James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Davian felt the blood drain from his face as he processed the information, and for a moment he thought his knees might buckle. “Tomorrow?” he repeated dazedly.

Ilseth nodded. “At first light.”

Davian was too light-headed to respond.

He walked on towards the gates of the school in stunned, disbelieving silence.

Davian was numb as he tethered Jeni.

Ilseth had already departed in the direction of the Elders’ quarters, murmuring something about finding his travelling companions. Davian finished his task and trudged towards Talean’s office, still light-headed, scar throbbing as it always did when stress got the better of him. The tiny hope he’d been clinging to for the last few months had finally faded. Disappeared.

The Administrator stood as Davian entered, grimacing as he saw the expression on the boy’s face. “You’ve heard.”

Davian nodded, his chest tight. “I met one of the Elders in Caladel.” He recounted the incident in town.

Talean shook his head, looking dismayed. “I am sorry, Davian.” He scowled to himself. “And embarrassed. I will speak to Administration in Caladel first thing tomorrow, you have my word.”

Davian inclined his head. He knew the Administrator who had ignored his plight would never be identified, but he appreciated the gesture. “Thank-you.”

Talean was silent for a few moments as he placed his hand on the Shackle around Davian’s arm. “I’ve been thinking about your situation. I am happy to plead your case, if you wish me to,” he said suddenly as the cold force that had been sitting beneath Davian’s skin seemed to draw back into the torc. Talean removed the device and placed it back in its cupboard, continuing, “For most people, the extra few weeks wouldn’t matter. But for you, they may have made a difference. There is no reason the Gifted cannot take you along to Tol Athian, put you through the Trials at the proper time.”

Davian felt like a drowning man clutching at a piece of driftwood. “Do you think they would agree to that?”

“I don’t know,” said Talean honestly. "I don’t know what these Elders are like.” He hesitated. “I cannot use the Fourth Tenet to make them do it, though. I hope you understand that.”

Davian nodded; the thought had occurred to him, but Talean was right. “You can’t interfere with the affairs of the school. I know,” he said. “If you would speak to them on my behalf, though, I would be in your debt.” Talean wasn’t like the Administrators in Caladel – or anywhere else, if the stories were true. He believed in the Treaty, in protecting the Gifted just as much as protecting everyone else from them. He would do his best to help.

Talean gave him a slight smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just remember that we Administrators are not all bad, and that will be payment enough.”

Davian nodded, unable to summon a smile in return. “When can you talk to them?”

Talean glanced out the window. Davian followed his gaze to see three red-cloaked figures – one of them Ilseth – striding across the courtyard towards the Elders’ quarters.

“No time like the present,” noted Talean, pulling his blue cloak across his shoulders. “I’ll find you as soon as I have an answer.”

Davian swallowed, suddenly nervous again as he watched Talean hurry after the newcomers.

He made his way back to his room, avoiding eye contact with the other students he passed. Word had spread of tomorrow’s Trials, and everyone knew what that meant for Davian; with less than a hundred people living within the school walls, his inability to use the Gift was far from a secret.

Some people still stopped him as he passed and wished him luck for the morning, their expressions bidding him a pitying farewell. Those conversations always died out, the well-wishers trailing off awkwardly and eventually retreating. Others glanced away when they saw him, as if they feared that by acknowledging him, they would somehow share his fate.

He’d thought that reaching the relative safety of his quarters would help matters, but he only had to glance at the faces of Wirr and Asha – who were waiting for him – to know he was wrong. The rims of Asha’s eyes were red, and Wirr was more subdued than he had ever seen his friend. Davian opened the door to let them inside, then slumped onto his bed, the last of his energy leaving him.

Asha and Wirr sat either side of him, silent for a time. Asha eventually put her arm around his shoulders and pressed him close to her. Her physical proximity would normally have made Davian awkward, but today it made him feel like his heart was being wrenched from his chest.

Just like everyone else, this was her saying goodbye.

They sat there for what seemed like minutes, Davian letting Asha’s soft blond hair press against his cheek. Eventually he took a deep breath and straightened, forcing a smile.

“If you two could stand it one last time,” he began in a light tone, careful not to choke on his emotions, “ perhaps you could keep me company this evening?”

They both nodded immediately. “Of course,” said Wirr. He hesitated. “Do you want to practice at all?”

Davian shook his head. “I just want to spend some time with my friends,” he said softly.

Wirr’s face twisted for a moment, revealing the depth of his pain. It was gone in an instant. “Then so it shall be,” he said with a smile.

After a while longer they wandered back downstairs, taking their dinner and then finding their usual spot atop the tall, west-facing wall of the school. The view over Caladel and the ocean beyond was spectacular as always; the setting sun bathed everything in a warm, almost otherworldly orange glow. A few of the returning fishing vessels were silhouetted against the glittering water, making their way tranquilly into harbour at the end of a long day. A great hawk circled above them; the three of them just watched the majestic creature soar for a while, mesmerised, silent but completely comfortable in each others’ company.

Davian closed his eyes for a second, capturing the image: sitting with his friends high above everything, his troubles for just a moment held at bay. It was perfect. A perfect farewell to his friends, his life. He would remember this and always think of better times.

They talked of small things. Davian decided not to tell them about Talean’s efforts to help; as more time passed, he became increasingly sure that a reprieve would not come. He would face his Trials tomorrow, the same as everyone else of age. And he would face the consequences of failure as stoically as he could.

Finally the sun dipped below the horizon, and the gentle sea breeze soon became unbearably cold. When they reached the bottom of the wall, Talean was waiting for them. One look at his face told Davian all he needed to know.

“It seems I am saying this a lot today, Davian,” said Talean, voice rough with emotion, “ but I am sorry. They refused.”

Though Davian had been expecting it, the news still felt like a punch to the stomach. “Thank-you for trying,” he said, doing his best to sound calm.

Talean inclined his head. “El be with you tomorrow,” he said, a hint of sadness in his tone. Davian blinked; he’d never heard an Administrator invoke the Old Religion before.

Talean looked as though he was going to say more, then spun on his heel and walked away.

Wirr and Asha both gave Davian a questioning look, but he just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said heavily. His last sliver of hope gone, tiredness came crashing in. “I think perhaps I should get some sleep." He forced a smile at the other two. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

His friends smiled back, though he could see the pain in their eyes. Wirr nodded, and Asha gave him a lingering hug. “We will see you in the morning, Dav,” she said, looking close to tears.