The Shadow Of What Was Lost (31 page)

Taeris put a hand on Caeden's
shoulder. “Nothing to thank us for, lad.”

Dezia turned to the older man,
frowning. "How did it know your name?"

Taeris shrugged. "When I was
on the Council at Tol Athian, there were occasions I had to deal with the
sha'teth. Apparently I made an impression," he said wryly. Then he
frowned. “The bigger question is, why didn't it attack?”

Nihim coughed. “This may sound
foolish, but... could it have been afraid? Or at least cautious? The way it was
hanging back when we saw it, almost like it was hesitating....”

Taeris rubbed his chin.
"Perhaps. We did kill one of its brothers, and nobody's done that
before." He shook his head. "It's hard to say. Once, I would have
said no. But if they are truly out of Athian's control, there's no telling what
else has changed."

Nihim accepted the statement with
a thoughtful nod, and everyone began drifting back to their positions around
the campfire. Wirr caught himself staring at Dezia again as she took her seat,
until a gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump.

“Go easy,” Caeden said to him,
keeping his voice low. “I think you’ve antagonized Aelric enough for one
evening.”

Wirr glared for a moment, then
gave a brief, rueful laugh. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked Caeden in the
eye. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you. What you did was… amazing. How did
you…?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” admitted
Caeden, sounding weary. “But I was glad to help.”

They moved back to the fire.
Conversation was stilted at first – everyone was on edge, listening to the
sounds of the surrounding forest for any signs of attack. None came, however,
and eventually the group lapsed into sporadic, distracted conversation until
tiredness overtook their unease.

Wirr was normally quick to sleep,
but tonight he found himself awake long after everyone else’s breathing was
deep and regular around him. He had his back to the fire, but he knew that only
Nihim and Caeden were still up, having drawn first watch.

“You’re troubled.” It was Nihim
breaking the silence, evidently addressing Caeden.

“That’s nothing new,” came the
soft reply.

Wirr wondered whether he should
move around, make it obvious he was still awake.

“More than usual, then,” said
Nihim.

There was a long silence, and
Wirr was beginning to wonder whether Caeden was simply ignoring the priest when
he responded, “I duelled. With Aelric.”

“I see.” There was a hesitation
in Nihim's voice. “Aelric is an immensely talented swordsman. Losing to him -”

“I didn’t lose.” Caeden’s voice
was flat and low.

There was another long silence.
“You must be an impressive swordsman.”

“I suppose so.” Caeden gave a
bitter laugh. “Interesting skills for a simple farm boy.”

“I think we both know that
whatever else you are, you’re no farm boy.” A pause. “Neither of you was hurt?”

“No. But… I was angry. I… almost
hurt him. I
wanted
to hurt him.” Caeden choked the words out like they
were poison.

“And that scared you?”

“It terrified me.”

“Good. That’s good.” Wirr could
hear cloth rustling as Nihim shifted. “Everyone has a darker nature, Caeden.
Everyone
.
Good men fear it, and evil men embrace it. Good men are still tempted to do the
wrong thing, but they resist those urges. As you did. You have nothing to worry
about.”

There was a moment of silence.
“That doesn’t sound like the teachings of Marut Jha.”

Nihim gave a soft chuckle. “Marut
Jha doesn’t trouble himself with definitions like ‘good’ and ‘evil’. No – my
priesthood here has never been anything more than a facade. My belief is in El,
the One God.”

“The god of the Augurs. The god
of predestination.”

“That’s right.” Nihim sounded
surprised at Caeden’s knowledge. “El sees everything, is in perfect and
absolute control. The Great Design, it’s called. Everything that happens runs
according to His purpose.”

“Remind me to thank him for my
last couple of months.”

Nihim chuckled again. “I didn’t
say He was responsible, I said it runs according to His purpose. Shammaeloth
has his influences over this world, too. He fights, but it’s simply that he is
in a war he cannot win, because every move he makes has already been accounted
for by El.”

There was silence for a few
seconds. “Then why does El not simply finish him and be done with it?
Stop
every move he makes?” Caeden sounded irritated. “Terrible things happen all the
time. It hardly feels like he’s losing.”

“The point is, he’s not losing -
he’s already lost. What you see are his death throes. Shammaeloth was bound to
this world in the Genesis War, and thus bound by time. He was trapped here, and
now all he fights for is souls to serve him in his prison.”

