James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

"Evening, friend." A pretty girl planted herself in front of him. "Can I help you?"

Davian grimaced. He knew how he looked - dishevelled, clothes ragged, a pack on his back that was clearly empty. More like a potential thief than a customer.

"I’m out of coin," he admitted. "But I’m willing to work for a meal. Anything you need doing. You don’t have to feed me until after I’m done, but -"

"That’s fine." The girl’s expression softened. "We’ll work something out later. You look exhausted. Take a seat and I’ll see what cook has to spare."

Davian gave her a grateful smile in return. The girl was striking, with long legs and green eyes that seemed to shine in the firelight. For a second, she seemed almost familiar… though he couldn’t say whom she reminded him of.

He collapsed into the nearest chair, relieved to rest despite knowing he didn’t need it. It wasn’t too long before the serving girl was back, placing a large plate of steaming meat and vegetables in front of him.

Davian looked at it in astonishment; at the few places that had been willing to trade food for work, the meals had been stingy at best. "I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this," he said sincerely.

"Times being what they are, we can all use a little help."

Davian nodded, his expression serious. He’d heard about the invaders at the first big town he’d come across after Deilannis, and had pushed himself hard ever since. He had abilities now - a way to help Wirr and the others, help fight whatever was coming from the Boundary. He had to get to Ilin Illan before it was too late.

"Any word on the invasion?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"Folk are saying King Andras has sent out troops, but… a lot of people are getting out of the city." The girl flashed him a pretty smile, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Davian paused mid-mouthful, suddenly aware of just how attractive the girl was. Her tight-fitting outfit showed off her full figure to good effect, and he forced himself to focus on his plate as she leaned forward.

"That’s good the king is sending troops," he said, a little distracted. Then he remembered his vision, the one from Deilannis, and grimaced. "Hopefully."

"Hopefully," agreed the girl with an easy smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I’m Ishelle. You can call me Shel."

"Nice to meet you, Shel. I’m Davin. Davian." Davian shook his head, flushing as he corrected himself. His mind was sluggish.

Ishelle’s smile changed, and she looked… sad. "You don’t remember me, do you?"

Davian frowned. He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but suddenly his tongue seemed thicker than usual, and the only sound that came out was an odd gurgling. He tried to focus on Ishelle’s face, but everything seemed blurry.

With a rising panic, he realized the expression on her face had not been sadness. It had been guilt.

He tried to stand, but the hard wooden floor of the tavern rushed up to meet him.

Everything faded.

Davian shook his head, then groaned at the motion.

His skull felt as though it were about to split in two, and movement seemed to only make matters worse. His mouth was dry and his eyelids gummed, but when he tried to move his hands to rub his face, he found that they were tied to his sides. He turned his head, looking around blearily from his position on the bed.

The room he was in was nondescript. The bed and a couple of chairs were the only pieces of furniture that he could see; otherwise the timber floors and walls were bare. A small window provided what little light there was, the illumination clearly originating from a street lamp, indicating that it was still night.

Vaguely, he began recalling the events of earlier in the evening. Ishelle had clearly drugged him with something – why, he had no idea – but if she believed she could keep him tied up, then she was going to be surprised.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with kan. There were sources of Essence everywhere – including people - but he chose to draw it from the fire that burned in the kitchen. He only needed a little, not even enough to extinguish the flames.

He solidified the Essence, made it razor-sharp and then sliced through his bonds, grimacing as he remembered where he’d learnt that trick. Once free he stood and stretched muscles stiff from disuse, feeling almost casual as he surveyed his surroundings.

Absently, he realised he had a Shackle around his arm. It made little difference to him – it only stopped Essence being drawn from within, something he couldn’t do anyway – but it was an irritation. He concentrated for a moment, intrigued. The Shackle was just a layer of kan, containing Essence within the body. Of course. He pushed at the metal on his arm with kan for a few moments, experimenting. The Shackle suddenly retracted, falling to the floor with a clatter.

He grinned to himself.

He strode to the door, drawing a little more Essence from the fireplace to ease the ache in his muscles. Immediately they felt looser, stronger. He reached for the door handle.

“Very impressive,” came a voice from behind him.

He spun, ready to defend himself. A man stood in the corner of the room; Davian was certain he had not been there a moment ago.

“Who are you?” Davian drew in the remaining Essence from the fire, as well as a little from the heat of the kettle that had been boiling atop it. Not much, but enough to do some damage if required. “Why did you take me prisoner?”

The man smiled. “Prisoner?” He sighed. “I must apologise for Ishelle’s… less than subtle method of delaying you. She had strict instructions to keep you here until I arrived. I’m afraid she was a little overzealous.”

Davian scowled. “You haven’t answered my question.”

The man sighed again. “My name is Driscin Throll. I am an Elder from Tol Shen,” he said, offering his hand. When Davian didn’t shake it, he dropped it with an impatient roll of his eyes. “You’re not a prisoner. You are here for me to make you an offer, nothing more. All I ask is that you hear what I have to say, and then you may continue on your journey.”

Davian gave him a suspicious glare. “Very well.” He concentrated, pushing through kan and searching out Driscin’s mind. He would find out exactly what this man intended before he agreed to anything.

As he stretched out, though, he found himself blocked by an invisible barrier. He frowned, probing the shield, trying to push past it, but it was no use. Driscin’s mind was being protected by another source of kan.

Driscin saw the surprise on his face and smiled. “As I said before. Impressive,” he said thoughtfully. He glanced towards the door. “You can show yourself now, Shel.”

Davian turned, expecting to see the door swing open. Instead there was a shimmering in the air, like a mirage in the desert; in an instant Ishelle stood before them, having seemingly appeared from nowhere. Davian took a half-step back.

“Haven’t seen that one?” the young woman asked with a cheeky grin.

Davian’s eyes widened. “You’re an Augur?” It was the only thing that made sense. Essence alone couldn’t make someone invisible, he was certain. Ishelle must have been using kan somehow. She’d been the reason he couldn’t Read Driscin, too, no doubt.

“Surprise,” said Ishelle.

Davian stared at her for a moment. “You drugged me,” he said, his tone accusatory. His head was beginning to clear of the effects of whatever she had given him, but he was still a little foggy.

Ishelle made a face. “I had to make sure you didn’t go anywhere. Driscin was only a few hours away, but you have a nasty habit of disappearing for long periods of time.”

Driscin waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll get to that later,” he said. “Sufficed to say, we know who you are, Davian.”