by Matthew Ward
As in their escape from the Lower Reach, Magnis took the lead and Kain the rear, with Yelen and the others plodding on in the centre. No one spoke. Or if they did, the wind snatched the words away before they reached Yelen’s ears. That was fine with her. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t even want to think. More than at any point since she’d fallen in with the Gilded Rose, Yelen felt alone in a crowd.
Unfortunately, there was no hiding from her own thoughts in the strange isolation of the storm. They buffeted her just as surely as the winds, and their daggers of guilt were every bit as sharp as the gale’s teeth.
She’d killed Kas, and Darrick. Yelen tried telling herself that it hadn’t been her will that had struck the blows, only her hands, but it didn’t help. Azzanar had no power without her, no means of interacting with the outside world. If she hadn’t been present, the two would still be alive.
It didn’t take much to know why Azzanar had acted as she had. In one fell swoop, she’d taken revenge for the slights Yelen had heaped upon her, and placed her host in a situation that required her help were it to be survived. That the latter half of the gamble had failed was the only bright point, and it was a slender comfort. If Azzanar could seize control of her body at will, then what good did it do to keep resisting her? No, Yelen decided. The demon couldn’t control her at will, otherwise she’d have already done it. She needed her host weak to do so, and no one was at a lower ebb than asleep.
Then and there, Yelen realised that if she were to have any chance of staying in control, she’d not be able to sleep. It was impossible. She could perhaps manage for a day, maybe even two, but the next time she closed her eyes it would be Azzanar who opened them, not her.
Hours passed, punctuated by the howl of the wind and the spray of ice across Yelen’s face. As the imposing bulk of Blackstena crematorium appeared in the distance, another unpleasant thought occurred. Azzanar had suppressed her memories of the previous night. Who was to say that there weren’t more memories – worse memories – waiting to be uncovered. Yelen found it all too easy to imagine exactly what Azzanar had said with her voice in order to lure Kas from the safety of the camp, and she was certain the demon’s imagination was a deep, dark ocean whose deeps she’d never plumb.
But what else could she do? Confess to the Gilded Rose that she’d murdered two of their friends? That she’d sabotaged the circle of corpsefires, leaving them at the mercy of the wights? Magnis might listen to the truth. Kain? Not likely, not following the offer to cut out her heart. Marcan? No chance. And Serene…
Time and again, Yelen ran the conversations through her head, always imagining the worst of all possible outcomes. But then, what positives were there to consider? The course, such as it was, seemed certain. If she could only stay awake until they found Mirika… It would change nothing for her, of course, but at least she’d have done all she could for her sister.
If it wasn’t already too late…
* * *
Blackstena crematorium was much as Yelen had last seen it, though the room in which she and Mirika had taken shelter was foul with troll dung. Marcan declared it too fresh to take chances, so he and Kain made a full circuit of the ground floor while Magnis and Serene set up a temporary camp in a relatively clean side chamber. Yelen still couldn’t bring herself to speak to them, and stared moodily out across the furnace room. Part of her hoped that the others wouldn’t return – two less people with whom she’d be forced to share her guilt.
Behind her, the fire crackled into life.
‘Ah, that’s better. Cavril Magnis triumphs again.’
‘Yes, Cavril,’ Serene tried to sound scathing, but Yelen could tell her heart wasn’t in it. ‘Truly, you have mastered a trick known to any child over the age of four.’
‘You didn’t see me last night. I was magnificent. Yelen will tell you.’
Dully, Yelen realised a response was required. ‘Yes, I suppose you were.’
Magnis shook his head. ‘Suppose? A true master is never appreciated in his own lifetime.’ He stumbled to his feet, brushed himself down and set a billy can on its tripod above the flames. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you ladies to hold the fort, while I see how our errant companions are faring. The mood Marcan was in, I imagine he’ll be searching every nook and cranny.’
So saying, Magnis crossed into the furnace room and vanished into the maze of passages. Yelen watched him go, only belatedly realizing that the very last thing she wanted was to be left alone with Serene.
‘I never thanked you, did I?’
