“You are unworthy,” said the creature holding the sword. Its voice was rough, deep, and knowledgeable. “You have come for Licanius, and so may not have her.”
The scene shifted yet again, but this time the sensation was different, though he couldn’t say how. He stood in the center of a large, open field; it was night, and a gentle breeze made the long grass seem as though there were silvery-black waves sliding over the ground. Everything was in stark contrast, with the moonlight almost blinding, and the shadows as dark and impenetrable as pitch. He looked down. He was wearing a black tunic of fine silk, the threads snug against his skin. It was a familiar feeling. A good feeling.
In the distance, emerging from a copse of swaying birches, he saw a man approach. As he came closer, Caeden could see that he was tall, muscular, with chiseled features and a wide, welcoming smile. The man raised his hand in greeting; hesitantly Caeden raised his in return. A sense of familiarity flashed through him. Somehow, from somewhere, he knew this man.
“Tal’kamar!” the man called when he was closer, a jovial, welcoming note in his voice. He strode over, and before Caeden could react he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace. “I knew you’d find your way here eventually! It is good to see you, old friend.”
Caeden blinked. “Is this actually happening?” He knew as soon as he said the words that it was. The previous images had been vague, hazy—memories, perhaps, though seen in a detached sort of way. This was something different.
The man chuckled. “Of course! We’re in a dok’en. Your dok’en, actually.” His smile slipped a little. “You’re serious?”
Caeden’s heart leaped. This man knew him—appeared even to be friends with him. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I know it sounds strange, but I have no memory of anything beyond a month or so ago. If you know me…”
The man’s smile faded entirely, and he bit his lip. “Then it is true,” he said, sadness in his voice. He sighed. “My name is Alaris.” He put his hand on Caeden’s shoulder. “We are friends, you and I. Brothers.”
Caeden leaned forward. “You can tell me who I am? How I came to be here?”
Alaris nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said in an amiable tone. He glanced around. “There may not be time right now, though.”
“Why?”
Alaris gestured. “Look for yourself.”
Caeden looked back over his shoulder. A black shadow had fallen over some of the field; where there had once been a wide expanse of open grass, there was now nothing to be seen. As he watched, the shadow inched forward some more. He turned back to Alaris, panic welling up inside him.
“What happens when the shadow reaches us?”
Alaris smiled. “Nothing, to you. It’s your dok’en.”
“‘Dok’en’?” The word was familiar, but Caeden couldn’t recall its meaning.
Alaris rolled his eyes in amusement. “A place you created some time ago, Tal’kamar. Once you had many of these lying around, and I knew where you’d hidden most of them… but this is the only one that I know of now. You must not have lost all of your memories, to find your way back here.” He looked around with a frown. “Dok’en are always based on real places, though, and I’m not sure where this was in real life. The Shattered Lands, perhaps? You were always fond of traveling there.” He checked the oncoming shadow again. “Regardless. You’re not doing a terribly good job of keeping this place stable, and I really do need to leave before everything disappears, so let’s make this quick. Where are you?”
Caeden hesitated. The man knew him, but was he trustworthy? Eventually he shook his head. “People are hunting us, and I do not know you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Alaris looked exasperated, but gave a reluctant nod. “I understand.” Then he frowned. “Wait. ‘Us’?”
“The people I am traveling with,” elaborated Caeden, still unsure how much to reveal. “Gifted.”
Alaris looked displeased at that. “And who is hunting you?”
“Creatures. They’re called sha’teth.”
Alaris’s expression froze, and Caeden thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly, all humor vanished.
“You know of them?”
Alaris glanced over Caeden’s shoulder, clearly distracted by the oncoming shadow. “You could say that. A tale for another time, my friend.” He grabbed Caeden by the arm. “You are in serious danger, Tal’kamar. If the people you are with find out who you really are, they will kill you without a second’s hesitation. We are at war, and though they may not seem like it now, they are the enemy.” His expression was deadly serious.