“He must not be doing a very good
job. I haven’t heard of many followers of Shammaeloth,” observed Caeden, his
tone dubious.

 “It doesn’t work like that. At
the end of time, El will leave this world, taking those who gave him their
faith. When he does, what protection this world has will vanish, and it will
fall to Shammaeloth to rule what remains – and only what remains – for
eternity. Any who do not leave with El will be left here and serve him, like it
or not.”

There was a pause, Caeden
obviously digesting this. “I can’t say I like the idea of not being in control
of my own destiny,” he said eventually. "If everything is already laid
out, if there really is a Great Design, wouldn't that mean we have no free
will?”

Nihim grunted. "I can't tell
you how many times I heard that same question debated, back in the Augurs'
day," he admitted. “There are a lot of differing opinions, but I certainly
think we have free will. Just because El knows each choice I’m going to make –
even if he created me
knowing
it’s the choice I would make - doesn’t
mean it’s not mine.” He sighed. “But, perhaps, it’s still not free will as you
would think of it. That’s the natural arrogance of man, sadly. We want to
believe that free will means complete independence from the plans of our
creator.”

There was a contemplative
silence. “Tell me one thing, though," said Caeden after a while.
"Since the Augurs fell... how can you still have faith?”

“Because my faith is in El. It
was never in the Augurs or what they were once capable of,” explained Nihim.
“You can put your trust in something that’s obvious, that’s measurable or
predictable - but that's not faith. Nor is believing in something that gives
you no pause for doubt, no reason or desire to question. Faith is something
more than that. By definition, it cannot have proof as its foundation.”

There was another silence. “That
makes sense, I suppose. It's something to think on,” Caeden conceded
eventually, sounding more polite than convinced.

“That’s good. But you
should
think on it, Caeden. It’s important, regardless of what conclusion you come
to.”

“Why?”

“Because it strikes me that a man
needs to know what he believes before he can really know who he is.”

Wirr didn't hear Caeden's
response, but after a few more moments there was the sound of yawning, and
Nihim chuckled. “I hope it's not the conversation, lad, but you look like you
can barely keep your eyes open,” he said. “Perhaps you should get some sleep. I
can take the rest of the watch.”

"It's not the conversation.
Just a long day," Caeden assured him with another yawn. “You're right,
though - I might take you up on that offer, if it's no trouble. Thank-you.”
There were some scuffling sounds as Caeden made himself comfortable, and soon
enough another note of regular breathing joined the others.

Wirr lay awake for a little
longer, wondering at the conversation he’d overheard.

Eventually though, his eyes shut
of their own accord, and he knew nothing more until dawn.

Asha unlocked the door to her
chambers wearily.

It was the end of only her fourth
day at the palace, and so far the entire experience had been one long blur,
with Michal proving to be a merciless teacher. She was woken each day before
dawn so that he could tutor her; when he had to attend to his other duties, he
made her work through entire tomes of genealogies, explaining that the blood
ties between Houses motivated much of their politics. He would then return in
the evening, drilling her on what she’d learned and refusing to let her leave
until she displayed enough progress to satisfy him.

She sighed. There had been
opportunity for little else; she'd barely had time to come to grips with what
Elocien had told her about Wirr and the attacks, let alone do anything in her
new position as Scribe. 

Still, despite her exhaustion,
she was far from ungrateful. The more she saw of the Shadows in the palace –
treated much the same as those from the Tol, if not worse – the more she came
to understand just how fortunate she was.

"Ashalia Chaedris."

Asha looked up at the sound of
her name. The only other person in the hallway was a Shadow, a man in his
mid-twenties, heading straight for her.

"Do I know you?" she
asked as he drew closer.

"The Shadraehin wants to
know if there is news," said the man.

Asha repressed a grimace.
"It's only been a few days since I got here," she pointed out.

"And yet you've been made
Representative. It seems clear the Northwarden trusts you," the man noted.
He drew a slip of paper from his pocket and offered it to her.
"Instructions. A way to leave a message for us, should anything new come
to light."

Asha hesitated, considering
telling the man outright that the deal was off. But she knew that would only
lead to recriminations, possibly violent ones given what Erran had shown her.
And the Shadraehin couldn't know that she'd changed her mind, wouldn't have any
reason to think that the Northwarden would have disclosed the attack on
Administration to her.

"Thank-you," she said,
accepting the note. She turned away.

