The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1)

by James Islington

  The snap of the man’s neck was deafening in the silence of the shop.

  Then Havran was scrambling backward away from Caeden, who felt a sudden rage burning in his stomach. He’d been set up, betrayed. Had anything Alaris told him been real? He started towards the cowering merchant, picking him up by the shoulders with Essence-enhanced arms and slamming him against the wall.

  “Why?” he hissed.

  Havran cringed away, refusing to meet Caeden’s gaze. “Tal’kamar, wait! It’s not what you think!” he shrieked, plainly terrified.

  A woman’s scream from outside cut through the quiet of the night.

  Caeden hesitated for only a moment; then he released the merchant and was moving, heading for the door. He heard Havran dashing out of the room behind him, but another shriek came, this time clearly only just outside. He slammed back the bolt and burst out of the shop, freezing as he took in the scene before him.

  Fifty or so feet down the road a young woman was surrounded by five armoured men, four of them watching as the other held her from behind, hand over her mouth. She was kicking and clearly trying to bite her attacker's hand, but Caeden could see her struggles were already weakening.

  For a moment the man’s hand slipped, and Caeden got a good look at the woman's face. He paled as he recognised the fair skin, the delicate features.

  It was Karaliene.

  She’d felt him take off the Shackle and decided to follow him, almost certainly, but there was no time to worry about that now. He gritted his teeth, then took off at a dead run towards the group.

  He was still thirty feet away when he was first noticed; the man who had seen him murmured a word of warning, and all five men were facing Caeden in an instant. His heart skipped a beat as each one of them drew a sword, their black armour barely visible in the gloom.

  Though none of the men were wearing the distinctive helmets, Caeden had no doubt who they were. He kept running. He was not going to leave Karaliene to the Blind.

  The man closest gave a wide, greedy smile when he realised Caeden was unarmed; he stood calmly in an attack stance, perfectly still, as Caeden rushed towards him. Just as Caeden came within range the man moved, cat-like, far quicker than should have been possible. His sword snaked out, streaking towards Caeden’s neck.

  Time slowed and Caeden let his instincts take over, just as he had against Aelric.

  He slid beneath the arc of the sword, coming in under the man’s defences. Then he twisted and kicked upward into the left knee of his opponent, intuitively knowing that his altered passage through time meant that the blow would be delivered many times faster, and therefore many times harder, in reality. He winced as he felt the man’s ligaments snap, the knee bending sideways; a shout of surprised pain ripped from the soldier’s throat as he crumpled to the ground.

  Caeden regained his footing smoothly, snatching the man’s sword from the air as it fell and then spinning forward, slashing his attacker's throat in one fluid motion. Four.

  The smiles of the dead man’s companions had vanished now. The one holding Karaliene hit her hard on the head, sending her slumping to the ground. Caeden watched her fall helplessly, hoping that the blow had not caused her any serious injury.

  The four remaining soldiers moved as one towards him, panning out, surrounding him so that he was no longer able to see them all at once. He knew he was still slowing time – Karaliene’s fall appeared to take several seconds – but these men seemed less affected. A little sluggish compared to him, perhaps, but not as much as he would like. He couldn’t allow them to settle, to get any advantage.

  He lunged forward, slipping gracefully between two whirring blades, one so close that he felt it brush a few strands of his hair. Caeden brought his own blade around in a vicious arc, the edge slicing into the exposed neck of the man to his left. His opponent began to fall without a sound; before the body could hit the ground Caeden snatched a dagger from its belt and spun, throwing it at one of the men who had moved behind him. It caught the unsuspecting soldier in the eye, blood fountaining through his fingers as he died clutching his face.

  Three. Two. Their armour was well-made – almost impenetrable to a normal weapon, he suspected – but these men had neglected to wear their helmets. Their laziness, or overconfidence, was going to kill them.

  The two remaining soldiers faced him grimly, spacing themselves so that he would have to concentrate on one or the other. He’d vaguely hoped that they would run, having seen what had become of their comrades. But the expressions on their faces were intent, focused. As if his success so far had only intrigued them.

  The one to his right feinted; when Caeden flinched towards him the one to his left came in hard and fast, stabbing with lethal accuracy. Caeden was faster, though. He moved forward, towards the thrust and slightly to the side, spinning so that the steel passed just by his ribs. He went down on one knee in the same motion, grabbing the man’s leg with his free hand and lifting.

  Before his opponent hit the ground Caeden rolled towards the other soldier, anticipating the attack. Steel sparked as it hit the stone of the street where he had been a moment ago. Caeden focused, then thrust upward at the second man, into the thin slit that allowed movement for the knee. He was rewarded with a scream of pain as his blade bit home.

  He slid the blade back out before it could get caught, then rose, severing the man's head from his shoulders as he tumbled forward.

  One.

  The soldier he had tripped was back on his feet, panting but still with an oddly intent look in his eye. There was no fear that Caeden could see. At first he thought that was strange, but then he considered what he must look like to his opponent. Calm. Composed. Focused.

  Exactly the same.

