Frostgrave_Second Chances

by Matthew Ward

  ‘And if he’s not?’ asked Kain.

  Yelen glanced at Magnis. He straightened slightly, and met her gaze unblinkingly.

  ‘Then it’s his choice,’ she said.

  Kain nodded. ‘Go.’

  Cavril eased gingerly away from the wall and took Yelen’s hand in his. ‘I’ll bring your sister back to you. I promise.’ With a last squeeze of her fingers, he passed through the archway and began the long walk up the nave.

  Yelen watched him go, stomach aflutter. She couldn’t shake an ominous feeling. Magnis was surely walking to his death, and yet he seemed so confident of success.

  ‘I can’t believe you listened to him.’ Azzanar slumped against the archway and shook her head. ‘A mind of mirrors, that one.’

  ‘You’re one to talk,’ muttered Yelen. ‘He’s dying…’ She paused, strangely ashamed to have said the word aloud. ‘Mother always told me to trust the word of a dying man.’

  Azzanar laughed. ‘In my experience, the drowning will say anything, clutch at any straw that might reverse their circumstances.’ She shook her head and traced a fingertip through the air. It left a trail of fire that sparked and faded. ‘But if your mother told you otherwise, I’m sure that’s fine.’

  Yelen watched Magnis’ staggered, lurching steps along the aisle. Mirika still faced the altar, the chant and angry curses now so overlaid as to no longer be distinguishable. The ominous feeling grew. She told herself Azzanar was wrong, was sowing discord just as she always did, but still…

  Warned by an itching in her shoulder blades, Yelen glanced over her shoulder and found Kain staring unblinkingly at her.

  ‘What does she say?’

  Yelen frowned, and Kain jerked her head towards the archway – towards Azzanar. The demon straightened like a child caught in an act of misrule, and vanished.

  Serene frowned. ‘What does who say?’

  ‘That we shouldn’t trust him,’ said Yelen. She’d thought Kain’s claims of being able to see Azzanar were figurative. Apparently not. ‘But she would say that.’

  Kain’s lip twisted into a half-frown. ‘Perhaps. I’d say we’re about to find out.’

  Yelen turned her attention back to the nave. Magnis drew to a halt. Setting his good hand on the end of a pew, he propped himself up.

  ‘Szarnos! I’m here to parley.’

  Mirika spun around, harsh syllables of the chant dying on her lips. ‘And what do you have to offer that I cannot simply take?’

  Magnis didn’t reply for a long moment. He leaned against the pew, chest rising and falling as he recovered his failing breath. ‘At this moment, almost anything, I’d say. She’s still fighting, isn’t she?’

  The familiar blue-white light formed around Mirika’s hands. ‘She will yield in the end.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure. She’s a time witch, and stubborn with it.’ Magnis coughed, and wiped his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve. ‘How’s she doing it? Meddling with her tempo just enough to dislocate your incantations?’

  The glow around Mirika’s hands intensified. ‘I will not be mocked.’

  Magnis didn’t seem to notice. ‘Go ahead. Kill me. It won’t do you any good. But I’ve an offer that will.’

  Azzanar appeared on the edge of the archway, this time out of Kain’s sightline. ‘And I thought he was going to talk to Mirika. I suppose he must have changed his mind.’

  Yelen swallowed back a rebuke, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. ‘He’ll bring Mirika back. He promised.’

  ‘Poppet, mortals make and break promises all the time. It’s practically a sport. Why would he be any different?’

  A hand fell on Yelen’s shoulder, the suddenness of it all but making her jump out of her skin. ‘Something’s not right,’ muttered Kain. ‘I’m going out there.’

  ‘He said to stay here.’

  ‘I know what he said.’

  ‘No.’ Yelen stared at her hand, suddenly planted in the middle of the knight’s chest. She wasn’t sure how it had got there – wasn’t sure how she’d had the audacity to bar Kain’s path, but she had. She squared her shoulders. ‘He’ll keep his word.’

  Kain remained silent just long enough for Yelen to contemplate just how easily the knight could break her in half if she so chose. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  Yelen glanced at Serene, whose eye flickered back and forth, and whose knuckles whitened on a dagger’s hilt. ‘So do I.’

  In the temple proper, Mirika hunched forward a step. ‘I’m losing patience.’ Szarnos’ harsh tones rippled through the words. ‘Make your offer, if you indeed have one to make.’

