The Shadow Of What Was Lost (28 page)

“At first. But… things changed.”
Erran hesitated. “I can’t say why, exactly; one of the first things he made me
do was teach him to shield himself. But he’s not like that any more. When
Administration found Fessi and Kol, he rescued them, gave them homes here, hid
them even from the king. If someone found out, he’d be executed for treason.
He’s risking his life, bringing us together.”

“He’s also getting access to your
powers,” Asha pressed, unconvinced.

“True,” Erran acceded, “ but he
already had me. Adding the other two posed more risk than reward.” He shook his
head. “I know you’ve probably heard stories about him, and some of them are
probably true. But whatever he was before, Ashalia, he’s a good man now. One
you can trust. I’ll swear to it.”

Asha nodded; she’d wait and see
for herself, but Erran was obviously convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Erran looked at her for a long
moment, then sighed. “No you won’t.” He winced immediately. “Sorry... sometimes
I Read people without thinking about what I’m doing. You’ll watch Elocien and
make up your own mind. That’s okay. You’ll see I’m right soon enough.”

Asha nodded uncomfortably,
suddenly feeling naked. She hadn’t felt anything, but Erran had been inside her
head as easily as that.

“How do you manage to keep all
this a secret?” she asked, as much to take her mind off her discomfort than
anything else. “Surely all it would take to get in trouble would be for someone
to overhear you and the others talking.”

Erran inclined his head. “I
probably should have mentioned that already.” He gestured to the walls around
them. “This is what we call a Lockroom. It’s shielded to all kinds of
eavesdropping, both natural and Gifted – it’s what your Elders would have
called Silenced. Whatever you say in a room like this can only be heard by
those within.”

“Oh.” Asha looked around, but
there seemed nothing out of the ordinary about the room. “So you always meet in
here?”

“No – there are several
Lockrooms, actually, all around the palace. A relic from the Gifted era.” He
pointed to the doorknob. “They each have the same keyhole symbol, just above
the handle. It’s worth remembering because around here, you'll find that there
is always someone listening. You should avoid even
mentioning
the word
‘Augur’ unless you’re inside one of these rooms.”

“Understood.” Asha shifted in her
seat. “Anything else I should know?”

Erran thought for a moment, then
nodded. “There’s the Journal, of course. You really should have a look at it.
It’s in Elocien’s office – stay here, I’ll get it for you.”

He slipped out of the room, and only
a few short minutes had passed when he returned with a leather-bound book.

“Have a look,” he said, handing
it to her.

Asha flipped through the pages.
Most were blank, but the first twenty or so were filled with the same elegant,
precise handwriting. She stopped at a page that had been marked with several
asterisks.

Vision - Kol

I was standing at the entrance to
Fedris Idri, and people seemed to be fleeing Ilin Illan. It wasn't panicked,
exactly, but the streets were full of travellers with carts, horses, anything
to carry their possessions away from the city. Everyone looked worried and a
few people were upset, crying. Fedris Idri itself was crowded, and from what I
could tell at that distance, so were the docks. There didn't seem to be many
ships left in the harbour though.

I listened for a while to one man
arguing with his wife - he was claiming that the invaders had no chance of
reaching the city, and that everyone was overreacting. His wife replied that
the battle was going to take place only days away, and that if General Jash'tar
was not victorious against 'the blind', there wouldn't be time to pack up and
leave once they heard of it.

The weather seemed warm but not
hot. The trees lining the Festive boulevard were losing their leaves – it was
probably the end of summer or maybe autumn, rather than spring.

Then a gap, followed by:

Confirmation - Fessiricia

It was night, but from where I
was in the Middle District, it looked like the entire Lower District was on
fire. The smoke was so thick it was difficult to see through, but I definitely
saw a group of soldiers running past, all in black armour. They were moving
together at the same time, perfectly in step – but the strange thing was that
there were no eyeholes in their helmets, no way they could have seen where they
were going.

