‘Not where, but how.’ Yglenia drew a long breath to calm herself. Even thinking about Birasel made her blood burn. ‘I’ll find her.’
‘And when you do?’
For a moment she stared straight ahead. ‘Only one of us comes back out. I plan for it to be me.’
The captain gave her a brief, sharp glance. ‘Better be.’
As they tromped through drifting snow under the stone arch that once held the western gate of the ruined city, the silence broke apart, rent by a cacophony of screams, moans, and snivelling whispers. The cries came from all directions at once and no direction at all. Her ears buzzed, but when she closed her eyes and searched the ether, she found only an old warning spell pouring out the sounds.
She fed Rabin a few bits of corn and held up a piece of cloth she’d found in Birasel’s quarters. ‘Find the wizard and return to show us the way to her.’ The crow stroked her ear with its beak, cawed softly and took off, flying into the desolate city. He disappeared after a few moments.
‘Ignore the noises,’ Yglenia said. ‘They’re nothing. Just an old protection spell that doesn’t know when to quit.’
‘And that?’ one of the soldiers asked, pointing slightly left.
The greenish fog that hung low over the city had begun to swirl, though no breeze blew through the ruins. Eddies formed, rotating in place, eerie looking but not threatening, until strands of roiling yellow-green smoke branched out from them. For a second they seemed to wave randomly, then they began snaking toward the group.
‘Give me a moment.’
The largest tendril twisted and wound through the air several feet above the ground, moving sinuously toward her while Yglenia tried to get a read on the spell behind the fog. She suspected it was another illusion like the sounds, only visual instead of auditory this time. When she tried to locate the source of the fog, to read its origin, though, it resisted her effort.
She was still seeking when the first tendril reached her and its blunt, finger-like end nudged her chin.
The fog invaded her mind, rooted around, found her nightmares, and replayed them.
Only it wasn’t a nightmare, but one of her earliest and worst memories. Her father raged in the grip of one of his mad episodes, the worst she could remember in her six years of life. Alternately screaming and crying, tearing up books, throwing things, sweeping ornaments off tabletops. She hid in a cupboard, out of sight, waiting for it to run out. But then the cloaked and hooded figure came and said a few words that seemed to push him back into his chair. The stranger made him drink her concoction. Her father calmed and fell asleep. The figure studied him for a long time before turning and leaving the cottage. Yglenia watched from the cupboard for much, much longer, waiting to see what state he’d be in when he woke. But he never did. By the time she couldn’t stand it any longer and crept out to touch his hand, he was cold.
That spun into her second worst memory – the day she found the letter tucked in a drawer and learned that her teacher and mentor was the cloaked and hooded figure that day, the person who’d killed her father.
A hand grasped her arm tightly and shook it while voices yelled and demanded attention. ‘Lady. Lady!’
The words cut through the fog of memories and she pushed them back with an effort. One tendril still touched her chin, but another had begun snaking around her back and arms. She looked around. Two of the other soldiers were engulfed in swirls of mist. The captain wasn’t. He’d drawn his sword but held it by his side, unsure of what to do.
‘The tendrils,’ she gasped, pulling out her own knife. ‘Cut them off.’
His eyebrows rose but he didn’t question it. Instead he turned, raised the sword, and brought it down on the tendril starting to wrap around her. She noted his surprise when the sword met some actual resistance, but he chopped through, severing the strand from the eddy that had spawned it.
Still fighting the surge of memories clamouring for her attention, Yglenia drew her own knife and slashed at the foggy extension that touched her chin. When its tip separated from the pseudo-arm reaching for her, the memory invasion stopped like a song cut off mid-sentence.
They turned to see that all four soldiers were now embraced by swirls of fog and appeared lost in their own minds, though two of them had drawn their swords before being overcome by it. Yglenia and the captain both hacked at the tendrils surrounding them. Oddly the green, foggy arms made no attempt to evade their blows or fight back. Once the extension’s connection to the main area of mist was gone, it dissipated. It took only a few minutes to free the mercenaries. A few more outgrowths formed from the eddies, but they moved slowly and were easily dodged.
