An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  The redheaded woman examined Vhalire, apparently unfazed by the unpleasant sight.

  “The others may be blind, creature, but I am not. Tal’kamar is still using you somehow. It is evident in the way you move, you speak, you react. I can smell his stench on your breath.” As Asha watched in horror she drew her sword, holding it up to the light. A low thrum filled the room. “I have been told that things have changed. Suspicion, Vhalire! Suspicion everywhere, and here most of all. Tal’kamar believes. It doesn’t matter how wrong he is, so long as he thinks he is right. A man who believes is the worst of enemies. A man who believes is more dangerous than anything. As our enemies get smarter and more insidious, so must we react harder and more swiftly. This is now a world where only the ends matter. Once, this would not have been necessary.” She shook her head. “But then, once, you would not have been necessary.”

  She stepped forward and plunged the sword into Vhalire’s stomach, a slight, muffled clang as it sliced clean through and hit the stone beyond.

  The sha’teth didn’t scream this time but just writhed silently, mouth opening and closing like a newly caught fish.

  Then something odd happened. Its face began to change; a measure of color flushed its cheeks, and the pallid, drooping skin tightened a little. Its eyes were not just intelligent, now, but also pleading.

  “Please,” Vhalire whispered, and Asha felt a chill. The voice coming from the creature’s mouth wasn’t low and rasping anymore.

  It was … human.

  If Isiliar noticed the change, she either expected it or didn’t care. She gestured; bands of Essence snapped the sha’teth’s arms and legs into place against the pillar, hanging it off the ground. The sword still quivered in its stomach. “Lower those mental barriers and let me in, monster.”

  Vhalire forced his head up so that he could meet Isiliar’s gaze, the motion evidently an enormous effort through the pain. “No. It would release some of the meld into you.” Again the voice was human, though strained with agony.

  “A risk I am willing to take.”

  “I am not.”

  “Then I estimate you have … an hour, perhaps, before I have the information I need anyway?” Isiliar shrugged. “Be it on your head, Vhalire. The choice is yours entirely. I’ll return soon to see whether you’ve changed your mind.”

  She spun and walked back to the door, flicking the latch and exiting the room.

  Asha just stood where she was for a long few moments, breathing softly, wide-eyed as she stared at the disfigured monster pinned against the column. Dark blood—blacker than it should have been—dripped incessantly from the wound in its stomach. There was less than Asha would have expected, though it was impossible to tell how much was being soaked up by the sha’teth’s jet-black clothing.

  Then the creature was turning its head.

  Looking straight at her.

  “Caution, marked one.” The sha’teth’s rasp had returned and its struggles eased somewhat, as if the pain was less. “This is no place for mortals. Isiliar has been asleep long enough that her senses are dulled, but you cannot go undetected around one of the Venerate forever. She will know you are here when she returns.”

  Asha felt a chill; there was no one else in the room, no one Vhalire could possibly be talking to. Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t lower her Veil.

  Vhalire’s eyes suddenly changed. Became sharper.

  “Kill … kill me.” It was the more natural voice again, desperate and strained, somehow made all the more disturbing coming from that horrific face. “Please … do it. Too dangerous … to let Isiliar know. You must take … and hide the sword. Do not keep it. She will track you if … you hold it for too long …” Vhalire suddenly gasped and twitched, muscles spasming in evident agony.

  Asha moved silently toward the door but Vhalire’s gaze followed her with eerie accuracy, though the creature’s mouth hung agape now, wordless.

  When the time comes, do not let Vhalire suffer.

  Asha bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut for a long moment. Aelric’s words, uttered to her after the other sha’teth had killed Jin what seemed like a lifetime ago, were impossible to ignore. She didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t know what to do.

  “I don’t know how to get out,” she said softly. “Tell me how to get out, and I’ll do it.”

  The sha’teth just stared at her, blue eyes wide. Pleading. Frantic. It moved its mouth but only rasping came out, followed by a hacking cough and a thick dribble of jet-black blood.