Yelen turned from the doorway. Serene sat facing away, poking the fire with a stick. She had her sleeping blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. For the first time since Yelen had known her, she looked strangely fragile.
‘You don’t have to,’ said Yelen, the words tasting like lies. ‘I just did what needed to be done.’
‘That’s not what Marcan said,’ Serene replied, her voice flat and lifeless. ‘He told me he’d have left me, but you gave him no choice.’
Yelen couldn’t think when they’d had the chance to speak of it between the walk and the wind, but nodded anyway. ‘Fear’s hard to control. Not sure any of us were ourselves last night.’
Serene poked at the fire. ‘Don’t be so sure, love. I’ve seen a lot of men and women at their lowest moments, just before the end. That’s the moment in which you find out who you truly are, or that’s what they say. Boiled down to the essence. Marcan didn’t like what he saw. What about you?’
‘I did, at first,’ Yelen admitted. ‘But I keep thinking about the others, how they died.’
Serene’s shoulders slumped, just a fraction. ‘Kas wouldn’t want you carrying guilt for him.’ She spat into the fire. ‘As for Darrick, I hope he’s getting his penance in the frozen hells.’
‘I hope he’s getting what he deserves,’ said Yelen carefully. Despite her earlier resolution, she was gripped by an overwhelming desire to confess to Serene, and to hells with the consequences. But there was such a thing as too much honesty. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Kas.’
‘He used to tell me he wasn’t much of a catch,’ said Serene. ‘And he was right. But he was mine. That’s what mattered.’ She gave the fire a vicious stab with the stick. ‘You know what I wish? That the wights hadn’t got to Darrick.’
She didn’t have to explain why. But for all the implied violence in Serene’s words, her tone was more sorrowful than defiant. At a loss for anything to say, Yelen did the only thing she could – she sat down beside the other woman and held her close.
For a time, the only sound was the crackle and sputter of the flames, and the gentle burble of the water in the billy can as the heat took hold. It was hypnotic, soothing, and with the warmth of the fire and after a night in which she’d had far less sleep than she’d originally supposed, Yelen found herself drifting, nodding…
A blood-curdling roar echoed along the furnace hall, jolting Yelen from her near-slumber. She leapt to her feet, hand going to Kas’ sword. ‘What was that?’
‘Sounded like a troll.’ Serene was already at the door, daggers in hand. ‘Stay here.’
She hurried off down the furnace hall, the tails of her greatcoat flapping behind. With one last glance at the fire, Yelen hurried on behind.
Magnis was waiting for them at the foot of the broken-down stairs leading to the upper levels. ‘Nothing to see, ladies. There was a troll left in the building. Kain and Marcan are seeing to its eviction.’
Another roar rang out, followed by a dull, meaty thwack.
Serene moved toward the stairs. ‘I’m going to help.’
Magnis set a hand on her shoulder. ‘I think Marcan’s working out a little… anxiousness.’ Serene offered him a baleful stare, and he snatched his hand away. ‘However…’
Serene ran up the stairs without a backward glance. Magnis shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t know it, but I used to command respect, once upon a time.’
Yelen glance
d at the stairs. ‘She’s not herself.’
‘Understandable. But who is, around here?’ He sank against the wall. ‘The Magnis luck strikes again, no doubt. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here?’
‘Here?’
‘To Felstad. I had some notion of raising enough funds to hire an army, but I suspect I underestimated the difficulty of such a course.’
Yelen frowned, her own difficulties forgotten. ‘But you’re already wealthy.’
‘Oh, I am, am I?’
‘Everyone says so. Azra, for one.’
Magnis snorted. ‘So it must be true.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not poor, certainly, but armies are expensive, and so are their rations.’
Yelen opened her mouth to speak. The troll roared again, this time more with pain than with rage, or so she thought – so she hoped. A peal of deep laughter rang out after. Marcan, at least, was enjoying himself.
‘Shouldn’t we help?’ Yelen asked, as soon as she had any chance of being heard.
Magnis shook his head. ‘Kain will step in if they get into any difficulty. Fifty like her and I wouldn’t need an army.’