‘Let’s go,’ the captain said, nodding to the road.
She hoped Rabin would return soon. Beyond heading toward the ruined fortress ahead she wouldn’t know where to go until he did.
A quarter of a mile in, the green fog was well behind them, and grim piles of stone ruins loomed on either side, with the remains of what appeared to be a partially collapsed fortress in the distance ahead. They passed one or two cross streets. At least one was blocked off by mounds of snow and another appeared to end at a gate of twisted iron topped by wicked barbs. White skulls sat atop some of the barbs, leering at them. Icicles, large as swords, hung from the metal cross pieces.
The road narrowed as it approached a set of ragged towers and walls that might once have formed a mighty gate house. Two of the towers stood almost intact, though with jagged cracks running through them and chunks missing in places. Several other towers were partially collapsed. An enormous solid metal door hung on one remaining hinge, leaving an opening large enough to squeeze through. Roads branched off to the left and right ahead of the entrance.
Moments before they got to that decision point, a distant caw heralded the return of Rabin. At Yglenia’s signal the company waited there for the crow to arrive and settle on her shoulder again. She fed him corn and stroked his feathers. He ruffled the ends of his wings in a way that told her he’d located their target.
‘Show us the way then,’ she told him as he finished the last kernel.
He cawed acknowledgement and took off, heading towards their left. Yglenia sighed. That route wouldn’t have been her first choice. Five or six ruined buildings lined each side, shadowing a road that narrowed considerably before the path became a series of steps up and under an arcade of crumbling stone arches. The whole thing twisted after fifty feet or so, hiding whatever lay beyond. Patches of ice on the stairs made them particularly treacherous.
The captain moved ahead, following the crow’s path up and under the arches. The rest trekked behind him, and Yglenia took rear guard until a yell from the front of the group had her racing around the bend. She stopped, then ducked back. Rocks flew around the area where her companions now scurried for cover. Stones large and small, even a few large boulders more than two feet across defied gravity as they whizzed by.
Jonay, the larger of the two female soldiers, bled from a cut on her forehead, but she stood steady in the middle of the path, using her staff to divert the biggest blocks away from the group. The captain attempted the same with his sword, with less success. The others scrambled for refuge behind columns or low walls. That helped until the walls themselves began to move, sliding away or around. At the other side of the path a scream drew their gaze to where the stones had boxed in the youngest of the group.
She raised her staff. ‘Get back,’ she yelled to the others. ‘Behind me.’ Muttering a few words to power the weapon, she aimed the staff at the rock corner farthest away from the young man. She’d only have one try at it, so it better be good.
‘Shield your face,’ she warned the trapped soldier.
The staff hummed with energy activated, shaped, and aimed by her will. Sighting on the target, she released the force. A line of fire flashed to the rock, shattering it into hundreds of shards.
The trapped soldier yelped, but he’d covered his face as directed. He peered through his f
ingers and jumped through the opening she’d created, racing toward the group standing behind her.
They had to get by this obstacle, but it would take something more than the force in her staff. Yglenia considered the various spells she’d mastered, and made her choice. Muttering under her breath, she shaped the spell, put her energy into it and hurled it towards the rocks flying through the air.
It was a good spell, one of her best, and it worked better than she’d hoped. Flying rocks locked in place in the air, and sliding boulders quit moving. The silence became so thick it was almost a living presence.
‘Let’s go.’ She waved the others on. ‘It won’t hold long.’
She led the way, weaving through stones suspended in air and hopping over a couple that blocked the path. A surprised shout from one of the soldiers had them all stopping for a moment, looking at the piece of wall he pointed to. The twinkle of something gleaming there promised a possible find worth pursuing.