Caeden shook his head, refusing to accept the statement. “They have already risked their lives for me.”
“Because they don’t know who you are,” countered Alaris. He eyed the field behind Caeden nervously. “Read them. If you don’t find they’re capable of what I say, then forget I ever spoke ill of them.”
Caeden shook his head. “I… don’t know how,” he said, a little embarrassed.
Alaris looked at Caeden, his expression pitying. “I see,” he said softly. “It’s like that.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Tal’kamar. There simply isn’t time to explain.”
He started backing away; Caeden turned to see that the shadow was almost upon them. “The dok’en is about to fail, Tal’kamar,” said Alaris. “Once that happens, we cannot use it again. I may not see you for some time.” He paused, looking conflicted, then came to a decision. “In Ilin Illan there lives a man called Havran Das. Find a way to get to him, without your companions knowing. He’s a merchant dealing in fine wines, and someone who is… reliable. I will contact him myself; he will be able to help you.”
Caeden shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”
Alaris gripped Caeden’s arm. “Because we are brothers, and we have a bond that not even time can break.” He closed his eyes. “Until we meet again, my friend. It was good to see you.”
“Wait! One more question.” Caeden clenched his fists; he was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “I was accused of a crime, from before I can remember. Killing people… slaughtering them for no reason.” He watched Alaris closely, dreading the answer. “Is that the kind of man I am? Would I have done that?”
Alaris hesitated.
“No, Tal’kamar,” he said softly. “Never without a reason.”
He faded just as the shadow touched Caeden.
“Caeden,” came Taeris’s voice.
He shook his head, trying to focus. The world around him bled back into view, slowly regaining color and clarity. He was on the ground. Taeris was looking at him anxiously and the others were watching from a little distance away, concern on their faces, too.
“Take it easy,” Taeris advised as Caeden struggled to rise. “You collapsed.”
Caeden took a moment, then levered himself upward. The momentary disorientation had passed.
“I’m fine,” he said, getting to his feet. Still, his stomach lurched. Never without a reason.
“What happened?” asked Wirr.
Caeden stared at the worried faces around him for a long moment. Then he glanced at Aelric, who was clearly still concerned that his Shackle had been removed.
“Just a dizzy spell,” he assured everyone.
Taeris hesitated, then gave him a gentle clap on the back. “Probably a side effect of having the Shackle on for so long,” he said. “Are you able to travel?”
Caeden gave a silent nod of confirmation, his thoughts already elsewhere.
Havran Das.
He fixed the name in his mind as he began helping the others break camp. He didn’t know if he could trust Alaris, but one thing was certain.
He was going to find out more once they reached Ilin Illan.
Chapter 30
Wirr poked at the fire with a stick, keeping a thoughtful silence.
He glanced across at the three sleeping forms lying at the edge of the flickering light. Caeden had made his excuses and retired
early tonight; though apparently recovered from his sudden collapse that morning, he’d seemed a little off throughout the day. Aelric and Dezia had soon followed, leaving Wirr and Taeris on first watch.
The lack of conversation had suited Wirr. He needed time to gather himself after the madness of the past couple of days.
His thoughts, as they often did now, drifted to the friend he’d lost. Wirr forced himself to picture Davian’s face—to once again accept the accompanying pain and regret that settled heavily in his chest. He knew he should have been smarter than to shout out, to try to draw on Essence.
He recalled that moment. The dar’gaithin, the shouting. The desperate sprint after Caeden, back the way they had come.
Then he frowned. Since leaving Deilannis, something had been tugging at the corners of his mind, small but insistent. This time he realized what it was.
“What was in the building?” he asked abruptly, tone low so as not to wake the others.
Taeris blinked, shaken from a reverie of his own. “Pardon?”
