Frostgrave_Second Chances

by Matthew Ward

  Marcan held up his hand, examining the missing digit as if for the first time. ‘This? It’s a reminder that I’m not to gut pretty young time witches just because they beat us to a prize. Only last I saw, she’s walking around, and I’m short a finger.’

  He glared at Serene, who stared back unrepentantly. ‘You were warned.’

  Pieces clicked into place. Serene’s quip about Marcan only being able to count to ten. The distant memory of Magnis instructing her to ‘give him a reason not to forget’. It seemed that Magnis’ family enforced its rules.

  With that realization, the fire lost a little of its warmth. Yelen gathered up mug and food, and retreated outside.

  ***

  ‘I heard you talking about me.’ Kain spoke without turning.

  Yelen jumped, and wondered why she’d done so. She wasn’t trying to sneak up on the older woman, after all. No. She knew why. Kain scared her. Not just for her manner, but because of what she could do. What she could see. Perhaps fear wasn’t the right word, but respect. Then again, that implied some form of equality, and there was none. ‘I brought you some food.’

  ‘Did you?’ Again, Kain spoke without inflection. No gratitude, no dismissal.

  Yelen laid her burden down on the crest of a shattered wall and drew her coat tighter. After the warmth of the fire, the evening air cut even more sharply than before. Still Kain didn’t move. She remained as motionless as the wall-side statue that served as her partner in vigil. It too bore knightly armour. It too affected an unhealthy stillness. Had Kain been covered by a light dusting of snow, the two would have been all but indistinguishable.

  ‘If you wanted to go inside, I could keep watch for a time.’

  In fact, that was the last thing that Yelen sought. She wanted to get out of the wind, back to the seeming safety of the ruin – wanted it all the more with each fresh howl that split the greying skies. But the offer had to be made.

  At last, Kain turned. ‘What do you want?’

  Yelen hugged herself tight, rubbing at her upper arms to drive away the cold. ‘I told you. I thought you’d like some food.’

  The knight inclined her head and fixed Yelen with a stare. ‘What do you really want?’

  So much for the subtle approach. ‘Back in Rekamark, you said you saw a shadow on my shoulder, dripping poison into my ear.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is… Is she still there?’

  ‘Oh yes. She’s part of you. A second shadow cast by darkness, rather than light.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for this. It was a conjurer, back in Karamasz. He said he could help me be more like my sister. Help me ride the timeflow.’ Yelen knew she was babbling. She hadn’t meant to speak of this at all. Hells, she hadn’t told anyone else this story. Even Mirika didn’t know it all. But there was something about Kain’s stare. It didn’t invite honesty. It demanded it. ‘I never asked for this.’

  ‘Are you sure of that?’

  Kain’s expression didn’t flicker, but Yelen knew she’d seen through the lie all the same. Truth was, she’d been so enamoured of becoming more like Mirika, she’d never stopped to consider the implications.

  ‘I was so jealous. Mirika could do so much, and all I could do was time walk – and even then it only worked with both of us together.’ And now she couldn’t even do that, Yelen realised with a start. The one piece of chronomancy that had been hers, not Azzanar’s, and without Mirika it was lost to her.

  Kain issued a thoughtful grunt. ‘So that’s how you escaped at the Tomb of Szarnos. I confess, I’ve seen it done before, though seldom better. Many would kill for such a gift.’ She paused, accusation rumbling beneath the words that followed. ‘Most would be satisfied with such a gift.’

  Yelen shook her head in misery. She’d told herself the same thing many times since that fateful day, but to hear it from another… ‘She speaks to me. Calls me “poppet”.’

  ‘How nice.’

  ‘It’s not.’ Yelen’s breaths shuddered in her throat. With an effort, she brought them under control. ‘You know what a poppet is? It’s a straw doll that you throw into a Midsun bonfire to implore Solastra to heal a loved one. It’s a sacrifice. The poppet dies in flame so another might live. That’s what I am to her!’

  ‘Why tell me?’ asked Kain.

  ‘I thought… Well, I thought you might be able to help me. You can see her. No one else can. I thought you might know a way. I’ll do anything.’

  ‘Why not return to the conjurer? He brought forth the beast. Surely he can banish it?’

