The Shadow Of What Was Lost (10 page)

Davian stiffened. The other man
knew.

A flash of anxiety ran through
him, followed by… something else. A surge, rippling through his body and
coalescing in his palm before draining away – straight into Anaar. Davian
pulled his hand back sharply, fingertips tingling.

Anaar gave him a confused look,
then shook his head as if to clear it. The smuggler turned away, and Davian
released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Whatever had just
happened –
if
something had just happened, and it hadn’t been Davian’s
imagination – Anaar was unaware of it.

Soon they were in the tiny craft,
Anaar and Olsar pulling with long, practiced strokes towards the opposite
shore. Davian’s fears of the vessel being taken by the currents proved
unfounded. Both smugglers rowed with power and precision as they angled against
the flow of the river, their progress gradual but steady. For a while Davian
wondered if they would be able to keep up such a hard pace, but eventually he
began to relax. Neither man seemed close to tiring.

The shore on the Desriel side of
the river grew slowly larger. The only sounds were the slight splashes of oars
dipping beneath the Devliss’ surface, the gentle creaking of the timbers, and
the occasional waterfowl warbling softly into the night.

Davian felt every muscle tense as
individual trees resolved themselves out of the shadowy mass ahead. Whatever
the danger had been over the past three weeks, the moment they stepped onto
that shore it would be increased tenfold.

The boat finally ground into the
soft, muddy bank; Olsar slipped out, barely making a splash, and dragged the craft
out of the water with the others still sitting in it. Davian marvelled at the
man’s strength. Anaar was at least short of breath from the constant rowing,
but Olsar was to all appearances unaffected.

Unlike the sand of the Andarran
shore, there was only a muddy embankment where they had landed. Wincing as his
feet sank into the soft mud – the shoes he wore were his only pair – Davian
scrambled up the riverbank and into the long grass, exchanging relieved glances
with Wirr. It seemed that their arrival had gone undetected.

Anaar soon joined them. He stood
for a few seconds, listening to the sounds of the forest. Apparently satisfied,
he put his fingers to his mouth and gave a low, musical whistle.

Shadows stirred from deeper in
the trees and two burly men emerged from the darkness, silently taking up
positions behind the boys, their swords held at the ready.

Davian’s stomach twisted as he
realised they had been betrayed.

 “What is this?” hissed Wirr,
rounding on Anaar.

“Business,” replied Anaar,
spreading his hands apologetically. “I am in a position to renegotiate our
deal, and as such, I have decided that the price is a little higher than was
originally discussed.”

There was a long silence. “You
mean all of it,” said Wirr eventually, resignation in his tone.

“I am afraid so,” said Anaar with
a nod. He held up a cautionary finger. “And I know the First Tenet means you
cannot hurt us, but please also remember what I said about the soldiers around
here. They are
very
enthusiastic about their work. Try and escape us
using your powers, and you will bring down a hundred times worse on your heads.
You doubtless feel like you are getting the raw end of this bargain, but I am
sure a few extra coins are not worth your lives.”

Davian scowled at the smuggler.
“How do we know you won’t just kill us once you have the gold?” he asked,
trying to keep his voice low.

Anaar smiled. “I
did
give
you my word. Besides, if that were my intention, would I not just kill you and
take the gold from your bodies? No,” he chided. “Too much mess to clean up. My
men will take your payment by force if need be – but if you cooperate, you have
my word that there will be no violence.”

Davian considered Anaar for a
moment. The man wasn’t lying, exactly, and yet… something didn’t ring true.

“But you don’t want us to use
Essence, either,” he said slowly. “If we do, it won’t give you enough time to
get out of crossbow range before the patrol gets here. That’s why you haven't
tried to kill us. It isn’t worth the risk of our retaliating.”

Anaar shook his head, still
relaxed. “Nonsense. Even if the patrol runs here, we have plenty of time to get
away.”

Again Anaar was telling the truth
and yet Davian saw the man standing behind Wirr shift, looking uneasy. It was
all the encouragement he needed.