  Asha put her hand to her mouth, partly in horror and partly in panic. Leaving Vhalire seemed the smart choice. If she killed him—as he apparently wanted—Isiliar would know that someone else had been there as soon as she returned. But the sha’teth appeared to think that she’d realize Asha was there anyway.

  In the end, it was the one thing that Asha couldn’t ignore that pushed her to a decision. For all his monstrosity, Vhalire’s pain was evidently real. He was genuinely suffering, more than she had the stomach to watch.

  More than she had the stomach to walk away from.

  She swallowed and then turned away from the door, moving slowly toward the sha’teth, eyes locked on the protruding, quivering sword. With a trembling hand she reached out, resting her hand on its hilt.

  She nearly snatched it away again.

  There was something unsettling about touching the weapon, a sense of sudden revulsion that went even beyond the reality of the situation. She shivered and gritted her teeth, forcing herself to grasp it firmly.

  The sha’teth’s eyes met hers.

  Its head dipped. The slightest hint of a nod.

  Asha yanked backward, grimacing at the wordless shriek that accompanied the steel sliding out of Vhalire’s body. She gasped and staggered backward as the blade finally pulled free, oozing blood and black bile onto stone.

  A tremor ran through Asha’s arm and for a moment a strange resonance filled the air, like a hum just beyond the range of her hearing. The sha’teth commanded her attention, though. Its screams quickly died but its body still thrashed and convulsed in obvious pain.

  Resisting the urge to vomit, Asha steadied herself, grasping the hilt tightly in both trembling hands. She hesitated. The sha’teth was moving around too much, too violently. She couldn’t get a clean strike in at its chest.

  She almost faltered, almost ran from the sight. For a moment she half turned, her instincts to flee becoming close to overpowering.

  “Neck.”

  It was the too-human voice again; Asha twisted back to see that Vhalire’s eyes were squeezed tight against the pain. Asha thought that she could hear his teeth grinding.

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

  Before she could change her mind, she swung as hard as she could.

  She’d expected more resistance than Vhalire’s neck provided; the sword sheared through flesh and bone cleanly, making a wet clanging sound as it struck the stone beyond. Vhalire’s head toppled to the ground in a spray of black, and his body stilled.

  Asha stood there for a moment, panting.

  Then the hum she’d heard before intensified. At first she thought it was the reverberation of metal against stone but it quickly filled the room, quivering, resounding, thrumming in her head.

  Followed by darkness.

  Asha woke on cold stone illuminated by pulsing Essence, inches from the pool of black blood that had seeped down the wall and across the floor.

  She lay there for several moments, disoriented, fear arching through her as she took in Vhalire’s sightless eyes and disfigured, pallid face on the ground a few feet away. Memory flooded back. How long had passed? Isiliar was nowhere to be seen; she evidently hadn’t yet returned.

  But it surely wouldn’t be long before she did.

  Asha propped herself up weakly, unsteadily. What had happened? The act of executing Vhalire had made her sick to her stomach—sha’teth or not—but she was quite certain that her unconsciousness hadn’t been me
rely a reaction to that.

  For a strange moment the reason was there, right at the edge of her mind. As she paused and tried to focus on it, though, she felt a trickle of something on her face. She wiped at it absently.

  Her hand came away stained bright red.

  Asha froze, panicking for a moment, probing her face gingerly for an injury. There was nothing though. Her eyes ached as if she’d been awake for too long but otherwise she felt … not fine, exactly, but well enough. Despite the hot, sticky blood, she didn’t think that there was an open wound.

  She stumbled over to the pure, glasslike shimmering waterfall at the end of the hall, peering into it at her surprisingly clear reflection.

  With a wave of nausea, she saw that the trails of red down her cheeks had originated from her eyes.

  She kept checking for a few more seconds but when she couldn’t find a specific injury amid the smeared blood, she realized that there was little more she could do right now. Her use of the Veil had apparently ceased when she’d fallen unconscious; she activated it again, breathing easier the moment she was concealed.

