by Matthew Ward
‘Nothing in the grand scheme has changed. I want the orb, you want your sister back. We press on. Even with a couple of hours sleep – gods know I need them – a brisk pace will bring us to Szarnos’ tomb before nightfall. Can you stay awake until then?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll keep my promise if I have to, but I’d rather you were there to see it done. I’ve a legend to build, after all. A sackful of crowns might procure an army, but reputation keeps it loyal. Well, mostly.’
‘But what if I’m wrong,’ said Yelen quietly. ‘What if Azzanar breaks through again?’
The grin faded. ‘Forewarned is forearmed. I’ll be watching, and I’ll make sure Kain is too. Say nothing to the others – especially not to Serene. She doesn’t have my… ah, pragmatic nature.’
Yelen read the implications all too clearly. ‘I understand.’
Magnis shrugged. ‘Who knows, if the orb contains the power I think it does, maybe it can be used to break Azzanar’s hold.’
‘That’s what Torik claimed.’
‘A lie is always more palatable if wrapped inside a truth.’ Magnis snorted. ‘In any case, I’m not Torik.’
‘And if Mirika’s not at the tomb?’ Yelen already knew the answer. If Mirika hadn’t in fact returned to Szarnos’ tomb, the trail was cold as death, and there was no hope for any of them.
‘Then we deal with that if it happens.’
‘One step at a time.’ Yelen reflected that her life was increasingly a series of single, disconnected steps.
‘Precisely. And at this moment, that first step involves a nice, strong brew of chanin tea to keep your eyes open and infernal interlopers behind those eyes, where they belong.’
‘Where who belongs?’ Kain stood in the doorway, arms folded and suspicion gleaming in her eyes.
Yelen started guiltily and opened her mouth to speak.
‘Us, of course,’ said Magnis, offering Yelen a half-wink. ‘How goes the troll hunt?’
‘Over and done with,’ said Kain. ‘I left Serene slicing off its claws. Reckons Old Selsa will pay handsomely for them. Something about a cure for baldness – I didn’t ask for details. Marcan’s still checking the upper floor. He’ll not find anything.’
‘Anyone hurt?’
‘Only in their pride.’ She cracked a rare smile. ‘Marcan, in particular, seems almost back to normal. For him.’
Magnis shook his head. ‘Well, we can’t have everything.’
* * *
After discussion with the rest of the Gilded Rose, Magnis eventually settled on calling a three-hour rest – enough to take the edge off the previous night’s lack of sleep, but not so much that they’d lose too much of the day.
Marcan, in particular, seemed greatly enthused by his victory over the squatting troll – and this despite a new collection of bruises – and confidently claimed they could press on through the Broken Strand by night, if need be. It didn’t take any great perception to see that he was glad to be back on comfortable – if dangerous – ground, presented with perils he understood.
That said, neither he nor Serene were pleased to be excluded from watch duty. Magnis ruthlessly crushed their objections, citing their experiences of the midnight hours and claiming that he, Kain and Yelen had suffered less. Kain had raised an eyebrow at that, the gesture so brief that Yelen was sure that she’d been the only one to see it. She was just as equally sure that Kain had meant it that way.
So it was that Yelen found herself sharing the first watch with Magnis, and the second with Kain.
The first passed painlessly enough, even though Yelen spent much of it pacing back and forth along the furnace hall to stave off sleep. Bravado aside, she found that she was desperately tired, and didn’t trust herself to remain by the fire without nodding off.
It seemed Magnis felt the same way. Though he didn’t say anything over the course of their watch, Yelen felt his eyes on her with every passing moment.
Once again she wondered at Magnis’ true nature. Beneath the erudite, carefree exterior, he was a driven man – moreover, he was kinder than she’d ever have expected. Twice now he’d set aside the danger of having her close, and offered only help and understanding. Yelen told herself that it was because he needed her to get through to Mirika, but she didn’t come close to convincing herself. The Cavril Magnis charm at work, probably, but she found that she didn’t mind. She needed all the hope she could get.