  Before he could think on it any further, the final soldier was upon him, raining down a fierce array of blows. Caeden blocked them all – not easily, but not feeling that he was likely to lose now, either. He allowed the soldier to exhaust his attack, then put several feet between them.

  “Who are you?” he asked, breathing heavily. “Why are you here?”

  The man stopped, blinking as if surprised by the question.

  “We are here to stop you, Tal'kamar,” he eventually replied, his voice emotionless.

  The soldier threw himself forward, but it was a tired thrust and Caeden sidestepped it with ease. He acted on instinct, bringing his sword up so that his opponent’s momentum carried him into it. The blade sliced across his face, biting deep but not a killing blow.

  The man growled, blood spurting down his cheek, then turned to face him again.

  Caeden stretched out his hand without thinking.

  A blinding torrent of power and light washed through him, exploding from his palm and slamming into the man’s chest. It should have vaporized the soldier where he stood, but much to Caeden’s astonishment he simply stood there, neither advancing nor retreating as his armour seemed to drink in the Essence, extinguishing it.

  Caeden stopped, cursing as he realised that every Finder in the city would now be pointed at him. He had to end this, and quickly.

  He swivelled, flicking his sword underhand at the other man. The blade caught the soldier square through the mouth, blood fountaining everywhere as the man stared at Caeden in horrified disbelief. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Caeden stood there for a few more moments in silence, breathing hard, surveying the scene. Bloodied bodies lay everywhere. In the distance he could hear the whistle of the city watch; the fight had taken only a minute, perhaps less, but someone must have heard the clash of steel. There was doubtless a legion of Administrators heading in his direction now, too. He had to move.

  He knelt by Karaliene, emitting a sigh of relief when he saw she was breathing. He hoisted her onto his shoulder – mentally apologising for the indignity – then hurried away as fast as he could, disappearing down a darkened side street just as the urgent whistles of the watch sounded like they made it onto the scene.

 
Havran Das – who hadn’t shown his face during the entire fight - would have to wait for another day.

  Caeden suddenly discovered he was tired. Exhausted, in fact. The adrenaline was wearing off, and whatever he’d been doing to slow down time was no longer working. He had to think of what to do with Karaliene.

  She knew, of course. She knew he’d slipped his Shackle, left the grounds - breaking the only two conditions she'd set for her hospitality. If he took her back to the palace, she would have him thrown in a dungeon as soon as she awoke. At the least.

  Then he thought of what he’d done, how easily he’d killed those men. He shivered a little as the reality of it set in; it had been surreal at the time, almost like he was watching himself do those things. He hadn’t taken pleasure in it, certainly - but it hadn’t upset him as he knew it should have, either.

  He swallowed. Perhaps he belonged in a dungeon.

  He thought furiously as he half-walked, half-jogged along the deserted streets. Was there even an alternative? He couldn’t prevent Karaliene from returning to the palace; one thing of which he was certain was that he wasn’t capable of kidnapping or killing her. He was relieved to discover that, though in his current situation it presented its own series of problems.

  In the end, he decided that there was nothing for it but to return to the palace and accept the consequences. Even though she had been unconscious for most of the fight, Karaliene would hopefully feel some sliver of gratitude towards him for saving her. The prospect seemed slim at this point, but he clung to it.

  He made it back to the supply gate without any issues, relieved to find that it was still unlatched, despite the princess presumably having used it after him. He shut it properly behind him, then hid in the bushes until the patrol passed by again, covering Karaliene’s mouth for fear she would wake up and give him away. Heart pounding so loud he was worried he wouldn’t hear the guards coming, he made it back inside without incident.

  The trip to Karaliene’s quarters was trickier. He already knew where to go thanks to Aelric's thorough rundown of off-limits areas earlier that day - the problem was that there would be plenty of guards stationed along the hallways leading up to the royal chambers. Caeden found a safe corner and let Karaliene’s limp body rest against the wall, flexing his tired shoulder. She was heavier than she looked.

  He stared at her for a moment. She looked strangely peaceful, her hair tousled but still shining in the dim light.

  Then he shook himself. If anyone found him with her like this, it was unlikely he’d even last until the princess awoke to explain matters. He needed to get her back to her chambers.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. She must have slipped away from her bedroom without being noticed; none of the guards would have let her wander off alone in the middle of the night. And, therefore, she must have had a plan to get back in.

  He carefully picked her up again, then found the nearest exit, moving around the outside of the palace until he was reasonably sure he was below Karaliene’s rooms. They were on the top floor, but Caeden had remembered seeing a slender set of spiral stairs leading up to the balcony.

  Holding his breath, he started up them as quickly as he could, praying that the dim starlight was not enough for anyone to see the shadowy silhouette clambering upward. It was slow, exhausting progress with the princess over his shoulder, and he felt more exposed the higher he climbed. His skin crawled, and every moment he expected to hear cries of alarm.

  Finally, though, he gained the upper balcony, relieved beyond measure to see that one of the windows had been left ajar. He opened it a little wider and climbed awkwardly through, careful not to make any noise. There would doubtless be guards posted outside Karaliene’s quarters; any suspicious sound and they would come rushing in.