  She hesitated, then hurried back and picked up the blade that lay next to Vhalire’s body on the floor. There was still a strange, unsettling sensation at the first touch, but nothing like the revulsion she’d felt before. The Veil immediately adapted to the weapon, extending its invisibility around the steel.

  She drew another calming breath, shaking her head as she finally took a moment to survey the scene. As few options as she had, she didn’t think Vhalire had been lying when he’d said that Isiliar would be able to see through the Veil sooner rather than later.

  She had to leave. Now.

  She moved with purpose, first snatching up her canteen out of her satchel and filling it from the pool beneath the waterfall, taking a few quick mouthfuls and splashing her face to clean it of blood. Then she headed for the exit and shut the door carefully, reluctantly behind her. The Essence bulb lighting the hallway outside was still glowing, but it didn’t cast light far.

  Asha faltered to an indecisive halt.

  Fear suddenly raked at her muscles, turning every movement into one of stuttering indecision. The long, quiet terror she’d felt waiting for Isiliar and Vhalire to return came flooding back as she stared down the passageway into the darkness. She would barely be able to see, let alone find her own way out.

  She compelled herself forward again, step-by-step leaving the light behind. At worst she needed to get to the first intersection, to be certain that she wasn’t leaving herself somewhere Isiliar could easily sense her presence. She wasn’t sure how the woman would be able to detect her, exactly, but it seemed far more likely to happen if Asha was in her direct line of sight.

  She walked for a full minute before slowing once more, frowning and casting an uncertain glance over her shoulder, measuring the distance back to the Essence bulb on the wall. It was little more than a dot now.

  She turned forward again, pausing to let her eyes adjust. As before, the walls here gave off a very faint illumination, revealing at least a vague outline of the way ahead. The odd light was almost nothing, less than a crescent moon on a cloudy night … but it was enough.

  Asha suddenly registered the faint sound of muttering coming from up ahead, and a burst of nervous energy took her into a side passage just as the first hint of bobbing torchlight brightened the tunnel.

  “… shouldn’t struggle, Vhalire. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t.” Isiliar’s murmurings were unsettling, somewhere between perplexed and agitated. “Nothing more the meld can do to me. Tal already did it. Far too late …”

  The muttering softened to incoherence again and Asha turned, glancing along the passageway she’d ducked into.

  She grimaced. This wasn’t the way back to the Sanctuary.

  Her breath caught.

  This wasn’t the way back to the Sanctuary. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew.

  A high-pitched scream reached her ears, long and loud, though she could tell it had been muffled by the closed door. Isiliar had found Vhalire.

  Asha hesitated.

  Then she sprinted back into the main passageway, turning away from the sound of Isiliar’s anger. Following the hallway that was now bizarrely, miraculously, familiar.

  She heard the door crash open behind her but she didn’t stop, didn’t pause for even a moment.

  The wild shrieks of rage chased after her into the darkness.

  Chapter 13

  Davian groaned as he came awake.

  He shook his head, eyes adjusting to the dim room. It was still evening; he was propped up on a bench against the wall, with a table in front of him. Another tavern, he thought, though oddly empty.

  He touched the back of his head gingerly. A lump had formed there, still tender to the touch.

  “Sorry about that,” said a female voice to his right.

  He turned to see the young woman who had been following him, seated alongside the young man Davian had confronted.

  He stumbled to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain ricocheting through his skull. “Who are you?” He quickly forced himself to concentrate but as far as he could tell, no lines of kan joined the two now.

  “Sit down, Davian,” said the young man wearily, waving him back into his seat. “We mean you no harm.”

  “You were following me and then you attacked me,” retorted Davian.

  “He has a point,” observed the teenaged girl, sweeping back a lock of short black hair. She didn’t smile; something about her eyes suggested that she rarely did. “My name is Fessi, and this is Erran. We’re friends of Asha’s.”

  Davian stared for a long moment as the names registered.

  “Oh,” he said eventually, slowly lowering himself back into his seat. “So … you’re both …?” He left the last word unsaid, peering around, still uncertain as to exactly how much privacy they currently enjoyed.

