James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“I give you this one chance,” repeated Caeden into the hush that followed.

Not a single Blind soldier moved. Caeden watched them for a few seconds more, then his shoulders slumped.

“So be it,” he said, this time only just loud enough to carry.

The sha’teth that Davian had spotted earlier glided forward, its sinuous movements making it hard to follow in the darkness. It said something that Davian could not hear, but Caeden didn’t acknowledge the words. Instead, he drew the sword that was hanging at his side.

Davian gaped. The blade seemed to drink in what little light was in the street, bending shadows so that they swirled around it, cloaking the steel from view. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as primal energies around him began to shift and flicker.

The sha’teth faltered, then fled as screams filled the air.

The first of the enemy troops began to fall.

Some clutched their heads as they slumped to the ground; others tore off their helmets or other parts of their armour as if it were burning them. The smell of smoke was suddenly mixed with something else, a pungent, sickly-sweet rotting odour that momentarily threatened to relieve Davian of the contents of his stomach.

Davian’s stunned gaze made its way back to Caeden, but the young man didn’t seem to be doing anything. He just held the sword at his side, watching sadly as men continued to collapse. To die. For the first time, the ranks of the Blind shuddered, men out of formation, taking stuttering steps away from the horror before them.

A ragged cheer went up from the Andarran line, but it soon died out. It felt wrong to celebrate in the face of what they were watching. The multitude of Blind soldiers that had moments ago been standing down the street now lay motionless, surrounded by thousands of small black plates, the debris of their armour. Inky-red blood pooled around their heads as it poured from their noses and mouths. Davian didn’t need to be any closer to know that they were dead.

Wirr ran his hands through his hair as he stared at the scene. "We need to talk to Caeden. That may be all of the Blind, but it’s just as likely there are still others left in the city," he said eventually.

Davian inclined his head; he was already watching Caeden walking towards the Andarran lines, silhouetted against the flames of the burning buildings beyond. The dazed Andarran forces parted nervously as the young man approached, and a few of the soldiers pointed in Wirr’s direction when Caeden spoke to them.

Caeden gave a tired smile when he spotted the two boys.

"I can’t tell you how good it is to see you both. You especially, Davian," he added with genuine warmth as he walked up to them. His looked around, taking in the extent of the devastation, and his tone sobered. "What of Aelric, Dezia and Taeris? And… the princess?" he added after a moment, a little awkwardly.

“All alive - and that’s mostly thanks to you, Caeden," said Wirr. "We were moments from defeat when you showed up.”

Davian nodded his silent agreement. He still wanted answers from Caeden, but Wirr wasn’t wrong.

Caeden looked relieved. "I’m just sorry I couldn’t get here sooner… or that I cannot stay longer." He shook his head. "If what I’ve learned is true, this is merely the beginning. The first strike. Devaed is gathering his forces, and you need to prepare. All of you.” He drew something out of his pocket, staring at it grimly. “As do I.”

Davian took an involuntary step back as the detailed inscriptions on the bronze cube glittered red against the distant light of still-raging fires. The box no longer glowed with the wolf symbol, but that made Davian no less nervous.

“Wait, Caeden,” he said quickly. “I Read Ilseth Tenvar earlier today, and… that Vessel is dangerous. It was sent to you by the same man who ordered the deaths of everyone at my school; from what he said, your using it is going to play straight into Devaed’s hands. If it hasn’t already."

Caeden stared at him for a long moment, puzzled, then slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t know what you saw, but this took me exactly where I needed to go. I wouldn’t have been able to help you here, to stop the Blind if I hadn’t used it." He unconsciously touched the sword at his hip. "Maybe I fooled whoever it was you saw into sending it to me, somehow. But I do know that I planned to get this box - and that I need to go wherever it takes me next. I know that’s what I’m supposed to do now, Davian. You have to trust me on this."

Davian scowled. "It’s not a case of trust, Caeden. You cannot just leave without giving us more reassurance than that," he insisted. "Please. At least tell us where you’ve been, where you got that sword. Help us to understand what’s going on.”

Caeden shook his head. "Even if I fully understood, there’s no time." He cast a nervous glance over towards a group of red-cloaked Gifted who were heading in their direction. "I can’t afford to be delayed here, either by the Athian Council or Administration. I’ve been given a schedule, and I suspect the consequences of not keeping it would be dire. For all of us." He looked Davian in the eye. "I am sorry, Davian. This is just how it has to be."

Davian gritted his teeth. Caeden was telling the truth…. but in that moment, it didn’t matter. All of the frustration, the gut-wrenching fear of the battle, the pain of the last few months hit Davian as a raw wave of emotion. He couldn’t just let Caeden go again and hope for the best, not when he knew what the consequences might be.

He focused. Drawing enough Essence to weaken Caeden without harming him would be difficult, but after what he’d already done over the past few hours, Davian was confident he had enough control. He didn’t want to cause any harm - just keep Caeden immobile, keep him here until he’d better explained himself.

As he reached out, though, he almost faltered.

Caeden’s Reserve was more than just a pool. It was something… immense. An unending ocean of energy and light.

For a second he hesitated, wondering if it was wise to proceed. He wasn’t even sure he could empty a Reserve that large.

Then he thought again about Caladel, about all his unanswered questions, about the months of not understanding what part he was supposed to be playing in these events.

He closed his eyes and hardened the kan bridge between himself and Caeden.

A sudden torrent of Essence slammed into him, causing him to physically stumble from the shock. There was so much. So much. It just kept coming, a river of white energy, until Davian wasn’t sure he could hold it any longer. He forced his gaze to meet Caeden’s, wondering if the drain was taking effect yet.

Caeden just smiled sadly back at Davian.

Suddenly the Essence Davian had been drawing into himself reversed direction, inexorably flowing back to Caeden. It gathered in a glowing nimbus around the young man’s hands, then along his forearms, his torso, his head. Davian struggled against the current, tried to stop the flow, but Caeden was too strong. The other man’s expression had barely changed, as if what he was doing took only a minimal effort. As if Davian’s attack had been little more than a nuisance, a buzzing insect in need of swatting.

Within moments, everything Davian had taken was gone again. He dropped to his knees, still shaking from the effort, and looked up at Caeden in stunned, disbelieving silence.

Caeden stared back at him for a long moment. Then his eyes flicked up for a few seconds, towards the Andarran lines. Davian got the distinct impression he was examining people’s faces, scanning the crowd for someone.

Whoever Caeden was looking for, he evidently didn’t find them. The young man’s eyes flickered with disappointment as he closed them, pouring the Essence he’d retaken from Davian into the box in his hand.