An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Davian shook his head. “I am sorry for what happened to Elder Dain,” he said gently, “but—”

  He cut off as Ishelle let out a cry next to him, a flash of white light accompanying her crumpling to the ground.

  Davian immediately stepped out of the flow of time, spinning to see a baton glowing with Essence descending toward his own head. Two men had sneaked up behind them as Aliria had talked. Ishelle was still falling to the ground; Davian couldn’t see any blood, but he didn’t think that his friend was conscious.

  He stepped to the side and swung an elbow, smashing his assailant in the cheek. The impact hurt even in the time bubble, and he knew from the way the man’s face crumpled that he’d broken bones. Davian stepped over to the other Gifted and punched him in the stomach. The man was still beginning to double over, his weapon—clearly a Vessel of some kind—dropping, as Davian crouched beside Ishelle’s form, quickly checking her injury. It was minor, he thought, and she was still breathing, but the impact had knocked her unconscious.

  He released his hold on time.

  There was a moment of utter silence, Aliria and the others gaping at them. Davian wasn’t sure if they were shocked that attacking an Augur had worked, or that attacking two of them hadn’t.

  He felt his expression twisting. He’d put up with Aliria and the rest of the Gifted’s disdain and mocking since he’d arrived, then had risked his life—risked everything—to help save them. Perhaps he hadn’t expected to be showered in gratitude, but this?

  This was too much.

  He ripped some Essence from one of the men standing next to Aliria and used it to toss two others backward, letting them fly like rag dolls across the street and slam hard into the walls opposite. A half-dozen more Gifted sprang into action and tried to stop him with lines of Essence of their own, but Davian immediately, easily sliced through their efforts with a kan shield.

  He stepped outside of time again, anger crystallizing his efforts. He walked into the middle of the crowd, using Essence-enhanced arms to grab them one by one and throw them as hard as he could away from Aliria. The nature of his altered passage through time meant that the force he used was exponentially magnified; Gifted flew through the air away from him until only Aliria herself was left.

  He positioned himself back in front of the still-sneering Elder, then let time crash back into him. Behind him, beneath the crashing thuds of falling bodies, he could hear Ishelle groan as she began to stir.

  Aliria took a faltering step back as she gazed around in horror at her moaning, defenseless support, but her lip curled as she turned back to Davian.

  “If you’re going to kill me,” she said, face drained of blood, “just do it.”

  “Kill you?” Davian gave her a look of half-bewildered contempt, his rage still fresh. “Aliria, I’m not. Going. To kill you.” He said the words with as much frustrated emphasis as he could muster.

  Then he looked around for the first time, the worst of his anger evaporating as he took in the carnage he’d just created. The Gifted—the ones still conscious—were groaning on the ground some twenty feet away, several of them looking as though they were nursing broken limbs. And Aliria was staring at him as if he were about to murder her, despite what he’d just said.

  He swallowed. He’d been frustrated, true, and the attack had angered him—but when had he ever let his temper get the better of him like that? Not since he’d learned how to use his abilities, certainly.

  He could have, and should have, just grabbed Ishelle and escaped. Aliria and the others here had been in the wrong, but their actions stemmed from the fear that Rohin had left them with.

  Trying to teach them a lesson, after what they’d just been through, had not been the right choice.

  He shook his head, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm. “I am sorry for what happened to your husband,” he added more quietly, “but we are not responsible.” He glanced across at Ishelle; the other Augur blinked up at him dazedly, then looked around at the destruction he’d caused with increasingly wide eyes.

  “Fates,” she muttered, voice rasping a little. “You certainly know how to negotiate.”

  Davian gave a small, slightly panicked laugh. “We should go before we have to do any more of it,” he said.

  Ishelle gave him a wry nod of acknowledgment, then allowed him to haul her to her feet.

  As Aliria watched, Davian formed a new time bubble, and they headed for the passageway.

