James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Holding his breath, he started up them as quickly as he could, praying that the dim starlight was not enough for anyone to see the shadowy silhouette clambering upward. It was slow, exhausting progress with the princess over his shoulder, and he felt more exposed the higher he climbed. His skin crawled, and every moment he expected to hear cries of alarm.

Finally, though, he gained the upper balcony, relieved beyond measure to see that one of the windows had been left ajar. He opened it a little wider and climbed awkwardly through, careful not to make any noise. There would doubtless be guards posted outside Karaliene’s quarters; any suspicious sound and they would come rushing in.

He carried Karaliene over to her bed, laying her gently across it. He held his breath as she started to stir, but the princess simply rolled over into a more comfortable position, eyes still shut. Caeden exhaled, then exited through the window again, closing it until the latch clicked neatly behind him.

He paused for a moment on the balcony, awestruck by the view. This was the highest accessible point in all of Ilin Illan; before him the city was laid out like a living map, the outline of every building discernible in the starlight. Beyond the streets he could see a ship slipping down the river, visible only thanks to its bobbing lights.

Even with the details obscured by darkness, it was breathtaking.

But he didn’t dare tarry to enjoy the sight, especially here where an errant glance from a guard would undo him. He turned for one last glance at the princess, to ensure she was still sleeping.

He froze.

Karaliene was sitting up in her bed, eyes open, staring through the window at him. There was a look of curiosity on her face, but no alarm.

Caeden didn’t wait for her to cry out. He fled for the stairs at a dead run, getting to the bottom just ahead of a patrol. He made it back to his own quarters unseen, out of breath as he finally shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, heedless of the bloodstains that marred his clothing. He felt the cold metal of the Shackle press against his back.

Without hesitation, he reached around and grabbed it, then placed it against his arm.

Nothing happened.

“It won’t work. You can’t put it on yourself,” came a deep voice.

Caeden leapt to his feet again, relaxing only a fraction when he saw its owner.

Taeris was standing in the doorway to the adjoining room. He had evidently been waiting for Caeden’s return; the older man was watching him closely - not fearfully, exactly, but with an abundance of caution.

Caeden found himself colouring, and he let the Shackle fall to the ground with a clatter. The full toll of the night finally crashed down on him, and he sank back onto the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He truly was. He’d betrayed Taeris’ trust, hedged his bets so that he didn’t have to choose a side. He realised now that it was time to make that choice.

Taeris gave him the slightest of smiles, though his expression was still stern. “You came back. That’s a start.” He walked over to the bed, seating himself next to Caeden and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“But it certainly seems we have much to talk about,” he added quietly.

Caeden watched as Taeris leaned back, evidently trying to absorb everything he’d just been told.

Caeden had spent the past half-hour explaining the events of the evening and, to a lesser extent, what had precipitated them. About how Alaris had contacted him through the dok’en, had warned him against revealing information to the Gifted. Had warned him to distrust them completely.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Taeris' expression was more thoughtful than angry.

Caeden looked at the ground. “Alaris said that if you found out who I truly was, you would kill me.”

The scarred man nodded slowly. “You were scared.”

Caeden’s cheeks burned. “I should have trusted you,” he said, his voice catching. “I don’t know why I didn’t. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness and good faith since we met.”

“Trusting someone is one thing, lad. Trusting them with your life is another entirely. I can’t say that this has made things any easier for us here, but… I understand.” Taeris' tone was gentle, with only a hint of the frustration he surely must have been feeling.

"Thank-you," said Caeden softly. He paused, then gave Taeris a cautious glance. "How long were you waiting?"

"I came as soon as I felt that Essence blast. Not many of the Gifted around here could have produced that," Taeris observed dryly. He rubbed his forehead. “The men you fought. You’re certain they were Blind?”

“I think so. They didn’t have the helmets, but they were wearing black armour. They were a good deal faster than normal men, too.”

“And yet you killed all five of them.” Taeris raised an eyebrow.

Caeden hesitated. “I can do what they do, only… better. And without the armour.”

“You think it’s the armour giving them these powers?”

“I’m sure of it.” Caeden had already had some time to think about this. “Slowing your passage through time like that is an Augur ability; those five men couldn’t all have been Augurs. Combine that with the way their armour absorbed Essence….”

Taeris gave a thoughtful nod. “And as I said, I felt the blast from here. This is bad, Caeden. Very bad. It means that even if the Gifted get a chance to fight, we’re going to be less effective than we’d hoped.”

“I know.”

There was silence for a few seconds, then Taeris began pacing. “The question is - how did they get in? The city is supposed to be locked down; everyone is being searched as they enter. Men transporting black armour would certainly have been stopped.” He paused, frowning. “Unless, of course, they have been here for some time. Waiting.” He glanced at Caeden. “When did you make contact with Alaris?”

Caeden calculated. “Just after Deilannis. A month ago, perhaps?”

Taeris nodded to himself. “A week before the invasion began. Those men could have been sent ahead to help Das kill you - they could have slipped into the city as recently as a couple of weeks ago." He stared worriedly into space as another possibility occurred to him. "Or, they may have been sent ahead for a different purpose entirely, and Alaris simply took advantage of their presence here."

Caeden swallowed. "A different purpose… like what?"

"Scouting. Sabotage. Fates only know." Taeris was silent for a few seconds as he considered it some more, then shook his head. "Regardless - the Blind are clearly afraid of you, Caeden. Whatever is locked away in that memory of yours, it’s evidently something they don’t want uncovered." He rubbed his chin. "When you spoke to Alaris, did you tell him where you were going?"

"No." Caeden hesitated, grimacing as he recalled the conversation. "He knew I was travelling with Gifted, though. He probably could have guessed where I was headed… but he couldn’t be certain, so maybe Das was the bait. He knew that if I really wanted answers, I’d have to come here. Sooner rather than later, too, once I heard about the invasion."

"That sounds like it would be about right." Taeris bit his lip. "Unless…."

"Unless what?"

Taeris sighed. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the Blind, Caeden, and there’s always been something that hasn’t quite made sense. They’ve never acted like a conquering army, trying to maintain control of the territory they’ve gained. And if they were sent by Aarkein Devaed, why just a thousand men? We know there are at least dar’gaithin out there as well, so why not send them too - everything he has?"