The Shadow Of What Was Lost (74 page)

Wirr shook his head. “I’ve known
these words for years, Elder Eilinar,” he interrupted gently. “And I mean no
offense to the Council, but I don’t trust anyone else to help me. It’s that
simple.” He turned back to Davian. “Now. All you need to do is repeat after me,
and keep a steady flow of Essence going into the shield. The Vessel should do
the rest.”

Davian nodded, taking a deep
breath and glancing around at the Elders, who were all watching with keen
interest. “I’m ready.”

Wirr closed his eyes, remembering
the words.

“I swear I shall not use Essence
to harm or hinder non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the
purposes of protecting Andarra.”

Davian hesitated.

“I swear I shall not use Essence
to harm or hinder non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the
purposes of protecting Andarra,” he repeated, a thin line of Essence flowing
from him into the shield.

Wirr released a breath he’d been
unconsciously holding. He
did
trust his friend, but if Davian had chosen
to alter the wording, there would have been nothing Wirr could have done about
it.

The symbols on the shield had
begun to glow with an intense blue light. It was working.

Wirr continued, “I swear I will
not use Essence with the intent to deceive, intimidate, or otherwise work to
the detriment of non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the
purposes of protecting Andarra.”

“I swear I will not use Essence
with the intent to deceive, intimidate, or otherwise work to the detriment of
non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the purposes of protecting
Andarra.”

Wirr smiled as the symbols glowed
blue again. “I swear that as no Administrator may kill or bring harm of any
kind to me, I shall not kill or bring harm of any kind to an Administrator.”
After Ionis, Wirr had decided to tweak that Tenet a little.

Davian repeated the phrase
word-for-word. When he was done, Wirr took a deep breath, then gave Davian a
shaky grin.

“That’s it,” he said softly.

***

Davian let out a long breath as
the symbols on the shield began to fade.

He should have felt ecstatic at
changing the Tenets – felt
something
– but instead his gaze was drawn to
the pile of dust that had once been Ionis.

Leaving the Administrator alive
had been too great a risk. If Ionis had had even a few more seconds, managed to
finish his sentence, then Davian’s only option would have been to stop Wirr in
the same manner. Even with so many lives at stake, he wasn't sure he could have
done that.

He frowned as he thought about
what he'd done. A detached part of him understood, perhaps for the first time,
how deeply experiencing Malshash’s memory had affected him. Killing a man in
cold blood – even a man such as Ionis, even in defence of something far greater
than himself – should have shaken him to his core.

It hadn’t.

He rubbed his forehead, glancing
down at the smooth skin on his forearm. After all of that, had it been worth
it? He exchanged glances with Wirr. Nothing seemed to be happening.

“I did everything I was supposed
to do,” Davian said worriedly. “Did it –“

Wirr's eyes rolled into the back
of his head, and he collapsed.

Davian dashed forward to help
him, but a sudden flash of pain – mild, but noticeable – on his exposed forearm
made him hesitate. He glanced down to see the familiar tattoo forming, glowing
slightly, just as the symbols on the shield had a moment ago. He’d bound
himself to the Tenets again, even if they were different this time. Bound all
of the Gifted, in fact.

He felt a stab of concern, of
doubt. Had he done the right thing? He turned his attention to the Council
members, watching as they each examined their own forearms in fascination.

As quickly as it had come, the
pain and the light faded.

“Is it done?” asked one of the
Council members.

Nashrel stared at his arm, then
at Wirr's prostrate form. “I believe it is,” he said slowly. “There is only one
way to find out, though. Marshal everyone.” The other Council members began
filing out, whispering amongst themselves.

Davian knelt by Wirr. He was
still unconscious, but his breathing was regular and deep.

“He’s alive,” said Davian with
relief. He took off his well-worn cloak, creating a makeshift pillow. Wirr’s
head had hit the stone floor hard when he'd fallen, but there was no blood.

Nashrel nodded his
acknowledgement. He crouched down on the other side of Wirr and placed his hand
on the prince's forehead, a small stream of Essence trickling out of him.

"He's fine," said
Nashrel after a moment. "We're a long way from any beds here, though. It's
probably safer if we wait until he wakes up before moving him."

Davian nodded. "I'll
stay," he said. "I'm sure you have other things to attend to."

Nashrel inclined his head,
turning to go. Then he hesitated.

"Nobody would have blamed
you, you know," the Elder said quietly. "I saw your expression. You
were tempted to change what he said, at least a little."

Davian shook his head. "No.
He trusted me, and he's thought about this a lot longer than I have. It
wouldn't have been right."

Nashrel gave a thoughtful nod.
"I'm not sure any of us would have felt the same," he admitted.
"But maybe it's for the best. And those new Tenets may still be
restricting, but fates take me if they aren't an improvement."

Suddenly there was a flurry of
activity at the door, and a younger man in a red cloak hurried inside.

"Elder Eilinar," he
said, out of breath. "We're getting reports that some of the Blind are
inside the Tol."

Nashrel stared for a moment, then
snorted. "In the Tol? How? They cannot have breached the Resolute
Door," he said dismissively. "Someone is seeing things, Ralyse. The
Blind haven't even made it past Fedris Idri yet, else we would have heard. And
there is no other way...."

He trailed off, paling.

"Most of our people are
already on their way to the Shields?" he asked. Ralyse nodded, and Nashrel
bit his lip. "Warn everyone else to be wary, then. And have someone watch
the El-cursed stairwells to the lower levels." He turned to Davian.
"Can you carry him?"

Davian grimaced. "I think
so."

"Then we need to seal this
room, and get moving."

