The Shadow Of What Was Lost (79 page)

Taeris acknowledged the rebuke
with a nod. “Sorry.” He frowned contemplatively, then exhaled. “At least I
still know where he is, I suppose.”

Laiman looked at his friend,
expression worried. “He could break the connection now. I think he would if you
asked, no matter how he feels about you.”

“No. It’s too important to be
able to find him,” said Taeris, his tone firm. “Besides, I don’t think he even
knows what he did, all those years ago. Not unless Torin or Karaliene told
him.”

"Karaliene knows too?"

"It was the only way she'd
let me into the palace. Torin told her - before he realised Davian was still
alive, of course." Taeris made a face.

Asha frowned; she had no idea
what they were talking about... but it sounded as though Wirr knew. She'd have
to ask him about it, when she next had the opportunity.

Laiman leaned forward. “Still -
it’s too dangerous. You only need to lose control once, and you’ll be dead.
Don’t think I can’t tell that scar is fresh,” he added accusingly.

Taeris made a dismissive gesture.
“I’ve managed for three years. A while longer won’t make a difference.”

Laiman frowned. “Fine. Just… be
careful.”

“I will." Taeris shifted in
his seat, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Have you heard anything
more about the remaining Blind in the city?”

“All dead, as far as we can tell.
Caeden was effective, I'll give him that,” said Laiman. “I’ve had a closer look
at the Blind's armour, by the way. It was made up of these.” He dug into a
pocket and held up a shiny black disc, careful not to let the edges touch his
skin.

Taeris shivered, and behind him,
Asha felt herself doing the same at the sight. “Dar’gaithin scales?”

Laiman nodded grimly. “Melded
together into plates somehow.”

“So that's our confirmation, then,
if we needed any. Devaed was behind the invasion.”

“It would appear so." Laiman
shook his head, a hint of frustration in the motion. “But as to the 'why' - the
reason for this focused attack, before the Boundary has weakened enough for him
to send his real forces through... I have no idea." He sighed. "Your
theory about Caeden is probably our best guess; this entire thing seems to
revolve around him. Did you get to speak with him after the battle, before he
disappeared again?”

“No... but Torin did. Caeden told
him that this was only Devaed’s first strike - and said that we were to prepare
for worse." Taeris hesitated. "Much worse.”

The sick feeling in Asha's
stomach stirred again. Davian had already told her about Caeden's warning, but
this was the first time it really struck home. The city had barely survived the
attack last night. She didn't care to think about what anything worse would
mean.

Laiman was silent for a moment.
“Did he at least suggest how we were to prepare?”

“Nothing so specific, I’m afraid.
But... he
did
have a sword, Laiman. A blade that made the sha’teth turn
tail as soon as he drew it.”

Laiman raised an eyebrow. “Did he
now," he breathed, and Asha could see a spark of intense interest in his
eyes. "I hadn't heard that little piece of information. You think…?”

Taeris sighed. “Maybe. I didn’t
get a good look at it, so I don’t know,” he admitted. “And Caeden is not around
to ask.”

There was silence for a few
seconds as Laiman stared into the fire. Then he drew a deep, reluctant breath.

“Speaking of the sha'teth."

Taeris nodded. "I know. All
three got away."

Laiman's expression twisted, and
this time Asha could see real pain there. "They showed the Blind how to
get access to Tol Athian, Taeris,” he said, the burden evident in his tone. “We
were responsible for many deaths today.”

Taeris nodded bitterly. “Just one
of our many mistakes, I fear.”

They sat in silence for some
time, Asha barely daring to breathe. She didn't know what to make of that last
exchange... but if there had been any doubt before, she was certain now that
there would be unpleasant consequences should she be discovered eavesdropping. 

Finally Laiman straightened and
shook himself back into the present, glancing across at Taeris.

"I
do
have some good
news. I wasn't going to tell you until it was official, but...."

Taeris raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'm listening."

"I spoke to both Torin and
Karaliene earlier, and I mentioned that Representative Alac had fallen in
battle. They thought that young Ashalia should stay on, but agreed that she
will still need someone with more experience to guide her. When I put forward
your name, they both seemed amenable to the idea." He shrugged.
"Torin was going to speak to Ashalia once everything had died down, but
assuming neither she nor the king have any objections...."

Taeris stared at him in
disbelief. "Ah... have you forgotten I'm still a wanted criminal?"

“A matter I believe our young
Northwarden is clearing up as we speak,” said Laiman cheerfully. “Nothing is
set in stone, yet, but he has the power to reverse his father's verdict. And
despite Administration's protests it looks like both the king and Karaliene
want him to keep his new position, so I don't foresee any problems on that
front, either." He gave Taeris a slight smile. "Welcome back, old
friend.”

Taeris was silent for several
seconds, stunned. “And… and Athian?”

Laiman chuckled. “I assume that
when you are named their Representative, they will have to take you back, like
it or not. It might just force them to give what you've been saying a little
more consideration, too.”

Taeris barked a disbelieving
laugh, then leaned back in his chair. “You’ve been busy.” He shook his head
incredulously. “I truly don’t know how to thank you.”

Laiman inclined his head,
smiling. “No need.” He gestured to the door. "All the same, we should find
somewhere out of the way for you to stay tonight. We don't want some
overzealous Administrator recognising you before everything's sorted out."

Taeris rose, a renewed vigour in
the way he bore himself. "Lead the way."

They moved into the passageway
and paused just outside the doorway, blocking it. Asha took a hesitant
half-step forward, but there was no gap for her to slip through. She clenched a
fist in silent frustration. If she couldn't get out now, she'd have to wait
until they were long gone.