Taking a deep breath he ploughed
on, ignoring Wirr’s warning glance. “But you won’t have time to cover your
tracks. This has to be the only place to cross the Devliss by boat in, what… a
hundred miles?” He crossed his arms. “The Gil’shar are obviously already aware
it’s possible, seeing as they have a patrol passing so close by. If they found
any sign the crossing was being used – especially if they thought
Gifted
were using it – well, I imagine that would make undertaking your
business
far more difficult. Impossible, one might say.”

Anaar’s face darkened. “Use
Essence, and I will kill you,” he promised.

“Try to kill us, and we’ll use
Essence,” responded Davian. “Look, we’re going to need to eat. Just let us keep
a few of the coins. It’s not worth risking the profits of your entire operation
here, is it?”

Anaar stared at Davian stonily
for a few moments, then barked a low laugh.

“Clever boy,” he murmured, a
touch of reluctant admiration in his voice. “You have nerve, I will give you
that. Very well. Take three coins for yourself, then toss me the rest.”

Davian nodded; he wasn’t willing
to push the issue further. He drew the small leather pouch from his pocket,
drew three coins out, and tossed it to Anaar. The smuggler caught it neatly,
opening it to look inside. There were a tense few moments as he examined the
contents, and Davian felt sure he was about to ask for the bronze box as well.

Then Anaar drew the strings on
the pouch, giving a satisfied nod. “It seems our business here is complete.”

The smuggler gave an absent wave
to the two men behind Wirr and Davian, who moved towards the boat without a
word. One of them was carrying a crate of something heavy, which he placed
gently in the stern – no doubt whatever goods Anaar was illegally transporting
back to Andarra – and soon they were dragging the boat back into the water.

Anaar hesitated as the boat
bobbed away, then dug into the pouch he’d taken and flicked another coin
towards them. Davian caught it before it disappeared into the long grass. It
was gold.

He stared at the coin in
surprise, then looked up at the smuggler again. Anaar gave him a brief, impish
grin, then turned back to face the Andarran shore before Davian could respond.

“That was quick thinking, Dav,”
Wirr said after a few seconds, watching the boat pull away from the shore.
“Risky, but quick.”

“Thanks.” Davian exhaled heavily,
finally feeling able to breathe again.

“We should get moving. The
further we get from here in the next hour or two, the better.”

“Agreed.”

Wirr turned and headed into the
forest, Davian trailing after him. In seconds the thick foliage had hidden the
boat, river, and distant shore of Andarra from view.

They walked as fast as they
dared, careful not to leave too obvious a trail behind them. It was unlikely a
Desrielite patrol would notice their passing, but there was no reason to take
the chance.

They moved with silent
determination for the first hour or so, neither willing to make more sound than
the snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves underfoot, which alone seemed thunderous
in the hush of the night. After a while Wirr slowed to a stop in a copse of
tall trees, looked around cautiously and then indicated a fallen log.

“We should rest,” he said, a
little out of breath.

Davian nodded his acquiescence;
he was not as fit as Wirr, and was feeling the fast pace. Wirr was doubtless
tapping his Reserve for extra energy, too. His friend had assured him that it
was safe to do so – that so long as the Essence remained within his own body,
it could not be detected by Finders. More than ever, Davian hoped Wirr knew
what he was talking about.

Wirr sat on the log, then began
unlacing his boot.

“What are you doing?” asked
Davian, sitting beside him.

Wirr upended the boot, holding
out his hand. There was a jingling sound, and then five silver coins slid into
his palm, glinting in the moonlight.

Davian stared at them for a few
moments. “You thought something like this might happen,” he said eventually,
not knowing whether to be impressed or irritated.

Wirr shrugged. “He was a
smuggler, Dav. Not exactly an honest line of work.” He sighed. “Part of me
wishes I’d taken gold instead of silver, but there would have been trouble if
the purse had been too light. At least between the two of us, we’ve saved
enough to keep us going for now.”

They sat in contemplative silence
for a time. “It looks like he didn’t know about the Vessel after all,” Wirr
remarked suddenly.

“Maybe.” Davian wasn’t convinced.
He’d had a chance to think during their walk through the forest – to ponder
that moment on the Andarran shore of the Devliss, when he had shaken hands with
Anaar. He hadn’t imagined that fleeting look the smuggler had cast towards his
pocket.

