James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Taeris rubbed his chin. "Perhaps. We did kill one of its brothers, and nobody’s done that before." He shook his head. "It’s hard to say. Once, I would have said no. But if they are truly out of Athian’s control, there’s no telling what else has changed."

Nihim accepted the statement with a thoughtful nod, and everyone began drifting back to their positions around the campfire. Wirr caught himself staring at Dezia again as she took her seat, until a gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump.

“Go easy,” Caeden said to him, keeping his voice low. “I think you’ve antagonized Aelric enough for one evening.”

Wirr glared for a moment, then gave a brief, rueful laugh. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked Caeden in the eye. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you. What you did was… amazing. How did you…?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” admitted Caeden, sounding weary. “But I was glad to help.”

They moved back to the fire. Conversation was stilted at first – everyone was on edge, listening to the sounds of the surrounding forest for any signs of attack. None came, however, and eventually the group lapsed into sporadic, distracted conversation until tiredness overtook their unease.

Wirr was normally quick to sleep, but tonight he found himself awake long after everyone else’s breathing was deep and regular around him. He had his back to the fire, but he knew that only Nihim and Caeden were still up, having drawn first watch.

“You’re troubled.” It was Nihim breaking the silence, evidently addressing Caeden.

“That’s nothing new,” came the soft reply.

Wirr wondered whether he should move around, make it obvious he was still awake.

“More than usual, then,” said Nihim.

There was a long silence, and Wirr was beginning to wonder whether Caeden was simply ignoring the priest when he responded, “I duelled. With Aelric.”

“I see.” There was a hesitation in Nihim’s voice. “Aelric is an immensely talented swordsman. Losing to him -”

“I didn’t lose.” Caeden’s voice was flat and low.

There was another long silence. “You must be an impressive swordsman.”

“I suppose so.” Caeden gave a bitter laugh. “Interesting skills for a simple farm boy.”

“I think we both know that whatever else you are, you’re no farm boy.” A pause. “Neither of you was hurt?”

“No. But… I was angry. I… almost hurt him. I wanted to hurt him.” Caeden choked the words out like they were poison.

“And that scared you?”

“It terrified me.”

“Good. That’s good.” Wirr could hear cloth rustling as Nihim shifted. “Everyone has a darker nature, Caeden. Everyone . Good men fear it, and evil men embrace it. Good men are still tempted to do the wrong thing, but they resist those urges. As you did. You have nothing to worry about.”

There was a moment of silence. “That doesn’t sound like the teachings of Marut Jha.”

Nihim gave a soft chuckle. “Marut Jha doesn’t trouble himself with definitions like ‘good’ and ‘evil’. No – my priesthood here has never been anything more than a facade. My belief is in El, the One God.”

“The god of the Augurs. The god of predestination.”

“That’s right.” Nihim sounded surprised at Caeden’s knowledge. “El sees everything, is in perfect and absolute control. The Great Design, it’s called. Everything that happens runs according to His purpose.”

“Remind me to thank him for my last couple of months.”

Nihim chuckled again. “I didn’t say He was responsible, I said it runs according to His purpose. Shammaeloth has his influences over this world, too. He fights, but it’s simply that he is in a war he cannot win, because every move he makes has already been accounted for by El.”

There was silence for a few seconds. “Then why does El not simply finish him and be done with it? Stop every move he makes?” Caeden sounded irritated. “Terrible things happen all the time. It hardly feels like he’s losing.”

“The point is, he’s not losing - he’s already lost. What you see are his death throes. Shammaeloth was bound to this world in the Genesis War, and thus bound by time. He was trapped here, and now all he fights for is souls to serve him in his prison.”

“He must not be doing a very good job. I haven’t heard of many followers of Shammaeloth,” observed Caeden, his tone dubious.

“It doesn’t work like that. At the end of time, El will leave this world, taking those who gave him their faith. When he does, what protection this world has will vanish, and it will fall to Shammaeloth to rule what remains – and only what remains – for eternity. Any who do not leave with El will be left here and serve him, like it or not.”

There was a pause, Caeden obviously digesting this. “I can’t say I like the idea of not being in control of my own destiny,” he said eventually. "If everything is already laid out, if there really is a Great Design, wouldn’t that mean we have no free will?”

Nihim grunted. "I can’t tell you how many times I heard that same question debated, back in the Augurs' day," he admitted. “There are a lot of differing opinions, but I certainly think we have free will. Just because El knows each choice I’m going to make – even if he created me knowing it’s the choice I would make - doesn’t mean it’s not mine.” He sighed. “But, perhaps, it’s still not free will as you would think of it. That’s the natural arrogance of man, sadly. We want to believe that free will means complete independence from the plans of our creator.”

There was a contemplative silence. “Tell me one thing, though," said Caeden after a while. "Since the Augurs fell… how can you still have faith?”

“Because my faith is in El. It was never in the Augurs or what they were once capable of,” explained Nihim. “You can put your trust in something that’s obvious, that’s measurable or predictable - but that’s not faith. Nor is believing in something that gives you no pause for doubt, no reason or desire to question. Faith is something more than that. By definition, it cannot have proof as its foundation.”

There was another silence. “That makes sense, I suppose. It’s something to think on,” Caeden conceded eventually, sounding more polite than convinced.

“That’s good. But you should think on it, Caeden. It’s important, regardless of what conclusion you come to.”

“Why?”

“Because it strikes me that a man needs to know what he believes before he can really know who he is.”

Wirr didn’t hear Caeden’s response, but after a few more moments there was the sound of yawning, and Nihim chuckled. “I hope it’s not the conversation, lad, but you look like you can barely keep your eyes open,” he said. “Perhaps you should get some sleep. I can take the rest of the watch.”

"It’s not the conversation. Just a long day," Caeden assured him with another yawn. “You’re right, though - I might take you up on that offer, if it’s no trouble. Thank-you.” There were some scuffling sounds as Caeden made himself comfortable, and soon enough another note of regular breathing joined the others.

Wirr lay awake for a little longer, wondering at the conversation he’d overheard.

Eventually though, his eyes shut of their own accord, and he knew nothing more until dawn.

Asha unlocked the door to her chambers wearily.

It was the end of only her fourth day at the palace, and so far the entire experience had been one long blur, with Michal proving to be a merciless teacher. She was woken each day before dawn so that he could tutor her; when he had to attend to his other duties, he made her work through entire tomes of genealogies, explaining that the blood ties between Houses motivated much of their politics. He would then return in the evening, drilling her on what she’d learned and refusing to let her leave until she displayed enough progress to satisfy him.