‘Why do you need one at all?’
‘It’s a long story, but it boils down to a very messy war over inheritance.’ Magnis’ lips twisted ruefully. ‘Suffice to say, a distant cousin argued with my great-grandfather’s choices, and resolved to take by force that to which he was unentitled. My parents are dead. My sister’s gods alone knows where. I doubt she’s dead – Rufrick never could resist a pretty face.’ His voice tightened. ‘The rest of my branch of the family are either hanging from gallows or grovelling at Rufrick’s feet. I don’t wish to sound dramatic, but I’ll see him dead if it’s the last thing I do. If he’s harmed Elien, that death may take some time coming.’
Magnis smiled, as if the matter were of no mind, but Yelen wasn’t fooled. Beneath his carefree, almost flippant exterior, Cavril Magnis was wound very tightly indeed.
‘That’s horrible,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Life is never what we’d make of it,’ said Magnis. ‘That’s why I want the orb. I’ve three buyers fighting over it. The price won’t buy me the swords I need, but it’ll be a huge step forward.’ Another bellow split the air. ‘Oh dear, that one sounded like it hurt. And now you know the terrible tale of Cavril Magnis. I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell the others. Kain aside, they think I’m only in this for the thrills. I’d hate to disillusion them.’
Yelen reflected that it wasn’t all that long ago she’d believed exactly the same. ‘Why tell her? For that matter, why tell me?’
He smoothed down his moustache. ‘You think someone like Kain would hang around a delver gang without a deeper cause lingering in the background? She’s looking for a purpose, not a score.’ He shrugged. ‘As for you? Well, I suppose it suddenly occurred to me that we’re both in this because of our sisters. Family. At once a curse, and a blessing.’
Yelen allowed herself a small smile – the first such smile since leaving the Lower Reach. ‘You’re not wrong. I was on the brink of leaving Frostgrave, I wanted a life outside of Mirika’s shadow. Now I just want her back.’
A meaty thud echoed down the stairs, closely followed by a sharp clatter of falling rubble. Magnis peered up the staircase, shrugged and turned his attention back to Yelen.
‘Are you going to tell me the rest?’
Yelen started guiltily. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You’ve not been right since last night. Hells, you look worse than I feel, and I was lost in dreams of skeletal fingers peeling my flesh away, strip by strip.’
Did he know? For the first time, Yelen considered that Azzanar’s deeds might not have gone unwitnessed. Sure, Kain and Magnis had been lost to the wight-sent dreams when she’d ‘woken’ herself, but before…?
The need to confess – to tell someone, anyone – was overwhelming. Yelen didn’t trust it. There was no sharing of this burden. Magnis might not have been so close to the dead as Serene was to Kas, but they’d still been his companions, allies – possibly even his friends. There was no telling how he might react, and Yelen still needed the Gilded Rose’s help – assuming Magnis didn’t have her killed outright.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Last night’s hitting me hard, that’s all.’
Magnis nodded. ‘I’m not surprised. Running headlong into a barrow? That’s either brave or foolish.’
‘And impersonating an undead sorcerer isn’t?’
‘Well, perhaps a little. But the hierarchy of the departed is rigid as iron. Some say it’s part of the magic that binds them. Others, that it’s simply survival – the lesser fearing the strong.’ He shrugged. ‘Either way, to have a liche like Szarnos the Great loose within the barrow was akin to dropping a pike into a millpond. I thought it’d buy some time, and it did.’
Yelen nodded. The sounds of trollish eviction still sounded from above, but they came ever more infrequently – presumably one party or other was getting tired.
‘The water must have boiled by now,’ she said. ‘I’ll check.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Magnis easily.
He shadowed Yelen along the furnace hall, never that close, never that distant. He did know. He had to. It couldn’t be concern. He’d shown no such consideration for the others – hadn’t even evinced remorse at the previous night’s deaths. He had to be playing her along, giving her the chance to betray herself, but why? Why wait?
As Yelen reached the welcome warmth of the fire, another thought occurred to her. What if Magnis didn’t know? What if she dozed off and Azzanar took control once more? How many more would die unwarned?
