Death’s Embrace

“You can’t save her Adrian… it’s the death mark.” Ignoring his fellow thief’s rebuke, Adrian continued to gently wipe the sweat from his sleeping twin’s brow; her fever was growing worse. Softly, haltingly, he half sang the enchanted words of healing under his breath, secrets he’d stolen from the temple's priest, though he knew they would only delay the inevitable, and not stop it, prolonging his sister’s agony, if no cure was found.

He’d been so proud of his magic too, for what other boy of thirteen and a half summers could claim to have discovered the truth behind the death of the gods, and the predominance of forbidden heresy amongst the lords and ladies of the empire? If only he’d known the price… “I’m sorry sister, your suffering is my fault, but I swear, I will save you, please stay strong for a little while longer.” Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from his emerald eyes, Adrain forced himself to stand and face the only other person brave enough to go near one marked by death.

“… You know what I’m going to ask, will you do it?” Dispensing with any pretences Adrian spoke in a voice he was proud only wobbled the tiniest amount. Facing the older boy, more a young man, he stared hard into the inscrutable grey eyes of the one who’d welcomed two more starving children into his gang of pickpockets and thieves.

With a world-weary sigh, his friend took Adrian’s vacated seat at his sister’s bedside before he replied. “Do you even need to ask?” 

It was cold, so bitterly cold, this winter night. Why of all places did their parents have to abandon them in the frozen capital of the far north? Was it too much to ask that such a betrayal happen somewhere warmer… like the trade city of Lion’s Gate on the temperate coast of the empire? He could still remember the tangy sweetness of the oranges that had been shared amongst the merchant caravans’ children. He’d been happy then, hadn’t he?

Slap

“Pay attention boy, or do you want all our hard work to have been for nothing?”

Hissing in agony, as the pain of the blow on half-frozen flesh was amplified tenfold, Adrian turned a murderous glare upon his compatriot, a greasy and near-intoxicated old scoundrel by the name of Gap-Tooth. Fighting the impulse that demanded blood he forced down his rage as he replied in a voice edged with hate. “You of all people do not need to remind me of what this has cost me… and don’t forget, I hold your life in my hands! Touch me again and I will kill you.” Ending his threat with a simple clasping of his right fist, Adrian fought back a smile of satisfaction as the wretch he’d enslaved grasped at his chest as his heart ceased to beat for but a moment. Upon recovering the former noble, turned outcast, set his own fury-filled glare upon Adrian, albeit he made no move to reciprocate in kind. “I thought I’d escaped the cursed world of magic and apostasy when I was thrown out … never would I have thought that a child would discover my secret and leash me like some common mutt.” Ignoring the grumbling of his captive, Adrian turned his attention back to the hidden exit of the whorehouse they’d spent the frigid night observing. He had waited and prayed that the man he’d been stalking for the last three days would finally make his appearance, as he had already narrowed down the available options on curing his sister. In truth it was the only cure that was known, though even he was forced to acknowledge the recklessness of seeking to steal from the mistress of the north. “It will be worth it… to save my sister I will pay any price, even my soul.” The haunting words slipped out before he could stop them and Adrian grimaced as his erstwhile ally gave an ugly smirk in response, though before he could share whatever dark thoughts he had, the cellar doors they were watching burst open, then shut, with a kaleidoscope of noise and light as three drunk men came sprawling outside.

Amongst them was the Chief Gardener of the Warden of the North, who by the grace of the gods served to protect the subjects of the empire from their most ancient foe. Though their mistress was not here to save them tonight as she had before, without being prompted Gap-Tooth lined up his crossbow on one of their target’s bodyguards while Adrian dashed forward from his hiding spot, silver dagger in hand as he aimed for the second one. His blade silently found its mark at the same moment his companions' bolt blew the brains out of the other guard.

How easy, far too easy in truth, the servants of the Ice Witch had gotten sloppy, believing none so foolish as to willingly court their mistress’ wrath. Turning away from the body flopping on the ground in front of him as it gasped for air that would never reach its lungs, Adrian strode towards his target, a small, frail, and one-armed man, who remained frozen in stupefied terror as he stared soundlessly at the bodies of his two protectors. Grabbing the gardener by the throat and using magic to further enhance his musculature, Adrian slammed the older man into the walls of the narrow alleyway in which the whorehouse's secret exit had led.

