James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

They turned as one to look at Caeden, who shrugged. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but just now, remembering… I knew what it meant.” He glanced at Taeris. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” said Taeris slowly, his expression curious as he stared at Caeden. Then he shrugged. “It could be that the commands have changed since my time, and that the creature was simply mocking me. Still….” He looked troubled.

Wirr gestured to the road ahead. “So along with avoiding the other sha’teth, you said we need to get back to Tol Athian to figure out what’s happening with the Boundary. Why are we heading north?”

Taeris sighed. “With Caeden’s escape, the Gil’shar will be focused on the borders; it will be all but impossible for us to get across unaided. And we don’t have the option of finding a smuggler, as you did to get here – even those types would be unwilling to cross the Gil’shar on this, no matter how much coin we offer.”

“True,” conceded Wirr, “ but heading towards Thrindar is hardly the solution.”

“The Song of Swords is being held in Thrindar,” corrected Taeris. “As of now, there is still a week of the festival remaining. The royal entourage from Andarra will be there, and Desriel allows visiting royalty to bring a small contingent of Gifted. If we can get into the city, I have contacts who can get us an audience. You may be able to slip over the border with them when they leave.”

There was silence for a couple of seconds. “It won’t work,” said Wirr.

“It’s our best chance,” countered Taeris. “The Gil’shar will assume Caeden is running straight for the border, and they don’t know for certain that anyone else is involved. They certainly won’t imagine he has any way of contacting the Andarran delegation.”

Wirr shook his head doggedly. “But they’ll never let us join them. If they did and we were discovered, it wouldn’t just be grounds for war - it would start it, then and there. The official Andarran delegation, smuggling Gifted out of Desriel? Including one accused of murder?” He shot an apologetic glance at Caeden. “I’m sorry, Taeris, but you must see how irresponsible that is. Our lives are not worth that sort of a risk.”

Davian looked at his friend in surprise. Wirr had not raised his voice, but something about his demeanour had changed. For just a moment, the easy-going boy he knew had vanished. There was heavy concern, genuine intensity behind his words.

Taeris considered Wirr for a second, then sighed. “You’re right, Wirr, but think for a moment about what I have told you today. Our lives are not my first concern. If there is some force at work trying to bring down the Boundary, do you imagine there’s no threat to Andarra?”

“ If there is, we don’t know what it means,” said Wirr stubbornly. "Whereas war with Desriel is most certainly a threat."

Taeris bit his lip, then came to a decision. He reached into his satchel, drawing out a small metal box and opening it, shivering as he gingerly picked out the paper-thin object within. It was about the size of his palm and completely black; though it seemed polished to an almost mirror finish, it reflected none of the daylight as Taeris held it up. He leaned over, offering it to Wirr. “Be careful. The edges will slice through your fingers if you slip.”

Wirr took it cautiously, visibly shivering as his hand touched its surface. He slowed his stride as he examined the irregularly-shaped disc. “What is it?” he asked with a look of horrified fascination.

“A scale from a dar’gaithin ,” replied Taeris.

Wirr dropped the disc as if burnt; it fell to the grass beside the road without a sound. He stopped and began rubbing his fingers together as if trying to remove any trace of the object from his skin, though Davian could not see any physical residue. “Of course it is,” he said with a shaky laugh, recovering himself somewhat. “Part of a mythical creature that you carry around in your pocket. Naturally.” Despite his words, he stared at the fallen black disc as if it might leap up and attack him.

Caeden frowned. “A dar’gaithin?”

“A mixture of snake and man. One of the five Abominations used against Andarra in the Eternity War,” explained Taeris.

"It’s part of the Talan Gol myth," continued Wirr to Caeden, sounding dubious. "When Aarkein Devaed invaded, he supposedly led warriors that were almost impossible to kill - mixtures of animals and men. The dar’gaithin were snakes.” He shook his head, turning back to Taeris. "I want to believe you, but… I took what Tenvar said about those creatures on faith, because we didn’t know he could lie to Davian at the time. To be honest, when we found out he could, it made sense to me. It’s hard to believe that they really exist."

Taeris grunted. “Well, the creature I found on the northern border a few months ago was certainly real enough,” he said quietly. “I removed that scale from its carcass myself.”

“You actually saw one?” asked Wirr, clearly caught somewhere between astonishment and scepticism.

Taeris nodded, choosing to ignore the doubt in Wirr’s tone. “Just this side of the Boundary. The effort of crossing must have killed it.” He sighed. “I took the scale and went to the garrison at Shandra, thinking to get help bringing the body back. By the time we returned, it had disappeared.”

“So, if the Boundary is still killing whatever tries to escape the North… that means someone from this side had hidden it?” asked Wirr, doubtful.

“It would appear so.”

Davian glanced at Wirr and Caeden, not knowing what to make of Taeris’ claim. Wirr still looked reluctant to believe the older man, but Caeden was staring at the scale on the ground in fascination. He walked over next to Wirr and squatted, looking at the thin black plate without touching it. Then he grabbed a stick and shifted the disc.

“I believe you,” he said.

Davian stared at the patch of grass where the scale had been lying. The blades, green only a few moments ago, had turned black and shrivelled. Lifeless.

Taeris turned his attention to Caeden. “You remember something?”

Caeden shrugged. “It’s difficult,” he said slowly. “I get these… flashes. It’s not memory, exactly, but it’s not like knowing how to talk, either. It’s… an instinct, I suppose. You told me what a dar’gaithin was, and suddenly I knew the grass underneath its scale would be dead. But I can’t even tell you why I thought that.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Sometimes I feel like I’m so close to knowing something, to remembering. And then it just slips away again.”

Taeris gave him a sympathetic nod. “It will come.” He turned to Davian. “Try picking it up. Careful though. Avoid touching the edges.”

Davian reached down and cautiously plucked the scale from the ground. As he touched it, he shivered. A wave of nausea rolled through him – gone in an instant, but leaving him feeling drained, far more tired than a moment ago.

Aside from the sensation, the scale had a cool, metallic feel to it. He handed it back to Taeris, who promptly dropped it back in its metal container.

“What was that?” asked Davian, suddenly understanding Wirr’s reaction to touching the thing. He could still feel its cold surface against his skin.

“Dar’gaithin were supposed to be impervious to attack from the Gifted, and I think that’s the reason why,” Taeris said, gesturing to the dead patch of grass. “Their scales absorb Essence, draw it in. Maybe even feed off it.”

There was silence as everyone stared at the blackened grass. “For the sake of argument, let’s say we believe you,” said Wirr, looking shaken. “What are you trying to tell us, in truth? That Alchesh was right all along? That Devaed’s been sitting patiently in his prison for two thousand years, just waiting for his chance to wreak havoc upon the world again?”