In the distance, I could hear
screams and the sound of a battle. I thought it was coming from the Upper
District, towards Fedris Idri - but when I started to follow the soldiers to
find out more, the vision ended.

There were two more confirmations
along a similar vein, one from Erran and another from Fessi. Asha's stomach
turned as she read them. “How many of these have already come true?” she asked
uneasily.

“Most of them,” said Erran.
“Unless something's really important, we only tend to See a day or two into the
future.” He paused, noting the page she was on. “Those ones are obviously
further away than that... but they will happen eventually.”

“You really think someone is
going to attack Ilin Illan? And get inside the city?”

Erran nodded. “It seems that
way.”

Asha shook her head in dismay.
"Do you think it has something to do with why someone is trying to hurt
Wirr... Prince Torin? The timing seems...."

"Suspicious. I know,"
said Erran. "And certainly, anyone attacking Andarra wouldn't want the
Gifted to be freed of the Tenets. But Elocien's still alive, and while he is, I
would have thought King Andras was more of a threat than Torin." He looked
about to say something more, but remained silent as the door opened and Elocien
walked in.

“The Athian Representative has
arrived, Ashalia,” he said without preamble. “He has asked to meet you.”

Asha rose, suddenly nervous. “I'm
ready.”

"Good. You can use your real
name, by the way - but if anyone asks, you're from the school in Nalean. I'll
alter your records at Administration to indicate such." The Northwarden
glanced at the book in Asha’s hand, then at Erran. “You’ve shown her the
Journal?”

“Yes.”

Elocien gave him an approving
nod. “Lock it back in my office for now; we’ll keep it there until Ashalia’s
quarters have been arranged.”

Erran ducked his head in
acquiescence, accepting the Journal from Asha with a friendly smile. “I’ll find
you tomorrow sometime, show you around.” He left.

“I should warn you,” said Elocien
conversationally as they exited the Lockroom, “ I would not expect the warmest
welcome from whomever the Tol has sent. I cannot imagine they will be pleased
to be working with a Shadow.”

Asha just nodded in
acknowledgement. She suspected the same thing.

Soon they were heading down a
passageway into a part of the palace Asha hadn’t seen before; a minute later
they arrived at a large, sumptuously furnished waiting room. A man was within,
his back to them as he looked out over the perfectly tended gardens. Elocien gave
a polite cough.

The man turned, studying them. He
was younger than Asha had expected – perhaps in his early forties, lean and
athletic-looking, his movements reminding her more of a warrior than an Elder.
His short black hair showed no signs of thinning or fading to grey. He smiled,
and there was genuine warmth in the expression.

“Representative Michal Alac,”
said the Northwarden, “ please meet Ashalia Chaedris, your new colleague.”

Michal stuck out a hand, which
Asha hesitantly shook. Thus far at least, she was seeing none of the
displeasure she’d expected. Elocien, too, watched the exchange with eyebrows
slightly raised.

“A pleasure to meet you,
Ashalia,” said Michal.

“You too, Elder Alac.”

“Please. Just Michal. No need for
formalities between the only two Athians in the palace.” Michal turned to
Elocien. “Thank-you, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse us, I need to go over
Ashalia’s duties with her,” he said politely.

Elocien nodded. “Of course.” Once
Michal’s back was turned he gave a slight, nonplussed shrug of the shoulders to
Asha, then left the room.

Michal sat, gesturing for Asha to
do the same. “Elder Eilinar has told me that you are here because the Council
thinks it could be advantageous. That in negotiations, some of the Houses might
see the presence of a Shadow as Tol Athian reaching out, showing that we aren’t
above working with non-Gifted,” he said quietly. “Let me say this straight out
- I don’t believe that is the reason. Not for a second. Fortunately, I also
don’t care. You’re here, and you’re my assistant. As long as you do this job to
the best of your ability, whatever else you do in the palace is your own
business.”

