Frost Chapter 3

The queen stared at her reflection in the looking glass. The headdress that she had adorned earlier that morning when the guards had dragged in that sorceress was splayed across her bed allowing her long blonde hair to spill over her shoulders and cascade down her back, ending in loose ringlets. She ran her right hand through the soft tendrils slowly trailing her fingers down her shoulders and breasts before settling on her stomach. The child was growing quickly; it would only be a few more months before the birth, and then what?

The question burned in her mind, nearly as badly as the realization that if the magic born ceased to exist she would have no one to blame but herself. She bit her lips until the metallic taste of blood soaked her tongue. Her mind flashed to the expression of the sorceress for a countless time and she thought again of her mother. Anya squeezed her eyes shut biding the tears to cease but they spilled across her cheeks regardless her pleas. Everything had fallen out of control far too easily, and the prospects of ever regaining the hold that magic had once had seemed like a faraway dream.

The idea of giving over Monteforden had been her mother's plan. And it had seemed like an effective ploy in the late stages of war. The city was surrounded by high stone walls that had crumbled under the forces of Kreios and his army. The troops were waning quickly and the city would be under siege in a matter of days. Anya had not liked the plan, no; she had been ready to fight to the death, never conceding to the wills of a mortal but her mother, the queen had seen it differently. Surrender meant the people who had served so loyally for so many years would be spared more painful deaths. Anya had bitten her tongue and gone along with her mother's plan despite her misgivings. Kreios was a man who sought glory, and as such, wouldn't take kindly to surrender where he craved blood.

She had been right of course. Kreios had been disgusted by the surrender but called the women wise nonetheless.  In his younger years, when sacking castles and cities was what occupied the majority of his time the usurper had not been an unhandsome man, quite the contrary. He was tall, his build muscular and his eyes alight with a fierce tempestuous fire. As time passed the effects of age stripped him of these qualities as they did all men whose lives were ruled by time but his irritability had remained. Only when her monthly bleeding didn't occur did his sour state subside. If an heir was born, and if the heir was male, the human rule would continue on and not be extinguished when his life ended. The fact that the child couldn't possibly be his hadn't seemed to cross his mind once.

The squeak of the hinges on the door around a corner drove her from her trance. She watched in the looking glass as one of her ladies in waiting came around the corner, a young man dressed in a fine black velvet tunic and elaborate mask in tow. "Your majesty, Lord Fayiz is here to speak with you." The lady in waiting said coming out of a deep curtsey.

"Thank you Elle, you may leave us."

The girl bowed and pulled the door shut in her wake. Anya didn't rise from her vanity and instead watched the man behind her tug loose the ribbon on the mask and step forward. He was beautiful now, far different from how he had been before. She had known Altus before Fayiz had killed him and assimilated with him. She had sensed the awakening of the Virtuoso seconds after Altus had spoken the words. She had assumed he would head east towards Feriana's land but he had not. Instead he had made himself known to the king, working his way into his favor. It was less than a month that he was at court before Anya found him in her bed.

Theirs had been a tumultuous relationship but Anya had quite enjoyed it. Fayiz was handsome and generous in bed where Kreios in his younger years had sought his pleasure alone. It hadn't been long before Fayiz was company not only to her bed but also to her heart as well. Falling in love with him had not been the plan but Anya hadn't seen any true danger. Kreios was old, and would likely die at any time. If she remained without child then the land would fall back to her to rule and the grip of mortal man on the magic born would lessen, but if she found herself pregnant the leash would only tighten.

When the morning sickness struck her and her cycle became absent Fayiz had been remarkably thrilled. Anya had cried the prospects of treason but he had shrugged it off. She went to the old king's bed the same evening and put forth a stalwart effort to mask the origins of a child that would soon become less of a secret. The ploy had worked and when news of the queen's pregnancy began to spread across the land those descended of mortals had cried with joy while those born of magic steamed with rage over the news.

The snows followed a few days later, the only prospective suspects the witches and the few rogue sorceresses who still wandered about Monteforden. No one would suspect Fayiz as a Virtuoso, but then, no one save for Anya could recognize him for what he was. The sorceress had seemed puzzled over him earlier that day but didn't seem to be able to place him as anything more than a sharp fisted advisor. It had taken very little prying for him to admit to the weather change and even less prying for him to explain in great detail his plan for the child growing in her womb. The newborn would be a vessel and would, in time recall memories of who he had been in a former life. He would grow into the god of shadow, he would become Laros, and both mortal man and magic born would find themselves kneeling at a god who would be unchallenged.

Anya had contemplated seeking out a healer, ending the pregnancy before it was too late but Fayiz warned her that the consequences would be far direr for the magic born if the child was not born. As much as it had pained her to accept this, she knew it was true. If Kreios did not have his heir, witches and sorceresses across the western province would burn, Feriana's land would be sacked, and the pathway to the eastern province would be blocked. Though the other lands across the province didn't owe their allegiance to Monteforden, none were large enough or heavily populated enough to challenge anything Kreios saw fit to make law.

