James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Dezia turned to him, her concern showing through. “Yes.”

Taeris grunted. “So you are in as dire need of escape from Desriel as us.” Dezia nodded again, and Taeris sighed. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Aelric gave him a fierce scowl. “You weren’t my first choice either, Bleeder,” he said in a low voice.

Davian stiffened, unexpected anger abruptly boiling at the forefront of his emotions. He walked over to Aelric until the two were face to face.

“I don’t mind that you don’t want to be here,” he said softly, “ but if you ever – ever – call one of us that again, we will set you and your sister adrift. Only one person needs to overhear that word being used, and we’ll have the entire Desrielite army bearing down on us before we can blink.”

Aelric didn’t back down, but he gave a short nod. “As you wish,” he said, the slightest note of contrition in his voice.

Taeris sighed as he watched the exchange. He turned back to Dezia. “And why are you here?”

“He’s my brother. As embarrassing as that can be sometimes,” she said with a scowl in Aelric’s direction. Then she added, “But I can fight if I need to.”

Taeris raised an eyebrow. “Sword?”

Dezia reached into a pack on the side of one of the horses. “Bow,” she said, unwrapping an oiled cloth to reveal a well-made bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Taeris considered, then nodded. “Keep it close,” he said. “There’s no telling if, or when, we’ll find trouble.”

“Speaking of which. Where are we going?” asked Aelric. “Karaliene said that there was no way you’d risk trying to cross at Talmiel.”

Taeris hesitated. “Deilannis,” he said eventually.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at him. “Deilannis?” repeated Wirr, sounding slightly disbelieving. “Does it even exist?”

Taeris smiled, though there was little humour in the expression. “It’s very much real,” he assured Wirr. “I’ve been there once before.”

Aelric frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It was an ancient city. Built on an island in the middle of the river Lantarche, bordering Desriel, Andarra and Narut,” Davian supplied. He looked at Taeris worriedly. “I’ve read about it. I thought it was supposed to be… dangerous. Cursed, somehow.” The stories varied as to what made the city so unsafe, but he remembered one thing clearly enough: they were unanimous in saying that those who went into the City of Mists did not return.

Aelric gave a scornful laugh. “Cursed?”

“’Occupied’ would be a better word,” said Taeris, unruffled by Aelric’s reaction. “Something lives in there – and whatever it is, it is dangerous.”

Aelric made a face. “Just stories, surely. Superstitious nonsense.”

Wirr shot him an irritated glare. “You’d never even heard of it a moment ago.” Aelric’s attitude was obviously grating at Wirr as much as it was at Davian.

Aelric opened his mouth to retort, but Taeris cut in. “No-one guards the bridges to and from the city, so it’s our best chance of escape. It’s also an indication of how perilous the city itself is,” he added with a pointed look in Aelric’s direction. “I wouldn’t even suggest it if there were an alternative.”

Aelric hesitated, then inclined his head reluctantly. “I suppose if the Gil’shar ignore it, it cannot be easy to pass through,” he admitted.

“There is another benefit to crossing there.” Taeris paused, glancing at Aelric and Dezia. “There are creatures pursuing us.”

Dezia nodded. “The sha’teth. Yes, Karaliene explained.”

“I see. Good. I’m… glad you know." Taeris shot a half-curious, half-irritated glance at Wirr. "I suspect that if we can avoid the sha’teth until we reach Deilannis, they won’t follow us through. Years ago, Tol Athian ordered them to investigate the ruins, and all five of the creatures refused to enter. Until last week, it was the only time I’d ever seen them defy a direct order. We never found out why.”

“Because entering the city would kill them.”

There was a sudden silence as everyone turned to look at Caeden.

Taeris stared at the young man curiously. “Why do you say that?”

Caeden suddenly looked uncertain. “I… just know.” He shook his head. “The same way I knew a Shackle would kill the one in Anabir.”

Taeris rubbed his chin. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “The Law of Decay works differently in the city; it’s impossible to use Essence there. So if a Shackle can kill a sha’teth, Deilannis could affect them in the same way, I suppose.” He shrugged, though he continued to look at Caeden with slightly narrowed eyes. “Regardless, it’s our only option now. And it’s past time we were on our way.” Leading by example, he took the reins of a horse from Dezia and mounted it in one smooth motion.

There were six horses, so each of the boys picked a mount they thought they could handle without too much trouble, and they started northward. Davian had a little difficulty adjusting; his mount was nothing like Jeni back at Caladel, his only prior experience of riding. He winced as he bounced along, knowing without asking that he was going to be sore by the end of the day.

They rode without incident for a time, silent for the most part. Occasionally Dezia exchanged conversation with one or another of the boys, but usually stopped under Aelric’s disapproving glare. After she spoke briefly to Caeden, though, Aelric pulled the red-haired boy aside as they rode – away from the others, but close enough that Davian could still hear them.

Aelric’s expression was affable enough, but his words were cold steel. “I know who you are,” he said to Caeden softly. “I don’t know whether you’re innocent, as everyone else here seems so eager to believe – and I don’t care. Under no circumstances on this journey are you to talk to my sister.”

Caeden’s eyebrows raised, but he remained otherwise impassive. “And if she talks to me?”

Aelric slapped Caeden on the back as if they were having a friendly chat, clearly unaware that Davian could hear him. “Politely remove yourself from the conversation.”

For a moment Davian thought he saw a flash of anger on Caeden’s face, but if it had been there, it was covered straight away with a pleasant smile and nod. “As you wish,” said Caeden, not a trace of offense in his tone.

Aelric, apparently satisfied, rode on ahead. Caeden saw Davian looking at him and gave an uncomfortable shrug. The two rode side-by-side for a few minutes in silence.

“Do you dream at all, Davian?” Caeden asked suddenly.

Davian blinked at the question. “Sometimes,” he answered. “Not often though… and I don’t really remember much after.”

“I’ve been having dreams. Nightmares.” Caeden shivered. “I can’t remember much of them either, mostly, but… they’re bad. I wake up shaking and sweating most nights.”

The admission came hard, Davian could tell. He gave Caeden a sympathetic look. “Given what you’ve been through -”

“No.” Caeden cut him off. “It’s not that. It’s not about getting beaten. I dream about that sometimes, too, and it’s awful. But this is something worse. Much worse.” He was quiet for several seconds, and Davian wondered whether he should ask anything further about it. He was just about to speak again when Caeden shifted in his saddle, leaning closer.

“Do you think I did it?”

Davian stared at Caeden for a long moment. “Did what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” said Caeden, his tone reproachful. He jerked his head towards Aelric. “People like him tend to assume the worst about me – but I don’t care what they think. You and Wirr, though… you’re a different story. You’ve been nothing but friendly to me, but at the same time, I can see you holding back. Being cautious.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame you, I just want to know what you think of me. Honestly.”