Asha swallowed, but nodded. “I’ll
work hard,” she promised.

Michal stared at her for a
moment, then inclined his head. “Good.” He leaned back, looking a little more
relaxed. “Then let’s begin.”

Wirr woke and for a few blissful
moments he just lay there, not quite sure where he was.

Then his memory returned. The
slow, sickening realisation that it hadn’t been a nightmare twisted through
him.

Everyone from the school in
Caladel was dead.

He lay there for a while as the
truth settled deep in his chest. How long had he slept? No more than a couple
of hours, probably; grief had robbed him of his tiredness for much of the
night.

He focused on his surroundings.
It was still dark, only the faint glow of the street lamp outside providing the
faintest of illumination. Soft breathing from the pallets on the floor
indicated Davian and Caeden were asleep. On the opposite side of the room
though, a dark shape hunched on the edge of Taeris’ bed. The older man was
awake.

Wirr frowned after a couple of
seconds, not moving, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. He couldn’t put his
finger on it, but something was wrong.

A shadow shifted, and Wirr could
just make out Taeris’ scarred features. They were set in fierce concentration;
his crisscrossed forehead glistened with sweat as he stared intently at
something he was holding, mesmerized by whatever it was. Wirr moved his head
ever so slightly to get a better view. Taeris seemed not to notice.

Wirr caught the dull glint of
steel. A knife.

Taeris sat completely still,
almost as if in a trance, but his expression told a different story. He was
labouring, struggling against something unseen. Something that scared him. Wirr
watched, keeping his breathing deep and even to ensure it sounded like he was
still asleep. Taeris just sat, motionless, staring at the knife with horror in
his eyes, for a minute. Two minutes. Five.

Then, without warning, Taeris
began to raise the blade towards his face – slowly, inch by inch. His breathing
became shallower.

Just as Wirr was about to move,
something seemed to break and Taeris' arm dropped again. His features relaxed;
he pulled open his satchel, tucking the knife away. Once he was done he lay
back down on his bed, and soon his breathing was deep and regular.

Wirr closed his eyes, trying to
sleep again, but the image of Taeris’ face stayed in his mind. Straining.
Terrified.

He was still awake when the dawn
came.

***

Davian stared numbly at the
rising sun.

“So you think he might be
dangerous, now?” he asked, unable to summon enough energy to colour his tone
with emotion.

“I don’t know.” Wirr sounded as
exhausted as Davian felt. “I just thought I should tell you. The way he was
staring at that knife… like he was fighting it, afraid of it... it scared me,
Dav. And this might be our last chance to part ways with him.”

The knot of grief and anxiety
tightened just a little more in Davian’s stomach. He’d barely slept, and those
few hours he had, had been filled with nightmares. Asha, screaming for him to
help as she died a bloody death. Mistress Alita, the Elders, Talean, all doing
the same. No matter that he knew, rationally, that there was nothing he could have
done. He still should have been there.

And now this.

“We won’t survive on our own,” he
said.

“Karaliene was prepared to take
just you and I. If we go back now, she still will be.”

Davian hesitated. Third-hand
stories from the princess were one thing, but if Wirr had seen Taeris acting so
strangely….

He glanced across at Caeden.

“No,” he said tiredly. “That’s
the easy way out, but I’m not sure it’s the right way.”

Wirr just nodded, looking
unsurprised and a little relieved. “I feel the same, I think – if there’s even
a chance that what Taeris says about the Boundary is true, then we need to get
Caeden back to Tol Athian. But we should watch Taeris closely from now on.”

“Agreed.”

There was silence for a while,
and Davian glanced again over the early morning landscape. The sun had not been
up long enough to banish the sharp chill from the air, nor completely burn away
the light fog that lay across the nearby valleys. He stamped his feet to warm
up, looking across once again at the archway of Thrindar’s northern gate. A few
people were already making their way to and from the city, but no-one who
looked like they were there to accompany them.

