The Shadow Of What Was Lost (71 page)

"No. No chance."
Elocien shook his head. "If anything, my brother is worse. I spoke to him
not an hour ago, told him we were being beaten back. He still won't take
action. I suspect he'll let the city burn before he lets the Gifted fight, in
his current state." He rubbed his forehead. "I shudder to think what
he'll do when he hears about the Shadows."

Parathe looked sick at the news,
but nodded. "We'll just have to manage with what we -"

Two bodies landed with a crashing
of armour against stone, not twenty feet from where they stood.

All four men stared in shock for
a moment, then as one turned their gaze upward as panicked shouts began echoing
along the Second Shield.

Wirr squinted against the bright
light shining down from the walls of the pass. The sporadic flashes from the
Shadows' weapons had stopped; there was plenty of motion atop the Shield, but
he couldn't tell what was going on at this distance. No-one had sounded the
retreat, and there were too many men atop that wall to have been overwhelmed so
suddenly.

Yet without warning, another two
pairs of screaming men plummeted from the sky, crashing to their deaths against
the floor of the pass.

"Fates," muttered
Parathe. He turned to a nearby soldier, who was looking in horror at the
motionless bodies. "Nihk. Find out what in fates is going on up
there."

The soldier nodded, taking two
steps towards the Shield.

Then he spun, sword out and
flashing. The man who had been standing guard next to him cried out in alarm,
but he was too slow. Nihk's blade embedded itself in his skull with a
sickening, wet crunch.

The next few moments passed as if
they were minutes.

Everyone stared in frozen,
stunned horror as Nihk wrenched his blade free. Then Parathe and two of the
other guards went for their swords. Nihk turned to the general, lips curled
back in a rictus of rage as he leapt, sword outstretched, its connection with
Parathe's chest inevitable.

And then the blade had vanished
from Nihk's hands, and reappeared through his neck with Davian holding the
hilt.

Nihk slumped to the ground, eyes
glassy as blood spurted onto the stone. 

Parathe stood frozen, his hand on
his hilt. "Thank-you," he said to Davian, dazed. "But how
-"

"No time." Davian gestured.

Wirr turned to where he was
pointing, suddenly aware of how close the surprised shouts of the men had
become. He stared around in dismay.

Andarran defenders everywhere
were turning on each other; soldiers were drawing their swords and lunging at
their comrades, apparently heedless of any harm they might come to themselves.
Duels were breaking out all along the pass, men defending themselves
desperately against those who moments ago had been their allies. In less than
thirty seconds, the relative calm between the Second and Third Shields had
descended into chaos.

"We've been betrayed,"
said Parathe, his voice hollow.

Wirr found himself shaking his
head as he briefly replayed Nihk's attack, remembering the man's dead eyes.

"No. I've seen this
before." He turned to Parathe. "They're called Echoes, general. I
don't know a lot about it, but the Blind are controlling them, somehow."

"They're not doing this of
their own volition?" Parathe gave Wirr a hopeful look. "Is there any
way to snap them out of it?"

Wirr grimaced. "No. It's not
them any more," he said reluctantly. "Anyone who's an Echo is already
dead. Tell your men not to hesitate."

"He's right." It was
Davian, who was staring at the nearest Echoes with a perturbed expression.
"I can't Read them. They're just... empty," he finished, shivering.

Parathe gave Davian an uneasy
glance, then turned back to Wirr. "Are you certain about this, Your
Highness?"

"Quite." Wirr extended
a hand as one of the Echoes nearby made straight for their group. There wasn't
much left in his Reserve after all the healing he'd performed, but it was
enough.

A bolt of white light sped from
his fingertips, blasting the man he'd spotted backward.

"They're dead," he
repeated grimly in response to the surprised look of the others. "Or at
least no longer human. I wouldn't have been able to do that, otherwise."