“The key, Master Gardener, and you’ll survive the night.” Dispensing with any further verbal threats Adrian squeezed his target’s throat, slowly constricting his ability to breath as he let the man’s terror-drunk mind decide between his honour or his life. Adrian in turn, used his bloody blade to stake the only hand of his target into the wooden walls of the building before him, preventing any somatic casting of spells. Then he waited in silence as the minutes slowly ticked by, watching as the face of the gardener turned white, then blue, and a light shade of purple, before a half-strangled cry of what could only be surrender made itself known. Finally!

Letting the man collapse to his knees, with his arm bent at an awkward angle behind his head, Adrian had only one question.

“Where?”

After an age of sputtering, gasping, and half-muffled cries of pain the man responded in a voice worn ragged from age and the trauma recently inflicted upon his throat. “Inside pocket… over my heart.”

After deducing that no enspelled traps waited for him, Adrian reached inside the man’s expensive doublet and quickly found the wraith bone key he so desperately needed. Though one more question. “And the accompanying spell code?”

“How…” With a look of genuine shock, the gardener looked at Adrian, his eyes torn between disbelief and agony, both of the body and the soul, as he doubtlessly questioned how a child could know of the sworn secrets only he and the one he served should have known.

“For the future, you should know that you are prone to sprouting hidden truths whilst drunk, your secrets are known to half the scum who frequent this reputable den of sin.” With a careless shrug and pointing towards the hidden exit of the whorehouse Adrian smiled without mirth as he once more demanded what he needed. “The code, now please, or you will suffer a great deal more tonight.”

After only one more moment of hesitation the man fully broke and whispering into Adrian’s ear spoke in the ancient tongue… the words meaning lost to one who didn’t speak the language but who’s pronunciation was mastered after a single time hearing them spoken. “Very good, thank you, you’ve given me what I need. Now, Gap-Tooth if you please?”

Motioning over his now far jollier-looking spell-slave, Adrian stepped back to allow the father and long-embittered son to reacquaint themselves, whilst he planned the next steps of his daring heist, albeit, only after casting a dome of silence over the two men, as he had no desire to listen in on such a heartwarming reunion. 

He could scarcely believe it—he’d done it. Before Adrian stood half a dozen specimens of the phoenix flower that he’d come to steal, a relic of the age of apostasy, an ancient magick of the highest order. It was said to harbour within its frail golden petals a fragment of the rune of rebirth, the final gift left to man by the last of the old gods who gave them in sorrow and contrition to counteract the mark of death that the fallen one had cursed the ungifted of mankind to suffer and die from if they were to ever aid the usurpers and seek to bask in the glory of their magic.

“We did it Gap-Tooth, you old bastard, we actually did it!” Giving way to laughter far more appropriate for a child of his age, he turned around only to see his spell-slave frozen… not in terror, but ice. He was cocooned in a tomb of ice.

“What?” Before Adrian could fully process the sight before him, everything went black.

“… Just how hard did you hit him my Lady? He’s just a boy.”

“A boy who very nearly succeeded in stealing from my garden, Barbados. Now hush, he’s waking up.”

Seeing no point in pretending to still be asleep Adrian opened his eyes to at least see who these discombobulated voices belonged to, and to maybe discern some way out of his current predicament. He was struck by the view of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, pale near translucent silver hair, eyes the colour of mercury, snow white skin and the body of an angel, lacking only a pair of wings to complete the image. “Did I die, and go to heaven?” Having lost his bearings, Adrian was spellbound by the charming young women before him, even as she began to laugh, while berating him between breaths. “Do you think that’s an appropriate response to give in your current circumstance young man? I mean… really, I am your liege lord, though it seems even I am not immune to the flattery of young men.” Even as she continued to gently laugh Adrian watched as the Grand Duchess of the Empire turned to the dark-skinned man standing beside her. “Do you see how he reminds me of you? You both are unrepentant sinners, who nonetheless are ideally suited to charming every woman the two of you run across. Not even I, the Winter Witch seem to be immune. Though it does seem like I’ve found what we’ve been looking for… a gift from the gods indeed, don’t you think Barbados?”

“Your Grace, are you certain? Charming though he may be, this young man not only murdered your Chief Gardener, but half a dozen of the guards I personally trained. He could pose a threat even to you if you choose him as the host.”

“Details, details, Barbados I want to see what this young man has to say for himself first.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. Adrian watched as the feared Warden of the North behaved like any other starstruck maiden before him, turning bright eyes full of life and curiosity onto him. Finding his voice after an awkward moment of the two of them staring at each other, he tried a question first.

