The Shadow Of What Was Lost (20 page)

“It was an accident, but no-one
believed it. The village Ka’tare’s Finder went off, so they knew how I’d done
it. But I didn’t have a tattoo, which made them even more afraid... once they
knew I had powers, though, it settled any doubts they’d had.

“They were going to hang me –
there were enough people who wanted it to happen – but the Gil’shar sent word
that they wanted a public execution in Thrindar. So they put a Shackle on me,
and kept me locked up for another week.” His hands shook as he remembered; he
clasped them together to stop them from trembling.

“They beat you?” interjected
Taeris, his tone gentler now.

Caeden nodded. “Every day,” he
said softly. “And when the soldiers came to take me to Thrindar, they took me
out every evening and did the same. Gave me just enough time to heal so that I
would be conscious for the next night.” He hesitated. “I am grateful we didn’t
reach Thrindar, though.”

Taeris didn’t respond. He thought
in silence for a few seconds, then turned to Davian. “Well?”

Davian didn't take his eyes from
Caeden. “It’s all true,” he said eventually.

Except it wasn’t. On Caeden’s
last sentence, the tiniest puff of darkness had escaped from the young man’s mouth.
He’d been lying about not wanting to reach Thrindar.

He'd wanted to be executed.

Taeris inclined his head in
acknowledgement and Davian could see the struggle on his face, knew what the
Elder was thinking.

“We can’t give him to them,”
Davian observed. Wirr nodded his agreement.

“And he doesn’t know an El-cursed
thing about the Boundary,” growled Taeris, though he didn't argue the
statement. “You’re sure he wasn’t lying?”

“As sure as I can be.” Davian
tried to keep the bitterness from his tone.

Taeris was silent, then turned to
Caeden, still holding the Vessel. “I can’t say as I like our choices here, but
someone went to an awful lot of trouble to get you this box. You’re important,
somehow. Too important to turn over to the Gil’shar.” He shook his head. “We’re
going to have to get your memories back.”

“How?” asked Caeden.

“There’s a device in Tol Athian.
A Vessel meant to repair the mind. That’s where we need to go, so... we’re
going to have to trust each other, I suppose.” He began untying Caeden’s hands.
“I’m going to leave the Shackle on, though. If you -”

Without warning the door exploded
inward off its hinges, flying past Taeris' head and embedding itself in the far
wall.

Everyone froze for a moment in
shock. The figure in the doorway seemed to slither into the room; Davian
quickly took in the black cloak, the shadowy hood, the swirling blade that
wasn’t quite there. The creature from last night.

Taeris moved with a speed that
Davian would not have credited him with had he not seen it. The older man leapt
to one side and rolled; as he came up he crossed his wrists in front of
himself, closing his eyes. A blinding flash roared through the air and the
creature staggered a few steps backward, its disfigured, pallid face briefly
illuminated, mouth curled in a silent rictus of pain. Davian’s heart dropped as
the creature stopped, steadied, and then started forward again. With Shackles
on, there was little any of them could do to help.

The creature’s blade flashed at
Taeris' head; Taeris ducked backward, a shield of blazing white appearing in
front of him. The dagger darted forward again, into the shield. Rather than the
expected clash, the blade sliced straight through Taeris' defence,
extinguishing it in an instant.

Dismissing the older man, the
creature turned towards the three boys in Shackles, holding its dagger aloft.

“
Sha’teth keloran sa, Aelrith
!”
Taeris yelled.

The words stopped the creature.
It lowered its blade and turned back to Taeris, staring at him through its
unblinking, dead eyes for several long seconds.

“
Sha’teth di sendra an
,”
it growled. Taeris' eyes widened with astonishment as it let out a guttural
laugh, then swivelled, preparing to deliver the killing blow.

The contents of Wirr’s satchel
had spilled all over the floor during the initial attack; while the creature’s
back was turned Caeden had knelt, scrabbling awkwardly for something that he
had seen fall under the bed. For one gut-wrenching second, Davian wondered if
Taeris had dropped the Vessel in the confusion and almost made to stop him.

Then Caeden found what he was
looking for. Another Shackle. By the time the creature turned back, Caeden was
ready.

He leapt forward, beneath the
swinging blade of shadows, hands plunging deep beneath the creature’s hood and
pressing the ends of the torc against its neck.

The scream that followed was
chilling, a sound filled with pain and torment. The blade vanished from the
creature’s hand; it stumbled backward, flailing wildly as the shackle began
melding to its throat, wailing in a high-pitched screech that forced all four
men to cover their ears. Its hood fell back, and Davian recoiled in horror.
Even set against ashen skin and disfigured features, the creature's eyes were
recognizably human, locked onto him and pleading for mercy.

