Frostgrave_Second Chances

by Matthew Ward

  ‘A delightful sentiment, I’m sure. They could carve it on your headstone. Except you’re not going to get one, are you?’

  Yelen detected an edge of fear beneath the demon’s sarcasm. She drank it in, revelled in it. She didn’t think for a moment that Azzanar’s offer was genuine, but the demon was worried about what was to come – that she and Yelen would both perish at Szarnos’ hands… at Mirika’s hands.

  ‘So be it.’

  Azzanar hissed and retreated from Yelen’s thoughts. It felt good to deny her – if only one last time.

  A hand fell on Yelen’s shoulder as she approached the final landing.

  ‘Let me go first,’ whispered Magnis. ‘I’ll distract her, you remind her of who she is.’

  Yelen nodded tautly, a knot forming in her stomach. With a last flash of a smile, Cavril Magnis sprang up the final handful of steps.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Mirika!’

  Yelen heard a tremor in Magnis’ voice. Not much, maybe not even one she’d have noticed a few days ago, but it was definitely there. Had the master of the Gilded Rose reached the limits of his bravado? She eased her way up the last couple of stairs and peered cautiously over the top step.

  The chanting ceased. ‘Who are you to address me so?’

  Mirika’s voice was almost unrecognizable, subsumed by the slithering, whispering presence from the orb. Her hair hung lank and white with frost, her time walker’s robe was stained and tattered, and what little of her flesh Yelen could make out was mottled blue and shot through with golden light. Yelen swallowed away a dry throat. Could Mirika really come back from this

  Magnis took a long step away before answering, drawing Mirika’s attention further from the stairs. When he spoke, he did so in puzzled tones. ‘I’m Cavril Magnis of the Gilded Rose. You must remember – we know each other well.’

  Yelen frowned at that. Magnis and Mirika barely knew one another. They were rivals, nothing more. Or were they? Was Magnis exaggerating their relationship to break through Szarnos’ hold, or had her jibes about flirtation hit closer to the mark than she’d believed? It’d certainly explain why Magnis had set so much at stake. Maybe the orb wasn’t his real concern.

  The orb pulsed. Mirika clasped it tighter to her chest. ‘You are a speck, nothing more.’

  Magnis frowned, and took another long step away from the stairs, hands clasped behind his back. Sparks of light danced on his fingertips, weaving tapestries of burning filament and dancing ash. Yelen recalled his claim of weaving charms to loosen the orb’s grip. Were these those charms? Whatever he had in mind, it was clear he didn’t want Mirika seeing them.

  ‘That hurts, Mirika.’

  She laughed, the sound of it like cracking ice. ‘Mirika is gone.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’ Magnis’ image blurred into two duplicates as he circled around the ledge, each walking in perfect step with the original. ‘The Mirika I knew was strong enough to fight. Still is, or I’d be dead already.’

  Mirika shifted to keep him in view, her back fully turning to the stairs, and to Yelen. ‘Maybe she has yielded, content to be part of my designs.’

  Magnis and his doppelgängers wove about one another, like a street huckster’s cards in a game of Find the Lady. Yelen soon lost track of which was the original, and which were the illusions.

  ‘And what could a withered old soul like you offer such a vibrant young woman?’ asked Magnis. He jerked a thumb back at the open vault – the vault Yelen had opened on her last visit – and the jumble of bones within. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure you’re her type.’

  Mirika raised a hand. Bluish-white light flared across the ledge, mist dancing in its wake. A doppelgänger shattered into fragments of fading light.

  Yelen started forward. Her head hadn’t even cleared the uppermost step when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. Glancing back, she found herself face to face with Kain. The knight gave a short, sharp shake of the head and Yelen subsided.

  Magnis clicked his fingers, and another image burst into being. ‘You’ll have to do better than that. I’m not some chancer little poor old Mariast. I’m Cavril Magnis. I aim to be remembered.’

  Another freezing blast shattered a doppelgänger. Magnis shook his head and clicked another into being.

  ‘And I’m still waiting to hear why you think Mirika would have anything to do with you. At least most demons offer great beauty and long life. Look what you’ve done to the poor woman. I’ve seen better-looking creatures moaning and scraping at the inside of barrows.’