When he started toward it, a sudden surge of rage fired in her gut. She screamed ‘No!’ at him and raised her staff over his head. The man turned to her, startled, then cringed away at her expression. Yglenia stopped herself and tamped down on the burning fury with an effort. Of course, they’d want to pursue the possibility of hidden treasure. Her anger was reasonable as well, considering the danger, but it had surged way beyond appropriate. Though she breathed in and out slowly to control the emotion, she still sounded a bit ragged when she said, ‘Later. We only have a few minutes to get through this. On the way out, if we’ve found nothing else we’ll stop and investigate this. You have my promise.’
Reluctantly, they all moved forward. Not far beyond the bend, the arched walkway ended at a blank wall, broken by a barely noticeable door. Given the position of the wall, Yglenia guessed it was another part of the ruined fortress. Rabin exited through a small, high window, settled on her shoulder and chittered a moment, then flew back into the building.
Sighs came from a couple of the soldiers as they watched the crow disappear inside. The plain wooden door opened when the captain yanked at it. Nothing jumped out at them or offered any kind of welcome.
Within the structure, the silence was even deeper than it had been in the arch. Their torches revealed a long corridor running straight ahead for some distance. Rabin joined them from above and guided them into a hall branching to the left. It, too, was dark, the walls plain, unadorned stone.
‘Stop,’ shouted Yglenia, as they all heard a soft scrape of metal on stone. The wizard lunged forward, grabbing the woman at the front of the group and yanked her back, just as a series of long metal blades with bayonet ends dropped straight down from the ceiling. The blades nicked the two women as they tumbled backwards, then crashed into the floor.
While they spent a few minutes cleaning up the wounds, the metal gate rose again and remained aloft.
‘Stay here,’ she told the others. ‘The rest of this I need to do alone.’
‘Lady,’ the captain said, ‘You’re paying us... ’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t help with what awaits me now. Stay here and guard our retreat.’
After a bit of hesitation he agreed. Yglenia checked the ceiling, but the gate remained up as she passed through. A few rocks flew at her on the trip, but she brushed them away easily with a little force from her staff. A sword chopped down as she walked beside it, but she sensed its movement in time to sidestep around it.
Finally reaching the door and finding it open, she stopped to peer in. The acrid cloud hit her right away, but she had expected something of the sort and loosed a spell to disperse it. She added another to disable her opponent, but the older wizard threw up a shield and the spell splattered ineffectively against it. Yglenia raised her staff and shot a jet of flame that barely made a dent in her opponent’s protection.
Instead of launching anything more, Birasel beckoned to her and said, ‘Come in, dear. I know you’re here to kill me, and I know why. If you still want to after you’ve listened to me for ten minutes, I’ll give you a chance to try.’
‘You killed my father,’ Yglenia stated.
The older wizard sighed. ‘Young people have such a lovely simplistic view of life. I admire your zeal and energy, though. Sit down, please.’
Yglenia didn’t want to, but her curiosity had been roused, so she perched on the chair farthest from the old woman.
‘You know your father and I were once close,’ Birasel said. ‘Not lovers, but friends. We did a lot of research together. Much of it right here in this ruined city. And it was here that the... mistake occurred. A spell gone very wrong. It brought a curse on him. A curse of madness, developing slowly at first, but getting worse over time until he became lost in it. And that would be bad enough in itself, but the curse extended to his offspring as well.’
‘I’m not mad.’
‘Not yet. But I would bet you’ve had times when you felt anger you could barely control.’
Yglenia pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.
‘We both searched for a remedy, but if we didn’t find it in time, I had an agreement with your father that he would send for me when he knew the madness was going to overcome him, and I would end it for him when he could no longer fight it off. I’m only sorry I didn’t realise sooner you were in the room when that day came.’
Yglenia breathed out a harsh sigh.
‘Once I had fulfilled the rest of my promise to him, to see you cared for and educated, I retreated here to find the cure. Too late for him, of course, but not for you, I hope.’
‘You’ve found it, then?’
‘No, but I’m close.’
‘And that’s why I shouldn’t kill you?’
Birasel just looked steadily at her. ‘Your choice. Take a chance that I’ll find a cure, or kill me and end up lost in madness. For your father, it was ten years. You may have more. Perhaps.’
