstances an arm’s length was an impossible distance. Yelen, her personal tempo now twice that of the other woman’s, ducked aside from the comically slow lunge. Yelen gave Serene a gentle shove as she glided past, just enough to send her off balance. Then she ran for the doors.
‘I didn’t see another way out, did you?’
‘I only see what you see,’ sniffed Azzanar. ‘I just pay more attention. But no, it’s that or the chimney.’
Yelen spared an upward glance. In theory, she could push her tempo enough to run up the wall and reach the rafters, but she didn’t fancy taking the risk. Besides, she didn’t want to use Azzanar’s power more than strictly necessary. She didn’t trust the demon to give her fair warning before she reached the limits of what she’d bartered for.
Nonetheless, the upward glance wasn’t wasted. Without it, Yelen would never have seen Kas plunging towards her, arms outstretched.
It was a well-judged leap, or would have been against any other opponent. Had Yelen simply been running twice her normal speed, her momentum would have prevented her from turning aside. It would have delivered her into Kas’ grasp. But Yelen wasn’t running twice as fast – the world was simply moving twice as fast around her. She threw herself aside. Kas plummeted past in slow motion and thudded into the floor.
Two down, one to go, including Flintine’s man.
Darrick and Marcan were next, their images refracting into a dozen duplicates as Yelen closed. It was the same trick Magnis had used in the tomb – if you didn’t know which was real, how could you be sure to evade your opponent? At least neither had drawn a weapon. Flintine was obviously offering more for her alive, for whatever consolation that was.
Yelen drew up short. She wasn’t worried about Marcan – the swarthy fellow’s arms were every bit as stocky as his legs – but Darrick’s reach was another matter.
‘Brave heart, poppet. Like I showed you.’
Taking a deep breath, Yelen increased her tempo yet further, doubling and redoubling it, then redoubling it again. She knew she couldn’t hold herself at that speed for long, not without burning through the power Azzanar had bartered her. Would it be enough?
The mirror-images flickered like a candle in the wind. Not much, barely even a heartbeat, even with each moment drawn out to breaking point. It was enough. Darrick and Marcan – or rather, their originals – remained as solid as they ever had, one at either end of the peculiar crowd.
Yelen’s tempo snapped back as she released her grip. Already moving, she charged through the line of doppelgängers without slowing, shards of light bursting around her as the images disintegrated.
She doubted Flintine’s henchman even saw her coming. Mirika Semova was a time witch, everyone knew that. Her sister? Her sister was ordinary. Yelen was past him before his sword had even cleared its scabbard, and through the door before his warning shout – made turgid by their disparity of tempos – had fully sounded.
‘See, poppet? Easy.’
Yelen forgot her hatred of the demon, just as she always did when revelling in the tide of the timeflow, and joined in with Azzanar’s honeyed laughter.
The world suffered a grating, dizzying lurch. A metallic taste joined the bitter sulphur. Yelen’s hips and shoulders slammed into the antechamber’s flagstones, the impact shaking loose her grip on the timeflow.
‘Magnis said you’d try to run,’ said Kain, cracking the knuckles of one gauntleted hand with the other. ‘Now give it up before I stop going easy on you.’
Shaking her head to clear the spots of colour from behind her eyes, Yelen clambered to her feet. The door behind Kain was ajar, the drifted snows of the temple approach bright in the afternoon sun. All she had to do was reach the door, and she was free.
‘You got lucky, that’s all.’
Ignoring the red buzz in the back of her head, Yelen reached into the timeflow and darted past Kain.
Suddenly, impossibly, a gauntleted fist was in her path, driving hard into her stomach.
Yelen struck the flagstones a second time, gasping for breath, her grip on the timeflow broken. ‘How are you doing this? You’re not fast enough to match me.’
Kain cocked her head. ‘I don’t have to be. I’ve seen your eyes. That’s all I need to know where you’re going. Now pack it in before I really hurt you.’
Yelen rose, wincing as the dull ache in her ribs added its complaints to the one at the side of her head.
‘Don’t give up, poppet. Nearly there.’
Yelen stared longingly at the doorway. ‘I won’t.’
