James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Davian inclined his head. "As soon as this invasion has been defeated - but as I said, it will just be until we figure out how to seal the Boundary." They both stood. “Thank-you for the meal,” Davian added sincerely.

Ishelle nodded. “Thank-you for the company,” she said with a small smile, apparently willing to forgive his deception. “And keep safe. I don’t want you dying until I get that answer from you.” She nodded towards the stairs. “If you change your mind about staying the night, you can have the room upstairs. First on the left. It’s paid for until tomorrow, and I thought you might like somewhere familiar to sleep.”

She flashed a pretty smile at him and then before he could respond, spun on her heel and disappeared out the door.

Davian stared after her for a moment, not sure whether to be irritated or amused.

He shook his head, but despite his best efforts he felt a small smile force its way onto his face.

Still smiling, he walked up the stairs to the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He had no intention of staying the night, but before he left, he was going to take advantage of the lamplight and the comfortable bed.

He was going to keep searching through his book for information about Aarkein Devaed.

Davian lay on the bed, opening the book he had taken from the Great Library and flipping through to where he’d left off, rescanning the pages as he went for any clue as to why the Adviser had picked it out.

He was almost to the end of the thick tome, and thus far, the book had been exactly what it seemed - a collection of old fables, interesting enough but meaningless as far as he could tell. A few pages in tonight, though, a small picture at the beginning of one of the stories caught his eye. Frowning, he studied it carefully.

The image was of a soldier. Whereas most of the other drawings he’d seen in the book were rudimentary, even fanciful, this one was detailed, as if the soldier had actually posed for the picture. The man’s armour was shaded so that it had a dark aspect to it, but the headpiece was what caught Davian’s eye. There were no gaps for eyes, and over the face, a sole symbol was inscribed. Three ‘S’ lines, drawn vertically, and circled.

The same symbol he’d seen in his vision.

Hands shaking slightly, he moved on to what was written beneath.

Hail, king of traitors!

We who knew you mourn what was lost.

Only a shadow remains:

A whisper where once a shout,

A pond where once an ocean,

A flickering candle where once the sun itself.

Hail, king of corruption!

We who serve you despair for what is to come.

You will break the Oath,

You will shatter the Path,

You will sing the Song of Days as a dirge.

Your people will weep tears of ice and blood

And only the fallen will know peace.

He flipped slowly to the beginning of the story and began to read.

The Impossible Tasks of Alarais Shar

(Translated from the original High Darecian)

In the Shining Lands, the immortal king Alarais Shar once reigned.

He was known as one of the great kings; perhaps the great king. He forged a treaty with the vicious northern Qui’tir. He led the final battle against the Darklands and was victorious, sealing their domain away from the mortal world forever. He was wise in his rulings, swift and decisive in dispensing justice, and beloved by his people.

Much was his immortality discussed. Steel could not pierce his skin; fire did not burn him and his bones did not break. No-one knew the source of his longevity, but of all the mages in the Shining Lands, he was the most powerful.

One day Alarais heard of a new power rising to the east, a king who had united the lands of Kal and Derethmar. He determined to seek out this new king. He hoped to discover an ally, but the reports he had heard of the new king’s victories disturbed him greatly, and so he held out little hope.

He rode for many miles and eventually came to the great city of Kyste. Once beautiful and proud, the buildings now lay mostly in ruins, and the people stared blankly at Alarais as he rode by, their clothes little more than rags, their stomachs distended by lack of food. The dead lay in the street next to piles of refuse. Though they had been the Shining Lands' sworn enemies, Alarais wept when he saw what had befallen Kal’s people.

By the time he reached the palace itself, Alarais was filled with a burning anger. His eyes blazed with righteous fury as he was led before the man who had conquered Kal, and who now did so little for its people.

The man on the throne of Kal was not what Alarais had expected. As a man, he was impressive. Tall, strong and handsome, the new king looked every inch a warrior, a hero. But as Alarais looked at him, he seemed to shimmer, to pulse and fade with a strange, otherworldly energy. He seemed more an ethereal being, an apparition rather than a mortal.

Still, Alarais was unafraid, and what he had seen in the city was still fresh in his mind. He stood before the throne proudly, waiting for the king to address him, as was proper. But the shimmering man simply watched him, until Alarais could take the silence no longer.

“I am Alarais Shar, King of the Shining Lands.” He paused, but the man on the throne said nothing. “I had come to see if a bond of friendship could be forged between our lands. But I have seen the state of Kyste. I have seen her people’s suffering, and cannot fathom the reason for it. Why do you not help them?”

Still there was silence. Just when Alarais had determined to leave and return home, the shimmering man spoke. “I am Ghash, Seer of the White Temple, Herald of Shammaeloth. The ones of which you speak are beyond saving. This I have Seen.”

“How can you say this?” cried Alarais in frustration.

“I have Seen the destruction of those who still live here,” replied Ghash. “I have Seen what is to come. To help them now would be wasteful.”

Alarais did not understand. “If you see their destruction, then why not save them?”

“Because what has been Seen cannot be undone. No efforts of yours or mine can change their fate.”

“I cannot accept that,” said Alarais stubbornly.

“And yet you must,” said Ghash, “ for I have long known your fate too, Alarais Shar. The Shining Lands will fall, and you will come to serve me willingly. Together we are to conquer the world.”

Alarais laughed, and Ghash saw that he would not easily be convinced. “Allow me to prove what I say,” he said. “I will set you three tasks. If you can complete any of the three, I will withdraw from these lands. If you cannot fulfil even one, though, you will serve me, and the Shining Lands shall be mine.”

Alarais replied, “I cannot accept this challenge without first knowing what tasks you will set.”

Ghash nodded. “So be it,” he said. “Hear the tasks I would give you: first, to find a subject worthy of your kingship; second, to find a man worthy of your friendship; and third, to find a woman worthy of your love.”

Alarais laughed. “These are weighty tasks indeed, mighty Ghash. How long might you wait for me to complete them?”

Ghash smiled. “I am like you, Alarais - untouched by time. Search for however long you need. I know you to be a man of honour. Once you know a task to be impossible, you will tell me. Until then, I will not move against your realm.” He paused. “I ask only that you speak of your quest to no-one, including those whom you bring here. Should you do this, I will know, and will consider all three tasks to have been failed.”