The Shadow Of What Was Lost (40 page)

“Sorry,” he said, a little
abashed. “It’s amazing.”

Malshash smiled. “You’d be wise
to at least skim all of them,” he said, gesturing around. Davian glanced up to
see that the other books touched by the tendrils of blue light were still
glowing. “The Adviser is rarely wrong. It will have picked out only the very
best books to satisfy your query.”

Davian looked at the blue stone.
“It’s called an Adviser?” He gave a slight smirk.

Malshash rolled his eyes. “
I
call it that... you can call it what you want. Just use it. Learn the theory,
and I’ll help you put it into practice.” He gestured around grandly. “All the
knowledge of the Darecians is here, Davian. They weren’t perfect, but they were
more advanced than any other civilization that has walked this earth. Believe
me.” He turned, heading towards the doorway. “You know the way back? I will be
gone for a few days.”

Davian froze. “You’re leaving?”

“Only for a short while.”

“But….” Davian floundered. “I
thought you were going to train me?”

“I will,” Malshash reassured him.

“What if someone else comes?”
pressed Davian. The thought of being left alone in the city frightened him. “Am
I safe from the Orkoth?”

Malshash grunted. “I told you,
Orkoth won’t harm you now. And there is no-one and nothing else here to fear.”

Davian gave an uncertain shrug.
“So I’ll just… see what I can find?”

Malshash smiled. “Good. Study
hard. The faster you understand the basics, the faster you will be able to
return home.”

Without anything further, he
turned and left.

Davian stared after him for a few
moments, feeling cast adrift. He hadn’t known what to think of Malshash – still
didn’t; the man clearly didn't want to reveal much about himself – but the
presence of another human being had been comforting. Left so completely alone now,
Davian was struck by just how silent the building was, how empty the city felt.

Shaking off the sensation as best
he could, he turned back to the book in his hand. Whatever else the events of
the last few days had done, they had delivered him an amazing opportunity to
learn about his powers – his hopes for which had been dashed since the moment
he’d realised Ilseth Tenvar had lied to him.

His face hardened into a mask of
determination as, for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to think
about the man who had fooled him into this journey. Who had probably known in
advance that Asha was going to die.

He would learn these abilities,
and find a way back to his own time. Do his best to stop whatever was going on
with the Boundary.

And
after that, he would seek out Ilseth Tenvar.

Caeden woke.

He climbed slowly to his feet,
wincing as he stretched stiff muscles. It was just past dawn; the sun had not
yet risen above the mountains behind them.

They were only a day past
Deilannis, yet already he felt… less. The overpowering familiarity he’d felt in
the city – his recognition of buildings, streets – had faded almost as soon as
they had left the mists. He’d felt
stronger
there, more confident.

Now it was all a distant memory,
and the old feelings of helplessness had returned. He didn't know who he was.
Didn't know why Davian had been sent to find him, or why he was connected to
the Vessel Taeris was carrying, or what he was involved in.

Worst of all, he didn't know if
he'd done what he'd been accused of.

He rubbed the Shackle on his left
arm, trying to ignore the constant glow of the wolf tattoo there. Its light
never faded; Taeris still had the Vessel on his person somewhere, though Caeden
hadn’t sighted it since Thrindar. There were moments he’d considered trying to
find it – there had been opportunities, while Taeris was asleep – but caution
had won out each time. Taeris said it could be dangerous, and the scarred man
had helped him,
saved
him. Caeden had to put aside his uncertainties and
trust in his companions.

Still, the lure of the box was
almost more than he could bear, sometimes. None of them spoke about it, but
everyone knew that there was a possibility it was meant to restore his
memories. And as much as Caeden dreaded that happening, not knowing the truth
was worse by far.

Sighing, he glanced over towards
the rest of the group as they began to stir.

Everyone's mood, Caeden's
included, had been understandably morose since the loss of Davian and Nihim.
Caeden had liked Davian, and his conversation with Nihim after his duel had
been a comfort, too. He'd felt their absence keenly since Deilannis, and still
sometimes found himself glancing over his shoulder, scanning the horizon for
them.

He often caught Wirr doing the
same thing. Despite Taeris' grim assurances, none of them really felt as though
the other two were truly gone.

He stretched, nodding to Taeris,
who was already up and had evidently been on watch. Though Caeden tried not to
let on, Taeris' scars sometimes made him uncomfortable. They were a constant
reminder of what the Gil'shar had accused him of doing to the villagers'
bodies.

Taeris nodded back, looking
thoughtful, then walked over to him.

