An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Ash? Davian’s voice was thick with tension. Are you all right?

  Dav! I can see you! Asha almost laughed with relief. I’m probably safer than you right now.

  Probably. A pause. We have a set of Blind armor and … and we think that it will let us pass through the Boundary without getting hurt. At least, as long as it’s still weak.

  Asha’s smile faded and her heart all but stopped as she processed the words.

  One set? she repeated.

  Yes. Davian’s tone was heavy. And not much time to use it.

  Asha—or rather, Erran—squinted. Behind the three figures approaching the Boundary, there was something else. A dark line that she’d initially taken to be just the horizon.

  But it was getting bigger.

  You’re not going to be the one crossing, are you, said Asha softly. She knew that it was true even as she said it—knew it from Davian’s tone, knew it from knowing him. If there had been two sets of armor, he’d have been the one demanding to stay behind.

  He was an idiot like that.

  Ishelle’s already wearing it. She has some sort of connection to the eletai. If they get across, she might be useful to you. If she stays here … He trailed off, but his voice indicated that he didn’t want to think about the consequences.

  Asha felt desperation rising in her chest. If she was going to do this—if she was really going to sacrifice herself to this purpose—then she at least wanted to know that Davian was safe. But—

  This is the way it has to be. Not a decision we reached lightly. He hesitated. There are more Blind coming. Maybe we can ambush a couple, get their armor before too many get through.

  Asha swallowed. Of course.

  He was lying. She knew it, could tell from his tone. He’d always been a terrible liar.

  She didn’t say anything.

  There was an interminably long silence, the vague outlines of Davian, Fessi, and Ishelle moving urgently as the darkness behind them grew steadily larger.

  Finally, abruptly, an armor-clad form appeared, emerging from the wash of energy, sparks of blue and white flying off the black plates as the figure collapsed on the Andarran side with a cry.

  Erran ran to help them up—Asha moving involuntarily with him—and removed their helmet.

  Ishelle’s forehead had blistered and her skin was red from burns, but she was awake. Breathing.

  Asha’s heart sank. Despite what Davian had just said, there had been the briefest moment when she’d thought that it might have been him. That the other two might have somehow convinced him that he was more vital than they.

  Is she all right? It was Fessi, voice shaking.

  She’s fine, Fess. A little … singed, but fine, said Erran. Now we need to—

  Ash. They’re too close, and there’s too many of them. Davian’s voice cut through whatever he was trying to say. You need to do it now.

  What? No. We can still find a way. It was Fessi, her voice panicked.

  There’s still time, agreed Ishelle, clearly conscious enough to participate in the conversation.

  Davian—his features visible now as the Boundary faded even further—stared across at Erran and Ishelle, but Asha could tell that he was talking to her.

  There isn’t. His voice was quiet, calm. Certain.

  Asha felt tears forming in her eyes. We’ll see each other again.

  Wait! Fessi and Ishelle spoke in chorus, fear in their tones.

  Asha kept her eyes locked on Davian. He slowly nodded, then raised his hand in farewell, not looking behind him at the charging mass that was close enough now to make out individual figures.

  She reached out blindly, felt around until she found the point that Scyner had indicated to her earlier.

  Placed her hand on it.

  The needles were not as painful as she’d expected as they slid gently into her body; there was a strange, surreal sense of removal as Essence burst forth from her, trying to repair the damage even as it was being caused. She sighed as—still looking through Erran’s eyes—she saw power flicker and then spring to life, thickening, slowly obscuring Davian and Fessi until they were just silhouettes.

  The approaching mass flooded over them, around them, concealing them from view.

  The Boundary screamed and shivered as bodies crashed into it in explosions of dazzling light, then thickened to an unbroken curtain of blue and white.

  Whole once more.

  Erran’s vision was suddenly gone, replaced by the seal of the Tributary forming around her, leaving only a small window through which she could see the pavilion entrance. Across the water, the Boundary gleamed in the dusk. Strong. Solid.

  Unbreakable.

  Asha drank in the sight as everything became hazy. She held back tears as the pain suddenly intensified, gritting her teeth and embracing it as best she could.

  The darkening blue sky outside slid away as a something solid and heavy started grinding its way across the entrance to the pavilion. Within moments it had finished with a booming echo, sealing her in. Only the eerie blue light of the Tributary remained.

  And then that faded, too.

  Chapter 49

  The outpost was eerily silent as Wirr slowly made his way between bodies, numb as he checked the next for any sign of life.

  There was none, just as he’d assumed. The deathly stillness, the scarred stone and splashes of red, all spoke of nothing but death for anyone who hadn’t been able to take refuge below.

  For anyone except him, Karaliene, and his mother.

  Still, he moved to the next motionless form, knelt beside them and gently checked for a heartbeat. He had to try. As little choice as there had been, and as hard as they’d fought, part of him couldn’t help but feel the weight of these men’s and women’s deaths.

  Had some of them still been alive as he and the other two had cowered below? Could some have been saved if they had acted differently, stayed up here a little longer?

