James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“I think you broke my nose,” Wirr grumbled, pulling a kerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his nose and grimacing as the cloth came away soaked in blood.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” noted Davian.

Wirr grunted. “I suppose that’s true.” He looked at Davian, expression thoughtful. “Dav… I have to ask. How did you do it?”

Davian stared at his friend in confusion. “Do what?”

“How in all fates did you move so fast? One second you were sitting there, and the next, that sword was sticking clean through Gorron. I don’t doubt you have fast reactions, but that was….” He shook his head. “Something else.”

Davian looked at the sword, still in his hand. He unsheathed it, hefting it, admiring the sense of balance, the clean lines of the blade. “He called it Slayer,” he pointed out. “If it has a name….”

Wirr snorted. “A Hunter trying to sound important, nothing more. It’s not a Named sword, Dav. It would be easy to tell. Like Breshada’s.”

Davian nodded, acknowledging the truth of the statement. As soon as he’d seen Whisper, he’d known there was something different about it, even before seeing how effectively it killed. Most Named swords he’d heard of, the names themselves hadn’t made sense to him. Having seen Whisper in action, though, he knew it was the perfect word to describe it.

‘Slayer’, on the other hand, didn’t fit. It was a nice sword – a very nice sword – but Wirr was right. It had no unusual powers.

Gently, he tossed the sword into the long grass at the side of the road. Valuable or not, he wanted nothing more to do with it.

Wirr looked about to protest but then just sighed, nodding.

“If it wasn’t the sword, then I don’t know,” Davian finally admitted. “Everything seemed to move more slowly, I suppose. I grabbed the sword, and….” He trailed off, stomach churning as he remembered the moment. For an instant he thought he was going to vomit, but a few deep breaths settled him again. “I can’t explain it, Wirr.”

Wirr grunted. “Whatever it was, it saved your life.” He grimaced. “Probably both our lives. I was about to try and use Essence to hold him back.”

Davian gave a low whistle. “First Tenet or not, that would have made things interesting.”

“You have no idea,” muttered Wirr, almost to himself. He glanced around. The sky was clear tonight and though it was too early for much moonlight, the stars provided enough illumination to see the road. “We should keep moving. The further we are from here come dawn, the better.”

They walked for a while in silence, the quiet of the night calming Davian’s jangling nerves somewhat.

Abruptly, Wirr cleared his throat. “I meant it, you know,” he said hesitantly. “I really am sorry.”

“I know, Wirr,” said Davian. “It’s okay.”

There was silence for a while longer, then Davian rubbed his hands together, keeping them warm against the chill of the night air. The motion caused his sleeve to pull upward a little, and he found himself staring at the carefully covered patch on his forearm.

“Strange, what Kelosh said,” he said idly. “Do you really think there’s a Gifted out there without a Mark? Maybe if we got far enough away from Andarra…”

Wirr shook his head. “No. I’ve read about Gifted as far away as the Eastern Empire having the Mark - when the Tenets were created, a lot of countries nearly went to war with us over it. They were all outraged that Andarra had unilaterally enforced laws that some of their citizens were bound to… but of course with the Gifted in their armies unable to fight, they were too weak to make an issue of it.” He kicked a stone along in front of him. “It’s interesting. The Gil’shar were supposedly amongst the most angry when the Treaty was signed; they thought the Loyalists should have pressed their advantage. But in the end, it helped them more than anyone else. Their army never relied on Gifted, so they were unaffected – and now they’re stronger than ever.”

Davian nodded, though he hadn’t really been paying attention after the first sentence. Politics was Wirr’s passion, not his.

“It’s a shame,” he noted. “Even with all the Finders around, being free of the Tenets would have been useful out here.”

Wirr frowned. “How so?”

Davian raised an eyebrow. “It would be easier to defend ourselves, for a start. And you could have used the Gift to steal some coin, rather than us having to risk our lives for it. It wouldn’t take much Essence to pickpocket a few people - not enough to set off Finders, anyway.”

“I suppose,” said Wirr, sounding reluctant.

Davian shot him a surprised look. “You disagree?”

Wirr shrugged. “I just don’t like the idea of using our powers to steal from people.”

Davian stared at his friend, not sure if Wirr was joking. “Isn’t that exactly what we just did?”

Wirr shook his head. “Those men chose to gamble their money. They wagered you couldn’t tell when they were lying, and they lost. It’s a fine line, I know, but it is different.” He sighed. “I’m not disagreeing, Dav, particularly about the part where we could actually protect ourselves. But we need to be careful what we wish for.”

Davian frowned. “They’re Desrielites,” he protested. “They’d string us up from the nearest tree, given the chance. Why should we feel badly about taking their coin? Weren’t you just saying my killing one of them was justified?”

“That wasn’t your fault,” pointed out Wirr. “He was a Hunter, a murderer, and it was self-defence. What you’re talking about is going out and using the Gift to steal from ordinary people. I know we’re in need, but… it would still be an abuse, Dav. Before the war, the Augurs let the Gifted use Essence to take advantage of others when they ‘needed’ to, too. They said it was to make Andarra a better place. Look at where that got us.”

Davian shook his head, surprised at the direction of the conversation. “So… you think the Treaty is justified?” he asked in confusion. Debating the Treaty was forbidden amongst students; with Talean always around, this was a topic that had never come up between them. It shouldn’t have needed to, though. Every Gifted wanted the Treaty, and particularly the Tenets, gone.

Wirr shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, a little defensively. “But if you had the chance to remove all the Tenets, or just some of them – what would you do?”

“Remove them all,” said Davian without hesitation. While the Treaty itself was quite complex – a series of alterations and addendums to Andarran law - the Tenets were the rules that bound the Gifted, the reason that anyone using Essence for the first time would suddenly find themselves with the Mark. Once that black tattoo appeared on their wrist, they became literally incapable of breaking the oaths that the Gifted had sworn to the Northwarden fifteen years ago.

Wirr sighed. “Really? You don’t think some restrictions on how the Gift is used are a good thing? ”

“Like what?”

Wirr shrugged. “There’s four Tenets. Let’s take the first: no use of the Gift with the intent to harm or hinder non-Gifted. Why is that so bad?”

“Because we can’t defend ourselves,” said Davian. “I know the argument is that it only reduces us to the level of normal people, but the Gifted are hated . We never get attacked by just one person; it’s always a mob.” He unconsciously touched the scar on his face.

“Right.” Wirr looked uncomfortable for a moment, realising how close to the mark he’d come. “So what if that Tenet were changed, allowing the Gifted to use Essence to defend themselves?”