Parathe looked sick. "We
have to fall back to the Third Shield," he concluded in a heavy tone.
Before he could give the order though, Parathe's second-in-command, Hael,
rushed through the fighting towards them.

“Sir,” he gasped to Parathe. “The
enemy have taken the harbour and the Lower District. They’re pressing us hard,
trying to get to the Third Shield. If they reach it, we'll be trapped.”

Parathe paled. “How is that
possible?” he demanded.

“No-one knows, sir. Only that
they’re inside the walls. We need to fall back if we hope to defend the Upper
District.”

Parathe didn't hesitate.
"You're right. There's no way we can fight the Blind if they're coming at
us from both sides." He cursed. “Sound the retreat, Hael. We'll regroup at
the palace.”

Parathe turned to Elocien.
"We need the El-cursed Gifted, Northwarden. No two ways about it,” he
said, his expression grim. “The palace is the strongest defensible position in
the city, but even with the Shadows I don't know how long we'll be able to hold
it.”

A horn blast sounded the retreat,
and the Essence lighting the pass abruptly blinked out. Suddenly Wirr froze,
glancing up at the top of the Second Shield, where the chaos sounded worst.

"What is it?" Davian
asked, seeing his expression.

"Asha is up there."

Davian was moving before Wirr
realised what was happening.

He sprinted after his friend;
they made it almost halfway to the stairs before two armour-clad Echoes stepped
into their path.

"I don't have any Essence
left, Dav," Wirr warned. He saw Davian hesitating. "They're not human
any more. Trust me."

Davian nodded silently. He
stretched out his hand as the Echoes closed in on them.

For a moment nothing happened.
Then one of the attackers roared, knees buckling as a line of pulsing Essence
appeared between him and Davian. The man's face seemed to... whither, as if it
were aging at an incredible rate; his skin became sallow before finally
disintegrating, leaving only a fine white dust that drifted, smoke-like in the
wind.

The second Echo hadn't paused in
his wild rush towards them; Davian turned to face him, releasing the Essence
he'd drawn. It wasn't a bolt though, as Wirr would have expected, but
something... thinner. Harder.

The energy sped towards their
attacker, taking him in the neck and slicing clean through. The soldier's head
bounced grotesquely on the ground towards them, carried by his momentum.

Neither boy moved for a moment.

"So... I see you can use
Essence now, too," said Wirr, a little out of breath as they stepped over
the decapitated body and pressed forward.

Davian nodded, eyes fixed on the
way ahead. "As long as I don't draw too much at once," he muttered,
more to himself than to Wirr. Wirr didn't understand the comment, but Davian
didn't elaborate and there was no time to ask about it.

They managed to avoid further
confrontation until they reached the top of the Second Shield, where they were
once again brought to an abrupt halt. This time four Echoes stood in their way,
not moving yet, but their dead eyes focused on the two boys.

"I don't think I can take
them all. I'm tired, and it's getting harder and harder to use kan," said
Davian as he drew his sword, his tone grim. "But I'm not leaving her. I
-"

The Echoes sailed clear over the
parapet, spinning away to crash to their deaths on the hard stone below.

Davian and Wirr both flinched
back; when they looked up again, Asha was hurrying through the space where the
Echoes had just been.

"You need to get out of
here," she said bluntly as soon as she saw them. "Follow me. I don't
have a lot left in my Reserve, but it should be enough to get us back to the
Third Shield."

She slipped past them without
waiting for a response.

Davian exchanged a vaguely rueful
glance with Wirr, and then the two of them turned and hurried after her.

Asha cleared their path twice
more before they reached the temporary refuge of the Third Shield. Wirr's
father was waiting for them there, a clearly anxious Parathe and Hael standing
by the duke's side.

Elocien nodded his relief to
Wirr, and without a word the group headed towards the city. As they emerged
from Fedris Idri though, Parathe held up a hand, bringing them to an abrupt
halt.

He frowned, cocking his head to
one side.

