James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

She was a Shadow now, a broken Gifted. A rare, harmless, ugly curiosity.

Ignoring the stares as best she could, Asha unconsciously touched her left forearm again as she moved forward, the feeling of smooth skin there still alien even after three weeks. Her Mark had begun fading that first day on the road, and now had all but disappeared.

She hadn’t known that would happen, but in retrospect she supposed it made sense. If she was no longer able to use the Gift, then she was no longer bound by the Tenets, either.

"We’re almost there, Ashalia."

The voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to face Elder Tenvar.

"And then you’ll explain? Tell me why I’m here? Why I’m… like this ?" She gestured to her face. Even after three weeks of asking the same questions, she couldn’t keep the ice from her tone.

"Everything." Ilseth gave her a sympathetic look. "I know… I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you. How frustrating. But you’ll understand when we reach Tol Athian. You have my word."

Asha nodded curtly; she’d heard the same promise a hundred times since waking up on a horse outside of Caladel, but even now she wasn’t sure she believed it. Elder Tenvar, Elder Kien, Elder Kasperan - none had been willing to part with even a hint as to what had happened. She’d pleaded with them… railed at them… none of it had made a difference. She still didn’t know whether to be eager or terrified to find out the truth.

She blinked in the sudden sunlight as they passed through the final of the three Fedris Idri gates; the narrow road came to an abrupt end, and then Asha was staring down into Ilin Illan itself.

In stark contrast to the cool, enclosed dim of Fedris Idri, the city was bright, cheerful, alive . It spread away from their position outward and downward; the incline was steep enough to see everything at a glance, but not so steep as to give Asha even a hint of vertigo. The elegant white-stone buildings stretched far into the distance, beyond which she could make out the sails of ships as they came and left the massive harbour. Past even those, the crystalline blue waters of the Naminar River glittered in the afternoon sun.

To Asha’s right and left, the massive brown-black cliffs of Ilin Tora extended away like two outstretched arms, enveloping the entire city in their embrace. From what she could see, she suspected that nowhere would the top of the sheer rock walls come closer than a hundred feet to the buildings.

Even through her turbulent emotions, Asha couldn’t help but be impressed.

Elder Kien murmured something to Ilseth and then was off down a side street, evidently about some other business. The two remaining Elders left Asha little time for taking in the view, moving quickly along a wide road to the right, parallel to the looming cliffs.

They rode for only a few minutes before the crowds began to thin, soon reaching a massive iron gate set into the cliff face. At least twenty feet high and wide enough to fit ten men walking side-by-side, it was closed, guarded by two men whose red cloaks stood in stark relief against the grey metal.

One of them nodded in recognition to Ilseth before pressing his palm against the shining metal surface. Slowly and soundlessly, the gate swung open.

Ilseth turned to Asha, gesturing for her to dismount.

“Welcome to Tol Athian, Ashalia,” he said quietly.

The Tol was darker than Asha had envisaged.

Carved into the bedrock of Ilin Tora, the enormous central tunnel was lit by several lines of pure Essence pulsing along the roof, which sat at least fifty feet above the floor. Other, smaller tunnels branched off at regular intervals; these were illuminated by only a single line of Essence, but their smaller size meant that they appeared better lit.

Gifted hurried to and from almost all the tunnels in a flurry of red. Under normal circumstances Asha would have been astonished at the scene - there were more Gifted in front of her than she had ever seen before in one place - but today she barely noticed. Her sense of anticipation was growing stronger with every step. After three long weeks, she was finally going to find out what was going on.

She trailed after Ilseth and Kasperan, a mixture of excitement and nervousness building in her stomach. Soon they were heading down one of the smaller passageways, eventually coming to a door manned by two bored-looking guards.

“The Council have been waiting for you, Elder Tenvar,” said one of them when he spotted the group, opening the door and gesturing for them to enter. Asha caught the other one staring at her; she held his gaze steadily until he dropped his eyes, looking slightly abashed. She walked past him without saying anything.

Through the door, another short passageway led out onto a large circular floor. Two long rows of seats overlooked it; in those seats about a dozen red-cloaked Gifted – members of the Athian Council, presumably - paused in their conversations and peered down at her and her escorts.

“We should begin,” announced one of the men. He hadn’t shouted, but the acoustics amplified his voice, carrying it clearly to everyone present. Once he was sure he had the attention of the room, he leaned forward in his chair, staring down at them intently.

“Finally. You have some explaining to do, Ilseth.”

Ilseth inclined his head in deference. “Nashrel. You received my message?”

“The pigeon arrived two weeks ago,” replied Nashrel. “Though I cannot say it explained much.” His tone was reproachful.

“I apologise for that,” said Ilseth respectfully. “I thought it best to be… discreet.”

Nashrel nodded. “Of course,” he said, though from his tone he was still clearly displeased. “So. You were unable to find him?”

“That’s correct,” confirmed Ilseth, casting an uncertain glance in Asha’s direction. She immediately got the impression that this was not a conversation meant for her ears.

The Elder nodded, as if he had expected the answer. “Fortunately that does not matter a great deal. We have a Trace.”

Ilseth’s attention snapped back to the Council members. “A Trace? Surely it would be wiser to -”

“It is already done, Ilseth.” Nashrel waved away Ilseth’s obvious alarm. “No need for concern. They have been instructed not to harm anyone.”

The other Council members had thus far remained silent, but now a woman to Nashrel’s left spoke up. “Perhaps there are some other matters that should be discussed first?” she suggested to Nashrel politely. “So that our young guest can… get some rest?”

Nashrel nodded, for the first time seeming to register that Asha was in the room. “Ah. Yes, you’re right,” he said, shaking his head as if surprised at his own absent-mindedness. He studied Asha’s features. “What is your name, girl?”

Asha started, for some reason surprised at being addressed directly. “Ashalia,” she replied, trying to sound duly respectful. Despite her efforts, her tone held a sharp edge.

Nashrel appeared to take no offense. “What do you remember of the attack, Ashalia?”

Asha frowned in confusion, silent for a few moments. “Attack? All I know is that I went to sleep one night, and the next thing I remember, I was sitting in front of Elder Kasperan on a horse, halfway to Jereth and like this.” She gestured coldly to her face.

“We thought it best to hold off telling her, Nashrel,” interjected Ilseth.

“She was made a Shadow the morning after the attack,” supplied Kasperan, who had been standing to one side, allowing Ilseth to do the talking.

Nashrel rubbed his forehead. “And why was that, exactly?”

Ilseth looked uncomfortable. “That’s another matter we need to discuss, actually. It’s my fault, I’m afraid.” He grimaced. “She… forced me to do it.”