An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Finally the light had drained away from the stranger and Asha could see that she had collapsed to the ground, cradling her hand. There was a choking sound and after a few moments, Asha realized that the woman was sobbing.

  “El take it, Vhalire. Are you truth, or another falsehood? El, it hurts. It always hurts, but this feels worse. Sharper. Is this really real?” She shook her head violently as if to pry loose demons from it, even as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “Meldier couldn’t craft a good enough version of him, you know. He tried. El knows he tried. It all held up until the end, and I would find him, and the things I would do to him would never be enough. He was my friend, and I did those things, and the dok’en couldn’t sustain the fantasy, and it would break, and I would be back again screaming and begging and writhing and the pain would be all I knew and …”

  She kept sobbing into the silence for a while.

  “This is real, Isiliar. You are free.”

  The sha’teth’s rasp cut through the silence, and Asha blinked. Was she imagining something different in its voice? The slightest softening of tone?

  The woman—Isiliar; the name sounded familiar for some reason, but Asha couldn’t place it—sniffed, wiping her eyes furiously. She glanced up at the sha’teth.

  “I will never be free,” she said softly. She slowly uncovered her hand, and it was all Asha could do not to make a sound. It was glistening red, burned; the white of bone showed through in places.

  Isiliar closed her eyes and as Asha watched, the flesh began to knit back together. Within moments, the woman was flexing her hand again as if nothing had happened.

  “We need to stop him, Vhalire. We need to. By El and sun and stars and moon and all the oceans and all the fates, we need to stop him.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you, though? Do you, Vhalire? Can a monster truly understand why another monster must be stopped?” She stared bitterly at the creature, apparently unafraid of insulting it. “Can you truly see how Tal’kamar is deluded, and exactly how his delusion will tear this world asunder? His actions will imprison every creature that lives. That has lived. That will ever live. I know you can know that, Vhalire, but do you appreciate it? Does the concept freeze you in your tracks? Do you wake up at night sweating over the consequences of this one man’s actions?”

  The sha’teth said nothing. Isiliar glared at it for a moment and then her gaze went glassy, focus lost again as she stared blankly into the Conduit.

  Suddenly there was movement off to Asha’s left; she turned her head to see a small form walking toward the pair. She nearly cried out a warning when she saw who it was.

  A little boy—no older than six, she thought—wandered toward the sha’teth and Isiliar with no hesitation, no concern whatsoever.

  Asha’s warning died in her throat. Something about the stride of the child was off. It was too … balanced. Too confident.

  No six-year-old walked like that.

  Her fears were confirmed when both of the two standing beside the Conduit turned, unsurprised.

  “You see,” said Isiliar, softly enough that the child would not be able to overhear, shaking her head so that her red locks swayed. “The worst part is that in fighting for the world he wants, he has turned us into monsters, too. He has crafted us into monsters and thieves and death itself …” Her eyes were filled with horror as she watched the boy approach.

  The child stopped a few feet from Isiliar and the sha’teth.

  “Lord Alaris is asking for you. He says that you should not be unprotected until you have your full strength back.” The child’s voice was eerily calm, too mature for the mouth out of which it came. “He also says that it is dangerous here. Too close. Exposed.”

  “Which is why I am traveling to Ilshan Gathdel Tir,” said Isiliar, sounding close to lucid for once. “Vhalire will send me, and I will use the Cornerstone to return. A day only, creature. Tell him that it is for a day only, and then I shall return.”

  “He insisted. He says Tal’kamar stored Knowing with you for a reason.”

  Isiliar did not answer straight away, staring off into the distance again. Just when Asha thought she would not respond at all, though, her attention snapped back to the present.

  “I tell you as I told him: I do not know the reason. Besides, Alaris should be concentrating on finding one of the others—one more and the ilshara will come down. So I am leaving, abomination. You will simply have to explain to Alaris that you could not stop me. Unless you actually wish to try, of course. If you desire to end your two years early, you are welcome to do your best.” She licked her lips, eyes suddenly wide and wild, daring. “In fact, I think I would like you to try.”

  The boy simply inclined his head. Asha shivered as she watched him. His eyes were … empty. Lifeless.

  Asha wasn’t certain, but she suspected that he was an Echo.

  “He will be angry, Lady Isiliar. But I shall tell him,” said the child.

  Isiliar held her pose for a moment longer and then sighed, turning to the sha’teth. “Do you have anything more to tell me? A clue, a hint, a shadow of an idea?”

  “No,” said the sha’teth.

  “Nothing he is willing to tell you.” The Echo stared at the sha’teth challengingly. “She has been sighted in the lower levels again. The one you asked about.”

  Isiliar turned toward the child. “The one whom Tal’kamar is protecting?”

  “Yes.” The boy continued to gaze at the sha’teth intently. “You should not trust this one. He has been tainted; his release was not unconditional. We all know it.”

  “At least I am imperfect by design. You are imperfect by nature.” The sha’teth’s rasp was as flat as always.

  The Echo hissed as if burned, but said nothing in response.