So Kain thought she was predictable? Fine. She’d teach her otherwise.
Reaching into the timeflow a third time, Yelen feinted to Kain’s right and flung herself to the knight’s left, aiming kick at the back of her knee for good measure.
The boot never connected. Kain’s hand, however, took Yelen across the throat, bearing her backwards and slamming her against the wall fit to rattle her teeth.
‘Now, you going to behave, or do I have to squeeze?’
Yelen clawed at the gauntleted fingers, but Kain’s grip was solid as stone.
‘You’ll have to kill her.’ Excitement buzzed through Azzanar’s silent voice. ‘She can’t stop you if her bones are dust.’
No. She couldn’t kill her. Could she?
‘Stop struggling,’ growled Kain. ‘I really don’t want to hurt you.’
‘What’s the difference?’ Yelen gasped. ‘You’re going to hand me over to Flintine.’
Kain drew back. ‘Who told you that? That creature looming over your shoulder?’
Azzanar went suddenly still, a prey animal caught in a predator’s sight.
‘Wait,’ said Yelen. ‘You can see her?’
‘I see the shadow of her, dripping poison into your ear.’ Kain snorted. ‘Magnis isn’t handing you over to Flintine. Could’ve done that while you slept, if he’d wanted. The next part happens easily enough, whether you’re awake or I give you a little tap to quiet you. So what’s it to be?’
Yelen tensed. She wasn’t yet done. She could still reach into the timeflow – not to kill Kain, but maybe age her enough to slow her down.
‘Consider this,’ breathed Kain. ‘Who really gains if you run off into Rekamark? You? Or your poisonous shadow?’
The words brought Yelen up short. Who indeed? Alone, she had no one to rely on but herself and Azzanar. Which was just how the demon would want it. Was that what lay behind the warnings of poison, of betrayal?
‘Don’t listen to her!’
Ironically, Azzanar’s words tipped the balance – or rather, the desperate note of triumph denied. Feeling like a fool, Yelen let her body go limp.
* * *
‘Mister Flintine will not be happy with these terms.’
Magnis sighed. ‘Stop hedging, Lasro. Of course he’ll be happy. It’s practically the definition of something for nothing. Ten per cent of our next haul to drop the contract on Yelen. It’s a good deal. Won’t have to pay out that thousand crowns, for a start.’
Lasro stared down into the fire, the very image of a man wrestling with a weighty decision. But he was lost, Yelen saw as much from the sly glint in his eye. Ten percent of a Gilded Rose haul was a good cut, by anyone’s standards. Lasro might have been one of Flintine’s top lieutenants, but Magnis had been running rings around his like for years.
Yelen shifted from foot to foot, but subsided when Kain gave her neck a warning squeeze. It almost didn’t matter. She couldn’t escape now if she wanted to; even if Kas and Serene – both nur
sing fresh bruises – hadn’t bolted the door. She wasn’t used to manipulating the timeflow, and the fatigue of it had hit her like an avalanche. At least Azzanar was quiet, if not entirely absent. Yelen could practically feel the demon staring at Kain through her eyes.
Lasro stirred, set his jaw and gazed at Magnis. ‘Mister Flintine wants Kardish’s killer.’
Magnis spread his hands. ‘She’s well past his reach. Yelen’s innocent.’
‘Then why offer the tithe?’
That was a very good question, thought Yelen. Magnis might not want for coin, but there was a difference between that and spreading it around with abandon. She couldn’t see how she was worth it.
‘Because I understand that this isn’t just about Kardish,’ said Magnis. ‘I understand that Mister Flintine has a reputation to protect. I’m offering the tithe to compensate him for any… distress the situation has caused.’
Lasro nodded. ‘Very well. But the tithe will be fifteen per cent, not ten.’
‘Twelve.’
‘Agreed.’
Lasro rose from his chair. ‘And it comes through me. You can send word from the gate.’
Which meant that Flintine would receive ten per cent, thought Yelen, while Lasro would pocket the difference without his master knowing.
Magnis got to his feet and offered a polite bow. ‘Delightful. Darrick will show you out. Darrick?’