  Mirika screeched and destroyed another of the mirror-images. Magnis clicked another into being, but this time Yelen marked the pinched look on his face. Kain’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

  ‘You are tiring,’ crowed Mirika. ‘How many more can you manage, I wonder?’

  Another flare of frozen light. Another doppelgänger shattered.

  Magnis gritted his teeth. He clicked his fingers, and this time two images sprang into being. ‘Try me. Thing is, I think you’re tiring too. I recognized a few snatches of that lovely dirge you were singing. A resurrection chant.’ He nodded back at Szarnos’ long-dead bones. ‘Surely you’re not trying to get that body moving around again? Hate to say, but I think it’s had its day.’

  The orb pulsed. Mirika lowered her hand. ‘You’re clever.’

  The four images of Magnis shrugged as one. ‘It’s not for me to say.’

  ‘Then let me make you an offer, Cavril Magnis who would be remembered.’ Mirika held out the orb. ‘Take the orb. Join with me, and I will release this woman. I will cherish your friends, eradicate your enemies. Your name will echo across the ages… And the wrongs upon your bloodline shall be undone.’

  Magnis went still as stone. ‘How do know about that?’

  ‘I am Szarnos the Great. Little escapes me. Not your innermost desires. And not your companions, cowering on the stairs.’

  Mirika spun around. Yelen found herself staring into her once-sister’s cold black eyes. The temperature of the air plunged. Ice crawled across the steps, flowing into the cracks in the stone, forcing them wider.

  Magnis started forward. ‘No! Wait!’

  Mirika rounded on him, the orb again clasped to her chest.

  Kain’s restraining hand became an open-palmed shove into Yelen’s shoulder blades. ‘Move!’

  Yelen flung herself up the last few steps, boots slipping on the fresh coating of ice. The stairway lurched and groaned under her feet, rubble spilling away as the spreading ice tore the stone apart.

  As Yelen reached the top, the stairway collapsed entirely. She flung herself forward, fingers clawing at the flagstones of the landing. The impact drove all breath from her body, her knee cracked painfully against stone. But she held on for dear life, feet kicking at emptiness as she hauled herself up.

  Below, the upper part of the stairway slid into darkness. As it did so, something heavy landed behind her, gloved fingers latching onto the landing’s edge. Marcan. A quick glance behind revealed Kain and Serene perched precariously on the broken remains of the stairway, some yards away.

  Mirika advanced on Magnis. Her hand swept out, and the illusions disintegrated beneath a barrage of frozen light. Magnis cried out and flinched away.

  Yelen hauled herself onto the ledge and reached down for Marcan.

  He shook his head. ‘I can see to myself. Help Cavril.’

  Yelen spun around to see Mirika bearing down on Magnis.

  ‘So what is it to be?’ asked Mirika. ‘Remembrance and revenge, or a life and death forgotten by all?’

  ‘I know you’re in there, Mirika,’ said Magnis, backing away. ‘Now would be a good time to prove me right.’

  The orb pulsed. White light gathered around Mirika’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Mirika! No!’ Yelen half-ran, half-stumbled across the ledge, positioning herself between Magnis and her sister. ‘You can fight this. I know you can! Being stubborn’s got you into trouble for as long as I’v
e known you. Let it do some good for a change.’

  Mirika stood still as a statue, the white light dancing around her hand. ‘Your words mean nothing.’

  Yelen drew herself up. Had Mariast felt anything at the end? Would she? ‘Then why do you care if Cavril accepts your bargain, or not? Why try to animate your old body? She’s fighting you, isn’t she?’ Yelen cast her mind back. What had Magnis told her about the orb? ‘Mirika, listen to me. He needs a willing host. I can’t imagine anyone more unwilling. You can beat him, I know you can!’

  ‘Worthless,’ hissed Mirika. But the glow around her hand faded a fraction – or at least Yelen thought it did.

  ‘Then why am I still alive?’ demanded Yelen. She stepped closer, scarcely believing her audacity. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marcan haul himself heavily onto the ledge. ‘I’m no use to you as a host – there’s already at least one mind too many rattling around my soul. So kill me, if you can. But I don’t think she’ll let you.’

  The orb pulsed. Mirika stared down at it, her features slackening. ‘Yelen?’ A little of Szarnos’ influence had faded from her voice. ‘I… I can’t fight him much longer. You have to go.’

