James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Even so, Wirr looked about to protest before eventually giving a reluctant nod. "You fetch me if I’m needed!" he yelled to Parathe. He threw a questioning glance at Asha, but she shook her head, indicating that she was going to stay. She was needed up here.

Wirr gave her a tired smile, squeezing her arm in farewell before joining a trail of weary soldiers limping down the stairs.

Soon the initial thunder of the Shadows' attack quietened, and an eerie hush descended on the smoke-filled pass. The silence was still broken by an occasional ear-piercing shriek as one or another of the Shadows fired bolts of energy into the chaos below, but the ringing in Asha’s ears slowly faded.

Finally confident that the Blind had broken off their attack, she crept forward to the edge of the Shield, peering down. Smoke still obscured some of the gap between the First and Second Shields, but enough was visible to know that the Blind had withdrawn, regrouping atop the First Shield and out of range of the Shadows' weapons.

There were plenty of bodies below, but her stomach lurched as she realised that few of the ones she could see were clad in black. Either the Blind had dragged away their dead, or - more ominously - not many of those who had been blasted off the Second Shield had been killed by the fall.

"We’ve pushed them back for now," said Parathe as he joined her at the parapet. He stared down into the smoke-filled pass below, his expression pensive. "Those flames are too hot even for them to get through, I suspect… but there’s only stone down there. Nothing that will burn of its own accord."

Asha gave a thoughtful nod. "If we rotate fresh people onto those Vessels every so often, we should be able to keep the fires going indefinitely," she said in response to the implied query.

Parathe exhaled, a relieved sound. "Thank the fates," he said. "If you hadn’t arrived when you did…."

He was silent for a few moments, then clapped her gently on the shoulder. "I’m heading down to check how everyone is faring below, but stay alert. If you see anything, have someone fetch me. You’ve given us an advantage, but these El-cursed Blind don’t strike me as the type to give up. It’s not over yet. Not even close," he concluded, gazing through the shimmering red haze towards the First Shield.

Asha watched as Parathe walked away, wondering if the general knew exactly how true those words really were.

"Not even close," she repeated quietly.

Wirr flinched as another shriek of power cut the air, echoing off the walls of Fedris Idri.

He glanced back up towards the top of the Second Shield, swaying a little as exhaustion threatened to get the better of him. He knew he needed to sit down, to rest, but already the screams of the dying were beginning to weigh on him. Even with the Shen Gifted and the Shadows still on the wall, he was one of only a handful of people who could truly help the wounded.

"I wonder how long they can keep that up," came a voice from behind him.

Wirr turned to see Davian following his gaze upward. His friend looked haggard, but uninjured.

"Davian!" He embraced the black-haired boy in relief. "I lost track of you. I didn’t know…."

Davian gave him a tired grin. "Can’t say it wasn’t a near thing, but I’m okay. And Aelric and Dezia are, too; they’re around here somewhere. We all fell back after the Shadows… did what they did." He shook his head dazedly at the memory, as if still unwilling to believe what had just transpired.

Wirr knew exactly how he felt; he was still trying to comprehend the implications of Shadows apparently being able to use Vessels. "Did you see Asha?" he asked.

Davian frowned. "She’s here?"

Wirr was about to reply when he spotted his father approaching, walking alongside a fatigued-looking General Parathe. Wirr gave his father a weary smile, and the two embraced.

"My father," he explained to Davian after stepping back again. "And General Parathe."

Davian shook hands awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, general. Your Grace."

The duke gave an absent nod, though his eyes were still fixed on the top of the Second Shield. "And you, Davian. Torin has told me all about you," he said. "We have much to discuss once this is all over."

Wirr smiled when he saw Davian’s expression. "He really does just mean a discussion, Dav - nothing sinister. I promise."

"Of course," said Davian quickly, though Wirr could still see a hint of nervousness in his nod. Wirr turned to Parathe. "How are they doing up there, general?"

"Well enough, for now," said Parathe. "The Shadows say they can do what they’re doing indefinitely. It at least buys us some time." He hesitated, casting a cautious glance at the duke. "And perhaps if the king changes his mind…."

"No. No chance." Elocien shook his head. "If anything, my brother is worse. I spoke to him not an hour ago, told him we were being beaten back. He still won’t take action. I suspect he’ll let the city burn before he lets the Gifted fight, in his current state." He rubbed his forehead. "I shudder to think what he’ll do when he hears about the Shadows."

Parathe looked sick at the news, but nodded. "We’ll just have to manage with what we -"

Two bodies landed with a crashing of armour against stone, not twenty feet from where they stood.

All four men stared in shock for a moment, then as one turned their gaze upward as panicked shouts began echoing along the Second Shield.

Wirr squinted against the bright light shining down from the walls of the pass. The sporadic flashes from the Shadows' weapons had stopped; there was plenty of motion atop the Shield, but he couldn’t tell what was going on at this distance. No-one had sounded the retreat, and there were too many men atop that wall to have been overwhelmed so suddenly.

Yet without warning, another two pairs of screaming men plummeted from the sky, crashing to their deaths against the floor of the pass.

"Fates," muttered Parathe. He turned to a nearby soldier, who was looking in horror at the motionless bodies. "Nihk. Find out what in fates is going on up there."

The soldier nodded, taking two steps towards the Shield.

Then he spun, sword out and flashing. The man who had been standing guard next to him cried out in alarm, but he was too slow. Nihk’s blade embedded itself in his skull with a sickening, wet crunch.

The next few moments passed as if they were minutes.

Everyone stared in frozen, stunned horror as Nihk wrenched his blade free. Then Parathe and two of the other guards went for their swords. Nihk turned to the general, lips curled back in a rictus of rage as he leapt, sword outstretched, its connection with Parathe’s chest inevitable.

And then the blade had vanished from Nihk’s hands, and reappeared through his neck with Davian holding the hilt.

Nihk slumped to the ground, eyes glassy as blood spurted onto the stone.

Parathe stood frozen, his hand on his hilt. "Thank-you," he said to Davian, dazed. "But how -"

"No time." Davian gestured.

Wirr turned to where he was pointing, suddenly aware of how close the surprised shouts of the men had become. He stared around in dismay.

Andarran defenders everywhere were turning on each other; soldiers were drawing their swords and lunging at their comrades, apparently heedless of any harm they might come to themselves. Duels were breaking out all along the pass, men defending themselves desperately against those who moments ago had been their allies. In less than thirty seconds, the relative calm between the Second and Third Shields had descended into chaos.

"We’ve been betrayed," said Parathe, his voice hollow.

Wirr found himself shaking his head as he briefly replayed Nihk’s attack, remembering the man’s dead eyes.