And so it was, she endured the betrayal as best she could, masking rage and sorrow behind stony smiles and emotionless laughter. She had never ceased being a prisoner in the castle that was rightly hers, and the one person she had hoped to rely upon for sanctuary had been behind ulterior motives from the beginning. It had torn her heart from her chest but what was more; it pained her to know, that despite everything that had occurred she still found herself very much in love with the Virtuoso.

She kept her gaze focused on his own as he approached. His slender fingers weaved their way into her hair and he stroked her scalp. He leaned in and his lips brushed her left temple sending shivers down her spine while making her stomach churn in revulsion. His fingers danced down from her scalp across her shoulders and breasts to rest atop her own still at her stomach. A purring sound escaped from his mouth and Anya found herself willed to lean back into him despite the feeling of tears threatening to spill over.

"The child grows stronger every day does he not?" Fayiz asked, releasing his hold.

"You sound certain that it will be male, what if the child is female?" Anya asked tilting her head to the side slightly. It was a gamble, a fifty-fifty shot that Fayiz's plan would fail. If the child was born female than Laros would not be able to take the body and Fayiz would either have to slit the throat of a sorceress he bound to the altar dedicated to the shadow god or try once more for another male.

"It won't be. And if it is then our new guest will suffice."

Anya stood from her vanity and walked over to sit on her bed, "You seem so certain you can break her."

Fayiz smiled laughing slightly, "You doubt my abilities my lady? I was able to charm you was I not?"

Anya's cheeks went red with embarrassment and her eyes sought out the designs in the carpet. "I believe you will find not all who are imprisoned seek out refuge." She swallowed and looked over at her lover, "Not all can be charmed by the words of their snaked tongued enemy."

He shook his head, "You call me enemy my dear, and yet, I was not the one who gave over to the will of a mortal. That was your mother, a sorceress, a woman who knew that you would remain youthful for eternity. A woman who could have stopped Kreios and his army with a flick of her wrist but, chose instead sat by and watched as they destroyed villages killing any of the people who opposed them. Who is your true enemy? You call me such but when the rite of passage is complete and my master returns it will not be you in his path, you will be safe, and if you play your cards right you may just get your kingdom back."

Anya kept her gaze steady. "You claim to know your master so well. You claim he would let me alone but my people would suffer, the witches who live throughout Monteforden and still quietly oppose Kreios would be wiped clean from this earth."
Fayiz shrugged, "Their fate is doomed anyway."

Anya shook her head, "No, no you can stop this, I know you can. You brought about the snow. Make it stop before more people die."

Fayiz shook his head and moved closer to Anya leaning heavily against one of the bed posts. "No, they sense the coming of Laros. I don't think that woman this morning did, though how she could not escapes me. The others do, I have to see to it that nothing stands in the way of my master's return. If that means the destruction of all cities in the western province then so be it." He cupped her cheek with his hand and tilted her chin forcing her to meet his stare running a thumb over her lips, "I know you don't understand. You hold no grudge towards your mother, but you must understand the gravity of my situation my dear. Feriana must be destroyed before she reaches the Eastern Province and only Laros can do that."

Anya dropped her chin as he leaned into kiss her. Fayiz snarled but didn't lash out. "Play your part my lady," he said turning back towards the door, "Fight me, and you may find yourself in the path of my master upon his return."

Fayiz didn't wait for a retort and glided from the room, the heavy doors slamming in his wake. Anya twisted the folds of her skirt into tight bunches, biting into her lip to quell the emotional storm that threatened to overtake her. The few of her blood that were left were doomed, and the goddess, the one person she knew could still hear her prayers would be killed before she reached the sanctum of the eastern province.

History books told of a great war between the light and the dark. In the story however, it was not Laros who was the god of shadow but the sorceress Feriana. In the tales, Laros championed the mortals, and fought hard against a goddess who deemed those with short lives only fit for serving her sorceresses. The tale told of Laros rising up but being sent into the shadow realm by Feriana, but his last act separating the staff that had destroyed his body across the western province, thus weakening Feriana too greatly for her to cross the sea to the Eastern Province to meet the elder gods. Instead she was left to await the day the waters subsided enough for her to cross on foot by which time Laros would be reborn and mortals would praise a true king.

The tales were spun not by a mortal but by a masked Virtuoso who had spread the poison through the people too quickly for the sorceresses and witches to stop it. History books had been wrong on many accounts. Laros was the god of shadow and Feriana the goddess of light. Laros had ruled over man and Feriana had championed them. And when he had risen up she and six of the nine sorceresses in her inner circle used their power to send Laros into the realm of shadow where he was doomed to wander for countless eternities. The effort had left the goddess weak and forced to wait for the seas for her crossing, while the six sorceresses she had called upon had extinguished their powers, leaving them mortal and doomed to age and death. The three sorceresses who remained bound all five of Laros's virtuosos to Altars across the western province.