  The woman gave the sha’teth a rebuking look. “Vhalire, Vhalire,” she said ruefully. “A point, regardless of whether it is your fault. I do wish that the others hadn’t let Tal’kamar turn you. The blindness of friendship encompasses all, sometimes.” She turned back to the Echo, evidently not expecting a response. “It matters not. If you get the opportunity—if you are certain that it can be done—then kill her. Otherwise, assume as we have: that Tal’kamar has Seen her future, which means that our attempts will fail. And a failed attempt will only forewarn her, and those around her. So make no foolish moves.”

  The Echo scowled at that, but eventually nodded.

  Isiliar glanced across at the sha’teth. “Come, Vhalire. Real or imagined, we go home.” A dreamy half smile slid across her face, somehow more terrifying than her usual expression. “Home.”

  Vhalire stepped forward, gesturing at the Conduit. Essence began to spin and weave itself out of the cylinder and into what looked like a doorway.

  Immediately, the groan and grind of stone against stone filled the air, and Asha’s angle allowed her to see through the opening and into … somewhere else.

  An enormous room lay on the other side of the doorway but everything glinted, made of steel and black polished stone. As Asha watched, massive pieces of the floor began to shift, the seemingly random pattern slowly replaced by a thin strip of black stone leading away from the portal, with steel squares on either side. There was a crackling sound as some of the steel snapped neatly together, an escape of some form of energy.

  Isiliar stepped through onto the black stone, followed closely by the sha’teth. The doorway vanished.

  Asha continued to stare wide-eyed for a few moments, eventually recovering herself enough to turn her attention to the young boy. He gazed at the Conduit for a while, then calmly turned and began walking.

  He was reporting to someone else—so there were clearly others down here.

  She still wanted nothing more than to leave, but Asha knew that she had to follow him.

  She trailed after the Echo, trying to keep a safe distance; though the creature was only inhabiting a child, she’d seen how dangerous they could be. She frowned to herself as she watched the bo
y clamber over some of the debris Isiliar had created, movements far too sure for someone of that age. Was it one of the Shadows’ children? She didn’t recognize him, but it would make sense. Her stomach churned at the thought.

  Before long, she realized where the Echo was heading.

  Directly for the catacombs.

  Asha swallowed, vacillating as the young boy reached the pitch-black entrance, pausing to light a lantern it had evidently hung after its inward journey. She had to make the choice. She had maps but they were incomplete, old. It was still a big risk.

  The Shadows could be down here, though—hostages or worse. Their children, too.

  She came to a decision.

  Heart pounding, she crept after the Echo.

  At first, she found that it wasn’t too difficult to follow the creature; it moved at a slow enough pace, and she needed only to stay close enough to be able to use the light of its lantern. The first few tunnels they traveled through were wide and straight, easy enough for Asha to hang back without fear of being detected.

  Then they reached the first junction.

  The tunnel had been growing tighter and tighter as they’d progressed, until the passage walls were too close for two people to walk side by side. The development concerned Asha a little—if the Echo decided to turn around and head back toward her, she would have to keep ahead of it or risk it bumping into her.

  Then they emerged into a room, no more than twenty feet wide on each side. There were seven exits, identical dark holes in the wall.

  The Echo turned unerringly for the third one along.

  Once they began down this new tunnel, Asha finally understood that this was truly the beginning of the catacombs. The claustrophobically tight passageway twisted and turned every ten paces or so; suddenly there were entrances to new tunnels every half minute. The twists meant that Asha had to walk closer to the Echo now, otherwise the corners hid the light from her, and she risked stumbling over ground that she could not see.

  She crept along as quietly as she could, holding her breath half the time, resisting the urge to pull out a map to try and figure out exactly where she was. If she was still on the maps at all, of course. She’d given up trying to remember each of the turns they’d taken.

  For a while, the Echo seemed focused forward. It moved at a slow but steady pace, never looking behind, never making a sound.

  Then the tunnels became even narrower, even more winding. Asha was fearful of letting the young boy’s lantern out of her sight now, despite the danger of being so close. The Echo had already made so many turns into side passages that Asha knew, beyond any doubt, that if she lost her quarry—if she were left alone here—then this place would become her tomb. Even with a light, there was no way that she could find her way back.

  It was thirty minutes into their journey when her foot caught a stray stone, sending it skittering across the ground. A small thing, but to Asha it sounded like thunder itself.

  Her stomach clenched and she froze, holding her breath. The Echo kept walking as if it hadn’t noticed, but Asha saw the slightest hesitation, the tiniest clenching of muscles in the neck.

  It had heard.

  Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to keep creeping after it, allowing herself as much distance in between as she dared.

  They walked on for another minute, and Asha began to wonder whether she’d imagined the Echo’s reaction to her mistake.

  The child rounded a corner up ahead and without warning, the lantern went out.

  The sudden darkness was utterly, completely blinding. Asha bit back a gasp of surprise, forcing her body into motion despite the sudden spike of terror that threatened to freeze her to the spot. She took a swift, silent step to the side and then lay flat on the ground, positioning herself against the wall as best she could. The passageway was too narrow for anything else.