  ‘Because he’s dead.’ Yelen closed her eyes, remembering the blood. The panic. ‘I think I killed him.’

  ‘I see.’

  Tears of shame stung Yelen’s cheeks, their bite all the more bitter in the cold wind. ‘Can you help me?’

  Kain offered a slow nod. ‘There is a way.’

  Yelen caught her breath. ‘You can? How?’

  ‘I can cut out your heart.’

  Yelen stared at her, hope dispersing as soon as it had arrived. ‘Pardon me?’

  The corner of Kain’s mouth twitched. ‘You said you’d do anything. The road to damnation is a sheer slope. The downward path is easy, but the return journey is harder. Do you still want my help?’

  All at once, Kain seemed taller and broader than before, the sword monstrous in her hands.

  ‘I…’ Yelen staggered away backwards, heels dragging against the cobbles. ‘No… No!’

  She stammered the words, wary of saying anything that might provoke Kain to precipitate action. When she was halfway back to the broken door, she turned on her heel and fled the rest of the way, chased on by Kain’s parting words.

  ‘Thank you for the food.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘This is a bad idea,’ muttered Darrick.

  Yelen followed the big man’s gaze through twilight’s gathering darkness. Beyond the twisted iron railings, the Lower Reach was alive with wisp-light, the captive spirits dancing their mad gavotte of flickering colour above the barrows. But though she agreed with Darrick, she said nothing. Mirika’s trail led straight through the Lower Reach.

  Marcan snorted. ‘You’re soft. Isn’t nothing to this place but tricksy lights and empty cowls. Nothing for the likes of us to worry about.’

  Darrick rounded on him, finger wagging. ‘It never ceases to amaze me…’

  ‘Enough.’

  Magnis didn’t shout, but the two immediately ceased their quarrel all the same. Another reminder, had Yelen needed one, that for all the Gilded Rose’s easy badinage, there was only one leader. Once his decision was made, he brooked no argument.

  ‘It’s what? Ten hours, dusk ’till dawn?’ said Magnis. He raised his voice. ‘How long to go around, Kas?’

  ‘Fifteen hours. At least fifteen hours.’

  Magnis paced up and down the line, meeting the eyes of each companion in turn. ‘The sands of time are slipping away, and the weather’s good. We can’t afford to lose ten hours, let alone fifteen. Six hours for sleep?’ He shrugged. ‘We’ll have to. After all, we all of us need rest. But that means we press on while we can. Even in the dark. Even through the Lower Reach.’

  Darrick stirred. ‘We camp in the Lower Reach, we’ll lose a lot more than fifteen hours.’

  ‘He’s not wrong,’ said Kain. ‘It’s one thing to keep moving. Staying put like a tethered goat is something else.’

  Magnis shook his head woefully. ‘Have you so little faith? I’ve a plan. I always have a plan. Serene?’

  The woman mutely shrugged off her pack, opened it and tossed a bundle to Magnis.

  He caught it easily, and held it up. ‘Blackroot, silver dust and blessed incense. Corpsefire, that’s what they call it in the south. Its light burns undead if they get too close. We’ve enough of these to ring a small camp, and they’ll burn for a good twelve hours. All the time in the world.’

  Yelen had never heard of corpsefire, and had no idea whether Magnis’ claims were true. Yet he’d spoken with s
uch surety that it was all but impossible not to believe him. How much of that was his magic at work? Or did she have it backwards? Did Magnis even command that much sorcery, beyond a few simple parlour tricks? Was he, in fact, much more than an enterprising huckster in fine robes?

  Magnis handed the bundle of corpsefire back to Serene. As he did so, he offered Yelen a sly wink, as if the whole thing were a joke, and they were the only two to share in it. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

  ‘I still don’t like it,’ rumbled Darrick.

  Magnis spread his hand. ‘Fine. You don’t like it. Feel free to head back. We’re already down twelve per cent on this expedition, so I’m all for saving a few crowns where we can.’ As if on cue, the wolf-howls picked up again. ‘Of course, they’ll have our scent by now. Not a journey I’d care to make alone.’

  Without another word, Darrick turned his back and lumbered away towards the gateway.

  Magnis rubbed his hands together. ‘Glad we’ve sorted that out. Kain? Would you be so good as to bring up the rear?’

