Frostgrave_Second Chances

by Matthew Ward

  Moved by an instinct she couldn’t quite identify, Yelen leaned forward and kissed Magnis on the forehead. ‘If I can, I will.’

  As Magnis slept, Yelen turned her attention to his mangled arm, splinting it as best she could with branches from the haversack’s kindling bundle. Like her other effort, it was a long way short of perfect, but it would have to do.

  That done, Yelen turned her attention to the makeshift cavern that doubled as both shelter and prison. Lantern in hand, she scoured every inch of rock, looking for some chink of light that would betray a possible escape. She didn’t dwell on the new problems that would arise if she found one – namely, the shifting of tonnes upon tonnes of rock. Similarly, she tried not to let her thoughts linger on darker prospects. There was no proof, none at all, that she and Magnis weren’t the only survivors of the collapse. Serene, Kain and Mirika could all be dead, and Yelen found no consolation in the thought that if Mirika was dead, then Szarnos was entombed once more.

  At last, Yelen found what she was looking for. Behind the half-buried statue that had saved Magnis’ life, a gentle draught set the lantern flickering. And where there was an air current, there was maybe a way out. Moments later, she had it – a crack between two fallen stones. It was too small to shine the lantern through – too small to admit even the tips of her fingers – but it was better than nothing.

  Unfortunately, every stone Yelen tested remained fixed solidly in place, wedged tight by the pressure of those above. There was no danger of a secondary collapse because there was no chance of her shifting even a single rock. At least, not by herself. The thought of it revolted her, but what else could she do? If she did nothing, Magnis would die for certain. She’d die for certain.

  Pressing up against the crack, Yelen shouted as loud as she could. ‘Kain! Serene! Can you hear me?’

  The only reply was her own voice echoing back on her. No. That wasn’t true. There was something else coming from the other side. A distant but familiar voice, chanting unfamiliar words. Mirika – or rather Szarnos. Not that there was any point expecting help from that quarter.

  ‘Kain!’

  The shout echoed again without response. There was only a muffled sound, easily taken for the backwash of the echoes.

  Yelen sank back against the uneven wall. So that was it. No choices left. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Azzanar sat opposite, red eyes gleaming in the lantern light, the cold stone darkening her translucent mockery of Yelen’s form.

  ‘You’re not real.’

  ‘I’m real enough, poppet. I thought it might be nice to talk face to face.’

  ‘How considerate.’

  ‘I believe you’ve something you want to ask me.’

  ‘Want to? No.’ Yelen glanced back at Magnis. ‘But I don’t have any choice.’

  The demon smiled. ‘So you say.’

  ‘Can you – can we – do anything for him? Mirika altered her tempo to heal her wrist.’

  Azzanar arched an eyebrow. ‘It’s possible. But if there’s an infection, you won’t want to see what that does when dipped into the timeflow.’

  Yelen pulled back her glove and stared at the clock tattoo. Just a sliver of bare skin left, then darkness. Not enough, in other words. ‘If I do this, you need to promise to go far away. You’re to leave my friends alone.’ It felt odd to use the word about the survivors of the Gilded Rose, but Yelen could conjure no other to do the job. ‘You’re to leave Mirika alone, assuming they manage to save her.’

  ‘Is there really anything I can say that you’ll believe, poppet?’

  ‘Not really. I suppose I’ll have to trust you.’

  Azzanar leaned closer and set her hands on Yelen’s. Strange, to feel the touch of something that wasn’t really there. ‘And you can, poppet. I love you. Who knows you better than I?’

  Mirika. Yelen didn’t say the name aloud – likely the demon was thinking it anyway. ‘And you’ll heal Cavril’s wounds, and free him from this cave-in?’

  ‘I can’t make any promises about the first, poppet. Some wounds, time doesn’t heal. As to the rest, a bargain is a bargain.’ Red eyes met Yelen’s; earnest and unwavering.

  Yelen met the gaze, as if she could divine the demon’s motives with a stare. Azzanar was always at her friendliest when she stood to gain something, and Yelen now offered her everything she’d ever desired – she’d every reason to be accommodating. Yet doubt remained. Not for the first time, Yelen wished she’d inherited more of an awareness of the Clock of Ages, that she could do more than the shared time walk with her sister. But then if she could, she’d not be where she was, would she?