That had been the tale Anya had been told as a child by her mother Martella, one of the three who had not been drained when locking away the shadow god. She had been a skeptical girl until she had seen the course of events played out on the walls of the shrines and in the memories of the spirits who still guarded over the shrines. Unfortunately the rise of man and his numbers had brought about the usurping of the last three goddesses. Echo had been first, her lands passing to mortals not from war but from the softening of her own heart. She had fallen in love with one not born of magic. Though no one was quite sure what the course of events were she had faded away one day and her husband, who should have been dead for centuries outlived many of his descendants. Now in his nine hundredth year he as confined to his sick bed and rarely spoke. They ruled the few cities outside of Feriana's land, and though they were not quite a safe place for witches, they were safer than most.

Alluria had disappeared next. Whether she had faded into nothingness or had finally been extinguished was unknown. All that was known was that she had left her lands with a quiver full of arrows and a bow one day and no one had seen her since.

The final sorceress to disappear was Anya's mother Martella. There were no doubts about what had happened to her. Exhausted from the war with Kreios her mother had faded into nothingness the day after dooming her daughter by signing the treaty. Anya had not wept then, but when Fayiz spoke so casually about her powers Anya found it near impossible to contain her tears. Her mother had bent elements to stop the armies. Anya knew why she had done what she had done but it didn't make it any easier to swallow still to that day. They had outlasted the other cities by hundreds of years but had fallen harder and faster in the long run. And now, they would be the place where the god of shadow would be resurrected. All that was left for the magic born were witches with thinning blood, and the few sorceresses who had been the daughter's of Feriana's inner circle and lesser gods, too weak to rule over entire cities but too strong to be undone by a mortal wielding a blade that couldn't bind magic.

Anya stared at her mirror from a distance. She half pondered what would occur if Laros did return, she wondered what the mortals would think when they found themselves on their knees bowing to a god who was known not for mercy but for bloodshed? A dark part of her mind almost welcomed the thought but she shook her head and pulled a cloak from her wardrobe fastening it over her shoulders. There was a way to prevent Laros from regaining his grasp, and though her feelings were still slightly bitter towards her mother the desire for her people to rise up once more was too strong. "If you sit by," she mumbled, "then you have truly failed them."

She exhaled and called upon her lady in waiting. The woman opened the heavy wooden door and bowed, "My lady?"

"I wish to see the prisoner being held in the cellars."

"Yes my lady, but I fear the king will not allow her to be brought to your chambers."

Anya nodded, "Yes, that's why if his majesty or Lord Fayiz call upon me you are to tell them I am unwell and fear that their presence may upset my delicate state."

The woman nodded, "I understand my lady."

Anya rose and walked passed her into the cool stone corridor. She hung a left and clung to the shadows. The snowy weather had meant that the sun had not shown itself in days, offering more shadows at midday than normal. Though it would have been cause for alarm had the weather been normal, Anya knew the guards now working in the cellars would be far sparser than was required to keep a thorough watch. What was more; the few men within the garrison whom she trusted would likely be keeping an eye on the cellar now.

She opened the heavy door into the courtyard, pushing aside the snow that had built up before pulling the hood of the cloak over her head and striding across quickly. It was not so much Kreios who she feared in that moment but Laros. She could not fathom his reaction if he caught her and feared that the snow was not the worse thing he was capable of. She nodded to the guard who opened the steel door and allowed her entry.

"Be careful my lady, the steps are slick with ice. If you were to fall you would surely lose the child." He called out.

Anya nodded, folding the sleeve of her cloak over the frozen railing before treading carefully down the steps. Her heart thudded against her chest and her foot slipped. She screeched but caught herself at the last moment, avoiding what would have been an ungodly spill. She finally reached the bottom of the stairs after what felt like a lifetime and sought out the cell of the woman from that morning. Anya hadn't recognized her. For a moment she thought her perhaps Alluria back from the grave but had given up on that notion when the blue eyed gaze had burned with rage towards her own. She was someone else, a wanderer and a powerful sorceress.

The guard at the bottom of the steps who was hunched over a brazier smiled at the queen and offered her up the key to the cell before bowing and retreating back to the coals that did nothing to warm the room. The echoes of pain and anguish wrapped around her and she fought the desire to puke at the smell, but lost it when she moved down the corridor to where prisoners were being held. She moved to the door grateful to finally be within reach of her goal but suddenly apprehensive that her plan would not work. She bit her lip and shook her head, now was not the time to have doubt.

