James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Davian shrugged. Even without the odd sensation of being in someone else’s skin, he didn’t like this body at all. It ached everywhere, particularly the fingers, which he could barely move without a dull pain shooting through his hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his tone heavy with contrition. “It was a foolish thing to do. And it hurt .” He scratched his head. “Can you help me change back? Preferably without the pain this time,” he added with a shallow smile.

Malshash shook his head. “If you did this safely one way, all you need to do is picture your own face and do the same.” He sighed. “As for the pain… I’m afraid that’s unavoidable. It happens every time you change.”

Davian paled. He desperately didn’t want to go through that again.

Then he realised what Malshash was saying.

“But that means….” His eyes widened. “You do that every day ?”

Malshash grunted. “It certainly wakes me up in the morning.”

“But why?” exclaimed Davian. The thought of facing that pain each and every day chilled him to his core. “Why not just return to your own form?”

Malshash sighed. “I’ve already told you, Davian. I need it to hide, and my own shapeshifting ability is next to useless. The talent I have for it now was taken from Ath herself. If I don’t use it once during each day, it will return to her and I will be discovered… not to mention stuck in whatever form I happen to be in at the time.” He shrugged dismissively. “Believe me, if there was a better choice I would take it in a heartbeat.”

Davian gave a reluctant nod. “I suppose I should just get this over and done with, then.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No. It’s probably safer if someone is watching over me.”

Malshash inclined his head, moving over to a nearby chair and taking a seat.

As Malshash had indicated, the process of shapeshifting was just as painful in reverse. By the time the echoes of Davian’s screams had faded from the Great Library, though, he found himself fully aware of his surroundings. That was one thing, at least. The disorientation was not so bad changing back.

Malshash walked over to where he lay, offering his hand and dragging Davian to his feet. “You’re back,” he confirmed after a moment. He shook his head in amazement. “You pick things up so quickly it’s frightening, Davian.” His expression hardened. “But never try something like that again. Understand? These early lessons are by far the most dangerous. You may not kill yourself, but there are plenty of ways you could be badly injured playing around with kan.”

Davian bowed his head. “Of course,” he said in a penitent tone, his face burning. Inwardly, he kicked himself for his impatient overconfidence. Malshash had said these powers took a year and a day each to learn under normal circumstances. His teacher knew how important it was for Davian to grasp them; Malshash was pushing as hard as he thought possible. Davian had to trust him.

Malshash clapped Davian on the back. “I think this afternoon we should revisit what we’ve done so far. Make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

Davian smiled. “You mean I should slow down for a few hours.” He shrugged. “Agreed.”

They sat down to eat the meal Malshash had brought. Davian wolfed down his generous portion of food, a little surprised at the end that his stomach was still growling. He’d been eating more and more the last few days, but it never seemed to satisfy his hunger. Still, he’d been working harder than he ever had before. No doubt it was simply a side effect of that.

They eventually resumed their work, Malshash acting as if nothing untoward had happened that morning. Still, to begin with, the image of the stranger’s face in the mirror bothered Davian from time to time. He was sure he’d never seen the man before. There had to be a good explanation for it.

Eventually he became engrossed in the drills Malshash had set him, forgetting about it and all his other troubles for a time.

He didn’t even pay any attention to Malshash’s occasional glances towards him. Uncertain. Contemplating.

Worried.

Wirr stretched nervously.

Though he’d already begun to suspect, Taeris had just informed them that they were now less than a half-day’s travel away from Ilin Illan. The place where he’d grown up; the place where he was not simply Wirr, but Torin Wirrander Andras, prince of the realm. People would be bowing and scraping whenever he was around. They would always smile at him, even if it was through gritted teeth. He was leaving a world and a life he loved to return to one where most people he met wore a mask.

He’d begun seeing familiar landmarks over the past couple of days. They’d passed the Eloin Marshes this morning; yesterday they’d travelled through the mid-sized town of Goeth, where he had distant relatives with estates. Now, in the distance, the tip of Ilin Tora was just barely visible against the horizon. Every step he took felt heavier with reluctant inevitability. He’d known this day would come, though he’d wished against it constantly.

“Which problem are you worrying about?” came a soft voice at his side.

He started, whipping his head around. Dezia was walking beside him, looking torn between amusement and concern.

He smiled at her, though he knew the effort was a weak one at best. “I’m trying to give them all a fair shot at ruining my day,” he said lightly. He couldn’t help but widen his smile as the corners of Dezia’s mouth turned upward. A moment later he looked away, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. Being home meant seeing Dezia far less, too. If at all.

“Which one is winning at the moment?” she asked.

Wirr grunted, glancing around. They were slightly separate from the others, able to have a conversation without being in danger of anyone overhearing. “Going back to court,” he admitted. “Pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Dezia’s eyebrow raised a little. “As opposed to the last few years?”

Wirr sighed. “You know what I mean. I won’t even be able to look sideways at one of the Gifted for the next few years. And there will be… other restrictions on what I can do, too. Who I can spend time with.”

Dezia nodded slowly. "I know." She gave a small smile. "Though that doesn’t mean you won’t run into people. Coincidentally."

Wirr grinned. "Certainly. Sometimes you can’t avoid running into people," he agreed readily. His smile faded. "But still… it won’t be the same as out here." He shook his head in frustration. “I won’t even be able to help to find out what happened at the school. It will be nothing but lessons in politics, and maybe military tactics, for the foreseeable future.”

“As long as there is a foreseeable future,” observed Dezia, " the rest will work itself out." She reached over and squeezed his arm, a reassuring touch.

Wirr gave a grim nod in response. The past couple of days they had been moving very much against the flow of travellers; the closer they got to the city, the more people there seemed to be leaving it. Many were hauling carts and wagons filled to the brim with personal items. Some said they were leaving the city only as a precaution against the oncoming army, and expected to return once word came that the king’s forces had defeated the enemy. But others were not so certain.

“Do you believe what people are saying about the invaders?” he asked. “That they’re stronger and faster than normal men should be?”

Dezia shrugged. “I’m not sure. On one hand, it’s only a rumour, and it could be blown entirely out of proportion – I doubt we can trust what Jashel and Llys told us. On the other… we saw ourselves what they’re capable of. They obviously have some powers.” She sighed. “It is going to be a difficult time for your uncle.”