  Erran and Fessi leaped to their feet as Davian staggered into the room, supporting Ishelle on one shoulder.

  “What happened?” Erran exclaimed.

  “Davian tried to talk his way past some of the Gifted,” said Ishelle weakly.

  Davian snorted, giving Fessi a nod of greeting as he eased Ishelle into one of the chairs. “The mood in the Tol … well, let’s just say that we’re leaving as soon as we can,” he said drily. He glanced out the window at the night sky. “First thing in the morning. I don’t think Driscin can give us much more of a head start than that.”

  “He’s not coming with us?” asked Erran in surprise.

  “He’s going to try and bring the Council around. However long that will take.” Davian cast a glance at Ishelle. “He gave us a signed letter of passage. I think that’s all we can hope for, at least for a while. After what happened at the Tol tonight, I half expect the Council will say we’ve violated the Amnesty.”

  “No.” Ishelle shook her head. “They won’t make it public, no matter how furious they are. They won’t admit to the Assembly that they don’t have us under control.”

  “She’s right,” Erran agreed immediately. “Shen worked hard to get where they are. They’re not about to throw that away.” She’s definitely better? came Erran’s voice in Davian’s head.

  Definitely.

  Erran relaxed somewhat, and he turned to Ishelle. “I’m Erran and this is Fessi, by the way.”

  Introductions were quickly made, and then Davian turned to Fessi.

  “How’s Rohin?” he asked quietly.

  “Gagged, tied up, and still has the amulet on.” Fessi’s voice betrayed no hint of pity as she nodded to the adjoining door. “He’s in there. What does Driscin want to do with him?”

  “We’re handing him over tonight.” Davian frowned at Fessi’s grimace. “What?”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best plan. I Read him.” Fessi’s tone was direct, no embarrassment at the fact. “He’s met Scyner. I think he might have been sent here by him.”

  Davian blinked, taking a moment to process what she’d said.

  “This prewar Augur from Ilin Illan?” Ishelle’s voice contained more than a hint of skepticism. Davian had told her what Asha had told him, but Ishelle hadn’t really believed it.

  “Yes,” said Erran. He met Ishelle’s gaze steadily. “He killed our friend, and he manipulated his passage through time to do it. He was an Augur.”

  Ishelle blinked at the intense certainty of the statement, then inclined her head in acquiescence.

  “You say he sent Rohin here?” Davian asked into the silence left by the exchange. “Why?”

  Fessi’s frustration was evident in her expression. “I’m not sure. The amulet makes him difficult to Read, and I only got flashes. But it was definitely him.” Fessi’s voice was harder and colder than even Erran’s had been a moment ago. Davian believed her.

  “Did you find out anything else?” asked Ishelle.

  “Nothing that makes much sense. You’re welcome to talk to him though.” She gestured at the door.

  “He’s gagged?” Ishelle asked.

  Fessi nodded, expression softening for the first time as she heard the nervousness in Ishelle’s voice. “We didn’t want to take any chances.”

  Ishelle nodded back, looking relieved and then … something else. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes suddenly held the promise of violence.

  Davian stood before Ishelle could move.

  “Maybe it’s best if I
talk to him,” he said quietly. “Even if the amulet somehow stops working, he can’t influence me.”

  He walked to the door and opened it, staring into the dimly lit room beyond.

  His stomach churned as he took in the Augur sitting hunched against the far wall.

  Rohin had been a prisoner for only a couple of days, but he looked a shadow of his handsome, confident former self. Ugly bruises marred his face and arms, and the young man actually cringed farther back into his corner when he saw Davian’s silhouette in the doorway.

  Davian stared for a long few moments, then turned back to Fessi. “Did he try to escape? Give you trouble?”

  Fessi just shook her head, never breaking eye contact with Davian.

  Davian hesitated, then stepped inside, shaking his head as Ishelle made to follow.

  “We need information,” he said softly. “Not revenge.”