  He straightened again as he registered the pair of open, sightless eyes gazing in horror, then glanced out the smashed northern entrance, reassuring himself once again that nothing had changed. The Boundary still pulsed in a single, comfortingly solid curtain of blue and white.

  They were far from safe, but this wasn’t the end. Not yet.

  He swallowed as he gazed at the wall of energy, remembering again how it had been restored. Even in that success, he had mixed emotions.

  “Torin.”

  Wirr looked around, grimacing as he saw his mother watching him uneasily. He knew that it wasn’t just their surroundings, now, not entirely—and he wasn’t sure that he could blame her. She knew that he could utter a command, and she would be forced to obey. That wasn’t something that anyone could simply ignore.

  “What is it?”

  “We need to leave.” Geladra’s eyes were tired. “We need to get back to Ilin Illan. To warn them.”

  Wirr bowed his head for a moment, biting back the cynical, frustrated urge to ask whether she was satisfied that the threat was real now. The carnage around them was reproof enough.

  “I know.” He gazed across the courtyard. There were corpses everywhere but it was worst at the southern gate; the entrance was all but clogged with bodies, evidence of how many men and women had broken, desperately tried to flee the rain of death. “A few more minutes. I just want to be sure.”

  Geladra sighed, but inclined her head. She glanced over toward Karaliene, on the opposite side of the courtyard, bent over yet another motionless form as she checked for life. “A few minutes. No more,” she said softly. “We need to get you both as far from here as possible. Now that the Augur’s gone, we have no way of escaping if those creatures come back.”

  Wirr acknowledged the statement with a brief nod, stomach lurching again as he considered the possibility. He didn’t think that the dar’gaithin or eletai would return—they had no reason to—but he barely had any Essence left in his Reserve as it was. If any did come back, or if he and the others encountered s
ome on the road before he’d had a chance to recover his strength, then they would be all but helpless.

  How many had made it through before the Boundary had been restored? Two thousand? Three? And perhaps half as many eletai? He felt a violent chill at the thought. Even if the creatures scattered, there were enough of them to cause terror and panic on an unprecedented scale for years to come.

  And too many in one place—if they had any semblance of cohesion or organization—then they would be able to tear any one of Andarra’s cities to the ground.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself against the horror of the thought. The Boundary was sealed, but they hadn’t won a victory here today. Not even close.

  “What are you going to tell Administration?” he asked eventually.

  Geladra hesitated.

  “I will convince them of the threat.” His mother looked him in the eye. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

  Wirr said nothing.

  Geladra sighed again. “I don’t know. I need time to think about it. But whatever this power that you have is … it’s wrong, Torin.”

  Wirr’s heart sank. “I haven’t used it,” he assured her firmly. “I could have commanded everyone to vote for me, but I didn’t. I did the right thing. I’ve done the right thing ever since I learned of it.”

  “You have,” conceded Geladra slowly, to Wirr’s surprise a note of pride in her tone. “But can you guarantee that you’ll continue to do so? When it came down to it, you forced me to try and leave. I know why you did it, but it nearly killed me.”

  Wirr rubbed his forehead wearily. “So you don’t trust me with it?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Geladra quietly. She waved her hand around at the destruction of the outpost. “You have made your case, Torin—this is a danger beyond anything that I had imagined, and these monsters are …” She shuddered. “I … I’ve been wrong. About you. I still don’t agree with a lot of the things that you’ve done, but this is real, and that at least deserves a conversation.” She said the words slowly, and Wirr could tell that the admission came hard for her.

  He considered her for a moment and then inclined his head, breathing out. It was a start.

  His mother sighed. “It doesn’t mean, however, that I should just ignore what you can do. Because there will always be arguments which you have no other way of winning. And one day, there might just be a cause that will tempt you too much.” She saw his expression and shook her head in frustration. “I’m not trying to make a comment on your character, Son. I’m making a comment on people. I don’t know a soul alive who could resist using that sort of power forever.”

  Wirr looked away. He hated to concede the point, but he knew that there was at least some truth to what she was saying.

  “This is something that we should probably talk about later,” he eventually said softly. “I’ll go and tell Kara that we’re leaving.”

  His mother nodded, looking vaguely relieved; Wirr wandered across the courtyard, stepping carefully to avoid treading on splayed limbs or pools of sticky red. Karaliene’s expression was somber, distant, as she gently closed the eyes of another corpse, then carefully doused it with liquid from a decanter.

  Wirr frowned as he watched her; she’d already done the same with several other bodies in the courtyard, as evidenced by empty flasks set over to the side. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Karaliene turned in surprise, evidently not having heard him approach.

  She hesitated.

  “We can’t leave them like this,” she said eventually. “I know we have to go, but … if we can’t bury them, then we can at least make sure that they’re not left for the animals. We can give them some dignity in death.”

  Wirr grimaced as he understood. “A pyre?”

  “Something like that.” Karaliene’s gaze pleaded with him. “There are only a few inside. If we put them all out here together in the middle of the courtyard, it won’t damage the outpost.”