“Are you sure Karaliene hasn’t
changed her mind?” he asked.

“They'll come,” said Wirr, though
he too glanced towards the gate again, searching for any sign of their promised
allies.

They had been waiting for twenty
minutes now. Taeris had been walking in aimless circles since dawn,
occasionally muttering to himself as the sun rose higher and higher. The delay
clearly wasn’t pleasing him; Davian was beginning to feel exposed too, standing
as they were in plain sight of the city walls.

Suddenly there was a hail from
the gate and he turned to see two figures approaching, leading several horses.
He squinted. It was a young man and a young woman - both about his own age,
slim and athletic-looking, and dressed in simple but well-made clothes that
looked practical for travelling. Davian’s heart sank a little. If this was the
protection the princess had promised Wirr, it had been barely worth the wait.

Apparently Taeris was thinking
along the same lines. “Is this all Princess Karaliene has to offer?” he asked
Wirr, irritated, though quietly enough that the newcomers could not overhear.

Wirr raised an eyebrow. “Take
another look,” he replied.

Taeris frowned, turning back to
those approaching. His eyes widened a little in recognition.

“Aelric Shainwiere,” Taeris said
as the two reached the group.

The boy inclined his head, and
Davian realised that it was indeed the same young man they’d watched the
previous day in the arena. Wearing unassuming clothes, and with his hair no
longer bound, he looked markedly different.

Davian recognised the girl, too,
now that he could look at her up close – she was one of the princess’
attendants. Her dark hair was cropped to her shoulders, and she had lightly
tanned skin that freckled beneath her eyes.

Aelric surveyed the group, his
expression indicating that he was unimpressed with what he saw. “I have been
ordered to accompany you on your journey,” he said. “The princess has told me
who you are. Most of you, at least,” he amended, giving Wirr a baleful look.
Davian’s initial rush of excitement faded as he saw the disinterest in the
young man’s posture. Aelric clearly did not wish to be there.

The girl shot Aelric an irritated
glare, then stepped forward. “My name is Dezia. I'm Aelric’s sister,” she said,
looking vaguely embarrassed. “We’ve brought horses and some supplies. I hope
there’s enough for wherever we are going.”

Davian glanced at the horses;
their saddlebags looked full to bursting. They would have plenty of food for a
while, at least.

Taeris quickly made some polite
introductions, frowning all the while. “I mean no offense,” he said once
everyone had been introduced, “ but why did Princess Karaliene send you? I’m
sure she’s told you that we need to stay… inconspicuous on the road. If someone
recognises you….”

Aelric snorted. “In these
clothes? I barely recognise myself.”

Dezia sighed, shooting her
brother another irritated look. “The truth is, Master Sarr, Aelric has gone and
done something rather foolish. He got drunk and admitted a little too loudly
that he didn’t… fight to his potential in the final bout yesterday.”

“He threw the fight?” Davian's
astonishment made him blurt out the question before he could stop himself.

Aelric scowled at him, but Dezia
just nodded. “Yes,” she said, glancing sideways at a sulky-looking Aelric, an
odd note of pride in her voice.

“Why?” asked Davian in disbelief.

Wirr had been nodding throughout
the conversation. “Politics,” he said, in the tone of someone who had just put
together several pieces of a puzzle. “An Andarran winning on Desriel’s soil
would have been a slap in the face to the Gil’shar. Small by itself, but given
the delicate state of things right now….”

Dezia nodded, looking at Wirr for
the first time, who straightened unconsciously under her examination. “That’s
right,” she said. “He gave up a chance at fame, to be remembered as one of the
youngest swordsmen ever to win the Song, in the interests of diplomacy. Even
though the Song is supposed to be above all of that.” Her expression darkened.
“And then decided to risk his life hours later by having too much pride to
pretend he’d lost fairly.”

Taeris had been listening with a
perturbed expression. “The backers know?”

Dezia turned to him, her concern
showing through. “Yes.”

