The Shadow Of What Was Lost (41 page)

Caeden shook his head. “I...
don’t know how,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Alaris looked at Caeden, his
expression pitying. “I see,” he said softly. “It’s like that.” He hesitated.
“I’m sorry, Tal’kamar. There simply isn’t time to explain.”

He started backing away; Caeden
turned to see that the shadow was almost upon them. “The dok’en is about to
fail, Tal’kamar," said Alaris. "Once that happens, we cannot use it
again. I may not see you for some time.” He paused, looking conflicted, then
came to a decision. “In Ilin Illan, there lives a man called Havran Das. Find a
way to get to him, without your companions knowing. He’s a merchant dealing in
fine wines, and someone who is... reliable. I will contact him myself; he will
be able to help you.”

Caeden shook his head. “Why
should I trust you?”

Alaris gripped Caeden’s arm.
“Because we are brothers, and we have a bond that not even time can break.” He
closed his eyes. “Until we meet again, my friend. It was good to see you.”

"Wait! One more
question." Caeden clenched his fists; he was afraid to ask, but he had to
know. "I was accused of a crime, from before I can remember. Killing
people... slaughtering them for no reason." He watched Alaris closely,
dreading the answer. "Is that the kind of man I am? Would I have done
that?"

Alaris hesitated.

"No, Tal'kamar," he
said softly. "Never without a reason."

He faded just as the shadow
touched Caeden.

“Caeden,” came Taeris' voice.

He shook his head, trying to
focus. The world around him bled back into view, slowly regaining colour and
clarity. He was on the ground. Taeris was looking at him anxiously and the
others were watching a little distance away, concern on their faces too.

“Take it easy,” Taeris advised as
Caeden struggled to rise. “You collapsed.”

Caeden took a moment, then
levered himself upward. The momentary disorientation had passed.

“I’m okay,” he said, getting to
his feet. Still, his stomach lurched.
Never without a reason
.

“What happened?” asked Wirr.

Caeden stared at the worried
faces around him for a long moment. Then he glanced at Aelric, who was clearly
still concerned that his Shackle had been removed.

“Just a dizzy spell,” he assured
everyone.

Taeris hesitated, then gave him a
gentle clap on the back. “Probably a side-effect of having the Shackle on for
so long,” he said. “Are you able to travel?”

Caeden gave a silent nod of
confirmation, his thoughts already elsewhere.

Havran Das.

He fixed the name in his mind as
he began helping the others break camp. He didn't know if he could trust
Alaris, but one thing was certain.

He was going to find out more
once they reached Ilin Illan.

Wirr poked at the fire with a
stick, keeping a thoughtful silence.

He glanced across at the three
sleeping forms lying at the edge of the flickering light. Caeden had made his
excuses and retired early tonight; though apparently recovered from his sudden
collapse that morning, he’d seemed a little off throughout the day. Aelric and
Dezia had soon followed, leaving Wirr and Taeris on first watch.

The lack of conversation had
suited Wirr. He needed time to gather himself after the madness of the past
couple of days.

His thoughts, as they often did
now, drifted to the friend he’d lost. Wirr forced himself to picture Davian's
face - to once again accept the accompanying pain and regret that settled
heavily in his chest. He knew he should have been smarter than to shout out, to
try and draw on Essence.

Unbidden, he recalled that
moment. The dar’gaithin, the shouting. The desperate sprint after Caeden, back
the way they had come.

Then he frowned. Since leaving
Deilannis, something had been tugging at his the corners of his mind, small but
insistent. This time, he realised what it was.

“What was in the building?” he
asked abruptly, tone low so as not to wake the others.

Taeris blinked, shaken from a
reverie of his own. “Pardon?”

Wirr leaned forward. “The
building,” he repeated. “In Deilannis. You were going to go inside. You wanted
something in there, but Nihim stopped you.” His frown deepened as he
remembered. “You led us there, didn’t you. You knew it wasn’t the way out.
Caeden even told you, but you ignored him.”

Taeris stared at Wirr for a
moment. “Yes.”

Rage began to boil up inside
Wirr; it was all he could do to keep his voice low. “Why? Davian and Nihim
died, Taeris! My friend and your friend died because you wanted something so
badly, you were willing to risk all our lives for it. So you will tell me what
was in that building.” His voice was cold and hard, anger sitting just beneath
the surface.

“A weapon,” said Taeris, looking
more resigned than surprised at Wirr's tone. “A weapon that was built to defeat
Aarkein Devaed himself. Lost for thousands of years.” He sighed. “The time
approaches, Wirr, when we may need a weapon against whatever is waiting for us
in the North. So... yes. I risked lives.”