Wirr picked up on his doubt. “He
wouldn’t have left it with us if he’d known,” he said. “It’s probably worth ten
times what he took. I think he would have risked killing us for it, to be
honest.”

Davian hesitated. “On the beach,
just before we cast off. I think, maybe….” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I
think I did something to him. Maybe made him forget, somehow.”

Wirr raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
From his tone, he clearly didn’t.

Davian scrunched up his face,
trying to think of how best to explain. “It felt a little like when I see
someone lying.”

Wirr frowned, looking only a
little less cynical. “I imagine it’s possible,” he said after a while. “The
Augurs were supposed to be able to do all sorts of things. But if you’re not
sure that’s what happened… well, I wouldn’t get too excited about it.” He
clapped Davian on the back.

Davian nodded, letting the matter
drop. Wirr was probably right. Still…
something
had happened. He was
sure of it.

After a few minutes they stood,
brushing away the scraps of bark that still clung to their clothing.

Without further conversation,
they continued northward into Desriel.

Asha rode in silence.

She stared around listlessly as
they made their way along Fedris Idri. The sole pass into Ilin Illan cut
through the mountain in a narrow, surgically straight line; sheer cliffs
towered hundreds of feet on either side, their dark brown rock flat and smooth,
polished to an almost glass-like sheen by the ancient power of the Builders.

The famous sight should have
filled her with wonder, but instead she felt nothing except the stares of
people passing by. Most looked away if she turned to face them, though some met
her gaze, openly disgusted or fascinated. And how could she blame them? She had
seen her own reflection many times in the past few weeks since leaving Caladel,
and the black lines across her face, radiating like burst veins from her eyes,
would give anyone pause.

She was a Shadow now, a broken
Gifted. A rare, harmless, ugly curiosity.

Ignoring the stares as best she
could, Asha unconsciously touched her left forearm again as she moved forward,
the feeling of smooth skin there still alien even after three weeks. Her Mark
had begun fading that first day on the road, and now had all but disappeared.

She hadn't known that would
happen, but in retrospect she supposed it made sense. If she was no longer able
to use the Gift, then she was no longer bound by the Tenets, either.

"We're almost there,
Ashalia."

The voice cut through her
thoughts, and she turned to face Elder Tenvar.

"And then you'll explain?
Tell me why I'm here? Why I'm... like
this
?" She gestured to her
face. Even after three weeks of asking the same questions, she couldn't keep
the ice from her tone.

"Everything." Ilseth
gave her a sympathetic look. "I know... I can't imagine how hard this has
been for you. How frustrating. But you'll understand when we reach Tol Athian.
You have my word."

Asha nodded curtly; she'd heard
the same promise a hundred times since waking up on a horse outside of Caladel,
but even now she wasn't sure she believed it. Elder Tenvar, Elder Kien, Elder
Kasperan - none had been willing to part with even a hint as to what had
happened. She'd pleaded with them... railed at them... none of it had made a
difference. She still didn't know whether to be eager or terrified to find out
the truth.

She blinked in the sudden
sunlight as they passed through the final of the three Fedris Idri gates; the
narrow road came to an abrupt end, and then Asha was staring down into Ilin
Illan itself.

In stark contrast to the cool,
enclosed dim of Fedris Idri, the city was bright, cheerful,
alive
. It
spread away from their position outward and downward; the incline was steep
enough to see everything at a glance, but not so steep as to give Asha even a
hint of vertigo. The elegant white-stone buildings stretched far into the
distance, beyond which she could make out the sails of ships as they came and
left the massive harbour. Past even those, the crystalline blue waters of the
Naminar River glittered in the afternoon sun.

To Asha’s right and left, the
massive brown-black cliffs of Ilin Tora extended away like two outstretched
arms, enveloping the entire city in their embrace. From what she could see, she
suspected that nowhere would the top of the sheer rock walls come closer than a
hundred feet to the buildings.

Even through her turbulent
emotions, Asha couldn't help but be impressed.

Elder Kien murmured something to
Ilseth and then was off down a side street, evidently about some other
business. The two remaining Elders left Asha little time for taking in the
view, moving quickly along a wide road to the right, parallel to the looming
cliffs.