  ‘Alright,’ Yelen breathed. ‘In exchange for healing Cavril, and freeing him from here…’

  She shuddered, remembering the dream – caught behind a mirror while Azzanar took her place. But there was no other way. Not unless she wanted Magnis to die.

  Azzanar’s hand brushed her cheek. ‘Say the words, poppet.’

  ‘And you’ll take us far away from Frostgrave, and never harm my friends.’

  The demon leaned closer still. Her face, almost touching Yelen’s, wore a smile of anticipation. ‘Say the words.’

  ‘I…’ Yelen’s mouth went dry. ‘I…’

  ‘Yelen!’ Kain’s shout echoed clearly around the confined space. ‘Where are you, girl? Answer me?’

  ‘Kain?’ Yelen pulled away from Azzanar, and pressed her face to the crack in the rubble. She glimpsed the knight standing on the lower slope, battered and bruised, but hale. ‘Kain? Where have you been?’

  ‘Where have I been? I’ve been calling for you, but you didn’t answer. You taken a knock to the head?’

  ‘Yes. No.’ Yelen glanced back at Azzanar, the truth of the matter rushing in. The demon had manipulated her perceptions again, feeding her sense of hopelessness and abandonment, but the spell had broken – seemingly not a moment too soon. ‘I was confused, but I’m seeing things clearly now.’

  Azzanar hissed, black tongue flicking across her teeth, and vanished.

  Yelen turned her attention back to Kain. ‘Cavril’s in here with me. He’s hurt. Can you get us out?’

  ‘Patience, girl. I’m thinking.’ Kain vanished from sight. The sound of rock scraping on rock rang out. ‘I think so. It’s not too badly packed from this side. No guarantees, though.’

  Yelen glanced back at Magnis. ‘Just do your best. It’s better than our other options.’

  At the back of Yelen’s mind, Azzanar growled.

  In the event, Kain’s best was very good indeed. Though Yelen’s heart skipped a beat every time she heard a boulder skip and scrape away down the slope, fearful that the makeshift ceiling would fall in upon her, no such collapse occurred. With a yawning groan, a rock beneath the crack toppled away, occasioning a spill of rubble down the slope. Part of Yelen’s footing slipped away with it, and she scrambled back to stable ground. The resulting gap was large enough to accommodate Kain’s head and shoulders – easily broad enough for Yelen to crawl through.

  Kain stared impatiently up at Yelen. ‘You coming out, or you just getting comfortable?’

  ‘It’s Cavril. He can’t squeeze through here, not in his state.’

  Kain nodded and patted the boulder to her left. ‘This one’s our best bet. Put your shoulder to it, and we’ll see if it’ll shift.’

  Yelen did as instructed, trying not to think about the tonnes of rock still above their heads – tonnes of rock looking for the merest excuse to plunge down. ‘Ready.’

  ‘On three. One. Two… Three.’

  Yelen straightened her legs and threw her full weight at the rock. Nothing happened. Then, with a creaking, cracking screech, it rumbled away in a torrent of dust. Overbalanced, her footing lost on the loosened scree, Yelen nearly went with it – would have done, had Kain not shot out a gauntleted hand to grab her.

  ‘Hold on. It’s a long way down.’

  And it was. A lantern set a little to Yelen’s right showed the rubble pile slo
ping off for at least the height of a three-storey building. Steadying herself, she peered up. A long way down it might have been, but it was a longer way up. The lantern light hinted at jagged stone, but revealed nothing of the darkness above.

  ‘How far did we fall?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Kain. ‘Too far. Serene’s looking for a way out.’

  That news awoke a spark of joy. ‘She’s alive?’

  ‘She is. No idea what happened to Marcan, though.’

  Yelen shook her head. ‘He’s dead. Mirika killed him… And Magnis? I’ve done what I can, but it doesn’t look good.’

  Kain nodded. ‘Let me see. Don’t wander off.’

  The knight passed through the gap in the rocks. Yelen perched on the rubble and hugged herself. She’d been so close to giving up. Azzanar had nearly taken her. No. She’d nearly handed herself over. And for what?

