James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

They trailed after Elocien and Wirr, leaving the hubbub of the feast behind them as they moved into an adjoining room. The king was already seated, and he gestured for everyone else to follow suit. Princess Karaliene was there, as was Laiman Kardai and Dras Lothlar, the latter of whom looking especially displeased to see Michal and Asha.

The group was soon completed by Ionis, who looked even more disgruntled when he realised that both Tol Athian and Tol Shen were represented.

“What are they doing here?” he asked irritably, gesturing at Michal and Asha.

“I invited them,” said Elocien. “This discussion will doubtless revolve around the Gifted. They have just as much right to be a part of that conversation as us, Ionis.”

Ionis muttered something inaudible, but subsided as the duke looked at him steadily. Once the Administrator was seated, a middle-aged man – a general named Parathe, if Asha remembered correctly – stood.

“Jash’tar’s forces haven’t just been broken. They have been decimated,” announced Parathe. There was a heaviness to his tone, a despondency that made Asha’s heart sink.

Everyone just stared at the general for a moment, with more than one face going pale at the news.

“How?” asked Elocien. “They were told to dig in, to hold them up. Possibly to negotiate, if that was an option. But to retreat if necessary.”

Parathe shook his head. “It wasn’t in open battle. The Blind stopped marching when they saw our men coming; they’d been dormant for a couple of days. Jash’tar thought they were intimidated, might even want to talk.” He sighed. “To be honest, Your Grace, we’re not sure exactly what happened. It seems that our men were overconfident and didn’t set an adequate watch. The enemy snuck in under cover of darkness somehow, while many of our people were sleeping. Killed most the men in their tents before the alarm was even raised, then swept in and finished the rest off. There were only a few survivors.”

There was a stunned silence. “How many is a few, General?” Wirr finally asked.

“Four hundred or so,” replied Parathe. “Maybe five, depending on how many managed to scatter to the forests nearby.”

Asha swallowed, and she could hear Michal’s sharp intake of breath beside her.

The duke just grimaced. “You’re certain the others are all dead?”

“Yes.” Parathe stared at his clasped hands, unwilling to look anyone in the eye. "And that report is days old now. Depending on how hard the Blind have been pushing, they could be here in a couple of days. Maybe less."

Elocien leaned forward; he wore a calm expression but his knuckles were white as he gripped the table. “Do we at least have any new intelligence?”

Parathe nodded. “We know that they move in squads of ten men: nine with those strange helmets, and one who sits back from the fighting like a commander. They all seem to be well-trained - hard to fight individually, but especially cohesive as units.” The general sighed. “Other than that, Your Grace? No. Only what we already knew.”

“Which is that there’s something unnatural about them,” growled Ionis, shooting Dras and Michal an accusatory look as if it were somehow their fault.

The Northwarden took a deep breath, then laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “This is an enormous loss, Your Majesty,” he said. “I know you’re against it, but there is no other way. We need to change the Tenets, allow the Gifted to fight.” Parathe inclined his head in agreement.

“I concur, Your Majesty.” It was Dras. “I can have a contingent from Tol Shen ready to defend the city walls by dusk tomorrow.” Michal, reluctant though he looked to be agreeing with Dras, nodded too.

“You know my thoughts, Your Majesty,” interjected Ionis. “Administration has an obligation to protect the people, and the Tenets are what allow us to perform that function. Changing them is taking a short-term view.” He shot a hard look at the duke, as if daring the other man to reprimand him. Elocien scowled, but said nothing.

The king stared vacantly at the table for a few moments, then shook his head. “No.”

There was silence as everyone exchanged questioning looks, then Elocien cleared his throat. “Brother, surely you don’t mean -”

The king slammed his fist down onto the table, suddenly and violently, making everyone jump. “I mean NO !” he roared. His face had turned bright red, and spittle came out of his mouth when he spoke. Sweat clung to his brow in great beads, now, and there was no doubt in Asha’s mind that he was a very sick man. “Don’t you see, Elocien? Ionis is right. This is what they want. It’s what they’ve always wanted.” He sneered at Dras, then twisted to glare at Michal and Asha. “You Bleeders are probably behind all of this. I should have you all hung for traitors. Every last one.” He stood as if to carry out his threat immediately.

Dras had gone deathly pale. “Your Majesty, I….” He trailed off helplessly, clearly not sure what to say.

“Kevran, please sit down.” Elocien looked more troubled than Asha had ever seen him. “We can lay blame later, but right now we need a plan to defend Ilin Illan. The Gifted are our only -”

“We have our six thousand. We have the city guard,” interrupted the king. He had calmed again, though was still a little wild-eyed. “We have the four hundred returning to us. We have citizens who will fight. The Blind have no ships; they cannot come by river, so the only way into the city is through Fedris Idri. This is the most defensible city ever built. We will prevail without the Gifted.” He gestured. “I tell you this as a courtesy, not to seek your advice. It is my decision, and mine alone, to make.”

Parathe opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance from the duke silenced him. The general gave the slightest of nods to the Northwarden, unseen by the king. Elocien could obviously see that arguing the point now would only cause more trouble.

“And what of the Gifted, Your Majesty?” asked Wirr quietly.

“The Gifted can fight like real men if they wish, with sword and shield. Or heal the wounded if they are too afraid. But they will not use their powers for violence whilst I rule.” The king looked around, his glare defying anyone to gainsay him. “You are dismissed.”

They rose silently, stunned, and began filing out of the room. Asha glanced towards Wirr, hoping to catch his eye, but he appeared to have been waylaid by the king and was not looking in her direction.

Once outside, she found herself walking alongside Michal as the others went their separate ways.

“What did you make of all that?” asked Michal, keeping his voice low.

Asha made a face. “I think those rumours about the king being ill were fairly accurate. He’s not in control."

Michal sighed and gave a grim nod. “I agree. And suddenly it seems I share your concern about Tol Athian’s recent decision, too. I’m just not sure what anyone can do about it.” He glanced across at her. "Are you going to leave?"

"Leave?" Asha looked at him in surprise. "No. Of course not."

Michal watched her for a long moment, then let out a breath, evidently satisfied. "Good. A lot of the nobility will, once they find out - first thing tomorrow morning, I suspect. Maybe even tonight." He smiled, shaking his head. "I would understand if you decided to go, but… just let me know if you do. Seems I’m becoming fond of you, Ashalia. I’d be worried if you suddenly disappeared again."

Asha smiled back. "You’re staying?" She hadn’t thought for a moment about leaving, but she suddenly realised how tempting it must be for a lot of people.

"Yes. I’m going to go back to the feast now, try to convince as many people as possible to stay and fight. Try and get as many people as we can behind the idea that now is the time for the Tenets to be changed, too. I know how King Andras looked, but maybe, if there’s enough pressure…." He sighed. "It would help if you were to join me. Would look less like I was arguing for my own interests."