She entered the cell and gazed around. The woman was leaning against the wall with her cloak bundled around her form. She acknowledged Anya with a slight nod but made no effort to bow. "Your majesty, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Anya fought the surge of annoyance from being spoken to so casually and reminded herself of why she was there. "You're different than the others they arrested."

"Well then, how lucky for me. Something tells me such a thing won't spare my existence."
"Tell me, truly, why did you come to this city?"

The woman who had identified herself as Frost earlier that day shrugged, "It was by mistake I assure you. I have no desire to kill you even if you turned your back on your people."

"I did no such thing!" Anya snapped, shocked by her own tone of voice.

The woman raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "It's fairly regardless now I believe. The damage has been done and shall not be undone. And that child you have there will be the death of us all."

Anya drew back, "You can sense its origins?"

The sorceress nodded, "It's faint, but I know that it isn't Kreios who impregnated you. I can't quite put a word on what that man who struck me was, but he isn't mortal. He's…something else."

"Virtuoso, he's called a Virtuoso, one of Laros' inner circle, the antithesis of Feriana's nine."

Anya watched as a flash of realization crossed the other woman's face, almost as if she had come to a fantastic conclusion, "Yes," she said, "how silly of me to forget." She laughed lightly, "My mind is tired these days. Too many years wandering to remember everything"

Anya folded one hand over another, "I've come to ask for your help. Your mother, she was one of the original nine was she not?"

Frost shrugged, "I don't recall my mother. I am old, too old to remember things as insignificant as that. But, I have assumed such for many years now."

Anya nodded, "But you recall your true name, your birth rite?"

Frost smiled, "Of course, but if this is a ploy by your lover you can tell him I would rather join Laros in the shadow realm than give him the key to my power."

Anya shook her head, "No, this has nothing to do with him. This has to do with me and you and perhaps the salvation of the entire human race, magic born and mortal alike. Please, I need your help."

Frost laughed, "And why should I help you? Why shouldn't I let Laros be born? If he is born then I cease to exist. How long have you been alive my dear? I know you've existed centuries but you recall things from your childhood do you not?" Anya nodded, "I however, cannot. I recall faint things when I see them again but with the exception of my name and the brief bits of our history that seem too ingrained to fade away, I cannot recall anything. I could have a family but I would not know them from another woman's family."

Anya ducked her head, "I'm sorry I did not realize. But you do understand, if the child in my womb is born female than Fayiz will stop at nothing for your name. He will need your blood to bind Laros to a human body that does not have magic blood flowing through it."

"The child will be born male, of that I assure you."

"You can tell? But it is to be moons before it shall be born."

Frost nodded, "Yes, and if I can tell then your lover can as well." Anya cringed at the word lover and nearly missed the flash of acknowledgement across Frost's face. "Perhaps I've misspoke, did you not welcome him into your bed your majesty?" Her tone was sharp, antagonistic. Anya's hands curled into fists.

She exhaled collecting her wits and spoke, "I did, but that was before, before I knew what he was. I knew he was magic born and I knew him to be one of Laros nine but you must understand. I have been a prisoner within these walls since Kreios took power. Fayiz offered me a temporary reprieve and a promise that there was an opportunity after the king died."

Frost smiled slightly, "And you were betrayed," she clicked her tongue, "charmed by the snake tongued charmer such a pity for you."

Anya felt the swell of emotion in her throat, "Please. Please don't make my people and the few magic born who still exist on this province suffer for my misstep. I pray you please help."

Frost sighed, "What do you ask of me my lady?"

"End this winter; find the counter spell so that those who are being persecuted can go free. Find someway to stop Laros from returning. The child that grows in my womb is still innocent. Unless Fayiz can perform the ritual and open a gate between this realm and the shadow realm than Laros will remain trapped."

"There is only one way to close a gateway between this realm and the shadow realm," Frost mused.

Anya nodded, "Yes, you will have to find the pieces to Feriana's staff.

Frost leaned her head up against the stone wall and stared up at the ceiling. Anya felt every muscle in her body tense, anxious for the answer. "I will seek out the pieces, I will attempt to stop his return but I cannot promise you anything. Especially because my magic is not accessible with this bind your men have so impolitely fitted me with."

Anya looked at the chained belt that hung heavy around Frost's waist and narrowed her eyes. "I will find the key but you will still be able to access your magic. Surely that is how you killed those guards who accosted you in the town?"

Frost shrugged, "I'm not quite sure you've got the right sorceress. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve but I've never done anything like what you've described ever."

Anya nodded, "Very well. Tonight my men will come to retrieve you. I will provide you with what I can but it won't be much." In that moment Anya did something she had not done in the two thousand years she had been alive. She fell to her knees and shuffled her weight across the room. Her frozen fingers slipped from the cover of her cloak and caught Frost's leg in their grasp. She lowered her lips to the frozen leather of the sorceresses boot and kissed.