Wirr felt some of the anger drain
away, but far from all of it. “And what would this weapon be?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Taeris.
“That's part of the problem. We need to know what it is, how it works,
before
the time comes to put it to use.”

Wirr shook his head. “You should
have told us. We had a right to know,” he said furiously. “Why now? You’ve
lived in Desriel for years. Why wait?”

Taeris bowed his head. “Because
it was only supposed to be Nihim,” he said, voice aching.

Wirr frowned in confusion. “What
do you mean?”

Taeris took a deep breath.
“Before the Unseen War, Nihim was approached by an Augur, who told him he would
die in Deilannis - but in the process, supposedly, of helping one of the most
important men of our time. The Augur also told him – promised him! – that
no-one else would die. That all others travelling with him would be safe.” He
shook his head. “I thought… I thought it gave me a free pass, Wirr. Nihim insisted
on coming, said it was his time. I thought that knowing he was the only one who
died would give us impunity to investigate. That it was perhaps my only chance
to do so safely.” He looked up. “I’m sorry.”

Wirr saw it then - the guilt that
was crushing Taeris, as real and raw as his own.

It didn’t matter, though. In some
ways it was worse; Wirr had been shouldering the burden of Davian’s death, when
in reality that responsibility was shared.

"So you risked our lives,
based on a vision an Augur told you twenty years ago. Despite knowing that
their visions stopped coming to pass," he said in quiet disbelief. He
stood, hands shaking, almost too angry to think. “I’m going for a walk.”

Taeris grimaced. “That’s probably
not the best idea -”

“Enough, Taeris,” Wirr snarled as
softly as he could. “I’ll stay nearby in case there’s trouble.”

He walked off into the darkness,
the jumble of emotions that had died down since Deilannis back now, worse than
ever. He’d just pushed them down before, but he knew he needed to deal with
them this time.

He found a log still dry despite
the damp of the evening, well away from the fire, out of earshot of the rest of
the camp. He sat, staring at nothing for several long minutes.

Finally the tears began to fall.
The frustration, the anger, the pain all bubbled to the surface, and he let it
out, weeping harder than when he’d heard about Caladel - as he hadn’t done
since he was a child, the day he’d discovered he was Gifted.

There was nothing left.
Everything from the past three years, everything he'd valued, was gone forever.

He didn’t move for a long time.

***

It was an hour later when Wirr
returned.

Taeris watched him silently,
nodding as he sat down on the opposite side of the fire. Wirr stared at the
other man for a long moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure I can forgive you,”
he said, keeping his voice low. He held up his hand as Taeris opened his mouth.
“Perhaps in time. However, I understand what you were trying to do. I
understand that you thought we were safe.” He set his face in a grim mask as he
leaned forward. “But the secrets have to stop
here
. Here and now. If
you’d just explained what we were doing beforehand, we might have agreed to
help. Us knowing might have changed things... we might be young, Taeris, but we’re
not children. We’re on your side. You don’t need to lie to us.”

Taeris considered, then slowly
inclined his head. “True. But that needs to go both ways.”

Wirr grimaced; he'd thought long
and hard about this, and he knew he was just as guilty as Taeris when it came
to keeping secrets. He nodded. “Very well. Allow me to start.” He rose, crossed
to the other side of the fire, and extended his hand to Taeris. “I am Prince
Torin Wirrander Andras.”

Taeris gave the hand a blank
stare. “The son of Elocien Andras.” The shock on his face made it very hard for
Wirr not to laugh.

“I am,” said Wirr, allowing
himself a smile.

Taeris let out a long breath,
puffing his cheeks out. “That makes no sense.”

Wirr’s smile faded, and he
lowered his hand. This was not the reaction he had been expecting. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve met Elocien Andras.
The man that I remember would have killed his son if he’d turned out to be
Gifted.” Taeris looked Wirr in the eye. “He's the one who sentenced me, you
know.”

Wirr shrugged. “He changed. When
I was growing up, he did hate the Gifted. But when he found out I was one, he
wasn’t angry.” He smiled at the recollection. “I was so scared. I’d been
brought up calling them Bleeders, and then to discover I was one of them… I
thought he would disown me, but he didn’t. He arranged everything. The
falsified trip to Calandra. Secret meetings with Athian to get me placed
discreetly in a school. He risked everything for me. He was amazing.”

Taeris scratched his head. “He
was a Loyalist, though. He
created
the Tenets
,” he said in
disbelief. His eyes widened as the implications struck home. "And - fates,
lad. The Tenets. You'll inherit your father's connection to the Vessel?"

Wirr gave a small nod of
affirmation.

Taeris shook his head, dazed,
silent for a long moment. "Administration are not going to be very happy
when they find out,” he said eventually.