  * * *

  Yelen spent the early part of the journey in the middle of the company, Serene to her front and Magnis at her side. All semblance of a leisurely hike had long since fled, the strung-out line of before now reduced to a compacted, huddled blob, hurrying through the fading light. There was no singing, and very little speech – the consensus that no unnecessary sound be uttered every bit as unspoken as it was immediate.

  Through it all, Yelen kept an eye on Kain as often as she could. The knight’s threat had faded, and she’d halfway convinced herself the threat to cut out her heart had been a bleak joke. Even so, Yelen felt better when she had eyes on Kain than when she did not. Even Azzanar’s furious threats had lost their sting – as much because the demon remained silent as to any other factor. Distant perils lost their potency in the light of the barrow-wisps, and their constant reminder of sleepless malice nearby. On her last near-disastrous trip through the Lower Reach, Yelen hadn’t seen anything in the barrow save for light and shadow, and was hopeful to keep it that way.

  The trail of Mirika’s footprints ran arrow-straight through the snowy hummocks, varying course only to keep to the valley between the summits. Other sets – those left by what Yelen presumed were Mariast’s band of toy soldiers – wove back and forth, vanishing into the distance only to rejoin the trail hundreds of yards later.

  ‘Searching for something, looks like,’ said Kas.

  They weren’t the only ones. Yelen had the impression of shapes moving beyond the tenuous light of the lanterns. Not men – or not living ones, at least. But she never saw them save for out of the corner of her eye. Maybe they weren’t there at all, but figments of a sleep-addled mind?

  ‘Their sleep has been disturbed.’

  Her mind elsewhere, Yelen fair jumped out of her skin at Kain’s sudden words. She held her tongue for a moment, willing her galloping pulse to subside. ‘You think Mariast cracked a tomb?’

  ‘Why else come here? This is no place for the living.’ Kain’s utterance had the finality of tombstones slamming home. ‘They’ll keep their distance until nightfall.’

  Magnis shook his head. ‘Mariast’s never been careful. She’s looking for anything that can turn a profit, and to hells with the consequences. She’s not the most complex example of humankind.’

  Serene snorted. ‘Not like you.’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘I have hidden depths, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘They must be very well hidden.’

  * * *

  As night drew close, Magnis called a halt. Producing one of the corpsefire mixtures from his haversack, he tipped a little into each of two dented metal bowls. He closed his eyes and ran an open palm across one, then the other. As his hand passed, each mixture came alight with white flame.

  ‘Here.’ He passed one to Yelen, and another to Darrick. ‘I don’t think our hosts will be brave enough to bother a group of our size for a while yet, but this should keep them polite.’

  Yelen took the proffered bowl and cupped it in her hands. The flame had a heady scent. It was rich, sweet and held a lingering note of tree sap – a fragrance so far in Yelen’s past it took a moment before she recalled what it was. ‘It smells of springtime.’

  Magnis grinned. ‘I suppose it does. No wonder the undead hate it so.’

  Marcan’s brow creased. ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘Spring is the death of winter,’ said Darrick, his reverent eyes fixed on the flame. ‘And nothing embodies winter like a wight.’

  Most of the earlier tension had gone from his voice, Yelen noted. The reality of the corpsefire was clearly more reassuring to him than the mere idea of it. She glanced around. Was it her imagination, or were the barrow-wisps giving them wider berth than before? The shadows beyond most certainly were. Try as she might, Yelen couldn’t glimpse a single one. She hugged the bowl closer, only then noticing that the fire gave out no heat, as other fires did.

  They set off again, Kas’ lantern bobbing along to light their path, the company’s mood more relaxed than before. Yelen had the sense that although Darrick had been the only one to voice his concerns, all of her companions were grateful for the safety offered by the soft, white light. All of them apart from Kain, of course. For all the concern on the knight’s face, she could have been walking in sunlit fields, without so much as a single care to weigh her down.

  Little by little, Serene drifted back from her place at Kas’ side, and fell into step with Yelen. ‘How are the voices?’

  Yelen watched her closely, unsure of how much to say. ‘Better. Quiet.’