  Magnis straightened. ‘The woman’s no use to you as a host. Set her free.’

  Mirika clutched the orb tighter to her chest. ‘No! I have waited centuries. She will yet embrace me. My legacy will continue.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But what if she didn’t need to?’ Magnis made a jerking half-bow. ‘I accept the offer you made before. I will take her place.’

  Azzanar chuckled. ‘So the drowning man has found his straw.’

  Mirika knelt and extended her hands, the orb clasped between them. The icy glow faded from about her fingers. ‘Agreed. Take the phylactery. Let me guide you. Wield my legacy as your own.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Yelen. She ran through the archway, boots skidding on the icy flagstones. ‘You can’t do this, Cavril!’

  Mirika hissed. Magnis rounded on Yelen. ‘I can. I must.’ He spoke quickly, pleadingly. ‘It’s the only way. You want Mirika back, don’t you?’

  ‘And what about Elien?’ she demanded, skidding to a halt. ‘What happens to her?’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ he said, eyes gleaming. ‘I can do more for my sister with Szarnos’ might behind me than I ever could with mere coin. There’s an army here. You’ve seen a portion of it, but I felt it as soon as we arrived. It’s writhing, waiting to be reborn. Your sister’s holding it back, but I’ll embrace it, give it purpose. Think of it! I could break Flintine’s hold on Rekamark forever, and that would just be the start.’

  Yelen stared at him, slack-jawed. The image of Cavril Magnis she’d built up in her head – the roguish but honest man she’d believed him to be – shattered into pieces. Just one more illusion. ‘This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You never had any intention of selling the orb!’

  Magnis gave a lopsided shrug, and winced. He pressed his good hand to his side, and spread his bloody fingers. ‘We are what circumstances make us.’

  Mirika stood unmoving before the altar, orb still held at arm’s length. To all appearances, she’d heard nothing. Apparently Szarnos saw no reason to involve himself in the argument. More likely, Yelen decided, he wanted to do nothing that might jeopardize his willing host.

  Yelen stepped closer. ‘I won’t let you go through with this.’

  ‘We won’t let you,’ said Kain, taking up position on Yelen’s left. ‘This isn’t the answer.’

  ‘You’ve gone mad, Cavril,’ said Serene, circling around to Yelen’s right. ‘This isn’t what Kas and I signed on for.’

  Magnis sighed. ‘You’re not seeing this as you should.’

  ‘I see a man who seeks control of an army of the dead,’ said Yelen. ‘When has that ever worked out for anyone? Give me one example. Just one.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like that. I’ll be in control, not Szarnos. A partnership of flesh and spirit.’

  ‘You told me that such deals always ended badly, remember?’ shouted Yelen.

  ‘And none of them were struck by me,’ snapped Magnis. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  Metal slithered on metal as Kain drew her sword. ‘Listen to yourself. Can you even hear what you sound like?’

  Magnis’ expression slackened with disappointment. ‘You’re threatening me?’ His eyes darted back and forth, from Kain to Serene and back to Yelen. ‘I know what I’m doing. More to the point, it’s my choice!’

  Yelen stripped off her glove, baring the clock-tattoo. �
�I used to think that! Look at me now!’

  ‘And you think we’re the same?’

  She looked away, disgusted. ‘I thought we might be. Not anymore.’

  ‘I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I can’t allow you to stop me.’

  Yelen took another step. ‘You’re in no position to stop anyone. You can barely stand.’

  He ignored her, shifting his attention to Yelen’s right. ‘Serene. About Kas. I assume you know it wasn’t really Darrick who killed him?’

  A cold fist closed around Yelen’s stomach. ‘Cavril…’

  Serene glanced from one to the other. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Someone whispered sweet nothings in his ear, lured him from camp,’ said Magnis. ‘Then she cut him open, and left him for dead in the snow, didn’t you Yelen?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that!’ Yelen pleaded. ‘It was…’

  Serene’s scream, more a wild animal’s than a woman’s, drowned out the rest of Yelen’s words. She covered the distance between them in an eye blink. Her hands closed around Yelen’s robes, flinging her back against the high-sided pew.

  ‘I trusted you!’

  ‘It wasn’t me!’