  Ishelle’s eyes flashed. “I can control myself.”

  “He’s still more likely to talk to me.” Davian blocked Ishelle’s path calmly. “Perhaps later.”

  Ishelle’s frustration was evident but she eventually nodded sharply and stepped back, allowing Davian to shut the door.

  The young man on the floor stirred, and Davian shivered as he turned. His eyes were haunted, hollow and unnaturally red. Not from tears, though. It was as if the very life was being sucked from him.

  Davian reached down and carefully removed his gag.

  “You,” Rohin whispered, raising his hands to his neck, brushing helplessly against the golden device that had melded to his skin.

  “Me.” Davian crossed his arms. “Or would you prefer to spend more time with Fessi?”

  “Please.” Rohin’s voice was hoarse, containing none of the silver it had the last time Davian had heard him speak. “Please no.” There was genuine terror in his tone.

  Davian swallowed the sudden bad taste in his mouth, walking forward to sit on the sole chair opposite Rohin. “If you help me, I’ll stop her from coming back in here.”

  Rohin gave a mewling laugh, the sound edged with madness. “If I help? I thought you were the righteous one.”

  Davian stared at Rohin. “Fates. You are the last person who should be talking about righteousness. Don’t think that this isn’t a measure of justice.” He shook his head in disgust, though whether it was at Rohin or what had been done to the young man, he wasn’t entirely sure. “Why did you go to Tol Shen? Was there something more to it than … what you did?”

  Rohin gave a bitter laugh. “I was trying to save you.”

  There was dead silence as Davian looked blankly at the prisoner. “What?” he asked eventually, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

  “You want to know why I came here?” Rohin’s tone gained a hint of desperation. “I already told you. It’s because I saw it. I saw what would happen at the Boundary.” He met Davian’s gaze. “Maybe you’d like me to tell you about what I was dreaming of every night before you put this thing on me. About the monsters that come from the north in their thousands. The way they tear through our cities. The blood and the screams and the uselessness of everything we do to try and stop them.” His hands trembled. “They’re like a wave, and we’re a speck of sand on the beach. We’re annihilated. Annihilated. The only way to avoid death is to avoid them. Do you understand?” His tone became pleading, and to Davian’s shock there were tears in his eyes now. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the end of the world over and over and over, and I will never be able to get those images out of my head.”

  His red-rimmed eyes held Davian’s gaze for a few long seconds, intense and full of conviction, before he dropped his head again.

  Davian gaped at him in silence. He’d expected defiance, arrogance, maybe even penitence. Not this, though.

  “So you didn’t come here because of Scyner?” he asked eventually, not knowing how to respond to Rohin’s claims.

  Rohin shrugged, not looking up. “The old Augur? I can only tell you what I told your friend,” he muttered. “He wasn’t affected by my ability, and he suggested coming here. Said I’d be safer here.” He gave a short, bitter laugh at that. “I should have stayed at Decis. It wasn’t much, but at least everyone did what I asked. Fates know that it was better than this.”

  Davian grunted, his distaste for the young man reasserting itself. “The days of people doing as you ‘ask’ are over,” he said grimly.

  He probed further for a while, trying to elicit more responses from Rohin, but the injured Augur had evidently decided that he’d said enough. Eventually Davian shook his head in disgust and left, shutting the door firmly behind him and ordering his thoughts as he turned to the other three, who were watching him expectantly.

  “He says he’s Seen the Boundary being overrun,” said Davian absently to their questioning looks, still trying to sort through his feelings. “Says he was trying to ‘save’ us.”

  “We should kill him.”

  Davian paused for a moment, sure he wasn’t hearing correctly. He turned to stare at Ishelle, who had uttered the words. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Ishelle’s expression, for once, held nothing but ice. “The Gifted can’t be trusted with him. What if his influence is still lingering for some people? What if someone is careless and he escapes? Or—and trust me, this will be suggested at some point by someone in the Council—what if they decide that they can use him?”