“Can I trust you?”

Caeden blinked, taken aback by
the question. “Yes. Of course,” he replied after a moment.

Taeris locked eyes with him for a
long few seconds. Then he reached down and before Caeden realised what was
happening, touched the Shackle on his arm.

There was a cold, slithering
feeling, and the metallic torc dropped to the ground. Caeden shook his head in
surprise. He suddenly felt lighter, more energetic. Free. Even the tattoo on
his wrist seemed to pulse brighter. It had been so long since he’d felt this
way, he’d barely remembered what it was like.

Aelric, who was standing a little
way off, rushed over when he saw what was happening. “What do you think you’re
doing?” he exclaimed.

Taeris raised an eyebrow at him.
“I've been thinking about this all night, Aelric, and Caeden has earned our
trust. We have monsters hunting us - going through Deilannis has gained us some
respite, but they won't have given up. And you saw how powerful those creatures
are. We need every advantage we can get.”

Aelric scowled. “You still can’t
let him free,” he said grimly. He turned to Caeden. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying
I think you’re a threat to us, but after what you were accused of in Desriel….”

Taeris scowled back. “He’s been
with me for many weeks now, Aelric. He
saved
us in Deilannis, and I’m
risking my life to bring him before the Council. I feel warranted in making
this decision.”

Caeden frowned. Taeris' voice
seemed… small. Far off. He tried to focus on what else was being said, but the
sounds all blurred together.

He stood on a hilltop, a
breathtaking vista below him – green fields and rolling hills for a short
distance, and beyond that the ocean, glittering like diamonds in the afternoon
sunlight. A pleasant warm breeze ruffled his hair gently. He was suddenly aware
he was holding hands with someone; he looked to his side, heart leaping to his
throat.

The most beautiful woman he had
ever seen was standing next to him. Her alabaster skin was flawless. Her long
black hair was loose, cascading down her back almost to her waist, shining in
the sunlight. She had a perfectly oval face, with full, red lips and cheeks
rosy from the climb up the hill. Her eyes were blue, not like the ocean or the
sky, but something deeper, stronger, more indefinable. She turned to him,
smiling, and those eyes shone as they gazed upon him. So focused. Like he was
the only thing in the world, or at least the only thing of importance.

The image faded, the colour
draining away from the scene. He was standing outside a massive city. Even from
a distance away the walls loomed ominously; at a glance he thought they were at
least a hundred feet high, probably more. They were made from a black, rocky
stone, jagged edges everywhere.

Above the walls rose the city
itself. It seemed to be built atop a peak; Caeden couldn’t see any buildings
near the wall, but could easily make out roads and structures further towards
the city centre. Nothing moved within, though. There were no guards, nor any
gates he could see. Massive fires burned at various points around the top of
the wall, the red-orange of the flames the only colour in an otherwise drab
landscape.

It was night, the moonlight
casting a strange silver pallor over everything. He was in a field, though most
of the grass seemed dead, or at least struggling to survive. He looked over his
shoulder. There were no trees in sight, with the flat, barren fields stretching
on as far as the eye could see in all directions. All was silent here. No wind,
no animals.

Then he was somewhere else. It
was day again, he thought, but the sky was blacked out by billowing smoke from
burning homes. Around him he could hear the screams of people as they died, not
quite drowning out the quieter cries of panic and confusion. The smoke shifted
and twisted around him; suddenly two dark silhouettes were visible through it.
They were humanoid in nature, but too tall, too thin.

Then he could see them properly.
Covered in black scales, the creatures stood at least nine feet tall; their
bodies were slim and sinuous, with no neck to speak of. Their heads were shaped
like that of a snake, but when they looked at him, he saw the rows of tiny,
sharp teeth that filled their mouths. The two creatures watched him for a
moment, lashing their tails as they stared hungrily. There was something eerily
intelligent about their expressions.

Then they were gone into the
smoke, moving faster than he would have believed.

He was kneeling. He looked up to
see the smoke had gone; he was in an underground cavern of some kind, the roof
stretching upward so far that he could barely see the top. He was sweating; a
little way to his left a pool of molten rock bubbled threateningly.

In front of him was a being that
seemed made of pure fire, its skin smouldering and writhing, even the strands
of its hair glowing with energy. Its eyes, though, contemplating him as they
were, were undeniably human.

The creature was holding a sword,
and Caeden knew that the sword was important somehow. It bent the light around
it, drank it in, but Caeden could still see the symbols inscribed onto the
blade, words in a different language. They were familiar to him, but he didn’t
have time to concentrate on them.