Davian grabbed Wirr by the waist,
slinging him awkwardly over his shoulder. His friend was heavy, but not so much
so that Davian couldn't manage the weight.

"Taeris warned us,"
Nashrel muttered to himself as they hurried along the tunnels, back towards the
main part of the Tol. "He said the sha'teth had turned, and we didn't
listen."

"Probably the one thing he
didn't lie about," murmured Davian under his breath.

Soon enough they reached a part
of the Tol Davian recognised. The passageways, normally full of red cloaks, were
completely empty. Nashrel frowned at the deserted corridors but said nothing,
pressing on.

Just as Wirr was becoming too
heavy a burden for Davian to bear, Nashrel gestured to a nearby room.

"There's a bed. Set him down
in there and rest for a few moments; I'll return when I find out what in fates
is going on."

Davian did as Nashrel suggested,
closing the door behind him. The silence of the Tol was making him nervous, as
it obviously had been for the Elder, too. The Gifted had sent on several of
their people to the Shields already; Wirr had insisted that happen before he
changed the Tenets. Even so... there still should have been
someone
left
in this section.

Davian waited for a while,
occasionally checking on Wirr, trying to stay calm. Ten minutes passed. Thirty.
An hour.

Then the shouting began.

Davian's first reaction was to
open the door to see what was going on, but suddenly a scream of pain broke
through the commotion, cut short as abruptly as it had begun.

Then a brief silence, followed by
the sounds of heavy footsteps in the hallway outside.

Davian hurried over to where Wirr
lay on the bed, looking around and trying not to panic. There was nothing in
here he could use as a weapon, and he knew that neither kan nor Essence would
be effective against the Blind, even if he was willing to risk a close-quarters
fight in the same room as his unconscious friend.

Clenching his fists to stop them
from shaking, he carefully drew a mesh of kan around both himself and Wirr.

There was a scratching at the door,
and the handle turned. Davian hardened the layer of kan, praying fervently he
was remembering how to do it correctly.

He turned, holding his breath as
the door swung open to reveal the Blind soldier.

The man had removed his helmet,
but the black-plated armour was the same as Davian had seen in his vision. The
soldier's eyes swept the room, and for an instant they paused on the bed, as if
he'd noticed something amiss. Davian held completely motionless, willing Wirr
not to choose this moment to stir in his sleep.

Then the man was shutting the
door again, apparently satisfied the room was empty.

Davian waited a few seconds, then
took several shaky lungfuls of air. He slumped onto the bed next to Wirr,
putting his heads between his knees as he tried to slow the pounding of his
heart.

A few long minutes later, Wirr
gave a small moan, then stirred.

"What's going on?" he
asked Davian, rubbing his eyes as he propped himself up. "Where are
we?" He winced. "Fates, my head hurts."

"Still in the Tol,"
said Davian. He recounted the events of the past hour to Wirr.

Wirr shivered once Davian had
finished, looking nauseous. He took a deep breath, staring at the tattoo on his
forearm. "So we need to get out of here," he said. "The Tenets
are definitely changed?"

Davian nodded. "I think so.
The Council certainly did, too."

Wirr levered himself out of bed.
"Then we should get moving."

He was halfway to the door when
it swung open.

"Taeris!" Wirr
exclaimed.

Taeris winced, limping inside and
putting his fingers to his lips.

"Not so loud, Wirr," he
muttered as he shut the door.

Davian stared at Taeris for a
long moment. He still felt a deep, burning anger towards the man, but now
wasn't the time to bring it up. The issues between them would have to wait.

"What's going on, Taeris?"
he asked, tone grim. "I thought you were locked up."

"I was." Taeris gave
the door a nervous glance. "Nashrel came to let me out when he realised
what was happening. He told me where you were before he...." He grimaced,
looking at the ground. "He didn't make it."

"He's dead?" Wirr
paled. "Fates. What's happening out there?"

"Most of the Gifted that
didn't head for the Shields are dead. The Blind have mostly moved on into the
city, but there are a few groups sweeping the Tol, looking for survivors."
Taeris spoke quietly, but Davian could hear the anxiety in his voice. "The
new Tenets do let us use Essence in combat, but the Blind's armour is still
making it hard to fight them, especially in enclosed spaces."

"How did they even get in
here?" asked Davian.

"Nashrel thought they were
coming through the catacombs." Taeris looked sick. "There's a network
of old tunnels, deep beneath the Tol, that supposedly have an exit out past
Ilin Tora. No-one knows where that exit is, though." He rubbed his
forehead. "Those roads are a labyrinth, but Nashrel said the sha'teth have
been using them. It's how they get in and out of the city unseen when they go
about their... business."

Davian felt a chill. "So the
sha'teth are here? Helping the Blind?"

Taeris nodded. "It would
seem so."

Wirr grimaced. "And the Tol
didn't guard this entrance, I take it?"

"They didn't think they
needed to, and I don't blame them," said Taeris. "The catacombs come
out next to the Conduit, something the Builders created to help power the Tol.
Any living thing coming that close to it should have died within seconds."
He made a face. "The Blind's armour must have protected them against it,
somehow."

There was silence for a few
moments, then Davian shifted nervously. "So what do we do now?"

Taeris chewed at his lip,
expression thoughtful. "There's nothing more we can do here. If we want to
help, we need to get back to the fight."

Davian and Wirr both nodded;
Davian helped his friend to his feet, glad to see that Wirr's strength seemed
to be returning.

Taeris opened the door a crack,
peering through cautiously before beckoning for the boys to follow.

They started out through the Tol
in a silent half-jog, Taeris going ahead and checking around each new corner.
After a minute, they entered a new hallway and Davian faltered.