  Davian shook his head slowly. “No.” Ishelle opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she could say anything. “No.” He wasn’t going down that road.

  “Are you willing to take the blame for anything he does if he gets loose again?” asked Ishelle angrily.

  “So you want to kill him because it’s expedient,” Davian responded bluntly.

  Ishelle flushed. “It would be safest.”

  “So would killing everyone who opposed us. Everyone who stood in our way. Or Controlling them,” observed Davian. “Why don’t we just do that?” He almost laughed at the nervous shuffle from Erran in the corner, but the situation was too tense to show any mirth.

  He turned to Fessi. “And you,” he said coldly. “You tortured him.”

  “He had information on—”

  “I don’t care.” Davian let heat into his voice now. “We have to be better than this. Don’t you see? The way that the Gifted have been treating us, the way everyone fears us, is justified if we take this path.”

  “You can’t speak to us like that,” said Erran angrily.

  “Can’t I?” Davian turned on the other young man. “You think you’re above hearing hard truths about yourselves? Or don’t you care about your friend? Don’t you care that she’s doing this?”

  “And do you think you’re so much better?”

  “I’m NOT!” Davian shouted. “I’ve killed people, Erran. But where does it stop? What gives us the right to act this way? Our abilities?” He was abruptly reminded of a similar conversation with Wirr, what felt like a lifetime ago now. “We can’t start mistaking what we can do for what we have the right to do.” He scowled at the others and took a deep breath, calming a little even as he shook his head in disgust. “It’s three against one, clearly—so I suppose I couldn’t stop you from becoming murderers, if you were absolutely bent on it. But think on what I’ve said. Fates, please think on it hard.”

  He left, hands shaking slightly as he shut the door behind him. Had he gone too far? They all needed to work together if they were going to seal the Boundary … and yet, he knew he couldn’t have let what was being suggested, nor what had happened to Rohin, go without remonstration. Rohin was a monster, but Davian wasn’t going to let him turn the rest of them into monsters as well.

  Suddenly exhausted, he made his way to one of the other small rooms that they’d rented and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to ease the pounding frustration in his head.

  Eventually, despite having no intent to do so, he slept.

  Davian shrugged away the
scaled hand of the dar’gaithin as it marched him forward, the pathway ahead glinting where the soot from the low-burning torches did not fall.

  “You fear this less than you should,” the creature observed.

  “Funny,” responded Davian quietly. “I was about to say the same to you.”

  Internally, he frowned. It was his voice, but there was a disconnect. He hadn’t consciously said those words.

  He kicked at the metal underfoot as he walked. “Why here, Theshesseth? Darkstone everywhere in this cursed city, but in these hallways, metal that never rusts. To what purpose?” Again, that strange disconnect—evident while walking, but even more so when he spoke. He felt oddly queasy, disoriented. It was hard to focus, but he slowly registered that he was somehow a passenger in his own head.

  The creature rasped, and Davian realized that it was laughing. “Your time in the Mines has not sated your curiosity?”

  Davian didn’t respond, just stared at the creature levelly. The rasping faded, and the snake did not say anything for a moment. Trapped inside his own head, Davian watched its sinuous, swaying movement with horrified fascination.

  “I do not know,” it hissed eventually, reluctance saturating its voice.

  They walked on in silence. The walls gleamed where they were not coated with grime or, occasionally, dried blood. He glanced over his shoulder, observing with curiosity the line of clear steel that the dar’gaithin’s tail left behind them. Its movement along the metal surface created a constant scratching, grinding sound, heavy scale against metal. This place had definitely not been built with these creatures in mind.

  Eventually they began climbing a long set of winding stairs; before long the flickering light of torches gave way to smooth Essence, and the metal underfoot became increasingly clean. By the time they reached the top—a good ten minutes of walking, though to Davian’s surprise he didn’t seem to find it much of an exertion—every surface was shining. Spotless.