The Shadow Of What Was Lost (57 page)

Minutes passed, and finally the
orange flame of a torch began bobbing towards him. He held his breath as two
guards walked past his hiding spot, both looking alert but neither showing
signs of having spotted anything unusual.

Then they were past. Forcing his
legs to move he dashed forward, staying low and ready to dive into cover at the
first sign of another patrol. He arrived at the supply gate to find that it was
much as he’d hoped, secured from the inside with a solid latch but without
needing a key.

He opened it cautiously, then
used a sliver of Essence – so small it would surely be undetectable – to hold
the latch up, leaving the gate accessible from outside. By his estimate, the
Essence wouldn’t decay for at least a few hours. To a casual glance from any
passing patrols, though, nothing would seem amiss.

He slipped out into a side alley,
unlit and without shops or buildings of any kind. He kept his pace steady as he
walked towards the main street, trying not to run despite his instincts. If
anyone saw him, he wanted to look as innocuous as possible.

At the end of the alleyway he
stopped, mentally revisiting the route he needed to take as he peered
cautiously around the corner. In the distance he could see the four men
standing guard in front of the palace's main gate, from their body language
more bored than anything else. That was good. The last thing he needed was to
be challenged by an overzealous sentry.

He waited for a few moments until
he thought none were looking in his direction, then exited the alley and began
walking away, keeping to the shadows where possible. He didn’t look back, and
there were no shouts from behind him.

Caeden's racing heartbeat slowed
a little once the palace was lost to view, though he remained tense as he
hurried along. Despite the late hour, several buildings still had windows
illuminated, and he overheard more than one heated conversation emanating from
the grounds of Ilin Illan's wealthiest residents. He couldn't make out the
specifics of any of them, but the entire city just felt... uneasy.

He soon arrived at Havran Das’
shopfront. He considered the building for a few minutes; the street was
well-lit, so there was little chance of him breaking in unnoticed. However
there did appear to be an upper floor to the shop - it was possible Das lived
here as well as traded.

Taking a deep breath, Caeden
walked up to the door and rapped on it as loudly as he dared.

He stood in silence for what
seemed like minutes; he was almost about to leave when the sound of a bolt
being slid back echoed around the street, and the door opened a crack. A
bespectacled, middle-aged man peered out at him.

“What do you want, lad?” he asked
sharply. “Do you know what hour it is?”

Caeden gave a nervous cough. “I’m
looking for Havran Das.”

The man stared at him for a
moment, sizing him up. Evidently deciding Caeden did not pose much of a threat,
he opened the door a little wider. “I am Havran Das,” he said, suspicion thick
in his tone. “Who in fates are you?”

“My name is Caeden.” When the man
still stared at him blankly, he added, “Alaris said you would be expecting me.”

Havran took an unconscious step
back at the last part, his entire demeanour changing. He smiled, but for a
moment Caeden saw a combination of fascination and fear in the merchant's eyes.

“Of course. Of course,” Havran
said, opening the door wide and gesturing for Caeden to enter. “Please. Come
in.”

Caeden did as he was asked, and
the other man shut the door behind him, sliding the bolt back into place. He
held his candle high, providing enough light for Caeden to navigate between the
shelves of bottles. Finally they came to the back of the shop, where Havran
indicated he should take a seat at a long table. Caeden did so uncertainly,
still not sure what to expect from this meeting.

“So,” said Havran as he sat
opposite. “Alaris told me a little about your situation, but even he didn’t
know much. He certainly didn’t tell me you would be in this body. Perhaps if -”

It was the slightest flicker of
the eye, from Caeden’s face to over his shoulder. If Caeden's senses had not
already been so heightened from nervousness, he might not have noticed it at
all.

As it was, he reacted on
instinct, spinning to the side and to his feet.

A blade cleaved the air where he
had just been sitting, splintering the chair in two.

Caeden moved without thinking,
elbowing his would-be attacker in the face. He heard the crunching sound of a
nose breaking but didn't pause, allowing his momentum to take him behind the
armoured man’s back. In one smooth motion he grabbed both sides of the
assassin's helmetless head and twisted it as hard as he could, downward and to
the side.

The snap of the man’s neck was
deafening in the silence of the shop.

Then Havran was scrambling
backward away from Caeden, who felt a sudden rage burning in his stomach. He’d
been set up, betrayed. Had anything Alaris told him been real? He started
towards the cowering merchant, picking him up by the shoulders with Essence-enhanced
arms and slamming him against the wall.

“Why?” he hissed.

Havran cringed away, refusing to
meet Caeden’s gaze. “Tal’kamar, wait! It’s not what you think!” he shrieked,
plainly terrified.

A woman’s scream from outside cut
through the quiet of the night.

Caeden hesitated for only a
moment; then he released the merchant and was moving, heading for the door. He
heard Havran dashing out of the room behind him, but another shriek came, this
time clearly only just outside. He slammed back the bolt and burst out of the
shop, freezing as he took in the scene before him.

Fifty or so feet down the road a
young woman was surrounded by five armoured men, four of them watching as the
other held her from behind, hand over her mouth. She was kicking and clearly trying
to bite her attacker's hand, but Caeden could see her struggles were already
weakening.

For a moment the man’s hand
slipped, and Caeden got a good look at the woman's face. He paled as he
recognised the fair skin, the delicate features.

It was Karaliene.

She’d felt him take off the
Shackle and decided to follow him, almost certainly, but there was no time to
worry about that now. He gritted his teeth, then took off at a dead run towards
the group.