  ‘No. I want my sister back. I’m not abandoning you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’ll have to kill me, because I’m not leaving.’

  Magnis stepped to Yelen’s side. ‘Just put down the orb.’ He spoke smoothly, the serenity of his tone a contrast to the weariness on his face. ‘You’ll be able to think clearly again. You’ll be yourself. You’ll be free.’

  Mirika glanced from Yelen to Magnis and back to Yelen again. ‘I… I don’t… I can’t…’ Her eyes widened, and her lips drew back across her teeth in a rictus of silent pain.

  ‘Mirika!’ Yelen started forward, reaching for the orb.

  A squat, fur-clad figure beat her to it.

  ‘Give me the bloody thing!’ Marcan’s hands closed around the orb.

  Mirika screamed. A cold wind tore across the cavern. Stone buckled and rumbled beneath Yelen’s feet.

  ‘Look out!’

  Magnis shoved Yelen, sending her sprawling. As she struck the ground, a stalactite shattered into fragments on the spot she’d been standing.

  The wind picked up its pace, howling around the stone walls. An impossible storm of snow and ice coalesced around the centre of the ledge. At its heart, Mirika and Marcan stood locked in silent battle, each seeking to wrest the orb away from the other.

  Yelen staggered across the trembling ledge, icy shards slicing at her face and plunging stalactites shattering around her. The winds grew stronger with every step; the creak of tortured stone echoing louder.

  ‘Yelen, wait!’

  She ignored Magnis’ cry and set her shoulder to the rising wind. Mirika was a handful of paces away, no more. ‘I can reach her!’

  The rumble of stone reached a new pitch, the dull crescendo pierced by a chorus of sharp cracks. The ground beneath Yelen’s feet heaved and fell away. This time, she fell with it. Mirika and Marcan slipped from sight, lost in a tumult of grinding, plunging shadows, and then the darkness swallowed Yelen whole.

  * * *

  ‘I hope you’re enjoying your defiance.’

  Yelen opened her eyes into blackness. Her thoughts gummed together like honeycomb, but the dull pain and damp warmth at the back of her head told her everything she needed. She’d been unconscious. Had Azzanar…?

  She sat upright, and jerked to a halt as her head struck stone. Dizziness rushed in. Everything hurt.

  Yelen sat up again, more carefully this time. A figure crouched beside her. Slender. Dark-haired. So familiar in another context that it took Yelen a moment to recognize her own face. Or rather, her own face when her body was hers no longer.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve done nothing.’ Azzanar stretched a lazy hand around the darkness. Her eyes glinted red. ‘After all, where is there to go?’

  Yelen took a deep breath and stared up into the grinning face. Fragments of memory stirred. Mirika. Magnis. Marcan. ‘You’re not real. I’m imagining you.’

  ‘Well, yes and no.’ Red eyes gleamed in a face at once more beautiful and malevolent than Yelen knew her own would ever be. A black tongue flickered over thin lips. ‘You’ve had quite a knock. It creates… opportunity.’

  Bile choked the back of Yelen’s throat. ‘What have you done?’

  Azzanar laughed. ‘Nothing. Not yet.’ She ran her fingers across Yelen’s cheek. They were warm. Too warm. As if a fire lay kindled inside. ‘That moment I promised you? It’s coming.’

  ‘I’m not begging you. I’m never begging you.’ Yelen spat the words.

  ‘Yes, poppet. Just as you say, poppet.’ Azzanar picked at her nails. ‘I suppose I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know when you decide to be reasonable.’

  The demon turned sideways, and was gone.

  Yelen took another breath to steady herself and peered into the darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the lichen-lit gloom. The roof was a mess of jumbled stone, the walls no better. Her haversack lay a short distance away. Memories of the collapsing cavern dredged up from the depths. How far had she fallen? Where were the others?

  Her eyes settled on a hunk of cold and lifeless ice away towards the wall. At first, Yelen wondered why. Then, she realised it wasn’t ice at all, but frozen flesh – a bearded head shattered from a body buried by the cave-in.

  Marcan.

  Yelen twisted away, her stomach tensing. ‘You fool. What did you do?’ She hated herself for the words, but could find no others. She’d been getting through to Mirika. If Marcan hadn’t grabbed the orb…

  And if Marcan was dead, where was Mirika?

  ‘Yelen? Yelen is that you?’