Wirr leaned forward. “The building,” he repeated. “In Deilannis. You were going to go inside.” His frown deepened as he remembered. “You led us there, didn’t you? You knew it wasn’t the way out. Caeden even told you, but you ignored him.”
Taeris stared at Wirr for a moment. “Yes.”
Rage began to boil up inside Wirr; it was all he could do to keep his voice low. “Why? Davian and Nihim died, Taeris! My friend and your friend died because you wanted something so badly, you were willing to risk all our lives for it. So you will tell me what was in that building.” His voice was cold and hard, anger sitting just beneath the surface.
“A weapon,” said Taeris, looking more resigned than surprised at Wirr’s tone. “A weapon that was built to defeat Aarkein Devaed himself. Lost for thousands of years.” He sighed. “The time approaches, Wirr, when we may need a weapon against whatever is waiting for us in the north. So… yes. I risked lives.”
Wirr felt some of the anger drain away, but far from all of it. “And what would this weapon be?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Taeris. “That’s part of the problem. We need to know what it is, how it works, before the time comes to put it to use.”
Wirr shook his head. “You should have told us. We had a right to know,” he said furiously. “Why now? You’ve lived in Desriel for years. Why wait?”
Taeris bowed his head. “Because it was only supposed to be Nihim,” he said, voice aching.
Wirr frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Taeris took a deep breath. “Before the Unseen War, Nihim was approached by an Augur, who told him he would die in Deilannis—but in the process, supposedly, of helping one of the most important men of our time. The Augur also told him—promised him!—that no one else would die. That all others traveling with him would be safe.” He shook his head. “I thought… I thought it gave me a free pass, Wirr. Nihim insisted on coming, said it was his time. I thought that knowing he was the only one who died would give us impunity to investigate. That it was perhaps my only chance to do so safely.” He looked up. “I’m sorry.”
Wirr saw it then—the guilt that was crushing Taeris, as real and raw as his own.
It didn’t matter, though. In some ways it was worse; Wirr had been shouldering the burden of Davian’s death, when in reality that responsibility was shared.
“So you risked our lives, based on a vision an Augur told you twenty years ago. Despite knowing that their visions stopped coming to pass,” he said in quiet disbelief. He stood, hands shaking, almost too angry to think. “I’m going for a walk.”
Taeris grimaced. “That’s probably not the best idea—”
“Enough, Taeris,” Wirr snarled as softly as he could. “I’ll stay nearby in case there’s trouble.”
He walked off into the darkness, the jumble of emotions that had died down since Deilannis back now, worse than ever. He’d just pushed them down before, but he knew he needed to deal with them this time.
He found a log still dry despite the damp of the evening, well away from the fire, out of earshot of the rest of the camp. He sat, staring at nothing for several long minutes.
Finally the tears began to fall. The frustration, the anger, the pain all bubbled to the surface, and he let them out, weeping harder than when he’d heard about Caladel—as he hadn’t done since he was a child, the day he’d discovered he was Gifted.
There was nothing left. Everything from the past three years, everything he’d valued, was gone forever.
He didn’t move for a long time.
* * *
It was an hour later when Wirr returned.
Taeris watched him silently, nodding as he sat down on the opposite side of the fire. Wirr stared at the other man for a long moment, then cleared his throat.
“I’m not sure I can forgive you,” he said, keeping his voice low. He held up his hand as Taeris opened his mouth. “Perhaps in time. However, I understand what you were trying to do. I understand that you thought we were safe.” He set his face in a grim mask as he leaned forward. “But the secrets have to stop here. Here and now. If you’d just explained what we were doing beforehand, we might have agreed to help. Us knowing might have changed things… we might be young, Taeris, but we’re not children. We’re on your side. You don’t need to lie to us.”
Taeris considered, then slowly inclined his head. “True. But that needs to go both ways.”
Wirr grimaced; he’d thought long and hard about this, and he knew he was just as guilty as Taeris when it came to keeping secrets. He nodded. “Very well. Allow me to start.” He rose, crossed to the other side of the fire, and extended his hand to Taeris. “I am Prince Torin Wirrander Andras.”