When Yglenia said nothing, she continued, ‘You were hiding in the closet that day because you’d experienced his madness and anger before. Have you had anything like that happen? Once it starts, it advances rapidly.’
‘I haven’t... ’ She had, though. At the gate. And again when the soldier had wanted to check for treasure instead of getting past the stones she’d frozen. That level of anger hadn’t felt right or natural. It wasn’t her. She’d managed to control it, then, but if it got stronger?
Birasel’s smile showed only sadness and compassion. ‘Yes. I see. Take your company back out of Frostgrave. Return in a year. By that time I should be able to reverse the curse. If not, feel free to carry out your original plan.’
Yglenia glared at the other wizard. ‘You have one year. No more.’
Karen McCullough’s wide-ranging imagination makes her incapable of sticking to one genre for her storytelling. As a result, she’s the author of more than a dozen published novels and novellas, which span the mystery, fantasy, paranormal, and romantic suspense genres. A former computer programmer who made a career change into being an editor with an international trade publishing company for many years, she now runs her own web design business to support her writing habit. Awards she’s won include an Eppie Award for fantasy; three other Eppie finals; Prism, Dream Realm, Rising Star, Lories, Scarlett Letter, and Vixen Awards, and an Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future contest. Her short fiction has appeared in several anthologies and numerous small press publications in the fantasy, science fiction, and romance genres. She lives in Greensboro, NC, with her husband of many years.
Website: www.kmccullough.com
Blog: www.kmccullough.com/kblog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/karenmccullough
Twitter: twitter.com/kgmccullough
TIME TO SPARE
David A. McIntee
We all looked up as Kveldulf came back from the path that descended to what Araddh had called the Hall of Candles. We were all fearing the worst, without being able to decide what the worst was. He loomed by the fire and gathered his thou
ghts. ‘The screaming’s stopped,’ he said at last. ‘That’s something, anyway.’
‘And the... ’ Lorenz swallowed, his lean frame shivering in his leather armour. ‘The other noise?’
‘I couldn’t hear that either, but it never was very loud.’
‘Loud enough,’ I muttered. They, and Karra, heard all the same. I didn’t know what they expected me to say, but they seemed to expect something. I was their ‘wizard’, after all. ‘Should we... Open it?’
Kveldulf shook his head, and it was like watching a thoughtful bull reply. ‘You don’t want to, lad. Trust me on that. Not unless you want to lay in a lifetime’s supply of nightmares, and a set of stains on those fancy robes that will never wash out, even if you swam an ocean in them.’
‘And it’s not as if there’s anything to gain by it,’ Karra said quietly. She stood. ‘We should just go. And never, ever come back here.’
Kveldulf and Lorenz both nodded in agreement, and so I stood, and gathered my cloak around me against the cold. ‘Let’s go, then.’ I never wanted to see this place again. Worse, I never wanted to hear the sounds again. None of the others did either, but I could tell from their expressions that they still heard the screams, and the pops. Probably they always would.
I did.
One Day Earlier
Six of us walked down the path to the Hall of Candles. Karra and Lorenz lit torches before we went in, and I looked around. A tower overlooked the stone archway that led into a complex of rooms, at least according to a scroll that Araddh had bade me carry along with his tomes and grimoires. It was impossible to see much of the Hall’s exterior, as a field of snow and ice had flowed across it.
‘Well,’ said Kveldulf, ‘I got us here. So what now?’
Araddh pulled the hood back from his shaved head, and consulted a clockwork device. ‘Now we need to be in the right vaults at the right times.’
Kveldulf’s squire took a third torch, as Araddh beckoned me to follow him in. The corridor’s roof sagged under the weight of the glacier that covered half of the building, and, though the sun was already setting, it was quite light inside. I couldn’t make out what it was that was glowing in deep alcoves, but the pulsating yellowish light was welcome. Karra lowered her torch, as did Lorenz and the squire. ‘I suppose this is why Master Araddh called it the Hall of Candles.’
Tales of the Frozen City Page 8