James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Alarais saw which way his friend was deciding, and thought to warn him. He made to cry out, but Ghash raised his hand, and all words fled from Alarais' lips.

Diadan turned to Ghash, his face glowing with excitement. “I accept your offer,” he said.

At those words he fell dead to the floor.

“The second task is failed,” intoned Ghash. “The greatest of your friends refused your advice, and so was unworthy of your friendship.”

Alarais dropped to his knees and wept for his dead friend. Then he left Kyste without saying another word, the burden on his heart almost too heavy to bear.

For generations, Alarais mourned the death of his friend. The final task weighed on him, and yet he knew that Ghash would know if he simply stopped trying to fulfil it. So he searched, but was never satisfied. A thousand beautiful, intelligent, interesting, honourable women passed through his court each year, but he found none of them more special than the others. The price of immortality on love was too high, the pain too great. Only for a great love would he take such a risk. Alarais had never wed for exactly this reason.

Five hundred years passed, and Alarais met Teravia, the Shard Princess. Few women Alarais had ever seen could match her beauty, and yet it was her wit that drew him to her, and her warmth and kindness that slowly turned his heart. She was wise with the purity of innocence, witty but never mean-spirited, charming but never ingratiating. And beyond all that, above all, she loved Alarais. Not just as a powerful king, an honourable warrior, an intelligent strategist. She loved him as a man, with all his faults and failings. And he loved her in return.

Their wedding was celebrated throughout all the Shining Lands.

Their marriage was the stuff of legend. Teravia was beloved by the people of the Shining Lands; as queen she was as wise as her husband, and a time of unprecedented peace lay across the realm. Alarais had never been happier than when he was with Teravia.

It was a great love, a true love, and yet Alarais did not tell Teravia about the third task. He did not ask her to accompany him to Kyste to see Ghash. Diadan’s death - and Jadlis’ before him - still weighed on his mind, and the thought of losing Teravia was more than he could bear. And so he waited, telling himself each year that he would try the next.

Sixty years passed, and Teravia became gravely ill. The country ground to a halt as word spread of the queen’s sickness, with every man, woman and child hoping against hope that she would be miraculously healed.

Her time drawing to a close, Teravia met with her friends, then her children, to bid them farewell. Finally all that was left was Alarais, who knelt by her bed holding her hand. Even aged, even on her deathbed, she was beautiful.

Teravia smiled when she saw him. “Husband,” she whispered, “why do you look so sad?”

And so he told her. About Ghash and the three tasks. About Diadan and his failure. As Alarais spoke, Teravia’s smile turned to a look of pain and sorrow.

“Why did you not take me to see Ghash, all these years?” she asked. “Do you not think our love is true?”

“Our love is more than true. It is a great love,” said Alarais, tears in his eyes. “But I was afraid. Afraid of losing you before your time, as I lost my friend Diadan.” He closed his eyes. “This burden, I could not have borne.”

Teravia looked on her husband sadly, squeezing his hand. “You should have trusted me,” she whispered. “I would not have failed you, my love.”

Her grip loosened and her gaze faded. With those words, Teravia, Last Queen of the Shining Lands, passed on.

Alarais looked on her and wept bitter tears, for he knew in his selfishness he had not only lost his chance to prove Ghash wrong, but left Teravia believing she had not had his trust.

When his eyes cleared, he was before Ghash in Kyste once again. How he came to be there, he did not know.

“You have broken our agreement, Alarais. You spoke of our accord to another.”

Alarais nodded. “I did.”

Ghash leaned back. “Yet she is dead. I will overlook your mistake, should you wish it.”

Alarais shook his head. “I finally found a woman worthy of my love,” he said softly, “ only to discover I was not worthy of hers.” He straightened. “I concede to you, mighty Ghash. You spoke the truth; the tasks you set me were impossible. I will serve you as you see fit. The Shining Lands are yours.” He spoke truly, for his spirit, and his heart, were broken.

Ghash rose from his throne, eyes burning. “It is done!” he proclaimed joyfully. He fitted Alarais in the black armour of Telaesthesia and charged him to lead his army against the Shining Lands.

Alarais did as he was commanded, slaughtering those he had once sworn to protect. The Shining Lands, without a king and facing a force unlike any they had ever seen, fell swiftly into chaos and destruction.

So ends the story of the Impossible Tasks of Alarais Shar.

Davian stared at the book thoughtfully for several minutes.

It had made no mention of Aarkein Devaed; if it had not been for the picture at the beginning, he would not have thought this story had anything to do with Devaed at all. Was Alarais Shar actually Aarkein Devaed? Or was Ghash? Or had he made a mistake by picturing the symbol when using the Adviser, leading himself to a book that held no useful information at all? He gritted his teeth in frustration.

He read the story again, but gleaned no more from it than the first time. Finally, reluctantly, he snapped the book shut, drew some Essence from the lamp, and got to his feet.

He’d probably have time to examine it again, and read the remainder of the stories in the book, once he reached Ilin Illan.

For now, though, he needed to keep moving.

Asha gaped a little as she entered the ballroom.

She’d never been in this part of the palace before. A vaulted ceiling held thousands of tiny crystal lanterns that reflected softly off the polished black marble floor, highlighting the dazzling designs of inlaid white marble and gold. Tables lined the enormous room, each filled with gleaming silver platters and goblets. Arched stained-glass windows let in the last of dusk’s light; these depicted various scenes – battles, moments from legend – in stunning colour and detail.

"Impressive, isn’t it," murmured Michal from next to her.

Asha nodded. "It is, but… they still shouldn’t be going ahead with this. Not now," she said quietly as they were ushered to their seats. She rubbed her forehead, trying not to sound bitter. "I just don’t understand why everyone is trying to hide from what’s happening."

Michal was silent for a few seconds, then glanced at her sideways. "You’re not just talking about tonight, are you."

"No." They’d had a meeting at Tol Athian earlier that day, in which Elder Eilinar had informed them that if the Tenets were not changed, they would not be joining in the defence of the city. "The Gifted could make a real difference healing the wounded in a battle. I understand that they’re angry, that they feel like they’re being asked to go out and fight without any way to defend themselves. But to hide in Tol Athian while the city gets attacked is just…." She shook her head in frustration.

Michal gave her a reassuring smile. "I actually agree, but it’s not going to come to that. General Jash’tar and his forces will have dealt with the Blind soon enough. And if for some reason they do not, I’m sure the king will reconsider." He shrugged. "As for tonight, the Northwarden is perfectly within his rights to celebrate the return of his only son."