James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Wirr grimaced. "Just what we need."

Aelric grunted his agreement. The three of them stood side-by-side for a while, the heavy silence pressing on Wirr’s shoulders like a physical weight. He was so lost in thought that he jumped when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

Wirr turned.

"Davian!" he exclaimed.

Davian smiled tiredly, then gave a short laugh of surprise as he was enveloped by embraces from Aelric and Dezia.

"Wirr said you were alive, but I wasn’t sure I believed him until now. It’s good to see you, Davian," said Aelric.

"You too," said Davian. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

Wirr’s heart sank as he saw the expression on his friend’s face. "Tol Athian…?"

"Did not go well." Davian paused, then gave Aelric and Dezia a hesitant glance.

"They know about you, Dav," said Wirr, a little apologetically. "There didn’t seem to be much point hiding the truth after Deilannis."

Davian inclined his head, looking more relieved than anything else, and related what had happened at the Tol.

"Fates," murmured Wirr when he was done, a sick feeling in his stomach. "So only the Shen Gifted to heal the wounded, and now we have to keep an eye out for Caeden, too. And the Council locked Taeris up?"

Davian nodded. He looked about to say more when there was a shout from down the wall, followed by a low murmuring as soldiers began to point out towards the plains. Wirr looked up, squinting in the fading light.

Fires had begun to dot the horizon.

Aelric turned to Davian, his voice tight. "Things are going to get messy up here soon. Are you going to be able to fight?"

Davian didn’t respond for a moment, staring out over the plains as if he could see something the others couldn’t. Then he shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "There’s no point me trying to use Essence - there aren’t enough sources nearby, and even if there were, I’d be bound by the Tenets as soon as I drew enough to be useful. I might be able to use kan, though." He bit his lip. "I could use a sword, too, if there are any spare."

Wirr gave him a sceptical look. "A sword? Dav, we can find one for you, but… is there really any point?"

Davian hesitated, then glanced across at Aelric.

"Aelric. I will understand if you don’t want me to, but… may I Read you? If you let me, I can access your memories, relive some of your training. I don’t think it will give me anywhere near your level of ability, unfortunately - I’ve read that physical skills don’t translate very well due to the bodies being different - but even just knowing some of the basics would help."

Aelric stared at Davian, wide-eyed, for a long few moments. He licked his lips, looking nervous, and Wirr felt sure he was going to refuse.

Then he sighed. "That’s all you’ll see?"

"Yes," Davian assured him.

Aelric gave a slow nod. "Anything I can do to help."

Davian inclined his head gratefully, then stepped forward. He touched Aelric lightly on the forehead and closed his eyes, standing like that for several seconds. Wirr and Dezia looked on with silent curiosity. As far as Wirr could see, there was nothing to indicate anything unusual was happening.

After a few more moments Davian opened his eyes again, stepping back. "Thank-you."

"That’s all?" Aelric rubbed his forehead where Davian’s hand had been, looking uneasy. "I didn’t feel anything."

"That’s all," said Davian with a smile.

Wirr stared at his friend, fascinated. "Did it work?"

Davian shrugged. "I should get myself a sword… after that, I suppose we’ll know soon enough."

Wirr went to help Davian secure a weapon; by the time they returned to Aelric and Dezia sunset was vanishing into dusk, leaving only a slowly fading glow and plunging the flat plains that approached Ilin Tora into a deep murk.

They had been standing there for less than a minute when Wirr spotted a flicker of movement in the distance. A few moments later, a horn blasted from somewhere down the wall.

"Here they come," muttered Aelric.

A mass of glinting black resolved itself from the gloom that covered the plains, moving faster than Wirr would have believed possible as it surged forward into the narrow pass. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but Wirr thought there were a couple of hundred men rushing into the enclosed space below - three hundred at most.

"Where are the rest of them?" he wondered aloud, nerves making his voice tight.

Aelric shook his head. "This is just the first wave. They know that having more than two hundred men in here at once is a waste of energy."

Wirr didn’t respond, chewing at his lip as Dezia walked forward to join the other Andarran archers at the front of the wall. The order to draw rang out, and Dezia notched an arrow, her actions deliberate and her hands steady. Wirr couldn’t help but admire her composure.

Then the Blind were in range and arrows were raining down upon them. Wirr’s heart sank as he watched the men below rush onward, unfazed. The archers fired again, and again, but it didn’t seem to matter. Wirr didn’t see a single enemy soldier falter, let alone fall.

The oncoming black mass hit the wall like a wave as the last of the light faded from the sky.

The next few minutes passed in chaos.

All along the First Shield, screams rang out as attackers started appearing like wraiths along the battlements, reaching over with preternatural speed and strength to pull soldiers over the wall and to their deaths. They were little more than black shadows, silent, appearing from nowhere and vanishing behind the parapet again within moments.

Wirr had already begun retreating when a darker shape against the night sky shifted in the corner of his eye. Davian leapt forward, blade whipping out; there was no sound except that of metal on metal, but his sword met solid resistance and the owner of the armour was sent flying backward into the darkness.

“They’re not using ladders,” Davian warned Wirr. “You should get further back. They could be coming up anywhere.”

“How is that possible?” asked Wirr.

“It has to be the armour,” interjected Dezia, who had also retreated a little, but was still smoothly firing off arrows whenever she caught sight of movement. She allowed herself a quick glance along the battlements. “It must allow them to climb the wall somehow.”

Wirr followed her gaze. There were plenty of men crowding along the parapet, but already it seemed as though the Andarran front line was thinning. Replacements were being ushered up the stairs at the back, but Wirr could already see the futility of it. The Blind might be heavily outnumbered, but each attacker was going to be worth too many defenders.

"It’s blocking kan, too," added Davian grimly, his sword lashing out at another Shadow. His movements didn’t look anywhere near as assured as Aelric’s, but Wirr could tell Davian knew how to handle a blade now. "I can’t push it past those El-cursed helmets."

"Wonderful," said Aelric, already a little out of breath. He flinched back as another blade slashed out from the black. "We’re not going to last an hour if we can’t see them. I take it neither of you can do anything about that?"

Wirr hesitated, then closed his eyes, tapping his Reserve. Focused inward. Cautiously, he drew from the pool of molten light, then… twisted it. Condensed it, made it brighter, as he’d done countless times before.

Nothing happened.

"El-cursed Tenets," he muttered. He issued a frustrated shake of the head to Aelric as the other man backed away from the edge of the wall for a moment, giving Wirr a questioning glance. "It’s still trying to use Essence with the intent to cause harm to non-Gifted."

Things passed in a blur after that. Wirr was reluctant to leave his friends, but he knew he was needed elsewhere; soon enough he had joined the Gifted from Tol Shen, healing those soldiers who were still able to stagger away from the front lines. Wirr was the strongest of the group, and he threw himself into the work. It was all he could do to concentrate, to block out the screams of the injured, the scent of men soiling themselves, and the hot, sticky feel of blood.