Eventually, the sands of the hourglass passed away, and Kain took Magnis’ place. Unlike her paymaster, the knight made no pretence of standing watch over anything other than Yelen.
As the winds rose outside, Kain matched Yelen pace for pace, never so close as to be threatening, but never far enough away that Yelen could no longer feel her unrelenting gaze between her shoulder blades.
Finally, Yelen could take no more. On the next circuit of the furnace room, she ground to a halt, boots crunching through the floor’s detritus, and spun to face Kain. ‘So he’s told you?’
‘He has.’
As ever, the knight’s expression gave no clue as to her thoughts. That only made her answer more infuriating.
‘And?’
‘And my offer remains open, should you choose to take it.’
‘That offer being to cut out my heart?’
‘Indeed. It will likely come to that before long, whatever happens.’ Kain shrugged. ‘I won’t judge if you lack the strength to see this through to the end.’
Yelen’s half-formed response dissipated as the meaning of Kain’s words sank in. No recrimination for Kas and Darrick’s deaths. No horror that Magnis seemed content to allow her continued presence in the Gilded Rose. Just an insinuation that she was too weak to continue. That she’d buckle under the strain. In its way, the challenge was no different to that set by Azzanar herself. You won’t be able to see this through. You’ll beg me to end this.
‘And you think I should keep fighting?’ she asked.
‘That’s not for me to say.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘Of course it is. It’s merely not one that you want to hear.’ Kain stepped closer. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. It doesn’t matter what Magnis thinks. It doesn’t even matter what that hellspawn in your soul thinks. All that matters is what you choose, and that you have the strength to see it through.’
Yelen laughed softly, bitterly. ‘I’m Yelen Semova. I don’t get to make choices.’
‘Really?’ Kain took another step, her dark eyes burning into Yelen’s. ‘Seems to me you made plenty of choices last night.’
So Magnis hadn’t told her everything. ‘That wasn’t me.’
‘Who? The girl who saved our lives? Who ran headlong into the depths of a barrow for people she barely knows? You made those choices. Plenty would have done otherwise.’
Yelen shifted uncomfortably. ‘I was lucky.’
‘You were. But to have luck, you must first place yourself in a situation where you need it. That takes strength. Perhaps you have more of both than you realize.’
‘Easy for you to say.’ Yelen swept out her hand to encompass the room. ‘All of this? This isn’t who I am. It isn’t what I want. You don’t understand. Why would you? You’re a warrior. I’m just a gutter rat, running from one poor choice to the next.’
Kain cocked her head, a quizzical frown on her lips. ‘And if you could choose the way the next few hours go, what would that be?’
She didn’t even have to think. ‘I want Mirika back.’
‘Then make that happen.’
Yelen laughed softly. ‘As easy as that?’
‘Of course not. But the first lesson a warrior learns is that you don’t always get to pick your battles. The second thing is that any battle – any battle – can be won through sacrifice.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘What are you prepared to sacrifice?’
‘Whatever I have to.’
Even as she spoke the words, Yelen felt a new determination. It
burned like the heat from a fire, but was kindled within, not without.
Kain peered into her eyes, and nodded. ‘I suppose we’ll see.’
For the first time since she’d awoken, the knight turned her back on Yelen and strode off. Yelen frowned, confused. Had Kain truly been waiting all that time just to deliver that message? Or had she simply been watching to see how close Azzanar truly was to the surface – Yelen wasn’t sure how Kain was able to see the demon, but didn’t doubt for a moment that she could.
‘You know what Magnis told me about you?’
Kain turned unhurriedly, her expression once again unreadable. ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’
‘That you’re looking for a cause.’
She shook her head, soft laughter spilling from her lips. ‘I’ve had a lifetime of causes, and of unjust and ignoble battles dressed up as righteousness and duty. Now I want nothing more than crowns in my purse, and I find I’m the happier for it.’
Yelen stifled a frown. Somehow, she’d expected more from Kain. The older woman carried herself with such deliberate confidence, it seemed wrong for her to have such simple – even mercenary – goals. ‘So I owe you, do I, for the advice?’