  He carried Karaliene over to her bed, laying her gently across it. He held his breath as she started to stir, but the princess simply rolled over into a more comfortable position, eyes still shut. Caeden exhaled, then exited through the window again, closing it until the latch clicked neatly behind him.

  He paused for a moment on the balcony, awestruck by the view. This was the highest accessible point in all of Ilin Illan; before him the city was laid out like a living map, the outline of every building discernible in the starlight. Beyond the streets he could see a ship slipping down the river, visible only thanks to its bobbing lights.

  Even with the details obscured by darkness, it was breathtaking.

  But he didn’t dare tarry to enjoy the sight, especially here where an errant glance from a guard would undo him. He turned for one last glance at the princess, to ensure she was still sleeping.

  He froze.

  Karaliene was sitting up in her bed, eyes open, staring through the window at him. There was a look of curiosity on her face, but no alarm.

  Caeden didn’t wait for her to cry out. He fled for the stairs at a dead run, getting to the bottom just ahead of a patrol. He made it back to his own quarters unseen, out of breath as he finally shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, heedless of the bloodstains that marred his clothing. He felt the cold metal of the Shackle press against his back.

  Without hesitation, he reached around and grabbed it, then placed it against his arm.

  Nothing happened.

  “It won’t work. You can't put it on yourself,” came a deep voice.

  Caeden leapt to his feet again, relaxing only a fraction when he saw its owner.

  Taeris was standing in the doorway to the adjoining room. He had evidently been waiting for Caeden's return; the older man was watching him closely - not fearfully, exactly, but with an abundance of caution.

  Caeden found himself colouring, and he let the Shackle fall to the ground with a clatter. The full toll of the night finally crashed down on him, and he sank back onto the bed, holding his head in his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  He truly was. He’d betrayed Taeris’ trust, hedged his bets so that he didn’t have to choose a side. He realised now that it was time to make that choice.

  Taeris gave him the slightest of smiles, though his expression was still stern. “You came back. That’s a start.” He walked over to the bed, seating himself next to Caeden and putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “But it certainly seems we have much to talk about,” he added quietly.

  - Chapter 43 -

  Caeden watched as Taeris leaned back, evidently trying to absorb everything he'd just been told.

  Caeden had spent the past half-hour explaining the events of the evening and, to a lesser extent, what had precipitated them. About how Alaris had contacted him through the dok’en, had warned him against revealing information to the Gifted. Had warned him to distrust them completely.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Taeris' expression was more thoughtful than angry.

  Caeden looked at the ground. “Alaris said that if you found out who I truly was, you would kill me.”

  The scarred man nodded slowly. “You were scared.”

  Caeden's cheeks burned. “I should have trusted you,” he said, his voice catching. “I don’t know why I didn’t. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and good faith since we met.”

  “Trusting someone is one thing, lad. Trusting them with your life is another entirely. I can't say that this has made things any easier for us here, but... I understand.” Taeris' tone was gentle, with only a hint of the frustration he surely must have been feeling.

  "Thank-you," said Caeden softly. He paused, then gave Taeris a cautious glance. "How long were you waiting?"

  "I came as soon as I felt that Essence blast. Not many of the Gifted around here could have produced that," Taeris observed dryly. He rubbed his forehead. “The men you fought. You're certain they were Blind?”

  “I think so. They didn’t have the helmets, but they were wearing black armour. They were a good deal faster than normal men, too.”

  “And yet you killed all five of them.” Taeri
s raised an eyebrow.

  Caeden hesitated. “I can do what they do, only… better. And without the armour.”

  “You think it’s the armour giving them these powers?”

  “I’m sure of it.” Caeden had already had some time to think about this. “Slowing your passage through time like that is an Augur ability; those five men couldn't all have been Augurs. Combine that with the way their armour absorbed Essence....”

  Taeris gave a thoughtful nod. “And as I said, I felt the blast from here. This is bad, Caeden. Very bad. It means that even if the Gifted get a chance to fight, we're going to be less effective than we'd hoped.”

  “I know.”

  There was silence for a few seconds, then Taeris began pacing. “The question is - how did they get in? The city is supposed to be locked down; everyone is being searched as they enter. Men transporting black armour would certainly have been stopped.” He paused, frowning. “Unless, of course, they have been here for some time. Waiting.” He glanced at Caeden. “When did you make contact with Alaris?”

  Caeden calculated. “Just after Deilannis. A month ago, perhaps?”

  Taeris nodded to himself. “A week before the invasion began. Those men could have been sent ahead to help Das kill you - they could have slipped into the city as recently as a couple of weeks ago." He stared worriedly into space as another possibility occurred to him. "Or, they may have been sent ahead for a different purpose entirely, and Alaris simply took advantage of their presence here."

  Caeden swallowed. "A different purpose... like what?"

  "Scouting. Sabotage. Fates only know." Taeris was silent for a few seconds as he considered it some more, then shook his head. "Regardless - the Blind are clearly afraid of you, Caeden. Whatever is locked away in that memory of yours, it's evidently something they don't want uncovered." He rubbed his chin. "When you spoke to Alaris, did you tell him where you were going?"