James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Davian massaged his wrists as he sat up straight, stretching muscles stiff from disuse. “What did you say about the man from Talmiel?” he asked suddenly, a chill running through him.

Taeris gave him a considering look. “You wondered whether you had done something to make your smuggler friend ‘forget’ about the Vessel. From the sounds of it, you were right.” He moved on to releasing Wirr.

Davian felt sick. Anaar may have deserved punishment, but that was of little comfort. He was another person he’d managed to hurt because he’d been too eager, too gullible to see through Tenvar’s lies.

Wirr stood as soon as he was able, walking in circles to loosen his muscles. He nodded to the man on the floor. “So what do you know about him?” he asked Taeris, mistrust thick in his voice. “Davian says you were tracking him. Why?”

"Because of what’s happening at the Boundary. That part of what Tenvar told Davian, at least, I believe to be true." Taeris sighed. "Except it’s more than that. I don’t think the decay of the Boundary is happening naturally. I studied it for years, even before the war. The Essence that sustains it has only started to noticeably decay in the last decade.”

Wirr frowned. “Why is that significant?”

“Think of it as a physical wall. You build the wall out of good, thick, solid stone, and you leave it for two thousand years. When you come back, it’s still standing – crumbling, maybe, and worn by wind and rain, but still strong. Still serving its original purpose.” Taeris paused. “Then you come back a decade after that, and it’s completely gone. What conclusion do you draw?”

Davian’s brow furrowed. “Something knocked it down.”

“Or someone,” Wirr added quietly.

“Exactly.”

There was silence for a moment, then Wirr frowned. “Do the Tols know about your suspicions? You said you began noticing the decay ten years ago, and you’ve only been here for three.”

“I tried to tell both Councils, several times, but….” Taeris shook his head in frustration. “The Tols stopped checking the Boundary regularly more than a thousand years ago, so my old notes were the only real proof that the decay had accelerated. They accepted that the Boundary might be decaying, but not that it was happening rapidly - they didn’t believe that it was being caused by anything except the passage of time. Tol Athian told me I was being alarmist, and Tol Shen just laughed in my face.”

“But you are certain.”

“Yes. So for the last few years, I’ve been keeping watch for anything that might be related. Any sign that the Boundary failing is part of a greater plan, proof that I can take back to the Tols.” He walked over and pulled back the man’s sleeve, revealing the black wolf tattoo on his wrist. “I found a few clues, but nothing I could use or pursue – until a contact of mine told me about this. This symbol is carved into every Boundary Stone. And our friend here has it tattooed on his wrist.”

“So you think he may know something. Be involved, somehow.” Davian stared at the sleeping man with new trepidation.

“And by extension, so may Ilseth Tenvar,” noted Wirr, his tone grim.

Taeris nodded. “That this particular symbol was used as the link for you to find him… I don’t know what it means, yet, but it has to be significant. Something is going on.” He hesitated. “There’s more, though.” He drew back the man’s left sleeve further, baring his left forearm.

For a moment, Davian didn’t understand. Then his eyes widened, and to his left he heard Wirr’s sharp intake of breath.

The young man did not have the Mark.

“ Fates . He’s not bound by the Tenets?” Wirr asked softly.

“It seems not,” said Taeris.

Davian suddenly made the connection. “ This is the man the Hunters were talking about – the one who killed all those people?”

Taeris nodded. “At least, that’s what the Gil’shar are saying. An entire village slain, and they’re claiming it was by his hand.” He shook his head. “As to the truth of it, I can’t say; I know all too well the stories people make up out of fear of the Gifted. Unfortunately, the result is the same.”

“That story is everywhere. The entire country will be looking for him. For us ,” breathed Wirr.

Taeris nodded. “Before you intervened, he was being taken to Thrindar for a very public execution – during the Song of Swords, no less. The Gil’shar wanted to show all the countries present that not only are the Gifted evil, but that they are something to always be feared. That the Tenets are no reason for anyone to accept us, to relax their guard.”

Davian frowned, taking a small step away from the sleeping man as the new information sank in. He didn’t look like a murderer, and he was still tied up, but… even so.

Beside him, Wirr was becoming increasingly agitated. “If the Gil’shar find out that he was freed by other Gifted….” He shook his head, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “There will be outrage. Claims it was ordered by the Andarran government, or that we’re using him to find a way for everyone to break free of the Tenets. A case for war.”

Taeris nodded, giving Wirr a respectful look. “One of the many good reasons I hadn’t already rescued him,” he said, a little dryly. “The Gil’shar barely need an excuse for war as it is. The one reason they haven’t attacked Andarra over the past fifteen years is that they fear it will cause King Andras to change the Tenets – but if they think we’re trying to get around them anyway, there will be nothing holding them back.”

Davian paled; the implications of their actions reached further than he could possibly have imagined. “So what can we do?” he asked. “We can’t just give him back to the Gil’shar.”

“We can if he’s guilty,” pointed out Wirr. “We should . Better to let them have their political posturing in Thrindar than to risk an incident like this.”

Davian turned to his friend, aghast. “You cannot be serious.”

Taeris held up his hand. “Let’s hear his story before we made any decisions. He’s healed at a remarkable rate – I think we can wake him, now.”

Wirr raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t heal him?”

Taeris shook his head. “I couldn’t risk using Essence; there are too many soldiers around with Finders. But it seems he’s instinctively drawing from his own Reserve to heal himself anyway. It’s quite remarkable.”

Davian eyed the sleeping man nervously. Gifted could accelerate their own healing, but he’d never heard of anyone who was able to do it unconsciously.

Taeris stooped beside the red-headed man, then hesitated. “Davian. I doubt he’ll have the awareness to mask any deception, even if he knows how. Tell me if he lies.” He gripped the sleeping boy by the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

The young man groaned, coming awake.

“Where am I?” he asked, voice rasping slightly.

Taeris, Davian and Wirr all looked at the stranger in silence for a few seconds. His appearance was markedly different from last night; his skin was pale, showing no sign of the bruising that had covered it only hours earlier. Ice-blue eyes searched the room, trying to evaluate what was happening; his reddish-brown hair hung to his shoulders, framing a face that seemed narrower than it would normally due to his sunken cheekbones. His frame looked slight, but that was again most likely due to a lack of food rather than his natural physical appearance.

It was Taeris who finally spoke. “For now, you are safe. But if you lie to me, you will be back in Gil’shar custody within the hour. Do you understand?”

The stranger nodded mutely.