Then it fell to the floor and
with a final convulsion, lay still.

Taeris stared at Caeden,
wide-eyed. “That was…”

“Quick thinking,” Davian
breathed. He clapped Caeden on the back, as much to stop his hands from shaking
than anything else. Caeden inclined his head, still panting from the
adrenaline.

“Is it dead?” asked Wirr
cautiously.

Suddenly there was a crash
downstairs, and the sound of angry voices echoed along the hallway outside.
Taeris grimaced, then sprung into action, gathering up his scant possessions.

“We need to go. All of us,” he
said with a meaningful glance at Caeden. The red-haired man hesitated, then
gave a single relieved nod of assent.

For a split second Davian looked
at Taeris, puzzled, before realising why there was such urgency in his tone.
Taeris had used the Gift. They had minutes, if that, before the inn was
swarming with Gil’shar soldiers.

They hurried downstairs and
slipped out through a back door, apparently without raising any suspicion. It
was past dusk but there were still plenty of people about; Davian risked a
glance back as they mingled with the crowd, moving slowly but steadily away. As
he watched, a group of about twenty soldiers rushed inside the inn, silent but
grim-faced. Even at this distance, he could see their Finders out and a Trap at
the ready.

The town was large, but those in
the dirty, poorly-lit streets paid them little heed as they hurried past, and
they made good time. Davian flinched at every glance that came their way, but
they were soon through the eastern gate without incident.

“Where do we go now?” asked Wirr,
the first any of them had spoken since the inn.

“North,” replied Taeris. “I’ll
explain more when we’re well clear of this place.”

Wirr grimaced, obviously
disliking the answer as much as Davian did, but there was little else either of
them could do but nod.

They started down the dark road
in silence.

They had only travelled for a few
minutes before Taeris stopped, signalling the others should do the same.

“Now. Tell me which one of you
has given Tol Athian a Trace,” he said, expression grim as he stared at the
three boys. “And then, you might like to tell me why they have decided to use
it, too.”

Davian frowned. What was a Trace?
He glanced across at Wirr, but his friend was just glaring back at Taeris.

“If it was me, I don’t remember,”
pointed out Caeden. “I don’t even know what a ‘Trace’ is.”

Taeris examined their faces for a
moment, then nodded in Wirr’s direction. “He can explain it to you.”

Wirr grimaced, eyes still locked
with Taeris’. “A Trace is a small sample of your Essence, sealed in a container
that keeps it… fresh. Pure. Everyone’s Essence is unique, so if Tol Athian
needs to find someone, they can use their Trace to help locate them.”

Taeris nodded. “It’s like a
person’s scent,” he elaborated to Caeden and Davian. “And the sha’teth are the
hounds. Except that the Trace can only guide them if the person they are
tracking uses the Gift.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Which young Wirr here
did in the process of rescuing Caeden, I assume.”

“But not at the inn,” protested
Wirr.

“They can use it to track you for
up to a day after. Longer, if you’ve got a deep Reserve.” Taeris frowned at
Wirr. “When you expend that much power, you’re using your body as a focal
point, drenching it with energy - and that takes time to fully dissipate.
Finders can't pick it up, but a sha'teth's senses can.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Wirr
softly.

“You should have asked,” growled
Taeris. “The question is – why do Tol Athian want to kill you, Wirr? What
crimes have you committed that they would go so far as to take a Trace?”

Davian and Caeden had both
watched the exchange in open-mouthed silence. Davian stared at his friend in
disbelief.
Wirr
had brought that creature down on them?

“It’s called a… sha’teth?” Davian
had never heard the word before. “What is it?” He looked at Wirr in confusion.
“What’s going on?”

Wirr frowned, looking almost as
puzzled as Davian. “I’m not sure.” He turned to Taeris. “If Tol Athian sent the
sha’teth after me, it was not to kill me, I promise you that. I don’t know why
it attacked. They
do
have my Trace, but not because I’ve committed any
crime.” He shook his head. “It's complicated, but I cannot say more.”

Taeris' face darkened. “The
sha’teth are assassins – that is their only purpose. You’ll tell me everything,
boy, or that Shackle won’t be coming off your wrist anytime soon.”

“Then that's the way it must be.
I’m not lying, though.” Wirr met Taeris’ gaze flatly, without fear. He’d never
been afraid of standing up to the Elders in Caladel when he felt he was in the
right, and it seemed he was no more intimidated by Taeris.

"He's not lying,"
agreed Davian.

Taeris turned to Davian.
"And you're not in the slightest bit curious as to why the sha'teth are
hunting your friend?"