  Serene’s forearm slammed across Yelen’s throat. A dagger-point gleamed. ‘He was mine! He was all I had, and you took him from me!’

  Azzanar settled in the pew behind Yelen and chuckled softly to herself. ‘Would you like some help?’

  Suddenly, the pressure on Yelen’s neck vanished. Serene pinwheeled backwards, propelled by a gauntleted hand tight around her collar.

  Yelen slumped, rubbing at her throat.

  ‘Go!’ Kain twisted the dagger from Serene’s hand and shoved her to the floor. ‘Stop him.’

  Magnis had set off along the aisle once again, drawing ever closer to the proffered orb.

  Yelen pushed off from the pew and ran in pursuit. The cold air raked her lungs as she closed the distance.

  Magnis’ lead shortened, but his head start was too great. Two paces, maybe three, and he’d reach Mirika’s side. Yelen’s legs pumped in one last effort, covering the remaining ground.

  As she closed, Magnis’ image splintered into two, both reaching for the orb.

  Yelen had only a split-second to decide. She threw herself forward, hands clutching at the left-most Magnis’ waist.

  They met the edges of his robes, and passed straight through.

  With nothing to cling to, Yelen overbalanced and fell. She struck the icy flagstones just as the illusion burst into glittering fragments, the impact jarring all breath from her body.

  Magnis’ fingers closed around the orb.

  Golden light suffused the air, so blinding in its intensity that Yelen threw up a hand to shade her eyes. Through slitted fingers, she saw two dark shapes fluttering amongst the brilliance, one standing tall, the other kneeling. A deep, thready booming sound filled the air, its rasping passage like the breath of some vast, slumbering creature rousing to wakefulness. A thousand skittering voices pressed in on Yelen’s thoughts, their words mingling and overlapping like echoes of wind through the Broken Strand. Then they faded, swallowed up by the dolorous, rumbling notes, and the light glimmered down into nothing.

  A hand found Yelen’s and dragged her upright.

  ‘See? There is nothing to fear.’

  Yelen reluctantly allowed a cupped hand to tilt her chin, bringing her gaze into line with its owner’s. Cavril Magnis still looked like Cavril Magnis. The golden light still ran beneath his skin as it had beneath Mirika’s, but it no longer resembled invasive tendrils, but a wash of brilliance lighting it from within. Only the eyes were wholly different. Cold and black, they peered out onto the world like moonless skies, unreadable and unknowable. A golden hemisphere glinted in the centre of his breast, the ring of charred cloth revealing where the other half of the orb had buried into flesh and bone. Yelen recalled all the times her sister had held the orb close, as if seeking to enfold it in her flesh, and felt sick.

  ‘The deal is struck, and I am an apprentice once again.’ Szarnos’ rasping tones bubbled beneath Magnis’ words, but they were much softer than they had ever been when Mirika had spoken. ‘I will learn all he can teach me.’

  Yelen pulled away, uncomfortable beneath the inky stare, and sank to her knees beside Mirika. Her sister lay face down where she’d collapsed, unmoving. ‘Mirika?’

  ‘She’ll recover,’ intoned Magnis, laying a hand on Yelen’s shoulder. ‘There’ll be little lasting harm.’

  ‘I’ll see for myself, thanks.’

  Yelen shrugged the hand away and gently eased Mirika’s tangled hair aside. Her face was pale, with deep red circles beneath fluttering eyelids, but she was breathing. Yelen sighed with relief, and stroked her sister’s cheek. Even in so sorry a state, Mirika looked better than she had in days – she should have been riddled with frostbite and gods alone knew what else. Maybe Szarnos had kept his word. Szarnos, or Magnis, or whoever was truly in control.

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Kain. She had a sullen-looking Serene pressed face-first against one of the pews, arm twisted high behind her back.

  ‘Let go of me!’ snarled Serene.

  Kain jerked the arm higher. ‘Stop struggling, or I’ll break your arm. Don’t test me.’ She turned her attention back to Magnis. ‘I asked you a question.’

  He shook his head at the disrespectful tone. ‘Now, you leave. Return to Rekamark.’

  ‘And you’re not coming, I take it?’

  ‘Everything I need lies within these catacombs. Szarnos’ magic will sustain me, just as it heals me now, and will guide me in the days to come.’ His eyes bored into hers. ‘Think of the wonders I’ll see. Perhaps I will become a legend after all.’