They rode for only a few minutes
before the crowds began to thin, soon reaching a massive iron gate set into the
cliff face. At least twenty feet high and wide enough to fit ten men walking
side-by-side, it was closed, guarded by two men whose red cloaks stood in stark
relief against the grey metal.

One of them nodded in recognition
to Ilseth before pressing his palm against the shining metal surface. Slowly
and soundlessly, the gate swung open.

Ilseth turned to Asha, gesturing
for her to dismount.

“Welcome to Tol Athian, Ashalia,”
he said quietly.

***

The Tol was darker than Asha had
envisaged.

Carved into the bedrock of Ilin
Tora, the enormous central tunnel was lit by several lines of pure Essence
pulsing along the roof, which sat at least fifty feet above the floor. Other,
smaller tunnels branched off at regular intervals; these were illuminated by
only a single line of Essence, but their smaller size meant that they appeared
better lit.

Gifted hurried to and from almost
all the tunnels in a flurry of red. Under normal circumstances Asha would have
been astonished at the scene - there were more Gifted in front of her than she
had ever seen before in one place - but today she barely noticed. Her sense of
anticipation was growing stronger with every step. After three long weeks, she
was finally going to find out what was going on.

She trailed after Ilseth and
Kasperan, a mixture of excitement and nervousness building in her stomach. Soon
they were heading down one of the smaller passageways, eventually coming to a
door manned by two bored-looking guards.

“The Council have been waiting
for you, Elder Tenvar,” said one of them when he spotted the group, opening the
door and gesturing for them to enter. Asha caught the other one staring at her;
she held his gaze steadily until he dropped his eyes, looking slightly abashed.
She walked past him without saying anything.

Through the door, another short
passageway led out onto a large circular floor. Two long rows of seats overlooked
it; in those seats about a dozen red-cloaked Gifted – members of the Athian
Council, presumably - paused in their conversations and peered down at her and
her escorts.

“We should begin,” announced one
of the men. He hadn’t shouted, but the acoustics amplified his voice, carrying
it clearly to everyone present. Once he was sure he had the attention of the
room, he leaned forward in his chair, staring down at them intently.

“Finally. You have some
explaining to do, Ilseth.”

Ilseth inclined his head in deference.
“Nashrel. You received my message?”

“The pigeon arrived two weeks
ago,” replied Nashrel. “Though I cannot say it explained much.” His tone was
reproachful.

“I apologise for that,” said
Ilseth respectfully. “I thought it best to be… discreet.”

Nashrel nodded. “Of course,” he
said, though from his tone he was still clearly displeased. “So. You were
unable to find him?”

“That’s correct,” confirmed
Ilseth, casting an uncertain glance in Asha’s direction. She immediately got
the impression that this was not a conversation meant for her ears.

The Elder nodded, as if he had
expected the answer. “Fortunately that does not matter a great deal. We have a
Trace.”

Ilseth’s attention snapped back
to the Council members. “A Trace? Surely it would be wiser to -”

“It is already done, Ilseth.”
Nashrel waved away Ilseth's obvious alarm. “No need for concern. They have been
instructed not to harm anyone.”

The other Council members had
thus far remained silent, but now a woman to Nashrel’s left spoke up. “Perhaps
there are some other matters that should be discussed first?” she suggested to
Nashrel politely. “So that our young guest can… get some rest?”

Nashrel nodded, for the first
time seeming to register that Asha was in the room. “Ah. Yes, you're right,” he
said, shaking his head as if surprised at his own absent-mindedness. He studied
Asha’s features. “What is your name, girl?”

Asha started, for some reason
surprised at being addressed directly. “Ashalia,” she replied, trying to sound
duly respectful. Despite her efforts, her tone held a sharp edge.

Nashrel appeared to take no
offense. “What do you remember of the attack, Ashalia?”

Asha frowned in confusion, silent
for a few moments. “Attack? All I know is that I went to sleep one night, and
the next thing I remember, I was sitting in front of Elder Kasperan on a horse,
halfway to Jereth and like this.” She gestured coldly to her face.

“We thought it best to hold off
telling her, Nashrel,” interjected Ilseth.