“Is Gap-Tooth still alive?” Normally, he’d have ignored the fate of such a forced ally, but he had made the man a promise. Though by looking at the Duchess’ face he could tell she had no idea who he was speaking about. “The man who broke into your greenhouses with me, the crossbowman.” He clarified.

“Oh, no. That vulgar rat is well and truly dead, but why would you care, my little wolf?” Ah, now there was steel in those silver eyes of hers, the look of a proper ruler, it seemed playtime was over, though her musical voice remained gentle.

“I promised to tell his daughter the truth of her lineage if he was killed during our theft, and I managed to survive. A small promise, but one I’d like to keep.”

“Boy, I don’t know if you’ve got the largest pair of balls on you known to man, or if you’re a brain-dead idiot. Do you think your crimes of murder and attempted theft of a plant touched by the gods are going to go unpunished? Here in the heart of the north?” The unwelcome interjection came from the man called Barbados, though his tone held no bite to it. If anything, he merely sounded exasperated.

In response Adrian could only smile as he replied, eyes still locked on the Dutchess’ own, “Actually, yes, I do. If I’d woken up in the dungeon or more realistically, not woken up at all I would not have escaped punishment. But the fact I’m here, on this rather soft bed, before the Warden of the North herself, and very much not dead, tells me that there's something you want from me.”

“Before I tell you what I may or may not want from you, tell me why you wanted this, my little wolf.” Waving a small ampule filled with glowing golden liquid before his eyes the Dutchess kept her stern gaze on him. Her question almost seemed like a test of sorts, though Adrian couldn’t fathom why, and seeing no reason to lie, he told the truth.

“My twin sister, the only family I have left, is sick. She carries the mark of death… and it's my magic that manifested the curse of the fallen one upon her soul. I learned too late, the true reason only the rulers of this dead world practise the arcane arts and why, they hide it from the ungifted masses.... No one wants another spell plague, and I would give my soul to save my sister from my folly. That is why I wanted the Phoenix Flower, Your Grace; I know it is the only cure for deaths mark.”

“You poor boy…” Her stern gaze softening, the absolute ruler of the north whispered her next words. “Do you understand how the mark is cured? Or did you run all this way only knowing that a cure did indeed exist?”

“…. Is it painful?” Worry tinged Adrian’s voice as he thought of his little sister suffering even more.

“No, not at all my little wolf. I’ve taken it myself; it cures even the most fatal of wounds or curses… it even tastes wonderful, unlike the bitterness of normal medicine.”

“Then what is the price, Your Grace, please tell me!” Desperation now clearly in his voice, Adrian shot a frantic glance towards the Duchesses’ servant, but the man only lowered his head in apparent grief and looked away.

“The price, dear child, is rebirth. Complete and total - a new body, mind, and perhaps even soul… death is beaten, but at a cost many consider far too high. Now tell me, do you still wish this cursed ambrosia?”

Unable to speak, Adrian could feel silent tears falling from his eyes as the realization that he’d lost his beloved sister forever struck home. His twin would be no more, and a stranger would stand in her place. But could he bear the burden of burying her? What was the lesser of these two evils?

“Child, dear one, look at me, please.” The soft gentle voice broke over Adrian, and looking up he saw the Dutchess as she gave a soft and tender smile. “I understand the agony you’re going through, I’m sure my sisters felt the same way before they administered the nectar of life to me, all those years ago. I will not make your choice for you, but I will say that where there is life there is hope. Take this vial. Barbados will see you safely home, and regardless of your choice come back to me.” Then gently pressing the ampule into his hands Adrian watched as the Dutchess silently left the room, leaving him alone with her companion. 

Having been gifted the use of a carriage to take him back to the slums of the capital, Adrian returned home far quicker than he had left. The grey-cold clouds cast a hushed sense of solemnity to his trip even as they wept their frozen tears; a silent dirge for the choice he would soon have to make this cold winter night.

Entering his sister’s room and ushering his faithful friend out, with promises (lies) that he’d share what had happened later he continued to stare at the spoiled miracle he held in his hands.

It seemed his sister had heard him in her coma when he’d left to find a cure, she had stayed strong, and fought against the death mark even as it ravaged her body. She was so frail now and he’d only been gone for a handful of days, a week at most. It was clear she had nothing left to give. “What would you do dear sister if our roles were reversed? Would you weep in sorrow as you left me to death's embrace, or would you welcome a stranger into your heart?”

“Please… tell me, what would you choose?”

 The End

(Memento Mori)