  That cinched it, thought Yelen. It had to be Magnis in control, or mostly so. But for how long? ‘He’s using you.’

  ‘And I’m using him. Symbiosis.’ He crouched beside her. ‘I was dying, Yelen. No legend. No hope. Now you have your sister back. I promised, and promises are important.’ He pinched his eyes shut and shuddered with unrecognizable emotion. ‘It will take some time yet before Szarnos and I are fully aligned and my wounds are healed. But when that is done, I’ll be untouchable.’

  ‘You can’t control him,’ said Yelen bitterly. ‘He’ll twist everything you seek to achieve.’

  Magnis scowled. ‘You’re not listening.’

  ‘Why would I bother? I don’t know who you are anymore.’

  ‘Then go. I’ve kept my promise.’

  For a moment, disappointment glinted in Magnis’ dark eyes, then he rose to his feet, arms outspread. Pale light rippled out from his hands, enfolding the ice-locked dead seated in the frontmost pews. Jagged cracks spread across the glittering surface as the mouldered bones within stirred to unlife.

  ‘Remarkable,’ whispered Magnis, the strains of Szarnos’ voice growing in pitch beneath his own. ‘Such power, so readily. And this is but a taste. No more illusions. No lies of light and sound. Just the deepest and most final of all truths.’ The golden light beneath his skin deepened, spreading like spiderwebs along his veins. When he spoke again, all trace of the suave, cultured tones had gone. There was only Szarnos’ guttural rumble. ‘Go. While I still permit it.’

  A chunk of ice dislodged from the nearest skeleton and shattered into a hundred pieces. A bony arm flexed and grasped at the stone armrest. Magnis rounded on Yelen, dark eyes gleaming and bereft of recognition. ‘Go!’

  ‘Yelen?’ called Kain. ‘There’s nothing more to say.’

  Yelen stared at Magnis, himself lost in rapt wonder at the awakening congregation. Then she gazed down at the sister she’d feared gone for good. She wanted to cry for joy and sorrow in equal measure.

  ‘Do you need help?’ asked Kain.

  ‘No,’ Yelen replied, gathering Mirika up in her arms. ‘I have her.’

  * * *

  At last the black, suffocating clouds parted. Mirika didn’t trust it at first, expected the oppress
ive voice to return to her thoughts. When it didn’t, new sensations flooded in – feelings that she’d forgotten existed. Hunger. Pain. And cold. Cold above all.

  Mirika sat upright, gathering the bundle of blankets and too-large clothes tight about her. She sucked in a deep breath, hating and relishing the icy spikes that prickled at her lungs. Muffled sounds resolved into familiar forms. The crackle of flame. The grinding of boots on stone. And voices. One voice in particular.

  ‘Yelen?’

  Mirika opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Dark and light blurs fought for dizzying primacy. She raised a trembling hand, shielding her eyes. A dark blur grew closer, its presence shrouding the light.

  ‘Mirika?’ Warm arms enfolded her in an embrace almost bruising in its enthusiasm. ‘You’re awake? How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like death.’

  ‘That’s not funny. How much do you remember?’

  Mirika wanted to lie, for herself as much as for Yelen, but what was the point? She’d still know, just as her sister would still worry. ‘All of it. I remember all of it.’ Nausea flooded in with recollection. ‘Mariast. Her toy soldiers. Marcan.’ Her gorge tightened. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘Just breathe deeply. It’ll pass.’

  Mirika almost managed a smile at that. ‘You don’t know that.’

  The embrace tightened. ‘You might be surprised,’ whispered Yelen, her breath warm on Mirika’s ear. Then she withdrew.

  Moments trickled past. Flickering shadows resolved into shapes. The leaping flames of a fire. A rubble-strewn slope reaching up into the darkness. Yelen, her eyes bright with elation as she knelt tending the flames. The Gilded Rose’s knight… What was her name? Kain? Standing watch close by.

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Somewhere beneath the Tomb of Szarnos,’ Yelen replied, stirring at the billy can. ‘It’s your fault. You brought us here.’

  ‘I remember,’ Mirika said softly. She remembered Marcan looming out of the darkness. The moment of panic. The smothering sensation as Szarnos took control. ‘Where’s the other woman?’

  Yelen’s expression soured. ‘Serene? Looking for a route to the top.’