Davian studied Wirr for a long
moment, then took a deep breath. "I am, but... I trust him. If we need to
know what's going on, he'll tell us."

Taeris glowered as Wirr gave
Davian a grateful nod. “We’ll talk more of this later, when we’re safely away,”
the scarred man promised. “The immediate danger has passed, at least – you
won’t be able to attract the rest of them while you’re wearing a Shackle. We
should be safe.” He grimaced. “As far as these things go.”

Caeden shifted. “There are other
sha’teth?” he asked, echoing Davian’s thoughts.

Taeris nodded. “Four of them -
all Hunters though, so at least they can't jump directly to our location like
the Watcher did.” He glanced back in the direction of Anabir. “Still,
regardless of whether Tol Athian still holds their leash, they won’t be pleased
that their brother has been killed. We should keep moving.”

Wirr held up his hand. “Before we
follow you blindly wherever you’re taking us, you need to answer a few of
our
questions.”

Taeris inclined his head wearily.
“Of course.”

“The other sha’teth. Will they
come after us?”

“Almost certainly.” Taeris
sighed. “Once, perhaps not. But if what you say is true and they were not
instructed to kill you… well, from what I just saw, they may be operating
outside of Tol Athian’s purview. The one that attacked us certainly seemed to
ignore my command easily enough, and that should not have been possible.”

“What did it say to you?” asked
Davian.

Caeden spoke up. “It said, ‘The
sha’teth no longer serve’.”

They turned as one to look at
Caeden, who shrugged. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but just now,
remembering… I knew what it meant.” He glanced at Taeris. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” said Taeris slowly, his
expression curious as he stared at Caeden. Then he shrugged. “It could be that
the commands
have changed since my time, and that the creature was
simply mocking me. Still….” He looked troubled.

Wirr gestured to the road ahead.
“So along with avoiding the other sha’teth, you said we need to get back to Tol
Athian to figure out what's happening with the Boundary. Why are we heading
north?”

Taeris sighed. “With Caeden’s
escape, the Gil’shar will be focused on the borders; it will be all but
impossible for us to get across unaided. And we don’t have the option of
finding a smuggler, as you did to get here – even those types would be
unwilling to cross the Gil’shar on this, no matter how much coin we offer.”

“True,” conceded Wirr, “ but
heading towards Thrindar is hardly the solution.”

“The Song of Swords is being held
in Thrindar,” corrected Taeris. “As of now, there is still a week of the
festival remaining. The royal entourage from Andarra will be there, and Desriel
allows visiting royalty to bring a small contingent of Gifted. If we can get
into the city, I have contacts who can get us an audience. You may be able to
slip over the border with them when they leave.”

There was silence for a couple of
seconds. “It won’t work,” said Wirr.

“It’s our best chance,” countered
Taeris. “The Gil’shar will assume Caeden is running straight for the border,
and they don’t know for certain that anyone else is involved. They certainly
won’t imagine he has any way of contacting the Andarran delegation.”

Wirr shook his head doggedly.
“But they’ll never let us join them. If they did and we were discovered, it
wouldn’t just be grounds for war - it would
start
it, then and there.
The official Andarran delegation, smuggling Gifted out of Desriel? Including
one accused of murder?” He shot an apologetic glance at Caeden. “I’m sorry,
Taeris, but you must see how irresponsible that is. Our lives are not worth
that sort of a risk.”

Davian looked at his friend in
surprise. Wirr had not raised his voice, but something about his demeanour had
changed. For just a moment, the easy-going boy he knew had vanished. There was
heavy concern, genuine intensity behind his words.

Taeris considered Wirr for a
second, then sighed. “You’re right, Wirr, but think for a moment about what I
have told you today. Our lives are not my first concern. If there is some force
at work trying to bring down the Boundary, do you imagine there's no threat to
Andarra?”

“
If
there is, we don’t
know
what
it means,” said Wirr stubbornly. "Whereas war with
Desriel is most certainly a threat."

Taeris bit his lip, then came to
a decision. He reached into his satchel, drawing out a small metal box and
opening it, shivering as he gingerly picked out the paper-thin object within.
It was about the size of his palm and completely black; though it seemed
polished to an almost mirror finish, it reflected none of the daylight as
Taeris held it up. He leaned over, offering it to Wirr. “Be careful. The edges
will slice through your fingers if you slip.”

Wirr took it cautiously, visibly
shivering as his hand touched its surface. He slowed his stride as he examined
the irregularly-shaped disc. “What is it?” he asked with a look of horrified
fascination.

“A scale from a
dar’gaithin
,”
replied Taeris.