Kain shook her head. ‘Consider it payment in kind for last night. And wisdom from one lost soul to another. May it serve you well.’
Without a backward glance, she left the furnace hall and returned to the campfire. Yelen watched her go, uncertain where she now stood with Kain. But one thing was undeniable. She did feel better. Perhaps her battles could be won, after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Even the Wailing Reach seemed subdued that afternoon, its wind-blown voice screaming only fitfully through the trees. All in all, it lent Yelen the impression that she and the frosty expanse had more in common than she could have guessed.
Certainly, she didn’t know how she felt about the members of the Gilded Rose who, like her, plodded wordlessly on into the teeth of the wind. Two knew the truth, and two knew only the lie. Two believed they owed her their life, while two knew her hands bore the blame. The only advantage to the situation was that if Azzanar did take over, there’d be no shortage of hands eager to see the demon finally pay.
And Azzanar was growing stronger, there was no doubt about that. The taste of sulphur was back, and thicker than ever. Several times, Yelen had glimpses of places she’d never seen, overlaid across the snowscape like waking dreams. Chambers of black stone and raging flame; mountains like rotten teeth against a blood-red sky. The visions cleared as quickly as they formed, chased away by frantic shakes of the head, but the smell that came with them, all decadence and charred flesh, lingered long in Yelen’s nostrils. And through it all, Azzanar’s silent laughter echoed through her mind.
Distracted by one such vision, Yelen missed her footing. It was a simple enough mistake, easily made even without distraction. Instead of solid stone, her boot found only shifting ice. A splintering crack and she fell, feet slipping away into the iced-over chasm.
Fingers scrabbled through the snow, but found no purchase. Feet kicked at empty air. A desperate glance below revealed only bleak rock, twenty or thirty feet below. Not enough to be fatal, just to break bones, for all the comfort that gave.
Yelen’s hips slid into the chasm. Fingers closed around a trailing root. Her shoulder jolted, the shock travelling up her arm and yanking her grip free. Her struggles grew more desperate, but that only hastened her slide.
Yelen jerked to a halt, the seams of her coat digging into her armpits. Then she was moving again. Upwards. Knees and boots scraped over the chasm’s edge and the pressure on her collar vanished, leaving her sat unceremoniously in the snow.
‘Watch your step next time,’ rumbled Marcan. ‘I’m not climbing down after you.’
Yelen nodded, sucking down short shallow breaths as her racing heart slowed. ‘Thank you.’
He shrugged, the motion almost invisible beneath his mountain of furs, and reached down to help her up. ‘Shame to come all this way and no further.’
‘It would.’
Yelen took the proffered hand in hers, and let Marcan hoist her upright. Then, without another word, she pressed on after the others. Serene was barely a dark shape in the swirling snows, Kain and Magnis entirely lost from sight. Had she been at the back of the company, rather than Marcan, Yelen realised, they might not have known she was missing until it was too late.
It seemed Marcan was of similar mind. From that moment on, Yelen sensed he was never more than a pace or two away, hovering like an overprotective guard dog. Was it concern that drove him? The need to repay a debt? She wasn’t sure. But Yelen felt better for it, all the same. Between the visions, and the growing weariness from too much travel and too little sleep, she was glad to have someone looking out for her – even if it was the brute who’d almost killed her sister.
* * *
Eventually, the wind-blown pines gave way to the shattered buildings of the Broken Strand. Not that Yelen realised it at first. The storm followed them from the ridgeline, not abating as it should, but growing in ferocity. It howled through the close-knit streets, the gusts transforming flurries of snow into razor-edged torrents of ice.
Three streets in, Yelen found herself bent almost double against the wind, as if the burdens of her soul now weighed down her body also. The others fared no better. Marcan in particular was so caked with snow that he looked less like a man than one of the yeti whose furs he sported.
Nor did the visions help. For every fifty paces Yelen took into the biting chill, she took two in the sweltering heat of the fire-wreathed land, a hot wind of ashes scalding her frost-numbed face. There was no preparing for the shock of it, and the aftermath always left her sick from the rush of sulphur, but still she staggered on.