Taeris gave the hand a blank stare. “The son of Elocien Andras.” The shock on his face made it very hard for Wirr not to laugh.
“I am,” said Wirr, allowing himself a smile.
Taeris let out a long breath, puffing his cheeks out. “That makes no sense.”
Wirr’s smile faded, and he lowered his hand. This was not the reaction he had been expecting. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve met Elocien Andras. The man that I remember would have killed his son if he’d turned out to be Gifted.” Taeris looked Wirr in the eye. “He’s the one who sentenced me, you know.”
Wirr shrugged. “He changed. When I was growing up, he did hate the Gifted. But when he found out I was one, he wasn’t angry.” He smiled at the recollection. “I was so scared. I’d been brought up calling them bleeders, and then to discover I was one of them… I thought he would disown me, but he didn’t. He arranged everything. The falsified trip to Calandra. Secret meetings with Athian to get me placed discreetly in a school. He risked everything for me. He was amazing.”
Taeris scratched his head. “He was a Loyalist, though. He created the Tenets,” he said in disbelief. His eyes widened as the implications struck home. “And—fates, lad. The Tenets. You’ll inherit your father’s connection to the Vessel?”
Wirr gave a small nod of affirmation.
Taeris shook his head, dazed, silent for a long moment. “Administration are not going to be very happy when they find out,” he said eventually.
“I’ve already thought of that,” observed Wirr, his tone dry.
“Of course. Of course.” Taeris looked at Wirr, still stunned, evidently reassessing him. “I assume this means you won’t be coming with us to the Tol.”
Wirr nodded. “That would be best. I’ll head for the palace with Aelric and Dezia once we reach the city. My father’s hoping to keep my abilities a secret until I’m well established in court—maybe longer—so I’ll need to stay away from the Tol where possible, in case I’m recognized.”
“A wise choice.” Taeris looked at Wirr consideringly. “You’ve given some thought as to how you’ll change the Tenets, then?”
“I have, but I’ll think about it more when the time comes. It’s hopefully a long way off.” W
irr raised an eyebrow. “You don’t advocate removing them entirely?”
Taeris grunted. “No.” He said nothing more on the subject.
There was silence for a while, then Wirr said, “So you knew my father?”
Taeris shook his head. “Apparently not,” he said quietly. “But I’ve met him. Spoken with him.” He didn’t look pleased at the memory.
Wirr shifted. “I remember him talking about you, you know. He didn’t tell me all the details—I got those from Karaliene, in the end—but he did say you were the perfect example of why the Treaty was necessary. Of why no Gifted could ever be trusted.” He sighed. “That was only a few months before I discovered I had the Gift.”
“I thought you were reluctant to trust me, to begin with,” Taeris admitted. “Now I understand why.”
Wirr looked at the scarred man intently. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. The man my father was talking about, the man Karaliene described to me, was a monster. They were afraid of you, Taeris. Karaliene I can understand—but my father? If there had been some conspiracy to convict you, surely he would have known about it.”
Taeris shrugged. “Perhaps he truly believed I’d used Essence to kill those men. Any Administrator in his right mind would be afraid of someone who could break the Tenets.”
The words rang true, but there was something in Taeris’s eyes when he spoke. A hesitation, a flicker of worry.
Wirr scowled. “No more secrets, Taeris. You understand the enormity of the trust I’ve placed in you by revealing mine. I won’t tell anyone, but for my own sake I need to know. I need to be able to reconcile what I was told with the man I see before me.” He leaned forward. “I saw you that night, in Thrindar. With the knife. So tell me the truth, Taeris. How did you get all those scars?”
Taeris grimaced, then after a few seconds gave a slow nod. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure everyone else was still asleep before he spoke.
The Shadow of What Was Lost Page 37