The billy can burbled happily, the water indeed coming to the boil. Yelen ignored it and took a seat on an alcove’s lip. Lately, every choice had seemed like no choice at all. Was that what Azzanar had meant when she’d claimed Yelen would beg her to take over? Easier to let go than to keep stumbling on? No. Not yet. Not while Mirika still needed her.
‘I need you to promise me something.’ She threw up her hands in exasperation and stared down at the fire. ‘I don’t know you well enough to know whether a promise will bind you, but I need it, all the same.’
Magnis regarded her silently for a time, his customary insouciance in abeyance. In fact, his expression was one of utter seriousness, as solemn as a priest absolving sin. Folding his arms, he sat down beside the fire. ‘Let’s hear it.’
Yelen hesitated, but there was no going back. ‘That you’ll help Mirika, no matter what.’
He frowned. ‘Of course. We already agreed as much.’
She searched her memory, but found nothing stronger than implication. At best, there’d been a pledge that the Gilded Rose would help her help Mirika. It wasn’t enough. ‘I need to hear you say the words. Please.’
Magnis pursed his lips, but nodded. ‘Very well. I swear, on what little remains of the Magnis family name, to do all I can to help your sister. Good enough?’
Yelen considered. The phrasing was slightly different, but she supposed it was close enough. Set against the larger doubt that any promise could be worth anything, such quibbling seemed trivial. It was still far from a guarantee, but what guarantees were there to be had in Frostgrave? ‘Thank you.’
‘What’s this about?’
‘Last night. Darrick didn’t kill Kas.’ The words tumbled out, each practically trampling the one that came before. ‘Azzanar did.’
Magnis went still, his expression unreadable. ‘Azzanar. This demon of yours?’ His voice hardened. ‘How was it done?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Yelen, miserably. ‘She kept me from remembering until we were out of the Lower Reach, and I still see only flashes, even now.’
Magnis glanced at the doorway. He still hadn’t called for help, though Yelen found little solace in that. Confession hadn’t lightened the burden, as she’d hoped. If anything, it pressed down upon her heavier than before.
‘She took over when I sle
pt. She made me do those things.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘I didn’t know she could! It’s never happened before. You have to believe me.’
Magnis closed his eyes. ‘Can you think of any reason I shouldn’t have you killed for this?’
‘No.’ The reply came easier than Yelen had expected. But then that was the thing about the inevitable, wasn’t it? ‘Not so long as you keep your promise about Mirika. Give me that, and I won’t fight. None of the rest matters, not anymore.’
‘What are you doing? You can’t do this! I won’t let you.’
Azzanar coiled angrily around Yelen’s thoughts, thrashing madly as she tested her cage. Each struggle ended in failure. Whatever power she had while Yelen slept, she had none in the waking world. At last, Yelen’s burden eased, or perhaps it was more that her will to shoulder it increased, strengthened by the satisfaction that Azzanar would perish alongside her. The demon had gambled, and she had lost.
Magnis ran a hand down his face, tugging at the ends of his moustache. For the first time, he looked weary – a man beset by worries greater than his years.
‘Well then,’ he said at last. ‘It’s just as well one of us has more imagination, isn’t it?’
Yelen stared at him, suspicion crowding her thoughts. Azzanar ceased her thrashing.
‘What do you mean?’
Magnis rubbed his hands together in front of the fire. ‘You didn’t kill Kas and Darrick. It may have been Yelen Semova’s hands that did the deed, but the malice wasn’t hers.’ He shook his head. ‘No. You saved us all last night, and don’t you think I’ve forgotten it.’
‘You don’t understand! I put you all in danger.’
‘But not knowingly,’ said Magnis. ‘And even if you had an inkling that this Azzanar of yours could have done what she did, I’d find it hard to blame you. I’ve lost more companions in Felstad than I care to remember. Sometimes I knew the risks greater than they, but I pressed on anyway. Because Elien needs me, and because Rufrick must pay for what he’s done. I’ve no right to judge you.’
Yelen hardly believed her ears. ‘Then what do we do?’