  Magnis’ hoarse words came from somewhere behind Yelen. Moving slowly, gingerly, she rolled onto her front and peered into the darkness. Mirika would have to wait.

  ‘It’s me. Keep talking. I’ll find you.’

  ‘No hurry. I’m not…’ Magnis broke off in a fit of coughs. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Yelen set off on hands and knees. It transpired that the space behind her was more open than that which had lain ahead. One of the tomb’s colossal statues had fallen in such a way that its broad shoulders tilted a jagged slab of rock away from the rubble-strewn ground. There, lying on a spoil heap level with the statue’s chest and one arm pinned beneath a boulder, was Cavril Magnis. His face was pinched and smeared with blood, but his eyes were alert as ever.

  Yelen scrambled over and sank back onto her haunches. ‘Can you move?’

  Magnis jerked his head at his pinioned arm. ‘I’m afraid the cavern has a stony grip on me.’

  ‘Marcan’s dead.’

  He nodded wearily. ‘Lot of that going around.’ He raised his free hand from his side. Blood gleamed in the lichen-light. ‘It would seem I landed badly.’

  Yelen stared bleakly down at Magnis’ chest. The left-hand side of his robes glimmered black and sticky in the pale light.

  ‘So much for the legend of Cavril Magnis,’ he muttered softly. ‘So much for all of it. I let you down. I’m sorry.’

  She stared at him wordlessly for a long moment. How could he say that? ‘You didn’t. And we’re getting out of here.’

  He laughed, the sound quickly giving way to a gurgling cough. ‘I must be delirious. I’m sure I just heard you say…’

  ‘I said we’re getting out of here,’ she repeated, more certain this time.

  Yelen leaned forward, set her palms against the boulder pinning Magnis’ arm, and braced her boots against the ground. She gave it an experimental shove. It rocked slightly, dust spilling away from the sides.

  ‘You’ll bring it all down on us,’ muttered Magnis.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Yelen shifted her hands, seeking a better grip. ‘There’s no other weight on it. You’ve been lucky.’

  ‘Not the first word that comes to mind.’

  ‘Be quiet, and keep pressure on that wound.’

  ‘Yes, mother
.’

  Satisfied that her grip was as good as it would get, Yelen threw her weight behind the boulder. It shifted inch by inch, then tipped away, crashing into the caved-in wall.

  Dust cascaded from the ceiling. Yelen held her breath, releasing it only when it became apparent the rumble wasn’t about to collapse in on them.

  ‘Can you move it?’

  Magnis winced and shook his head. ‘Something’s grating.’

  Yelen glanced from his arm to his chest, weighing up her choices. ‘It’ll have to wait. The chest wound comes first.’

  Scrambling back across the rubble, she retrieved her haversack and encountered her first fragment of good fortune – her lantern had survived the fall intact enough to take a light. Not that light offered much encouragement – a clear view of Magnis’ injuries only confirmed their severity. His left forearm was a mass of mottled bruises, and the torn cloth of his robe revealed a gash that ran the length of his ribcage, often as deep as the bone.

  Ignoring his feeble protests, Yelen cut open and peeled away the blood-soaked robes and bound the livid gash as best she could – which in truth was not very well at all. Magnis uttered no cry throughout, though his breaths hissed and flickered through his teeth.

  At last, Yelen tied the final knot in place, and sank back on her heels. ‘It’s not pretty, but it’ll hold for now.’ Her voice trembled as she spoke the lie. At best, the binding was a stopgap. Even if it stopped the blood flow, infection was a certainty. ‘Let’s take a look at your arm.’

  ‘Wait.’ Magnis held her back with his good hand. ‘I need you to promise me something.’ His voice was stronger now, some inner fire bubbling to the surface. ‘I’ve no right to ask, but I have to. If I… Promise me you’ll help Elien.’ His hand fell away. ‘I’m her brother, she has no one else… Always loved roses…’

  His strength spent, Magnis sank back and his eyes closed.

  ‘Magnis? Cavril?’

  Yelen leaned forward, heart in her throat. Magnis’ chest rose and fell, the breaths shallow but rhythmic. She sighed with relief, in a way glad that he’d passed out. How could she promise to help Elien Magnis? She was on borrowed time every bit as much as Magnis. Just as death reached out for him, Azzanar reached out for her. And yet…