  “Augurs,” finished Erran cheerfully. “It’s fine. I’ve Silenced the room.”

  Davian thought for a moment, then sighed as he understood. “You weren’t Controlling her. You were communicating with her.”

  “Can’t blame you for the assumption. It looks similar,” admitted Erran. “To be honest, I didn’t think anyone else would be able to spot it.”

  Davian just shrugged. Erran was probably right; most Augurs wouldn’t have been able to detect a strand of kan that thin. Ishelle certainly wouldn’t have. The more Davian had practiced with her, though, the more he’d come to realize just how easily sensing the dark energy around him really came.

  “I was looking for it, after the singer you Controlled this morning didn’t recognize me when I went back to thank her.”

  “Fates,” muttered Erran, shaking his head irritably and then shrugging at Fessi’s I-told-you-so look.

  Davian glared at them. “Asha did tell me about you,” he acceded. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what you’re doing, following me around like this. You had plenty of chances to introduce yourselves today.”

  Erran, at least, had the good grace to look abashed. Fessi just shrugged.

  “You’re bait.” She shot a frown in Erran’s direction. “Or you were supposed to be.”

  “Useless bait with that Elder stumbling around after him,” rejoined Erran defensively. He coughed, looking as though he’d suddenly remembered that Davian was still there. “Uh. Useless bait that we would never have put in any real danger,” he added with a hopeful smile.

  Davian stared at the two of them disbelievingly. “Danger from whom?” he eventually growled.

  “Scyner.” Fessi’s voice was flat as she said the name, not sharing in Erran’s attempt at levity. Her eyes were dark pools, intense. “Did Asha tell you about him?”

  “She did, but …” Davian frowned. “You think he’s after me?”

  “We think he might come here,” corrected Erran with a vaguely reproving look in Fessi’s direction. “He wanted us, back in Ilin Illan. Wanted Augurs to
help him with something.” He paused, a flicker of emotion altering his expression. Asha had told Davian what had happened to Kol; the impact of his death was clearly still fresh for these two. “And unless he’s been shunning all human contact since the battle, he’ll know about the Amnesty. If it’s Augurs he wants, here’s where to find them.”

  Davian sighed, putting it together. “So you were following me, hoping that he would turn up.” His head was still pounding, and he couldn’t summon enough energy to be annoyed. “You wanted me to get rid of Elder Thameron, because you figured that he might scare off Scyner. And you couldn’t show yourselves because Scyner would recognize you if he spotted you.”

  Erran gave a half-approving, half-apologetic nod. “Essentially.”

  Davian studied the two of them for a moment. Despite his first impressions, Asha had spoken well of them.

  “So what happens next, then?” he asked quietly. “I’m sure Scyner is dangerous, but the possibility of the Boundary collapsing is more so. And you’ve made contact with me now—if Scyner was keeping an eye on me, he already knows that you’re here.” He leaned forward. “Why don’t you accept the Amnesty? If you come in, we can—”

  “No.”

  There was silence for a moment as Davian waited for Fessi to expand on her emphatic statement, but it was Erran who eventually jumped in.

  “We’ve been watching Tol Shen for a few days,” he explained quickly. “Not just looking for Scyner, but to see what’s happening there. What sort of people we’d be putting ourselves at the mercy of.” He shook his head, exchanging a glance with Fessi. “I dealt a lot with Shen when I was at Ilin Illan, and … honestly, I don’t trust them. Only a certain type of person rises through their ranks, and so long as the situation at the Boundary benefits them, I cannot imagine it will be high on their list of priorities to fix. No matter what they say in the Assembly.” He held Davian’s gaze steadily. “Tell me you think I’m wrong.”

  Davian shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “It’s been a struggle to get them to even talk about the Boundary,” he admitted eventually. “But that doesn’t mean your coming in isn’t our best shot at restoring it. I’ve learned a lot, training with Ishelle this past month, and there’s another Augur who arrived just today. That would make five of us. Five Augurs. If we all stood together, there’s no way that the Council could ignore us.”