"As soon as you know
something, make sure you tell him," said the Shadow softly. "He is
eager to hear from you."

When Asha glanced over her
shoulder, the man was already walking away. She stared after him for a few
moments. Maybe it was the image of the swinging corpses in Administration still
fresh in her mind, but something in the man's tone made her... uneasy.

Asha examined the piece of paper
as she walked inside. It was the name of an inn in the Middle District, the
Silver Talon, along with directions and a short list of names to ask for once
she was there.

She paused for a moment. Then she
wandered over to the fireplace - still burning, thanks to the ministrations of
one of the servants - and tossed the note in.

The paper quickly caught, curling
and disintegrating.

"What was that?"

Asha flinched, spinning to see an
enormous, muscular frame reclining in one of her armchairs.

“Kol,” she said in surprise,
trying to sound pleased by the unexpected intrusion. “It’s nice to see you.” It
wasn’t, but this was the first time she’d encountered the big Augur since their
brief introduction, and she was still hopeful of making a good impression.

Kol studied her intently for a
few moments, as if trying to see inside her head. Perhaps he was, she realised
with a stab of discomfort. 

"Burning notes is a little
suspicious," he rumbled.

Asha scowled. "It was
instructions on how to meet with the Shadraehin's people, if you must know. I
burned it because I'm never going to use it. Just as the duke asked."

Kol said nothing for a few
seconds, then nodded. “Have you read through the papers Elocien gave you? The
visions not in the Journal?” His tone was brusque.

Asha shook her head mutely,
flushing, feeling like she was being chastised even though there was no way she
could have found the time. She’d managed to read all the entries in the Journal
itself, but the duke had given her a ream of loose papers as well – all the
visions that
hadn’t
been confirmed. The ones she would need to read, in
order to compare them against anything new.

“Then you should get started.”
Kol rose and crossed the space between them in two quick strides. His expression
was so grim that Asha’s first reaction was to shrink back defensively, but all
the big man did was press a folded sheet of paper into her palm.

Then he was out the door,
shutting it firmly behind him without another word.

Asha took a deep breath, partly
relieved, but also a little annoyed at Kol’s rudeness. She understood he had
misgivings about her, but she’d done nothing to deserve such curt behaviour.

She walked over and sat at her
desk; once the lamp was lit and she was comfortable, she unfolded the paper Kol
had given her and began to read.

I found myself in a cavern, the
likes of which I’ve never seen. Molten red rock glowed everywhere around me.
There was no way to tell, but it felt as though I was deep underground.

I walked forward along a narrow
path, through a tunnel and then into a large room that had strange symbols
carved into the floor. In front of me stood a creature. It seemed to be made of
fire, in the shape of a man but with glowing skin and hair, undoubtedly not
human.

Across from it, at the end of the
room past all the symbols and standing beside a short stone pillar, was a
plain-looking man with red hair. There was a sword on top of the pillar, and
the man was in the midst of reading something on the blade.

“For those who need me most. What
does that mean?” he asked.

“Another question I cannot
answer,” said the creature.

“What does Licanius mean? It
sounds Darecian. You could at least tell me that much,” said the man.

“Fate. The translation is more
specific, but in your language, it means fate,” said the creature.

The man nodded, then picked up
the sword. He shimmered for a moment, as if I was looking at his reflection in
a pool of water, and then seemed to disappear entirely. I could still see
everything else – the room, the creature – but he had vanished.

The next thing I knew I was back
in the palace, and I recognised the scene straight away - it was just like the
other times. Fessi, Erran and Ashalia were kneeling next to me. We were in a
Lockroom, and I was lying on the floor; when I looked down I could see that I
was bleeding from many wounds. The pain was sharp, but fading fast.

I felt my head growing light, and
then the dizziness became too much. The vision ended.

Asha sat back, stunned.

It made sense now. No wonder Kol had
been so brusque – and had looked so apprehensive when they'd first met.

Slowly, she reached over and
unlocked her desk drawer, fumbling around until she felt the bundle of pages
the duke had given her two days ago. She drew it out, untying the string around
it and flipping through the pages one by one.

It wasn’t long before she found
another of Kol’s entries, written a few weeks ago:

We were in a Lockroom. Fessi,
Erran and a girl I do not recognise were all kneeling next to me, looking
upset. There was an excruciating pain in my chest, and when I looked down I
could see blood pouring out of several wounds. Fessi was trying desperately to
help, but I could see in the eyes of the others that it was too late.