Perhaps an hour into the Broken Stand, Magnis beckoned the company into the dubious shelter of a sunken watchtower. There, out of the wind’s incessant howl, he unpeeled the scarves from across his face, revealing an unusually downcast expression.
‘We’re paying for an easy passage of the upper reach.’ He breathed onto his hands and massaged his cheeks. ‘I’ve never seen it so bad down here.’
‘Fine time for that famous Magnis luck to desert us,’ murmured Serene. ‘We can’t keep on into this.’
Marcan shook his shoulders to clear the snow, his furs making the motion appear not unlike that of a dog shaking itself dry. ‘She’s right. We can just about handle the storm, but it’ll be dark soon, and you know what that means.’
Yelen knew what it meant. With the dark, the trolls would emerge from their lairs. But she knew Marcan’s implications went further. He wanted to abandon the pursuit, or at least delay it until better weather or daylight.
A sick feeling gathering in her stomach, she crossed to the nearest window. An accident of fate had seen its pane of glass survive the watchtower’s collapse – albeit riven by a massive crack that marred it top to bottom. Before the events of the Lower Reach, it had been a simple gamble – if one conducted in the face of unknowable odds – offsetting each delay against losing Mirika’s trail, and the hope that the orb had not completely consumed her. Not now. The stakes had changed. It wasn’t any longer a question of how long Mirika could resist, but how long Yelen herself could stay awake in order to keep Azzanar at bay.
Magnis sank back against the wall. ‘Kain? What do you think?’
‘Hard to say,’ she replied. ‘Most trolls aren’t so stupid they’ll venture out into this mess. But it only takes one and a run of bad luck. Depends whether you think we’re owed some good.’
Yelen turned back to the window. That was three against pressing on, even if Kain’s reluctance had been couched in careful terms. That was it, wasn’t it? She gripped the stone sill, Azzanar’s silent laughter dripping across her thoughts. The taste of sulphur returned. The storm beyond the glass became a flurry of ashen fragments against an angry sky.
‘No,’ Yelen muttered. ‘I’m not giving up. I’m not.’
‘Not in your mind, perhaps. But your body tells a different story,’ Azzanar purred. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. Let me out now, and I’ll spare your friends. I won’t – we won’t – lay a finger upon them.’
Yelen gripped the sill tighter. ‘I thought you told me I’d beg.’
‘Perhaps I’m feeling generous. A gift, offered out of fond memories from those days in which we were friends.’
‘We were never friends,’ Yelen hissed.
‘Oh we were, poppet. And now I’m all you have. Don’t let pride trick you. This is over. Be sensible. Take the bargain.’
The room spun. Yelen slumped against the sill. Should she take the offer? It was only a matter of time, and she did have Magnis’ promise to save Mirika. That, combined with Azzanar’s bargain to leave the Gilded Rose be… Maybe it was time to stop fighting.
A hand fell on her shoulder. ‘Yelen?’ Kain’s voice sounded echoed, distant. ‘You alright, girl? There’s a decision to be made.’
The vision of fire cracked like the windowpane, splinters of frozen streets and storm-tossed skies showing through the cracks. Why was Azzanar making this offer, if her victory was so certain? For all the demon’s protestations, they’d only ever been reluctant allies at best. Yelen could think of only one reason – it was a distraction.
Yelen stared through the window, focusing her gaze on the central chink of the ‘real’ landscape. The cracks in the inferno-racked vision grew wider, its shards splintering and fading. The snowstorm rushed in, drenching the world in a blanket of gusting white. Or almost so. As the winds gusted again, the curtains of snow parted, revealing a small, dark figure in the distance, hunched against the elements.
A dark figure, and a gleam of gold.
Heart leaping, Yelen spun around and stared up at Kain. ‘I’m going on.’
Serene grimaced. ‘Have sense, love. We’ll be lucky to survive the night.’
‘But Mirika’s out there!’ Yelen pointed at the glass. ‘I just saw her.’
Magnis exchanged a look with Marcan, the doubt on his face plain even through his beard. ‘Kain?’