Lasro started off towards the door, the big man at his side. They made for a curious pair, with Darrick taking only two steps to three of Lasro’s. Yelen stood in silence until Lasro had passed into the antechamber. ‘So, what now?’
Magnis glanced at her with disinterest. ‘I think you can let her go now, Kain. There’ll be no more tricks, will there?’ There was more amusement than rebuke in his tone.
The pressure on Yelen’s neck vanished.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she said, massaging the base of her skull. She tried not to think on the portion of her soul she’d lost, seemingly to no avail and – worse – for no good reason.
‘You hardly gave me a chance, now did you?’ said Magnis mildly. ‘Perhaps now we can talk about what you’re going to do to pay me back.’
Yelen sighed. There it was. For all the pretence of altruism, there was a price for the Gilded Rose’s intercession. She wasn’t surprised. ‘And I have no say in this, I suppose.’
‘If you want one, but it’s very simple.’ Magnis grinned. ‘I want that orb. You want your sister back. You’re the key to both.’ He shrugged. ‘So, are you in?’
Yelen stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she didn’t care. ‘Mirika’s… What? She’s still alive?’
He nodded. ‘I think so. I hope so. At least for now. But time’s short, so we have to move quickly. Are you interested?’ He gestured towards the door. ‘Otherwise, you know the way out. We’ll manage without you.’
It was all Yelen could do not to burst out laughing. Mirika was alive! How could she not accept Magnis’ offer? ‘Damn right I’m in. What do you need?’
It was only after she’d spoken that Yelen realised she’d made a poor job of resisting Cavril Magnis’ charm.
CHAPTER NINE
The banners of Rekamark were a distant blaze of colour on a grey skyline. Yelen shook her head in wonder. Home for less than a day, and now she was on the move again, heading back into the cursed districts of Frostgrave. She felt no great sense of loss. The Guttered Candle hadn’t been her home, not really. Her home was with Mirika.
She turned her attention to Cavril Magnis, trudging through the snows a few paces to her side. Of the company, he was the only one not laden down with haversack and bundles of kindling. The perks of being in charge.
‘You really think we can save her?’
‘I truly hope so. That orb really needed flesh and blood it could dominate. With that not forthcoming, the possession isn’t complete.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Unless your sister always longed to give up her body for a desiccated old spirit? I’ve heard tell that a liche and his host can share their existence, if the proper deal is struck. Though to be honest, all of those stories end badly.’
Yelen halted, hunching and straightening her shoulders to set her haversack in a new position. ‘Why?’
‘Why do you think? Living forever’s the ultimate selfishness. I can’t imagine it inclines one to share.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, I’ve occasionally wondered if I’d have what it takes to twist a mouldy old spirit to my will. Maybe Mirika’s seized that opportunity?’
She shuddered. ‘Not so I know.’
He nodded. ‘Then it’ll be up to you to get through to her. From what you’ve said, Mirika was fighting Szarnos’ influence. You’ll give her the reason to fight harder.’ He pressed a spread palm to his chest and offered a knowing smile. ‘While I, Cavril Magnis, will contribute a few choice charms to weaken the orb’s hold, and attempt a little persuasion of my own.’
Yelen shook her head at the wizard’s self-aggrandizing manner and concentrated on following the trail of footprints. The Gilded Rose were strung out in a long line, their formation more suitable for a pleasure hike than a delving expedition. Then again, with Rekamark still in sight and the Lower Reach yet some way ahead, dangers were few and far between until night fell. And she had the impression that not all of Magnis’ hirelings cared greatly for each other.
No, that wasn’t true. Darrick and Marcan seemed to get on well enough – judging by their shared, bombastic refrains of rimelander folk songs, anyway. They were belting one out now, the lyrics echoing back along the streets towards Yelen. Something about a tavern maid of questionable judgement and a bet, if the snatches she caught were anything to go by. Tasteful, by rimelander standards, but Yelen felt sure it wouldn’t last.
A dozen paces ahead of the duelling vocalists, Kas stalked lightly through the snows, bow slung across his shoulders and a thoughtful expression on his face. Occasionally, he’d judder to a halt, cock his head, and head off in a new direction. He never once glanced back, seemingly confident that the rest of the company would follow without question.