  She sat in silence for a time, the distant echoes of Mirika’s chant blurring with muttering from inside the cave-in. Seven had set out, now only three remained – four, if she counted Magnis, which Yelen wasn’t sure she should. She wasn’t even sure she should count herself. After all, it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?

  ‘I heard you talking.’

  Yelen started guiltily. Magnis stood in the entrance to the cave-in, his good arm across Kain’s shoulders. His face was pale, save for the grey circles beneath his eyes. A haversack hung from the knight’s free hand.

  ‘Talking?’ asked Yelen.

  ‘About me. To your… other half, I presume?’

  Yelen nodded, not sure what to say.

  ‘Don’t give yourself away, Yelen, not for me.’ He laughed softly, and winced. ‘It only hurts when I laugh. And when I breathe.’ He offered a wan smile. ‘But Kain tells me you did a good job with me. So thank you. I’m sure I’ll be back to my obnoxious self in no time.’

  Yelen glanced at Kain. The knight shook her head.

  ‘You need to rest,’ said Yelen.

  Magnis twitched his head. ‘Don’t fuss so. Plenty of time for… for that later. I made a promise, and I aim to keep it. Just see that you keep yours.’

  Yelen nodded. So he’d heard that too. ‘I understand.’

  Kain frowned. ‘The girl’s right. You need rest, and medicine.’

  ‘I need a great many things,’ said Magnis, ‘and I’m not going to find them here, or anywhere between here and Rekamark, am I?’ He paused, but Kain said nothing so he pressed back on. ‘No. Onwards it is, assuming you’re prepared to carry me a little further?’

  The knight hesitated. ‘As far as you need.’

  ‘Good. Now where has Serene gotten to?’

  * * *

  As it transpired, Serene hadn’t gotten far at all. She emerged from a side passage as they reached the bottom of the slope, her appearance even more dishevelled than was usual. Her greatcoat was scuffed and torn in several places, and her blonde hair was filthy with rock dust and matted blood. Her face was wan in the lantern-light, almost haunted. Nonetheless, she moved as lightly as ever, climbing the rubble pile as sure-footedly as a mountain goat. Her stricken expression deepening when she caught sight of Magnis.

  ‘Marcan?’ she asked.

  Yelen shook her head.

  Serene shrugged. ‘No loss.’

  It struck Yelen as a heartless comment, but she suspected that a Serene bereft of Kas was a very different woman to the one she’d come to know.

  ‘Have you found a way out?’ asked Kain.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Serene replied. ‘But I did find Mirika. Amongst other things.’

  Yelen frowned, put on guard by her tone. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You’d better see for yourself.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The diminished company of the Gilded Rose travelled in silence, Serene leading and Yelen bringing up the rear. Magnis hobbled along between, the bulk of his weight resting on Kain’s tireless shoulders, and his broken arm bound tight across his chest by a makeshift sling. Though he plainly sought to stifle the sounds, every few steps brought forth a quiet hiss of pain. Yelen tried to ignore them, just as she tried not to think on the harsh syllables of Mirika’s chant ringing louder and louder in her ears. Not that there was much solace to be found in their surroundings.

  The deeper tunnels were different to the rough craftsmanship of those above. Dressed stone fronted the bare rock, lining funerary alcoves in which skeletal dead lay locked in ice, frozen in contemplative repose. Yelen quickly lost track of how many such interments they passed, but the number ranked beyond hundreds.

  That number climbed steeply again as Serene led the way into a vaulted chamber and across a stone bridge. Lantern light danced across the ice-crusted cylindrical walls, but couldn’t begin to broach the darkness beneath the bridge’s span. And alcoved within those walls, like books set upon a library’s shelves, lay yet more frozen dead, swathed in funerary garb, skeletal arms folded across their empty ribs and bony fingers gripped tight around the hilts of rusted swords.

  ‘I never dreamed this was here,’ whispered Magnis. ‘I’d heard stories, but…’

  Yelen eyed the nearest skeleton. Its timeless grin seemed to leer at her through the ice, a promise of her own mortality yet to see fulfilment. ‘What do you mean?’

  He shook his head wearily, and motioned for the company to keep moving.

  Serene led them on, the tunnels heading ever deeper below ground, the echoing chant growing ever louder, more oppressive. Then, just as Yelen was on the brink of calling for a break, the passageway opened out once more. Responding to Serene’s frantic gesture, Yelen pressed herself against the passage wall, and peered through the archway.