Taeris grunted. “So you are in as
dire need of escape from Desriel as us.” Dezia nodded again, and Taeris sighed.
“I suppose it could be worse.”

Aelric gave him a fierce scowl.
“You weren't my first choice either, Bleeder,” he said in a low voice.

Davian stiffened, unexpected
anger abruptly boiling at the forefront of his emotions. He walked over to
Aelric until the two were face to face.

“I don’t mind that you don’t want
to be here,” he said softly, “ but if you ever –
ever
– call one of us
that again, we will set you and your sister adrift. Only one person needs to
overhear that word being used, and we’ll have the entire Desrielite army
bearing down on us before we can blink.”

Aelric didn’t back down, but he
gave a short nod. “As you wish,” he said, the slightest note of contrition in
his voice.

Taeris sighed as he watched the
exchange. He turned back to Dezia. “And why are you here?”

“He’s my brother. As embarrassing
as that can be sometimes,” she said with a scowl in Aelric’s direction. Then
she added, “But I can fight if I need to.”

Taeris raised an eyebrow.
“Sword?”

Dezia reached into a pack on the
side of one of the horses. “Bow,” she said, unwrapping an oiled cloth to reveal
a well-made bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Taeris considered, then nodded.
“Keep it close,” he said. “There’s no telling if, or when, we’ll find trouble.”

“Speaking of which. Where are we
going?” asked Aelric. “Karaliene said that there was no way you’d risk trying
to cross at Talmiel.”

Taeris hesitated. “Deilannis,” he
said eventually.

There was a moment of silence as
everyone stared at him. “Deilannis?” repeated Wirr, sounding slightly
disbelieving. “Does it even exist?”

Taeris smiled, though there was
little humour in the expression. “It’s very much real,” he assured Wirr. “I’ve
been there once before.”

Aelric frowned. “I’ve never heard
of it.”

“It was an ancient city. Built on
an island in the middle of the river Lantarche, bordering Desriel, Andarra and
Narut,” Davian supplied. He looked at Taeris worriedly. “I’ve read about it. I
thought it was supposed to be... dangerous. Cursed, somehow.” The stories
varied as to what made the city so unsafe, but he remembered one thing clearly
enough: they were unanimous in saying that those who went into the City of
Mists did not return.

Aelric gave a scornful laugh.
“Cursed?”

“’Occupied’ would be a better
word,” said Taeris, unruffled by Aelric's reaction. “Something lives in there –
and whatever it is, it
is
dangerous.”

Aelric made a face. “Just
stories, surely. Superstitious nonsense.”

Wirr shot him an irritated glare.
“You’d never even heard of it a moment ago.” Aelric’s attitude was obviously
grating at Wirr as much as it was at Davian.

Aelric opened his mouth to
retort, but Taeris cut in. “No-one guards the bridges to and from the city, so
it’s our best chance of escape. It’s also an indication of how perilous the
city itself is,” he added with a pointed look in Aelric's direction. “I
wouldn’t even suggest it if there were an alternative.”

Aelric hesitated, then inclined
his head reluctantly. “I suppose if the Gil’shar ignore it, it cannot be easy
to pass through,” he admitted.

“There is another benefit to
crossing there.” Taeris paused, glancing at Aelric and Dezia. “There are
creatures pursuing us.”

Dezia nodded. “The sha’teth. Yes,
Karaliene explained.”

“I see. Good. I'm... glad you
know." Taeris shot a half-curious, half-irritated glance at Wirr. "I
suspect that if we can avoid the sha’teth until we reach Deilannis, they won’t
follow us through. Years ago, Tol Athian ordered them to investigate the ruins,
and all five of the creatures refused to enter. Until last week, it was the
only time I’d ever seen them defy a direct order. We never found out why.”

“Because entering the city would
kill them.”

There was a sudden silence as
everyone turned to look at Caeden.

Taeris stared at the young man
curiously. “Why do you say that?”