“You are unworthy,” said the
creature holding the sword. Its voice was rough, deep and knowledgeable. “You
have come for Licanius, and so may not have her.”

The scene shifted yet again, but
this time the sensation was different, though he couldn’t say how. He stood in
the centre of a large, open field; it was night, and a gentle breeze made the
long grass seem as though there were silvery-black waves sliding over the
ground. Everything was in stark contrast, with the moonlight almost blinding,
and the shadows as dark and impenetrable as pitch. He looked down. He was
wearing a black tunic of fine silk, the threads snug against his skin. It was a
familiar feeling. A good feeling.

In the distance, emerging from a
copse of swaying birches, he saw a man approach. As he came closer, Caeden
could see that he was tall, muscular, with chiselled features and a wide,
welcoming smile. The man raised his hand in greeting; hesitantly, Caeden raised
his in return. A sense of familiarity flashed through him. Somehow, from
somewhere, he knew this man.

“Tal’kamar!” the man called when
he was closer, a jovial, welcoming note in his voice. He strode over, and
before Caeden could react he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace. “I knew
you’d find your way here eventually! It is good to see you, old friend.”

Caeden blinked. “Is this actually
happening?” He knew as soon as he said the words that it was. The previous
images had been vague, hazy – memories, perhaps, though seen in a detached sort
of way. This was something different.

 The man chuckled. “Of course!
We’re in a dok’en. Your dok’en, actually.” His smile slipped a little. “You’re
serious?”

Caeden’s heart leapt. This man
seemed to know him – seemed to be friends with him. “I’m sorry,” he said
earnestly. “I know it sounds strange, but I have no memory of anything beyond a
month or so ago. If you know me….”

The man’s smile faded entirely,
and he bit his lip. “Then it is true,” he said, sadness in his voice. He sighed.
“My name is Alaris.” He put his hand on Caeden’s shoulder. “We are friends, you
and I. Brothers.”

Caeden leaned forward. “You can
tell me who I am? How I came to be here?”

Alaris nodded. “Yes, of course,”
he said in an amiable tone. He glanced around. “There may not be time right
now, though.”

“Why?”

Alaris gestured. “Look for
yourself.”

Caeden looked back over his
shoulder. A black shadow had fallen over some of the field; where there had
once been a wide expanse of open grass, there was now nothing to be seen. As he
watched, the shadow inched forward some more. He turned back to Alaris, panic
welling up inside of him.

“What happens when the shadow
reaches us?”

Alaris smiled. “Nothing, to you.
It’s your dok’en.”

“Dok’en?” The word was familiar,
but Caeden couldn’t recall its meaning.

Alaris rolled his eyes in
amusement. “A place you created some time ago, Tal’kamar. Once, you had many of
these lying around, and I knew where you'd hidden most of them... but this is
the only one that I know of, now. You must not have lost all of your memories,
to find your way back here.” He looked around with a frown. “Dok’en are always
based on real places, though, and I’m not sure where this was in real life. The
Shattered Lands, perhaps? You were always fond of travelling there.” He checked
the oncoming shadow again. “Regardless. You’re not doing a terribly good job of
keeping this place stable, and I really do need to leave before everything
disappears, so let’s make this quick. Where are you?”

Caeden hesitated. The man knew
him, but was he trustworthy? Eventually he shook his head. “People are hunting
us, and I do not know you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Alaris looked exasperated, but
gave a reluctant nod. “I understand.” Then he frowned. “Wait. ’Us’?”

“The people I am travelling
with,” elaborated Caeden, still unsure how much to reveal. “Gifted.”

Aelric looked displeased at that.
“And who is hunting you?”

“Creatures. They’re called
sha’teth.”

Alaris’ expression froze, and
Caeden thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly,
all humour vanished.

“You know of them?”

Alaris glanced over Caeden’s
shoulder, clearly distracted by the oncoming shadow. “You could say that. A
tale for another time, my friend.” He grabbed Caeden by the arm. “You are in
serious danger, Tal’kamar. If the people you are with find out who you really
are, they will kill you without a second’s hesitation. We are at war, and
though they may not seem like it now, they are the enemy.” His expression was
deadly serious. 

Caeden shook his head, refusing
to accept the statement. “They have already risked their lives for me.”

“Because they don’t know who you
are,” countered Alaris. He eyed the field behind Caeden nervously. "Read
them. If you don't find they're capable of what I say, then forget I ever spoke
ill of them."