Serene marched as far behind the rest of the company as Kas strode ahead, the nonchalant expression cracking into something approaching distaste only when the notes of the raucous duet became particularly strident. And Kain? She brought up the very rear with a glower a few degrees colder than the chill northern wind.
Up ahead, Kas straightened, beckoned to his left, and set off along a new street. Magnis half-turned, repeating the gesture for Serene and Kain, and quickened his pace.
‘You’re sure he knows where he’s going?’ asked Yelen.
‘It hardly matters. If Szarnos really is in control – and I don’t think either of us is prepared to question that – he’ll be heading back to his tomb, or at least to the Temple of Draconostra. He’ll feel safe there – safe enough to set about, erm… consolidating his situation. You’ve heard the stories. Not a fellow for improvisation, old Szarnos. He’ll have some goal in mind.’
Yelen grimaced. Magnis had tried, but there was no way to describe her sister’s plight that didn’t make her skin crawl. And, truth be told, their course so far had more or less retraced hers and Mirika’s steps of the previous day. But there was no guarantee that would last. ‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘I’ve learned not to question Kas’ instincts,’ said Magnis. ‘He has a talent for tracking. How do you think we followed you to the Tomb of Szarnos in the first place?’
‘I assumed we were after the same thing. Like at Markriese. I didn’t think there was a mystery to it.’
He laughed softly. ‘Goodness no. I’d narrowed down the location, but that was all. Old Torik kept his secrets close, even from his apprentice.’
Yelen frowned. There had been something in the way he’d spoken… ‘You were Torik’s apprentice?’
‘For a time, and for my sins. Don’t look so surprised, I think the old fool taught half the wizards in Rekamark at one time o
r another. Liked to play the patriarch, did Torik.’ Without breaking stride, Magnis performed a flowery bow. ‘Dispensing wisdom from on high. Or rather, dispensing what looked like wisdom. There’s no fool like an old fool.’
Realization dawned. ‘You were using him, weren’t you? To get leads on stuff worth delving.’
Magnis had the grace to shift uncomfortably. ‘Less than you might think. Torik talked a lot, but it was mostly guesswork. Either that, or he kept most of the good stuff close to his chest.’
Yelen smiled. ‘What’s the matter, upset that the old man might have outwitted you?’
He sniffed. ‘I’ll have you know, I’m above such things, Miss Semova. Though I must confess, things became a lot easier when you and your sister came on the scene. I knew it was only a matter of time before he sent you after the orb. Under the circumstances, I’m doubly sorry you got there first.’
Yelen recalled her last glimpse of Mirika, pale skin shot through with golden light, eyes dark as pitch. ‘Me too,’ she said softly. They walked in silence for a time, the sound of their footsteps drowned out by another boisterous refrain from up ahead. ‘This orb… What is it? Really, I mean.’
‘Ah,’ said Magnis. ‘That was the cause of many an argument before I departed Torik’s tutelage. He always maintained that it was a sort of thaumic lodestone – a power source capable of fulfilling truly outrageous magic.’
‘Like possessing my sister…’ Yelen tailed off, sickened at the very thought.
Magnis didn’t seem to notice. ‘For one, though I doubt that would have taken more than a fraction of its potential. The overture to a symphony to come, if you will. I’m sure Torik had great plans for the balance of the orb’s power, once he’d acquired a body young enough to carry them out.’
‘But you didn’t agree?’
‘It didn’t make sense.’ Magnis’ tone took on fresh urgency. ‘Why would Szarnos just leave a vast reservoir of thaumic power behind for others to use? The legends are clear that he was a meticulous planner, with a recourse for every eventuality. And what eventuality is more certain than death? No. I always suspected the orb was a phylactery, containing not just a portion of Szarnos’ power, but his soul.’ He shrugged. ‘Dangerous things, unless you’ve a strong enough will to conquer the spirit inside. Liches will make do with old bones if they have to, but they’d much rather have a warm body, or better yet, a willing pupil. There’s no shortage of cautionary tales, if you know where to look.’