“I don’t hear any fighting,” he
realised. “We should have been able to -”

He cut off mid-sentence with a
choking sound, eyes wide with pain.

Behind him Hael stepped away, the
dagger in his hand dripping blood. He bared his teeth, eyes glazed as Parathe
dropped to the ground, dead before he hit the cobblestones.

Before anyone could react he
leapt forward towards a paralysed Wirr, dagger lashing out in slow motion.

It all happened in a moment.
Elocien roared as he leapt in front of his son, taking the blade squarely in
the stomach. Davian, who had been several strides ahead with Asha, was suddenly
there and ramming his sword through Hael's chest. Both Elocien and Hael
crumpled to the ground, the former moaning in pain, the latter twitching once
and laying still.

Wirr finally found the ability to
move; he dropped to his knees beside his gasping father, pressing his hands in
vain against the fountain of blood pumping from Elocien's rent flesh. He closed
his eyes. Healing a wound this severe would take a lot of Essence; he would need
to use everything he had left. He just hoped it would be enough.

“No, Torin.” Flecks of foamy
blood appeared at the corner of the duke’s mouth, but his tone was firm, even
at a whisper. “No healing.”

Wirr stared at his father in
shock. “But you’ll die!” he protested. He furiously wiped away tears that he
hadn’t even realised he’d begun to shed. “I can save you!”

Elocien gave him a sad,
affectionate smile, clasping Wirr's hand in his own. “But you must not,” he
murmured. “We’ve been tricked, Torin. They’ll be coming through Fedris Idri. We
need the Gifted to fight, else we all die, not just me.”

“But -”

“
Promise me
, Torin.”
Elocien's grip began to weaken, but his tone was edged with urgency. “I'm
starting to lose focus; if I get confused, I need you to know that this is what
I want. Changing the Tenets is all that matters now. I need you to swear to me
that you will let me go.”

Wirr stared at him for a long
moment, then sat back, letting his shoulders slump. The tears ran freely down
his face now. “I promise.”

The duke sighed in satisfaction.
His eyes glazed for just a second and he coughed, then moaned in pain. When he
looked up at Wirr again, his gaze seemed… different. Panicked.

“Torin?” he whispered. “What is
happening?”

Wirr paused uncertainly, then
swallowed a lump in his throat. The loss of blood was starting to disorient his
father. “You were stabbed,” said Wirr, keeping his tone as gentle as he could.
“You saved me.”

Elocien groaned. “You’re older. I
don’t understand.”

Wirr held his father’s hand tight.
Elocien was fading fast. “Everything’s alright. I’ll be here until the end.”

Elocien shook his head in
desperation. “No. I don’t want to die. Help me.” He grabbed Wirr by the shirt,
pulling him close so that all Wirr could see was the fear in his eyes. “Help
me, son! I beg of you. I know you can heal me. Do not let me die.”

Wirr looked away. “I’m so sorry,”
he said, barely choking out the words. “You told me not to.” He swallowed. “I
love you, father.”

“No,” whispered Elocien. “No.”

His hand went limp, and his eyes
stared sightlessly into the night sky.

Wirr just knelt there, wracked by
sobs as he bent over his father’s body. He stayed like that for several
seconds; then he took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing down his emotions and
wiping his face, doing his best to regain a semblance of composure. There would
be a time for grieving, but for now, he needed to make sure his father's
sacrifice had not been in vain.

"Oh, no."

Wirr's head snapped up at the
horror in Asha's voice. She was staring at Elocien's motionless form as if she
had just understood something terrible.

"I'm so sorry, Wirr,"
she said softly, dazedly. She shook her head, looking at both him and Davian.
"There's something I have to do. I... I have to go."

She hurried off before either of them
could respond.

Wirr watched her go, too numb to
wonder at her reaction. “Raise the alarm,” he said dully to the soldiers
nearby, who were looking on in mute dismay. “The Blind have tricked us. We need
everyone back to the Shields.”