  Serene laughed softly. ‘I heard you arguing with yourself before. Seemed familiar.’ She tapped her temple. ‘Mine aren’t real, of course. Which comes as good and bad. Means I can ignore them easier than you, but it also means I can’t get rid of them. Yours is, though, isn’t it? Real, I mean?’

  Yelen nodded tightly. ‘Too real. How did you know?’

  ‘I may not be as well-read as Darrick, but I’ve picked up a few things, here and there.’

  The two walked in companionable silence for a time, and Yelen found her thoughts turning to Serene. Though she’d not realised it before, she suspected the other woman wasn’t a great deal older than herself. It was the missing eye that had worked the deception – that, and Serene’s seemingly boundless confidence.

  ‘What brought you here, Serene? To Frostgrave?’

  She shook her head. ‘You first. Fair’s fair.’

  Yelen winced at the memory. ‘It was this or the pyre. When I and my “voice” first came together, I went a little crazy. Drew too much notice. We needed to go somewhere Karamasz’s lawkeepers wouldn’t follow, so we came here. You?’

  Serene kicked at a hunk of ice. It skittered away from her foot and rolled to a halt at the foot of the nearest hummock. ‘Lost the taste for my old trade. You know how it is. You learn a set of skills, take the stiff’s money, try to make them happy. Then you realize that no matter how good you are, you’re only ever one dissatisfied client away from lying dead in the gutter.’ She sighed. ‘So I gave up cutting throats and took ship up the Nereta.’

  Yelen frowned at an explanation that had ended in a very different place to the one she’d expected. ‘And your voices – they came with you?’

  ‘Tried drinking them away, but it turns out I had a conscience. Who knew?’ She ran a hand across her eyepatch. ‘Lost this in a brawl. Would’ve lost the other, if not for Kas. Now we look after each other.’

  ‘And Magnis?’

  ‘He pays well, but he’s a smooth-tongued rogue.’

  ‘You don’t trust him?’

  ‘Love, I don’t trust anyone, ’cept for Kas.’

  A few paces ahead, Kas came to an abrupt halt. Yelen started guiltily, thinking he’d overheard their conversation. Serene, apparently, had no such worries.

  ‘What is it?’

  Kas raised his lantern. ‘See for yourself.’

&nb
sp; At first, Yelen couldn’t see what he meant. The warm amber glow of the lamp shone down on the ever-present snow, churned at her feet and then drifted up towards the flank of the barrow. Snow, and a lump of ice.

  A lump of ice that had once been a man.

  He knelt on a rising knee, his back to the barrow, arms crossed in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. His eyes, wide with terror, glittered like gemstones in the lantern-light – his whole body did. Icicles hung from his arms, and from the pauldrons of his armour. They were bent backwards, as if they’d somehow formed in the teeth of a ferocious wind. Yelen knew the livery, if not the face. One of Mariast’s toy soldiers.

  ‘There’s another one over here,’ rumbled Marcan.

  Yelen tore her gaze to the other side of Mirika’s trail.

  This one stood nearly upright, frozen stiff in the act of a two-handed sword swing.

  ‘Not a pretty business.’ Marcan lowered his lantern and gave the figure an experiential prod with the tip of his sword. The soldier swayed, then toppled like a falling tree. He struck the ground, and shattered into a dozen pieces.

  Kain stepped forward and laid a heavy hand on Marcan’s shoulder. ‘Show some respect!’

  ‘What’s the harm? He was already dead, wasn’t he?’

  ‘And so will you be, one day.’

  He smiled wolfishly. ‘Won’t matter none to me, will it? I’ll be long gone.’

  Magnis stepped between them. ‘That’ll do. Kas, what do you think?’

  The tracker shrugged. ‘Seems obvious to me. Mariast’s expedition was attacked. These two died, and the rest fled.’ He peered downed at the mass of churned snow, and tilted the lantern away along the barrow’s flank. ‘That way, I reckon.’

  Darrick stared into the kneeling corpse’s eyes. His hands danced across his heart, making the sign of the sun. ‘I said this was a mistake.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Serene. ‘I don’t think I heard, you were so quiet.’

  ‘This isn’t funny, Serene.’

  ‘No, it’s not. And it’s also not the work of a wight, neither. Not any wight I’ve ever heard of anyway.’