“She was made a Shadow the
morning after the attack,” supplied Kasperan, who had been standing to one
side, allowing Ilseth to do the talking.

Nashrel rubbed his forehead. “And
why was that, exactly?”

Ilseth looked uncomfortable.
“That’s another matter we need to discuss, actually. It’s my fault, I’m
afraid.” He grimaced. “She... forced me to do it.”

“
What
?” Asha found herself
speaking before anyone else in the room had a chance to react. She took a
furious half-step towards Ilseth before being bodily restrained by Kasperan.
She'd
made
him do it? It was a lie. It had to be.

Nashrel looked between Asha and
Ilseth, expression darkening. “Why in El’s name would she
ask
for this,
Ilseth?”

Ilseth sighed, turning to speak
directly to Asha. His tone was gentle, full of regret. “The school at Caladel
was attacked, Ashalia. Everyone died – everyone but you.” He paused to let that
sink in. “That morning, you woke and saw exactly what we saw: bodies
everywhere, murdered in some of the most gruesome ways imaginable. Except
unlike us, you didn’t see strangers. They were your friends, your teachers...
people you had grown up with. By the time you found us, you were almost
incoherent with grief and fear.”

Still firmly in Kasperan’s grasp,
Asha could feel the other Elder nodding his agreement. She stared at Ilseth,
heart pounding, sick to her stomach. It couldn’t be true.

Ilseth continued, “You told me
that before running into us, you had gone to your friend’s room, to see if he
was alive. A boy who lived in the North Tower.”

Asha’s blood went cold. The
Elders had been avoiding telling her what had happened, and this was why.
Before Ilseth spoke again, she knew what he was going to say.

“He had died, Ashalia,” said
Ilseth softly. “He had died just like the others, and you couldn’t take the
memory of seeing it. You… went wild, when I refused to help. You attacked me.”
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a half-healed burn.

“I felt the blast,” confirmed
Kasperan.

“I begged you to wait, but you
insisted,” continued Ilseth. "You said you’d just keep attacking me until
I did it...  and that if I left it too late, if you were stuck with the
memories, you’d… well, that you’d kill yourself instead. Without any Shackles
available, I didn’t know what else to do.” He was visibly upset at the
remembrance. "After that, we thought it best not to tell you until we were
here. With only the three of us to watch you, we just... well, we didn't know
how you might react."

Asha felt tears forming in her
eyes. Her knees buckled, and only Kasperan’s grip kept her from collapsing to
the floor. A part of her still wanted to protest, to say that she would
never
have asked to be a Shadow, would
never
have done the things Ilseth was
saying.

Yet Davian was dead. Her friends
were
dead
. She couldn’t imagine that, either.

There was an awkward silence for
some time, everyone watching Asha as she struggled to keep her emotions in
check. Finally Nashrel cleared his throat.

“A difficult situation to be in,
Ilseth,” he said quietly. “And your actions under those circumstances are...
understandable, I suppose. Still, the girl was not of age and had not failed
her Trials; this is not something we can overlook entirely. We shall discuss
the appropriate punishment later.”

Ilseth nodded, looking chastised.
“I understand.”

Nashrel steepled his fingers
together. “The question remains, though: how did Ashalia here survive? You've
seen all three attack sites, Ilseth. There were no others left alive. Have you
any idea as to what made Caladel different?”

Ilseth shook his head. “All I
know is that it seems unlikely to be a mistake. Whoever, or whatever, has been
carrying out these attacks has been thorough. There must be a reason.” He bit
his lip. “I would recommend Ashalia stay at the Tol, for now. Not just because
we need to understand why she survived. I feel… I feel like I owe her that
much.”

Asha just stared at him,
understanding the words but unable to process them. All she could think about
was Davian. What it must have been like to find him like that.

“Agreed,” said Nashrel, glancing
across at Asha sympathetically. “Ashalia, I’ll have someone show you to your
new rooms; one of the Elders will be along later to help you settle in. Ilseth,
if you could stay a little longer. There is more we need to discuss.”

“Of course.” Ilseth inclined his
head deferentially. A few moments later a man Asha didn’t recognise was taking
her by the arm and leading her from the room.