Suddenly I felt dizzy; the room
spun and the pain faded, replaced by a kind of dream-like state. I tried to
stay conscious as long as I could, but I also knew it would be of no use. I
said something to Fessi, at the end - I can't remember what. I hope it was
something meaningful.

I closed my eyes, and the vision
ended.

Asha just stared at the page for
a long moment in horror. She knew this wasn’t confirmation – a vision needed to
be Seen by a different Augur for that – but it seemed likely that if Kol had
Seen this one twice, there was a good chance it wasn’t just a dream.

Feeling sick, Asha began flipping
through the rest of the papers. An entry in Fessi’s delicate hand caught her
eye:

It was night, and I was in a
strange city. Everything was made of stone, and it was all black – the roads,
the walls, everything. As if fire had scorched every surface. The sky was
darker than it should have been, too – perhaps it was just cloudy, but it felt
as though it was always like that there.

The streets were empty, but I was
running as fast as I could. I wasn't slowing my passage through time, though.
Maybe I couldn't for some reason? I was trying to be as quiet as possible, but
I couldn't stop my footsteps from echoing off the cobblestones, and even that
small sound was as good as shouting in a place like that.

Then there was a growl behind me
and I turned to see a great wolf-hound, so big that its face was at the same
height as mine. There was something strange about its eyes – they were too
intelligent for an animal, I think. The creature came towards me, and I turned
to run but in front of me another one had appeared. They moved in slowly,
taking their time, as if they knew I had nowhere to go. I screamed for help,
but no-one came.

The first creature finally
attacked, and the last thing I felt was its teeth biting into my neck.

Not long after that, there was an
older entry by Erran:

I was aware I was in a vision
just in time to see Commander Hael driving a dagger into my stomach, screaming
something at me.

Then I was waking up, lying on
the floor of a Lockroom in the palace. There was blood everywhere – a
disturbingly big pool of it on the ground where my face was. It was hard to
orient myself, but when I checked my stomach, there was no wound. Most of the
blood seemed to have come from my nose... and maybe my ears, which I thought
was strange. Everything ached and I felt weak, nauseous; I tried to stand, but
that turned out to be a bad idea. I collapsed back onto the floor, and
everything went black.

When I woke up again, I was being
led out into an unfamiliar courtyard. There were gallows there, which
unfortunately meant that I got fixated on them and didn't take much notice of
my other surroundings. The executioner watched us as we filed up beside him,
and we all stood obediently in front of our assigned length of rope. I'm not
sure why I wasn't struggling, but when I looked around at the people next to
me, they seemed resigned to what was happening too. I didn't recognise anyone.
I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about that.

We all just stood there silently
as the executioner walked down the line, draping the nooses around necks and
tightening them. I watched him with a kind of detached fascination - I remember
thinking I was glad he looked professional, because that wasn't the kind of
thing I wanted to have botched.

I stared out over the courtyard,
but it was empty. Shouldn’t there have been a crowd watching something like
that? Witnesses? I didn't think it strange at the time, though.

Then the trapdoor below my feet
opened, and I got the sudden rush of falling for just a moment. Everything went
black again, but this time I'm fairly certain it was permanent.

Asha continued through the stack
of papers in fascinated, horrified silence. Most of the visions were
inconsequential: what was happening the following day, snatches of arguments or
personal moments, but nothing of real significance. Hidden amongst them,
though, she found repeating descriptions from each of the three Augurs – three
identical visions written by Fessi and two from Kol. Erran’s vision of the
hanging was repeated, too, though not the first part about getting stabbed by
Commander Hael – whoever that was.

She shivered as she stared at the
pages. What must it be like, to See your own death? None of the three had been
able to determine any timeline for their visions, though she couldn’t decide
whether they would consider that a blessing or a curse.

After a while, she filed Kol’s
newest vision with the others and locked her desk drawer. She was tired, and it
was only a few hours until she had to rise again.

Still, it took her a long time to
get to sleep.

***

Asha groaned as a hand shook her
by the shoulder.

“Go away, Michal,” she mumbled.

“It’s not Michal.”

Asha forced her eyes open.
“Erran?” She pulled the sheets a little higher.

The young man gave her a sheepish
grin. “Sorry. I
did
try knocking.”