“I’ve already thought of that,”
observed Wirr, his tone dry.

 “Of course. Of course.” Taeris
looked at Wirr, still stunned, evidently reassessing him. “I assume this means
you won’t be coming with us to the Tol.”

Wirr nodded. “That would be best.
I’ll head for the palace with Aelric and Dezia once we reach the city. My
father's hoping to keep my abilities a secret until I’m well-established in
court - maybe longer - so I’ll need to stay away from the Tol where possible,
in case I’m recognised.”

“A wise choice.” Taeris looked at
Wirr consideringly. “You’ve given some thought as to how you’ll change the
Tenets, then?”

“I have, but I’ll think about it
more when the time comes. It's hopefully a long way off.” Wirr raised an
eyebrow. “You don’t advocate removing them entirely?”

Taeris grimaced. “No.” He said
nothing more on the subject.

There was silence for a while,
then Wirr said, “So you knew my father?”

Taeris shook his head.
“Apparently not,” he said quietly. “But I’ve met him. Spoken with him.” He
didn’t look pleased at the memory.

Wirr shifted. “I remember him
talking about you, you know. He didn’t tell me all the details – I got those
from Karaliene, in the end – but he did say you were the perfect example of why
the Treaty was necessary. Of why no Gifted could ever be trusted.” He sighed.
“That was only a few months before I discovered I had the Gift.”

“I thought you were reluctant to
trust me, to begin with,” Taeris admitted. “Now I understand why.”

Wirr looked at the scarred man
intently. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. The man my father was
talking about, the man Karaliene described to me, was a monster. They were
afraid
of you, Taeris. Karaliene I can understand – but my father? If there had been
some conspiracy to convict you, surely he would have known about it.”

Taeris shrugged. “Perhaps he
truly believed I’d used Essence to kill those men. Any Administrator in his
right mind would be afraid of someone who could break the Tenets.”

The words rang true, but there
was something in Taeris' eyes when he spoke. A hesitation, a flicker of worry.

Wirr scowled. “No more secrets,
Taeris. You understand the enormity of the trust I’ve placed in you by
revealing mine. I won’t tell anyone, but for my own sake I need to know. I need
to be able to reconcile what I was told with the man I see before me.” He
leaned forward. "I saw you that night, in Thrindar. With the knife. So
tell me the truth, Taeris. How
did
you get all those scars?"

Taeris grimaced, then after a few
seconds gave a slow nod. He glanced over his shoulder to check everyone else
was still asleep before he spoke.

"Very well," he said
quietly. “The truth is, I was in Caladel when I saw Davian being tailed by a
group of men. There weren’t any Administrators around, so I followed at a
distance to make sure nothing happened to the lad. When he passed the tavern,
the men grabbed him and dragged him inside.

“There was an Administrator
coming out just as I went to go in. I asked him to help, but he said the boy
wasn’t Gifted and so there was nothing he could do.” Taeris’ mouth curled in
distaste at the memory. “So I went in. They’d already started roughing him up.”

Wirr nodded. Davian never spoke of
that day – Wirr knew his friend had blocked out the memories – but from what
he’d heard, Davian’s injuries had been many and severe.

“I pleaded with them to stop, but
they held me down too. Told me there was nothing I could do to stop them, that
by the Tenets I couldn’t take action against them.” Taeris winced. “Your friend
was a brave lad. He took the punches and the kicks in silence.”

“Then one of them noticed the
Mark on Davian’s arm. I don’t think it was there until the beating; I assume
his body had never needed to draw enough Essence to activate the Tenets before.
But once they saw it, the mood changed. They were only roughing him up a bit
when they thought he was just a servant. When they saw he was Gifted….” He
trailed off for a moment.

“One of the men who’d had too
much to drink brought out a knife. A big man, not the kind of man any of the
others would have tried to stop, even if they’d wanted to. He was screaming
something about his father dying at the hands of the Augurs, and that anyone
even associated with them was... diseased.” He looked sick at the memory. “He
started cutting into Davian’s face. Davian was screaming, but everyone else was
just watching. Silent.”

Wirr shivered. He’d always known
that what Davian had been through must have been awful, but he’d never
envisaged it this graphically before. “Then what happened?”

Taeris hesitated. “Then the man
stopped. They all just… stopped. The ones who were holding me down let me go.
The one holding the knife turned it so that the edge was against his own face
and… started cutting.” He drew a deep breath. “Then we all started doing it.
All at once. Those of us who didn’t have a knife went and found one from one
the tables. None of us made a sound, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t agony.” He
touched his cheek absently.

“Davian just stood there,
watching us, the blood pouring down his face and neck onto his shirt. I could
see it, though. He was doing it. He was controlling us, somehow.”