James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Caeden looked hesitantly at the sword, then back at Garadis. “Can you restore my memories?”

“No,” replied Garadis. “Though I am sure one who can will find you soon enough.”

“Then can you at least tell me who I am?”

Garadis stared at him, expressionless. “Where to begin? You are Tal’kamar, though precious few know you as such. You destroyed Saran’geth. You butchered the Arathi. You created the Plains of Decay.” He paused. “You saved Jala Terr. You hid Wereth when the Shadows would have killed him. You risked your soul to stop the extinction of the Utthal. You have lived for over three thousand years, and done so much evil and so much good. You are a legend, even here amongst the Lyth. You are Tal’kamar,” he finished softly.

Caeden felt a chill run down his spine. He had lived for over three thousand years? It was inconceivable, yet something in Garadis’ voice told him it was true.

Numbly, he nodded. “Thank-you.”

“Now,” said Garadis. “Take the sword.”

Caeden took a deep breath, then picked his way across the lava-lined floor until he stood in front of the pillar. He frowned at the inscription on it.

“What do these symbols say?”

“Nothing important,” replied Garadis.

Caeden paused, glancing back at the towering, pulsating being. Garadis' stance and expression were still blank, but now his eyes seemed… eager.

A flash of suspicion ran through Caeden.

“What does Licanius do?” he asked slowly. “Can I safely assume that this is no ordinary sword?”

“You can,” replied Garadis. “But Andrael’s Law forbids me to speak of her specific properties. To anyone.”

Caeden frowned, unconvinced. “Is taking it going to hurt me, somehow?”

Garadis stared at him impassively. “If you are asking whether Licanius has wards to prevent her from being taken - then no, she does not.”

Caeden gazed at the blade. Up close, even the glow he’d noticed earlier was muted. It seemed like a well-made sword… but that was all.

He leaned down, peering closer. Etched into the steel in tiny lettering were more symbols - these ones familiar.

“ For those who need me most . What does that mean?”

“Another question I cannot answer.” Garadis sounded irritated, but Caeden was still hesitant to touch the sword. Something was holding him back.

“What does Licanius mean? It sounds Darecian. You could at least tell me that much.”

There was silence from Garadis. “Fate,” he said eventually. “The translation is more specific, but in your language, it means ‘fate’.”

Caeden nodded. Taking a deep breath, he reached down and grasped the hilt, lifting the sword from its stone cradle.

He screamed.

Pain wracked his entire body; he wanted to let the sword drop but his muscles had convulsed, making his grip on it vice-like. Tears trickled down his cheeks as wave after wave of agony washed through him.

Then, just as he thought he could stand no more, it was over.

He was lying on the stone floor – blessedly not touching any of the lava rivulets – and still holding the sword. With a gasp he dropped it, letting it clatter against the warm stone. On his left forearm glowed a symbol, something he didn’t recognise, which faded away even as he saw it. Not a wolf, but a different animal – a bear, perhaps?

Garadis was still standing in the corner, a satisfied look in his eyes.

Caeden spun and glared at him. “What have you done?” he growled. “You said there would be no traps.”

“I said there were no wards that would harm you,” corrected Garadis.

“Then what in fates was that?” Caeden demanded.

“A binding,” replied Garadis. “The trade between the Lyth and Andrael. We guard Licanius until one who passes the Tests wields her. In exchange, the one who takes her up must free the Lyth. It is the pact that you have been trying so very hard to avoid these past centuries.” He sighed, a contented sound. “You must have been desperate.”

Caeden stared at his now-bare forearm worriedly. “Free you from what?”

Garadis leaned forward. “From here , Tal’kamar. From this . We cannot survive without the raw Essence Res Kartha produces. You need to find a way for us to leave, and not perish.”

Caeden gave him a blank look. “But… I know nothing about any of that. It’s impossible.”

“And yet, you have agreed to it.” Garadis’ blue eyes looked at Caeden greedily. “You have a year and a day. Should the pact be broken, the binding will compel you to return to us. Licanius will become the property of the Lyth, to do with as we see fit. And once she is truly at our command, we will see fit to use her for that which she was designed.”

Caeden paled; the last sounded distinctly like a threat. “A year?”

“And a day,” said Garadis. “She is yours until then, to do with as you wish. But if we cannot leave Res Kartha after that, she will be yours no longer. So choose your priorities wisely.”

Caeden nodded, still stunned. He took a deep breath, then thought for a few moments.

“If you want my help, you’ll also want me to survive the next few days,” he observed. “I am going to return to Ilin Illan, to fight alongside my friends. If there is any way you can help me….”

Garadis laughed. “You always were a canny negotiator."

He stepped forward, laying his hand against Caeden’s forehead again.

A flood of warmth passed through Caeden’s mind, sudden but not unpleasant, causing his knees to buckle. The sensation passed quickly, though.

“You are already equipped to fight,” said Garadis. “This knowledge will let you use Licanius for your purpose - but know this too, Tal’kamar. What you are about to face is only the first strike, the first few drops of a torrent. A storm." He bent down slightly, so that his face was level with Caeden’s. "The ilshara - what you call the Boundary - is waning, and when it fails entirely, your friends will lose. You cannot protect them forever.”

Then he straightened, gesturing behind Caeden. The tunnel door ground open again. “Now, it is time for you to go.”

Caeden hesitated. “How do I go back?”

Garadis sighed. “To return to a question I asked before. How did you get here?”

Caeden dug around in his pocket and produced the small bronze box, handing it to Garadis.

Garadis just stared at it for a long moment, stunned.

“You have audacity, Tal’kamar,” he said softly. “I will grant you that.”

“You know how it works?”

Garadis gave a slow nod. “Considering you stole it from me? Yes, I know how it works,” he said, smouldering lip curling slightly. “To think, I didn’t even know it was gone.”

Caeden found himself reddening. “I don’t know how it works,” he admitted in an embarrassed tone. “I… just touched it, and it took me here.”

“That explains much,” said Garadis, his tone dry. He sighed. “It is a Portal Box. The Portal Box. It will take you to any destination you impart to it.” He turned it over in his hands. “Each face has a destination; you need only direct Essence into this character” – he pointed to a small symbol, which Caeden had previously noted as appearing on every side - “ and depending on which face you activate, you will be transported to its destination. It seems all six are already set; your touching it triggered only one.”

Caeden’s heart sank. “Can it get me back to Ilin Illan?”

“No,” said Garadis. He gave Caeden a thoughtful look, then handed the Portal Box back with obvious reluctance. “But it is of no advantage to me if I delay you.”

He made a sweeping motion with his hands, and suddenly everything… twisted .