  “Not that it was much use to begin with,” observed Wirr heavily. He sighed, but nodded; the outpost hadn’t exactly been heavily manned, so it was not going to be an enormous undertaking. “All right. But let’s be quick.”

  It was grisly work, and his mother was far from pleased by the delay, but with all of them pitching in it didn’t take long. When the last of the bodies had finally been dragged from inside, Karaliene quickly began emptying the remainder of the decanters, evidently wanting to be done here just as much as Wirr.

  He wrinkled his nose as he leaned against the southern wall; the midday sun was already going to work on the corpses, the smell permeating through the sharp tang of alcohol. He gazed at the sight, despite part of him wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and block it out. Black spears jutted everywhere from the corpses, though there seemed to be less of the glistening barbs than there had been initially. He and the other two had been cautious not to touch them. There was no telling what poisonous qualities the black slime on them held.

  “I think that’s all,” he said to his mother, who was facing him, her back turned to the gruesome sight. “We’re going to have to travel cautiously. We have no idea what these creatures will do now that they’re free to roam. They may keep heading south, but they may equally settle nearby and start preying on anyone and anything that comes by. We should …”

  He trailed off with a frown.

  Just behind his mother the pile of corpses shifted again, definitely not his imagination. Karaliene was at the opposite side of the courtyard, pouring out the last of the alcohol.

  “Kara? Are you seeing—”

  It all happened in a moment. A man emerged from underneath two other bodies, and Wirr’s eyes widened as he looked at what he first thought was a survivor that they’d somehow missed.

  He took in the black eyes, the strange, jerky movement and the protruding lumps beneath his shirt far too late.

  The man—if that was what he even was now—extended his hand toward Geladra.

  A dripping black blade ripped from his wrist, slicing out through skin in a spray of blood and then plunging clean through Geladra’s back until it extended out of her chest. Geladra barely made a sound as she collapsed.

  Wirr stood frozen as the attacker turned to him, but from behind, Karaliene was quicker. She had already lit one of the torches on the wall in preparation; she snatched it from its socket and hurled it at the man, who still dripped with the alcohol that he’d been doused with earlier.

  The man exploded into flame.

  Wirr grabbed his mother’s prone form by the arm and dragged her toward the exit, quickly helped by Karaliene as the half-human creature screamed and flailed, stumbling back into other bodies which then also began to catch. The mound of corpses began to writhe and Wirr felt bile rise in his throat, quickly forcing it down again and concentrating on getting his mother clear.

  Once they were far enough from the gate, Wirr dropped to his knees, carefully laying his mother’s body on the ground. He knew before he checked what he would find, though.

  The blade had pierced her heart. Geladra’s eyes were open and sightless, and she was not breathing.

  Wirr choked back a sob, pouring the last of his Essence into her, searching for any sign of life.

  Nothing happened.

  He sat like that for a minute. Two. Longer; he wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a hand on his shoulder finally startled him from his grief.

  “I’m sorry, Tor, but we … we need to burn her, too,” said Karaliene softly. “We can’t let her come back as one of those … things.”

  Wirr nodded in tired, grief-stricken acknowledgment. He didn’t understand how, but it was clear now that those black blades were more than mere weapons.

  Slowly he dragged himself to his feet, then picked up Geladra’s body. It felt lighter than it had before.

  He grimaced at the intense heat emanating from the courtyard, holding his breath and pressing forward until he was rig
ht at the limit of the temperature that he could withstand. As gently as he could, he laid his mother’s body so that it stretched across an already-burning corpse, watching for a few moments to ensure that it caught.

  Then he retreated, dazed and numb, to stand beside his cousin. They watched as the flames rose higher, visible over the top of the walls now.

  Karaliene began to sing.

  Wirr didn’t know the song and barely took in the words but it was a shimmering, haunting dirge. When she was done, there was silence for several seconds.

  “Thank you,” said Wirr eventually. “That was beautiful.”

  Karaliene nodded absently.

  “One of my favorite songs,” she said softly. “I just wish that there were happier times to sing it.” She laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “We’re going to figure out how to stop them, Tor.”

  “I know.” Wirr swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched the flames. “I know.”

  After a few more moments they turned in unspoken agreement, starting slowly down the southern road, leaving the distant pulsing blue-white light and the closer, crackling red of the blazing pyre behind them.

  Epilogue

  Despite the waning of the weakly refracted sun, Davian sweated as he trudged across yet another desolate, endless plain.

  He gave a tired glance to his left. Fessi looked as exhausted as he felt, dust mixed with sweat streaked across her face from where she’d been wiping it, unable to hide the dark circles under her eyes and a hollow, vacant stare as she shambled along. Davian knew that she was forcing one foot in front of the other, ignoring the blisters, pressing down the surreal moment-to-moment panic of what they were going through. He’d been doing exactly the same for the past six days.

  He grimaced as he stumbled on a protruding rock and the black-armored soldier behind him clamped his shoulder, preventing him from falling. He suspected that it was from a desire for speed, not any sense of compassion. The three Blind who had been tasked with taking them on this journey had not abused them, exactly, but nor had they cared for their injuries or listened to their pleas to slow down.