He was still thirty feet away
when he was first noticed; the man who had seen him murmured a word of warning,
and all five men were facing Caeden in an instant. His heart skipped a beat as
each one of them drew a sword, their black armour barely visible in the gloom.

Though none of the men were
wearing the distinctive helmets, Caeden had no doubt who they were. He kept
running. He was not going to leave Karaliene to the Blind.

The man closest gave a wide,
greedy smile when he realised Caeden was unarmed; he stood calmly in an attack
stance, perfectly still, as Caeden rushed towards him. Just as Caeden came
within range the man moved, cat-like, far quicker than should have been
possible. His sword snaked out, streaking towards Caeden’s neck.

Time slowed and Caeden let his
instincts take over, just as he had against Aelric.

He slid beneath the arc of the
sword, coming in under the man’s defences. Then he twisted and kicked upward
into the left knee of his opponent, intuitively knowing that his altered
passage through time meant that the blow would be delivered many times faster,
and therefore many times harder, in reality. He winced as he felt the man’s
ligaments snap, the knee bending sideways; a shout of surprised pain ripped
from the soldier’s throat as he crumpled to the ground.

Caeden regained his footing smoothly,
snatching the man’s sword from the air as it fell and then spinning forward,
slashing his attacker's throat in one fluid motion.
Four
.

The smiles of the dead man’s
companions had vanished now. The one holding Karaliene hit her hard on the
head, sending her slumping to the ground. Caeden watched her fall helplessly,
hoping that the blow had not caused her any serious injury.

The four remaining soldiers moved
as one towards him, panning out, surrounding him so that he was no longer able
to see them all at once. He knew he was still slowing time – Karaliene’s fall
appeared to take several seconds – but these men seemed less affected. A little
sluggish compared to him, perhaps, but not as much as he would like. He
couldn’t allow them to settle, to get any advantage.

He lunged forward, slipping
gracefully between two whirring blades, one so close that he felt it brush a
few strands of his hair. Caeden brought his own blade around in a vicious arc,
the edge slicing into the exposed neck of the man to his left. His opponent
began to fall without a sound; before the body could hit the ground Caeden
snatched a dagger from its belt and spun, throwing it at one of the men who had
moved behind him. It caught the unsuspecting soldier in the eye, blood fountaining
through his fingers as he died clutching his face.

Three. Two.
Their armour was well-made –
almost impenetrable to a normal weapon, he suspected – but these men had
neglected to wear their helmets. Their laziness, or overconfidence, was going
to kill them.

The two remaining soldiers faced
him grimly, spacing themselves so that he would have to concentrate on one or
the other. He’d vaguely hoped that they would run, having seen what had become
of their comrades. But the expressions on their faces were intent, focused. As
if his success so far had only intrigued them.

The one to his right feinted;
when Caeden flinched towards him the one to his left came in hard and fast,
stabbing with lethal accuracy. Caeden was faster, though. He moved
forward
,
towards the thrust and slightly to the side, spinning so that the steel passed
just by his ribs. He went down on one knee in the same motion, grabbing the
man’s leg with his free hand and lifting.

Before his opponent hit the
ground Caeden rolled towards the other soldier, anticipating the attack. Steel
sparked as it hit the stone of the street where he had been a moment ago.
Caeden focused, then thrust upward at the second man, into the thin slit that
allowed movement for the knee. He was rewarded with a scream of pain as his
blade bit home.

He slid the blade back out before
it could get caught, then rose, severing the man's head from his shoulders as
he tumbled forward.

One
.

The soldier he had tripped was
back on his feet, panting but still with an oddly intent look in his eye. There
was no fear that Caeden could see. At first he thought that was strange, but
then he considered what he must look like to his opponent. Calm. Composed.
Focused.

Exactly the same.

Before he could think on it any
further, the final soldier was upon him, raining down a fierce array of blows.
Caeden blocked them all – not easily, but not feeling that he was likely to
lose now, either. He allowed the soldier to exhaust his attack, then put
several feet between them.

“Who are you?” he asked, breathing
heavily. “Why are you here?”

The man stopped, blinking as if
surprised by the question.

“We are here to stop you,
Tal'kamar,” he eventually replied, his voice emotionless.

The soldier threw himself
forward, but it was a tired thrust and Caeden sidestepped it with ease. He
acted on instinct, bringing his sword up so that his opponent’s momentum
carried him into it. The blade sliced across his face, biting deep but not a
killing blow.

The man growled, blood spurting
down his cheek, then turned to face him again.

Caeden stretched out his hand
without thinking.

A blinding torrent of power and
light washed through him, exploding from his palm and slamming into the man’s
chest. It should have vaporized the soldier where he stood, but much to
Caeden’s astonishment he simply stood there, neither advancing nor retreating
as his armour seemed to drink in the Essence, extinguishing it.

Caeden stopped, cursing as he
realised that every Finder in the city would now be pointed at him. He had to
end this, and quickly.

He swivelled, flicking his sword
underhand at the other man. The blade caught the soldier square through the
mouth, blood fountaining everywhere as the man stared at Caeden in horrified
disbelief. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Caeden stood there for a few more
moments in silence, breathing hard, surveying the scene. Bloodied bodies lay
everywhere. In the distance he could hear the whistle of the city watch; the
fight had taken only a minute, perhaps less, but someone must have heard the clash
of steel. There was doubtless a legion of Administrators heading in his
direction now, too. He had to move.

He knelt by Karaliene, emitting a
sigh of relief when he saw she was breathing. He hoisted her onto his shoulder
– mentally apologising for the indignity – then hurried away as fast as he
could, disappearing down a darkened side street just as the urgent whistles of
the watch sounded like they made it onto the scene.