James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

There was a roar, and a tunnel that seemed made of pure fire exploded into existence.

Caeden turned to Wirr, unperturbed by the raging vortex.

“He’s coming, Wirr,” he shouted over the thunder. “Tell Taeris to make sure everyone is ready, because I don’t know how long it will be before I can return.”

Before anyone could move he turned. Leapt forward, into the swirling flames.

He vanished.

Wirr stared as the tunnel of fire faded and darkness reclaimed the street.

He turned dazedly to Davian, ignoring the stares of those around them and helping his friend to his feet. "Are you okay?"

Davian didn’t respond for a few moments, eyes fixed upon the spot where the vortex had been. Then he shook his head.

"I did everything I could, and it didn’t even bother him," he said softly. "He’s so strong, Wirr. It’s terrifying."

Wirr followed his friend’s gaze. "Given what he just did for us, we should probably be glad about that."

"Maybe." Davian turned to look at his friend, and Wirr could see the frustration on his face. "I know he said he was only able to save us because of where that box took him, but after what I saw in Tenvar’s memory… it just doesn’t make sense." He rubbed his forehead, expression worried. "I feel like there’s something we’re missing. Something important."

Wirr sighed. "I don’t disagree, Dav, but there’s not a lot we can do about it now. Let’s just hope that Caeden knows what he’s doing." He glanced back at the Andarran lines; a few of the men were still gaping in their general direction after Caeden’s spectacular exit, but it seemed everyone else had already gone back to worrying about more immediate things. "I need to find Karaliene, start organising the recovery effort. We can sit down and figure out what to do about Caeden later."

Davian grabbed Wirr’s arm before he could walk off. "Can we? People saw me fighting, Wirr. Administrators saw me fighting. If they haven’t already figured out what I am, they soon will."

Wirr paused, then grimaced.

He hated to admit it but Davian was right; despite everything else that had just happened, it wouldn’t take long for Administration to come after his friend. And though Wirr was now technically the Northwarden, the ban on Augurs was a part of the Treaty - which superseded the authority of any one man.

Besides which, if he were being honest, Wirr didn’t even know whether his authority as Northwarden was going to be recognised now that everyone knew he was Gifted.

"You may have to lie low for a while," he conceded, trying to evaluate what was likely to happen over the next few weeks. "But once everything’s settled down, people are going to realise that we need the Augurs to strengthen the Boundary again. And when we get to that point…."

"The Assembly will have to amend the Treaty. Remove the ban," finished Davian, looking suddenly thoughtful.

Wirr blinked; Davian had come to that conclusion faster than he’d expected. "Yes," he said slowly. "There’s a good chance they will."

Davian hesitated, then shook his head. "I hope that happens, Wirr - I really do. But I can’t stay. I can’t risk getting caught just for a possibility."

Wirr stared at his friend in open surprise. "Where else would you go?"

"Prythe. Tol Shen." He held up his hand as Wirr made to protest. "I’m not joining them permanently. I’ve agreed to help them find a way to fix the Boundary - and they already have another Augur with them, so it seems like the place I can do the most good for now. But once the Boundary is secure, if things really are different here in the city, I’ll come back." He gave Wirr a tired, rueful smile. "Besides, from what I’ve seen, you’re going to have your hands full enough without having to worry about protecting me too."

Wirr stared at Davian for a few moments in silence, heart sinking. There was no refuting his friend’s logic, but it made it no less painful to lose him again so soon after getting him back.

He nodded slowly and clasped Davian by the shoulder, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat. "Fates. I understand. I hate it, but… I understand." He glanced around again, this time realising just how many blue cloaks were amongst the crowd. "Does Asha know?"

"Not yet." Davian looked at the ground, pain flashing across his face.

"Then you should go and find her, before it’s too late. You’ve probably got an hour, maybe two until anyone recovers enough to worry about you. I’ll keep the Administrators occupied with other things for as long as I can."

Davian hesitated, then inclined his head. "Thank-you," he said sincerely.

Wirr just nodded back, the lump in his throat returning. "Just… fates be with you, Dav. Stay safe."

"You too, Wirr. I’ll see you around," said Davian, his voice catching. He gave Wirr a tight smile, then spun, heading in the direction of the palace.

Wirr watched him go for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and refocused, scanning the crowd for any of the people he needed to talk to. The battle was over, but his jubilation at the victory was already fading.

The real challenges were about to begin.

Davian sat on the palace steps, doing his best to fend off exhaustion.

Asha sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him, occasionally shifting her weight but always touching, as if to reassure herself he was really there. He understood the sentiment. The past few hours – the past few days – had gone by in one stunning blur, and it was only now that events were slowing, allowing him time to process everything properly, that it was beginning to set in. Asha was alive. She was alive . It was a miracle.

Davian knew he should already have left, but he once again pushed that uncomfortable thought to the back of his mind. Despite their emotional and physical tiredness, he and Asha had spent the last couple of hours exchanging their stories, determined to spend some time in each others’ company. For a short time, the horrors they had just witnessed faded into the background as they smiled and laughed together; even after the months apart they had fallen back into an easy, comfortable rhythm in their conversation, allaying Davian’s fears that things might have changed between them.

Eventually, though, the trials of the day had taken their toll, and the conversation had died out. Now, they just looked out over the broken city in contemplative silence.

It was an absorbing scene. The hellish red of the fires in the Lower and Middle Districts still illuminated the city, some of the taller buildings below silhouetted against the flames. Soldiers were hard at work bringing the various blazes under control, though; as little as a half-hour ago the entire Lower District had seemed to be ablaze, but now only a few smaller sections by the docks appeared to be alight.

Though it was mostly invisible against the night sky, Davian knew that black smoke was billowing overhead, blotting out any stars that might have been showing through the clouds. Fortunately a gentle breeze seemed to be pushing most of it away from the Upper District, but the smell had still managed to saturate everything. He’d almost grown accustomed to it by now, but sometimes still winced at the acrid taste at the back of his throat when he inhaled, the slight burning in his lungs.

Soldiers and civilians alike still dotted the blackened palace grounds in front of them. The last of the wounded were being treated by a combination of Gifted and physicians, and those who had some lesser medicinal knowledge were also helping where they could.

Despite everything, the mood was noticeably upbeat. Even attitudes towards the Gifted seemed to have shifted a little; passers-by would often smile at red-cloaked men and women, some even stopping for an apparently genial conversation. The friendliest smiles were reserved for the Gifted from Tol Shen, though. The soldiers all knew who had been there from the start, and though everyone still acknowledged Athian’s contribution, it was Shen who were receiving the accolades.