  The buried temple, for such it must have been, was far grander than anything Yelen had yet seen within Frostgrave. The nave and the peaked roof called back to the Gilded Rose’s base of operations, but everything here was on a far grander scale. The robed statues interspersed between yet more of the stacked funerary alcoves, their upraised arms forming the supports of the roof. The gilded warrior-figures lining the frozen-over pool running the length of the nave. The high windows, lit from within by pale green light. All spoke to spectacle designed to cow onlookers, to strip away certainties and replace them with those uttered from the steps of the cracked, black dais and its golden altar. All of it locked beneath inches of Frostgrave’s ageless ice.

  Mirika stood before that altar, arms outspread, the orb clutched in one hand. Green wisp-light played about her fingers, dancing about the tattered-winged statue overlooking the altar and spiralling across the stone pews choked with ice-encrusted dead. Some wore tattered robes, others were clad in rusted and distorted scraps of armour. All sat in silence beneath the rows of mildewed banners.

  The chant reached fever-pitch, then died away in a choked snarl of frustration.

  ‘It’s not working.’ Her whisper echoed along the nave, Szarnos’ dry, bitter tones stronger than ever. ‘How are you fighting me? It shouldn’t be possible.’

  Mirika’s clenched fist slammed down on the altar, and the chant began anew, louder this time.

  ‘I told you she was stronger than you thought,’ muttered Magnis. He eased himself off Kain’s shoulders. ‘I need to talk to her. Help her throw off Szarnos’ influence.’

  ‘And how well did that work before?’ asked Serene acidly.

  ‘This time Marcan’s not going to come charging in to spoil everything, is he?’ Magnis sank against the wall and glanced at Yelen. ‘You want your sister back, don’t you? This is the only way.’

  Yelen stared at him in silence. The worst of it was, Magnis was right. They were both on borrowed time now. Azzanar wasn’t going to give up tricking her. It was only a matter of time before she won. And as for Magnis… The stain was across his robes, proof that her attempts to bind his wounds had only delayed the inevitable. Chances were neither of them were making it back to Rekamark. Mirika was all that mattered now.

  She nodded tautly. ‘Alright. What d
o you want to do?’

  ‘To talk. Just talk.’ Magnis nodded towards Mirika. ‘Szarnos isn’t having it all his own way. That means Mirika’s still in there. If I go up there alone – no illusions, no weapons – she won’t feel threatened. Szarnos won’t be able to harness her fear.’ He looked back at Yelen. ‘You, of all people, should know how powerful a tool that can be.’

  Yelen had to give him that. The only times she and Azzanar had ever seen eye to eye – the only times they’d cooperated with one another – was when they’d been in danger. What if Mirika had been holding Szarnos back during their last confrontation? And then Marcan – a man who’d tried to kill her in almost that very spot – had interfered. How would Azzanar have twisted that? How had Szarnos?

  ‘I don’t like this, Cavril,’ hissed Serene.

  He laughed softly. ‘I don’t much know that I like it either, but options are few and time fleeting. At least this way I’m the only one at risk.’

  ‘Not alone,’ said Kain. ‘You’ll never walk that far, even if Szarnos doesn’t freeze you solid.’

  ‘I’ll manage. I’ll have to. If this looks at all like a confrontation, it won’t work.’ The corner of Magnis’ mouth twitched. ‘And you, Borodna, promise a fight like no one I’ve ever known.’

  ‘I still don’t like this,’ said Kain, flatly.

  ‘I’m not asking you to like it. I’m telling you to do as instructed. That’s why I pay you.’

  She stepped away, eyes narrowing. ‘So that’s the way of it?’

  ‘It is.’

  Mirika’s chant broke off in a stream of guttural curses. An iron candelabra clattered across the flagstones, propelled by a frustrated sweep of her hand.

  Yelen came to a decision. ‘Let him go.’

  Serene’s good eye widened. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  Yelen flung a finger towards the altar. ‘Look at her… him. Distracted, off-balance. There’ll never be a better time. We can’t fight Szarnos – we all saw what happened to Mariast when she tried. Maybe Cavril’s right.’