Wirr dropped the disc as if
burnt; it fell to the grass beside the road without a sound. He stopped and
began rubbing his fingers together as if trying to remove any trace of the
object from his skin, though Davian could not see any physical residue. “Of
course it is,” he said with a shaky laugh, recovering himself somewhat. “Part
of a mythical creature that you carry around in your pocket. Naturally.”
Despite his words, he stared at the fallen black disc as if it might leap up
and attack him.

Caeden frowned. “A dar’gaithin?”

“A mixture of snake and man. One
of the five Abominations used against Andarra in the Eternity War,” explained
Taeris.

"It’s part of the Talan Gol
myth," continued Wirr to Caeden, sounding dubious. "When Aarkein
Devaed invaded, he supposedly led warriors that were almost impossible to kill
- mixtures of animals and men. The dar’gaithin were snakes.” He shook his head,
turning back to Taeris. "I want to believe you, but... I took what Tenvar
said about those creatures on faith, because we didn't know he could lie to
Davian at the time. To be honest, when we found out he could, it made sense to
me. It's hard to believe that they really exist."

Taeris grunted. “Well, the
creature I found on the northern border a few months ago was certainly real
enough,” he said quietly. “I removed that scale from its carcass myself.”

“You actually saw one?” asked
Wirr, clearly caught somewhere between astonishment and scepticism.

Taeris nodded, choosing to ignore
the doubt in Wirr’s tone. “Just this side of the Boundary. The effort of
crossing must have killed it.” He sighed. “I took the scale and went to the
garrison at Shandra, thinking to get help bringing the body back. By the time
we returned, it had disappeared.”

“So, if the Boundary is still
killing whatever tries to escape the North… that means someone from
this
side
had hidden it?” asked Wirr, doubtful.

“It would appear so.”

Davian glanced at Wirr and
Caeden, not knowing what to make of Taeris’ claim. Wirr still looked reluctant
to believe the older man, but Caeden was staring at the scale on the ground in
fascination. He walked over next to Wirr and squatted, looking at the thin black
plate without touching it. Then he grabbed a stick and shifted the disc.

“I believe you,” he said.

Davian stared at the patch of
grass where the scale had been lying. The blades, green only a few moments ago,
had turned black and shrivelled. Lifeless.

Taeris turned his attention to
Caeden. “You remember something?”

Caeden shrugged. “It’s
difficult,” he said slowly. “I get these… flashes. It’s not memory, exactly,
but it’s not like knowing how to talk, either. It’s… an instinct, I suppose.
You told me what a dar’gaithin was, and suddenly I knew the grass underneath
its scale would be dead. But I can’t even tell you why I thought that.” He
rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Sometimes I feel like I’m so close to
knowing something, to remembering. And then it just slips away again.”

Taeris gave him a sympathetic
nod. “It will come.” He turned to Davian. “Try picking it up. Careful though.
Avoid touching the edges.”

Davian reached down and
cautiously plucked the scale from the ground. As he touched it, he shivered. A
wave of nausea rolled through him – gone in an instant, but leaving him feeling
drained, far more tired than a moment ago.

Aside from the sensation, the
scale had a cool, metallic feel to it. He handed it back to Taeris, who
promptly dropped it back in its metal container.

“What
was
that?” asked
Davian, suddenly understanding Wirr’s reaction to touching the thing. He could
still feel its cold surface against his skin.

“Dar’gaithin were supposed to be
impervious to attack from the Gifted, and I think that’s the reason why,”
Taeris said, gesturing to the dead patch of grass. “Their scales absorb
Essence, draw it in. Maybe even feed off it.”

There was silence as everyone
stared at the blackened grass. “For the sake of argument, let’s say we believe
you,” said Wirr, looking shaken. “What are you trying to tell us, in truth?
That Alchesh was right all along? That Devaed’s been sitting patiently in his
prison for two thousand years, just waiting for his chance to wreak havoc upon
the world again?”

Taeris stared at the boy for so
long that Wirr actually reddened. “For a young man with such a healthy
scepticism, you know a great deal about the Eternity War.”

Wirr scowled. “I read,” he said
defensively. His scowl deepened as he saw Davian’s eyebrow raised in
half-questioning amusement. “I do!”

Taeris smiled slightly. “In
answer to your question – I don't have proof of anything like that. I
am
trying to keep an open mind, though. I’ve seen some astounding things done with
Essence; it's unlikely, but if there is even the slightest chance Devaed could
still be alive….” He sighed. “Put it this way – the dar'gaithin I saw, along
with everything else going on with the Boundary, has certainly made me look at
Alchesh a little more seriously.”