  A moment later, she heard the faintest sound of fingers brushing against rock coming toward her.

  “Are you here, flesh?” That youthful voice, not a body’s length from her position, sent a shiver of cold horror down Asha’s spine. “Surely you are not so brave. Surely you are not so foolhardy. If you are, I think the odds are now even, yes? If I find you, there will be no mercy.”

  Asha stopped breathing, closing her eyes. Her vision was useless to her here anyway, and it helped her to focus only on sounds.

  The soft brushing of skin against rock came slowly closer, moving at chest height along the wall opposite. Asha compelled herself to remain motionless as it passed by her position. It might have been her imagination, but she fancied that she felt a slight breeze against her face from the child’s footsteps.

  The sound continued for a few more seconds, then stopped. Asha bit her tongue, focusing on the pain to prevent herself from panicking.

  The noise started again—this time on her side of the wall. For a mad second, she considered rolling to the other side of the passageway, pushing herself up against the wall that the Echo had already gone along.

  She resisted the urge, knowing that the sound would give her away as surely as crying out. The boy was brushing his hand against the wall, but Asha was lying on her side, flat against it. So long as the Echo didn’t nudge her with its foot, she would be all right.

  “Are you here, flesh?” It was a whisper, but so close that it almost made Asha flinch. Right above her, in fact, as was the sound of brushing fingers.

  Suddenly there was a spark and the lantern flared to life again, burning like the sun even behind the lids of Asha’s eyes. She didn’t dare open them, didn’t dare move, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of feet from her face.

  “Hmm.” The young boy sounded dissatisfied.

  Then the light was moving away from her again.

  Asha opened her eyes, her relief nearly as hard to keep silent as her terror had been. The Echo was pressing on; already it had rounded a corner, the glow of its lantern fading.

  Asha scrambled to her feet as silently as she could and hurried after it, heartbeat so loud that she was a little concerned that the Echo would somehow be able to hear it.

  For a few more minutes they continued as before, and Asha began to calm. The Echo appeared more cautious than it had been, was moving more slowly. But it didn’t say anything more.

  Then, as abruptly as the first time, the light vanished.

  Asha froze, holding her breath and immediately closing her eyes this time, concentrating on sounds once again. Rather than footsteps coming toward her, though, there was a slight receding scuffling, and then … nothing.

  Asha’s brow furrowed, then her heart dropped as she understood what had happened. The Echo hadn’t stopped being suspicious at all.

  It had killed the light, then hurried ahead in order to lose her.

  And it had succeeded. She couldn’t move in the darkness, not without making a significant amount of noise. The Echo had undoubtedly waited for its moment, too, ensuring that there was one of the rooms with branching pathways up ahead. There could be as many as a dozen exits from it, and she would have no way of knowing which one the creature had taken.

  She leaned against the wall, taking a few slow, deep breaths to keep the fear at bay. Quietly, though. It was entirely possible that she was wrong and that the Echo was waiting for her to panic, to rush blindly after it and make noise in the process. She had no intention of taking that risk.

  She made herself assess the situation. She was lost—there was no getting around that. She couldn’t even see her maps in the pitch black, and she wouldn’t be able to determine her location on them anyway after taking so many turns. The catacombs were vast and tangled; she could wander aimlessly for weeks in the maze down here without finding an exit.

  Asha had made a mistake following the Echo, but there would be time enough to berate herself once she was out.

  For now, she had two real options. The first was to try and find her way back; her eyes were adjusting, and she could see that there was the faintest light
being emitted from the walls, so there was a chance—a very slim chance—that she could recognize enough twists and turns to make her way back to the Sanctuary. It was a tempting option, the one that would allow her to be proactive, to distract herself from the realities of the situation. The one that would make her feel like she was doing something.

  But she knew, as soon as she considered it, that the alternative was better. Stay where she was. Be patient. Whatever the Echo was doing down here, it clearly wasn’t working alone. In fact, now that she thought about it, Isiliar and the sha’teth had indicated that they would be joining the Echo and whomever else was down here soon enough. It was logical that they would then take the same route.

  If Asha moved, if she tried to find her own way and became lost, she would miss the opportunity to follow them.

  She gritted her teeth. She had the food she’d brought down for a meal: rationed carefully, that was enough to last at least a couple of days. She hated the idea of just sitting there in the dark, waiting and hoping, constantly afraid both of being found and of not seeing anyone. But at least this way, at worst, she still had the option of a last-ditch attempt to find her way back.

  She listened for another few moments, squinting into the near darkness of her surroundings for any sign of movement.

  Then she deactivated the Veil.

  When nothing happened, she squeezed her eyes shut in relief, exhaling heavily.

  Moving slowly, she made her way forward until she reached the next junction, a careful traversal of its edges revealing nine different exits from the room. Like most of the other such junctions, there was also more space at the sides—a more secure place for Asha to sit, without having to worry about being tripped over if someone took her by surprise.