James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Wirr felt himself pale, and there were gasps of horror from around the room, which had been utterly silent up until now. "You can’t," he said suddenly. "You’re an Administrator; you took the Oath. The Third Tenet binds you just as much as us - you cannot cause harm, physical or otherwise, to any of the Gifted."

Ionis inclined his head, looking unperturbed. "And perhaps if our positions were reversed, that would stop you. You may not realise it, but for some Administrators, their interpretation of harm means that they cannot act to even upset one of the Gifted deliberately." He took a step forward, eyes glittering in the torchlight. "But not me. This power, the Gift as you call it - it is a disease. I believe that, more deeply than I have ever believed anything. So you see, Prince Torin, doing this to the Gifted… it is not causing them harm. Far from it. It is putting them out of their misery. It is helping them. "

Wirr shivered under Ionis' gaze. He didn’t want to believe the man, and yet there was something in his eyes, a fearsome certainty that what he was doing was right. In that moment, Wirr knew that the Administrator truly thought that he was doing the Gifted a kind of twisted favour.

“You’re insane,” he said softly. "We could help, Ionis. We could fight the Blind."

"The long-term is the only thing that matters, Your Highness," said Ionis.

Wirr just stared at the blue-cloaked man, aghast. He tried to make his body move towards Ionis but it wouldn’t budge; subjective or not, the Third Tenet prevented him from taking any action with the intent to hurt an Administrator.

His jaw clenched in helpless frustration. He’d known this was a weakness; it had been one of the most pressing reasons to keep his abilities a secret in the first place. His father had always been concerned that an Administrator would find the temptation of having a prince under their control too hard to resist.

And apparently, Ionis was no exception. All that remained now was for him to give the order.

The Administrator leaned forward. “Prince Torin, by the Fourth Tenet I order you to -”

Suddenly Ionis’ smug expression faltered, and he stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. He spun, looking directly at Davian as his body began to spasm.

“What are you doing?” he groaned, collapsing to the floor.

Wirr turned to Davian. His friend was making no outward appearance of effort, simply staring at the Administrator with a grim expression. There could be no doubt, though. Thin tendrils of light streamed from Ionis’ violently shaking form into Davian, vanishing as soon as they touched the boy’s skin.

Suddenly the stream halted.

"Release him," said Davian quietly. "Please. I have no wish to do this. Release him to change the Tenets, and I will let you live."

Ionis gave a wracking cough, looking twice the age he had a few moments ago. He stared at Davian in utter fear, and for an instant Wirr thought he was going to comply.

Then he twisted away with an effort of will, shouting the words.

"Prince Torin, by the Fourth Tenet I -"

He cut off in a desperate, rage-filled shriek.

Ionis’ body began to age, wrinkles appearing on his face, his skin sagging and creasing, his features becoming gaunt. Then his skin and muscles began to wither and decay, slowly at first but with increasing speed, until the white of the bone underneath began to show through.

As the last wisps of light were sucked from the corpse, even the skeleton itself collapsed in a slight puff of powdery-white dust.

Wirr stared at the small pile of grime on the floor, a chill running down his spine.

"I had to," said Davian softly. He shook his head, his hands and arms glowing with the light of the Essence he had drained from Ionis. "I had to be sure he didn’t say it."

Wirr looked up at his friend, for the first time really seeing how much Davian had changed since Deilannis. He was… harder, now. As if whatever he’d gone through over the last couple of months had sucked the innocence out of him. The changes were subtle, but they were there. It was still his old friend, but a bleaker version. A more world-weary version.

A moment later, the full consequences of what had just happened hit home, and the pain of how close he’d come became sharp in his chest.

“I can’t change the Tenets, now,” he realised, shaking his head in steadily growing dismay. “Ionis is dead; he can’t rescind the order. I can’t use Essence."

There was silence for several seconds, then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What if we remove the Fourth Tenet?” Davian asked.

“What do you mean?”

Davian gestured towards the shield on the table. “Ionis only stopped you from using Essence, not from altering the Tenets,” he observed. “You said you needed someone here that you trusted. Trust me now, Wirr. If you’ll let me, I’ll change the Tenets exactly as you ask - word for word. From what you told me, all you need to do is stand there. I do the rest.”

Wirr found himself suddenly, unexpectedly smiling. He hadn’t been called ‘Wirr' in weeks, now. It felt good to hear the name aloud again.

He inclined his head. Whatever he’d been through… Davian was his friend. He could trust him.

“Then let’s get started before there are any other complications,” he said, glancing again at the pile of dust on the floor where Ionis had been standing.

Davian nodded. “Good idea. What I took from Ionis should be enough, but we do need to be fast. I have to hold Essence outside my body if I want to use it, and I can’t stop it decaying any more than you could.”

Wirr strode over to the shield, hesitantly placing his hand against it. As Davian had suspected, now his intent was not to use Essence, he was able to touch the Vessel. Davian gave him a tight smile, then placed a hand on the shield too.

“Your Grace, if I may interject.” It was Nashrel, looking on with a worried expression. “I mean no offense to young Davian here” – he nodded politely at Davian – “ but if you need someone else to assist you after all, I would… feel more comfortable if you used one of the Elders instead. After what happened to Ilseth Tenvar, one of the Gifted and a man ostensibly under our protection…." He shook his head. "At the very least, perhaps you should be writing down the exact wording of the Tenets you are going to create. The current ones took months of discussion and negotiation before they were settled upon. Let us take a few minute to go over them with you, advise you on how best to -”

Wirr shook his head. “I’ve known these words for years, Elder Eilinar,” he interrupted gently. “And I mean no offense to the Council, but I don’t trust anyone else to help me. It’s that simple.” He turned back to Davian. “Now. All you need to do is repeat after me, and keep a steady flow of Essence going into the shield. The Vessel should do the rest.”

Davian nodded, taking a deep breath and glancing around at the Elders, who were all watching with keen interest. “I’m ready.”

Wirr closed his eyes, remembering the words.

“I swear I shall not use Essence to harm or hinder non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the purposes of protecting Andarra.”

Davian hesitated.

“I swear I shall not use Essence to harm or hinder non-Gifted, except in cases of self-defence or for the purposes of protecting Andarra,” he repeated, a thin line of Essence flowing from him into the shield.

Wirr released a breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He did trust his friend, but if Davian had chosen to alter the wording, there would have been nothing Wirr could have done about it.