James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

The streets were empty, but I was running as fast as I could. I wasn’t slowing my passage through time, though. Maybe I couldn’t for some reason? I was trying to be as quiet as possible, but I couldn’t stop my footsteps from echoing off the cobblestones, and even that small sound was as good as shouting in a place like that.

Then there was a growl behind me and I turned to see a great wolf-hound, so big that its face was at the same height as mine. There was something strange about its eyes – they were too intelligent for an animal, I think. The creature came towards me, and I turned to run but in front of me another one had appeared. They moved in slowly, taking their time, as if they knew I had nowhere to go. I screamed for help, but no-one came.

The first creature finally attacked, and the last thing I felt was its teeth biting into my neck.

Not long after that, there was an older entry by Erran:

I was aware I was in a vision just in time to see Commander Hael driving a dagger into my stomach, screaming something at me.

Then I was waking up, lying on the floor of a Lockroom in the palace. There was blood everywhere – a disturbingly big pool of it on the ground where my face was. It was hard to orient myself, but when I checked my stomach, there was no wound. Most of the blood seemed to have come from my nose… and maybe my ears, which I thought was strange. Everything ached and I felt weak, nauseous; I tried to stand, but that turned out to be a bad idea. I collapsed back onto the floor, and everything went black.

When I woke up again, I was being led out into an unfamiliar courtyard. There were gallows there, which unfortunately meant that I got fixated on them and didn’t take much notice of my other surroundings. The executioner watched us as we filed up beside him, and we all stood obediently in front of our assigned length of rope. I’m not sure why I wasn’t struggling, but when I looked around at the people next to me, they seemed resigned to what was happening too. I didn’t recognise anyone. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad about that.

We all just stood there silently as the executioner walked down the line, draping the nooses around necks and tightening them. I watched him with a kind of detached fascination - I remember thinking I was glad he looked professional, because that wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to have botched.

I stared out over the courtyard, but it was empty. Shouldn’t there have been a crowd watching something like that? Witnesses? I didn’t think it strange at the time, though.

Then the trapdoor below my feet opened, and I got the sudden rush of falling for just a moment. Everything went black again, but this time I’m fairly certain it was permanent.

Asha continued through the stack of papers in fascinated, horrified silence. Most of the visions were inconsequential: what was happening the following day, snatches of arguments or personal moments, but nothing of real significance. Hidden amongst them, though, she found repeating descriptions from each of the three Augurs – three identical visions written by Fessi and two from Kol. Erran’s vision of the hanging was repeated, too, though not the first part about getting stabbed by Commander Hael – whoever that was.

She shivered as she stared at the pages. What must it be like, to See your own death? None of the three had been able to determine any timeline for their visions, though she couldn’t decide whether they would consider that a blessing or a curse.

After a while, she filed Kol’s newest vision with the others and locked her desk drawer. She was tired, and it was only a few hours until she had to rise again.

Still, it took her a long time to get to sleep.

Asha groaned as a hand shook her by the shoulder.

“Go away, Michal,” she mumbled.

“It’s not Michal.”

Asha forced her eyes open. “Erran?” She pulled the sheets a little higher.

The young man gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I did try knocking.”

“That’s okay.” Asha rubbed her face, slowly coming awake. “What time is it?”

“A couple of hours before dawn.” Erran yawned. “A time no living creature should be awake, I know. But your Representative is a harder task master than any of us anticipated.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Asha shook her head. “Why are you here?”

Erran made a face, then produced a slip of paper from his pocket that he handed to Asha.

“Nothing urgent,” he reassured her. “This was just the only time I could get it to you. If Representative Alac keeps you this busy, you may be in for more of these late night disturbances, I’m afraid. It’s not the sort of thing we can just slip under your door.”

Asha nodded. “Of course.”

Erran coughed, then gestured to the door. “I should let you get back to sleep,” he said apologetically. He turned.

“Erran.”

The young man stopped. “Yes?”

“I read the other visions last night. The ones not in the Journal.”

Erran turned, examining her face for a few moments in silence. “You have questions,” he said eventually.

Asha shook her head, remembering what Erran had Seen. “How… how do you deal with it?”

Erran bit his lip. “How long until you need to meet the Representative?”

Asha shrugged. “An hour?”

“Enough time, then. Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

“Okay.” When Erran didn’t move, Asha pointedly looked at him, then the door.

“Ah. Sorry.” Erran flushed, then exited.

Asha dressed hurriedly and soon joined Erran outside her room.

“So where are we going?”

Erran shook his head, indicating he didn’t want to say outside of a Lockroom. “You’ll see.”

They walked for a few minutes, turning down a series of increasingly bare hallways. This section of the palace was older and evidently less used; before long even the carpet underfoot had given way to hard grey stone, the occasional windows had vanished, and dust was evident everywhere. Only Erran’s torch provided any light.

“The palace backs onto Ilin Tora,” he explained as they walked. “These passages are cut directly into the mountain – like Tol Athian, but made by regular men, not the Builders.”

Asha nodded; the passageways were well-made, but the differences were obvious. Suddenly she was reminded of the similar journey she’d made with Jin, and she swallowed. “What’s back here?”

“The old dungeons. Storage rooms.” He shrugged. “Nobody uses this section of the palace any more. Some of the deeper passages collapsed years ago, and given that the space wasn’t needed, the cost of upkeep outweighed the benefits of having it available.”

Asha looked around, a sudden chill making her shiver. The walls here were closer, rough, looming in the shadows cast by the flickering orange torch. “Then why are we here?”

Erran stopped in front of a large, thick-looking oak door with a keyhole symbol above the doorknob, then produced a key from his pocket. Despite the obvious age of the door, the key turned with a well-oiled click, and the door swung open without a sound.

“For this,” said Erran.

Asha stared around in wonder as she entered the vast chamber, more a warehouse than a room. The torchlight didn’t reach the roof, and there was no telling how far back the walls went. Row upon row of shelves stretched out into the darkness, each holding a variety of objects.

“What is this place?”

Erran shut the door. “Administration’s stockpile of ‘dangerous’ Gifted artefacts. Every single thing they’ve confiscated from the schools and the Tols since the beginning of the war.”