Laiman grinned at his friend as
they stood in the hallway, unaware of Asha's dilemma. “So. After all these
years you're finally going to have some resources at your disposal, a bit of
freedom to move around again. What's your first order of business?”

Taeris thought for a few moments,
tapping a finger absently against the side of the door. Then he leaned forward,
eyes glinting.

“Laiman,” he said quietly, “ I
think it's time we organised a trip back to Deilannis.”

He flicked the door shut, cutting
off Laiman's response.

Asha was alone once again.

***

Caeden crept forward, parting the
darkness ahead with a small sphere of pulsing white Essence.

He was underground again, though
his surrounds were markedly different to Res Kartha. This place was silent,
dead: just a long, narrow, gritty shaft that seemed intent on going nowhere but
deeper into the damp, musty earth. He’d been walking for at least an hour now,
and in all that time there had been no side tunnels, no rooms, no change in
slope or direction. No sound except the soft pad of his own footsteps, either.
Veins of quartz and other metals occasionally sparkled in the wall as he
trudged forward, but otherwise he had neither seen nor heard anything of note.

Just as he was beginning to
wonder if he’d somehow arrived at the wrong place, the tunnel began to level
out.

Abruptly he realised that the
walls ahead were widening into a small room, an antechamber of sorts, from
which there were several exits. He came to a stuttering stop, hesitating. There
were four passageways, each looking as menacing as the next. His light did not
penetrate far into the tunnels, but he could see from the sloping floors that
one led upward, one continued down, and two seemed to keep on level. Which way
was correct?
Was
there a correct choice? He didn’t even know why he was
here, so whatever decision he made would inevitably be a guess.

Suddenly there was a stirring in
the darkness from the leftmost passageway, just beyond his light – a scratching
of movement against stone, slight, but comparatively loud after the heavy
silence of the past hour. Flinching towards it, Caeden instinctively drew
Essence from his Reserve, extinguishing his sphere and directing a blast of
energy at the tunnel. Enough to stun, but not kill.

The afterimage of the flash
quickly faded, leaving only complete darkness and a sullen, tense silence.
Nerves stretched taut, Caeden stood motionless for a few seconds, listening.
There was nothing.

Then an unseen force gripped him
like a great hand, raising him a full foot into the air and slamming him back
hard against the stone wall. Dazed and not a little disoriented, he drew in
Essence again – as much as he could, this time – and threw it wildly at
whatever was holding him. To his dismay, the pressure on his chest and arms did
not relent even a little.

Suddenly the room was lit; the
illumination had no source he could pinpoint, as if darkness had simply been
transformed into light. A man was standing in front of him, arms crossed and
expression thoughtful as he studied his prisoner. He was older, nearly bald,
with a lined face and a small beard of startling white. Still, his blue eyes
glittered with a keen, strangely energetic intelligence.

“Tal’kamar. I’d begun to wonder
if something had gone wrong,” said the old man. “But I see that all has gone as
planned after all.” He indicated the sword hanging from Caeden’s belt.

Caeden struggled in vain against
his invisible bonds. “Who are you? Where am I, and why am I here?” he demanded.
He tried to reach for Licanius, but it was no use. His arms might as well have
been encased in stone, for all he could move them.

His attacker smiled. “Good to see
you too, old friend,” he said. “To answer each of your questions: I am
Tae’shadon, the Keeper - Asar Shenelac to my friends. These are the Wells of
Mor Aruil. And you, Tal’kamar, are here to remember.”

Caeden was silent for a moment as
he processed the response, then forced himself to relax his tensed muscles. He
appeared to be in no immediate danger. “The last part might be difficult,” he
said in a dry tone. “My memories have been erased.”

“Not erased,” chided Asar gently.
“Just hidden.”

Caeden scowled. “Then let me down
and show them to me!” he snapped.

To his surprise, the pressure on
his body vanished. He dropped to the floor awkwardly and stumbled forward,
falling to his knees; he scrambled up again, wary, but Asar just watched him
with an unperturbed expression.

“You know me?” asked Caeden once
he had recovered, irritably trying to dust off his already ragged attire.

“We are acquainted,” said Asar.
“You asked me to restore your memories, once you arrived here.”

Caeden stared at Asar for a
moment, then just shrugged. He refused to be surprised, or concerned, by his
own plans any more. “Very well. No point in wasting time.”

Asar shook his head. “There is
more,” he said. “You have asked me to only restore
specific
memories –
the ones that will help you fight in the coming war. No others.” He hesitated.
“Against my advice.”

Caeden frowned. “Only some? Why
would I want that?”

Asar sighed. “I think… I think
you wanted to change who you were.” He leaned forward. “The problem, Tal’kamar,
is that if you do not know who you were, you cannot know to change.”

A chill slid down Caeden’s spine.
Who had he been, that he was so willing to leave parts of his past erased? “I
will have to take your word on that,” he said slowly, “ but there is at least
one extra memory I wish to have returned to me.”

Asar blinked, for the first time
looking like he hadn’t anticipated something. “Which is?”

“The hours before I awoke in that
forest. The most recent memory I do not have,” said Caeden softly. He knew he’d
arranged all of this to fight Devaed,
knew
which side he was on - but
the faces of those villagers, their accusations and their unbridled, unthinking
hatred, still haunted him. He needed to know, with certainty, that it had been
undeserved.

Asar hesitated, then nodded.
“Then we shall do that first.”

Before Caeden could react, the
old man stepped forward and placed two fingers against Caeden’s forehead.

Caeden’s heart pounded as he
walked into the village.

It had worked; he’d appeared only
a few hundred metres into the forest, exactly where he’d planned. No-one would
think to look for him here in Desriel - at least not unless Tenvar talked, and
he was fairly certain that taking the man's finger had insured against that.