James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“Wonderful. I was there earlier today, but some directions back would not go astray. Would you terribly mind company?”

Davian glanced at Ilseth sideways, suddenly realising where he recognised his voice from. The man who had been talking with Talean.

He frowned. The question had been posed innocently enough, but he sensed there was something more to it. Elders visiting the school were not uncommon - yet for a moment, Davian felt an irrational suspicion.

Then he understood. Ilseth was offering Davian some support for the trip back, but tactfully enough not to make him feel ashamed for needing it. He felt a flicker of embarrassment at himself.

“It would be my pleasure, Elder Tenvar,” he said gratefully.

Ilseth smiled. “Please, call me Ilseth. At least until we reach the school.”

They made their way out of Caladel in silence, Davian lost in his own thoughts, still dazed from the attack. He began replaying events over in his mind, a bitter mix of anger and humiliation starting to burn in his stomach. He’d done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this.

As if reading his thoughts, Ilseth placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re not to blame, you know.”

“I just don’t understand why people are like that.” Frustration lent an edge to Davian’s tone. “Administrators and townsfolk both. Why do they hate us so much? The war ended fifteen years ago; I had nothing to do with it. Those boys – I doubt they were even born back then!” He took a deep breath. “I know, we have to accept the Treaty, live with the Tenets. It just doesn’t seem fair .”

Ilseth paused, considering Davian for a moment. “It’s not,” he said quietly, his tone matter-of-fact. “Not to any of us.” He shrugged. “As to the other… well, they hate us so much because they fear us. And they fear us because they know they can never control us. Not completely. Even though the Tenets make them our masters for now, we’ll always be stronger than them. Better than them. That’s a hard thing for people to accept, and it’s what drives them to push us down at every opportunity. They broke us once, and now they worry that if they don’t keep at it, we will rise up again and exact vengeance.” There was no heat to his words, only resignation.

They walked on for a while, the only sounds the gentle breeze in the trees and the creaking of the cart. Davian absently rubbed at his scar as he thought about what Ilseth had said.

“This wasn’t the first time, was it.”

Davian turned to see Ilseth watching him. “No,” he admitted after a moment.

“What happened?”

Davian hesitated, then gave an awkward shrug. “It was a few years ago. I was just a servant at the school, back then – I’ve lived there all my life. Mistress Alita had sent me into town, and some of the men there must have known I was working for the Gifted. They were drunk… I don’t remember much of it, to be honest.” Only the fragments he dreamed about, in fact. Nothing else between leaving the school and waking up – every nerve on fire, his face slashed open and the Mark emblazoned on his forearm.

He stopped. It had been a long time since he’d had to tell this story to anyone. He took a deep breath of the fresh sea air, continuing, “They attacked me, were going to kill me, but there was another Gifted – an Elder – who was passing by, and he… protected me. When he saw what they were doing to me, he killed them.” He fell silent.

“Ah,” said Ilseth, his expression changing to one of recognition. “You’re him. The boy Taeris Sarr saved.”

“You’ve heard about it?” Davian couldn’t keep the surprise from his tone.

Ilseth gave a short laugh, though there was no amusement in it. “I doubt there are many Gifted in Ilin Illan who haven’t. Administration claimed Sarr found a way to break the Tenets in order to kill those men. He denied it, of course, but it made little difference to the Northwarden. Sarr was executed before Tol Athian could even formally protest.”

Davian nodded, a little sadly. He’d never been able to thank the man who had saved him. Sarr’s execution had troubled Davian more than his injuries, in some ways. It had shown him exactly how little saving his life had been worth.

“Did you know him?” Davian asked.

Ilseth shook his head. “Not personally. He was at the Tol when the sieges began, and travelled a lot after, so our paths never really crossed.”

Davian looked up. “So… you didn’t live at the Tol during the war? You fought?”

Ilseth chuckled. “’Fought’ would perhaps be overstating things.” He saw Davian’s blank expression and grimaced. “’Hid’ may be a better term,” he elaborated, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh - of course. Sorry,” said Davian, abashed. Everyone called it ‘the war’, but everyone equally knew that the bloodshed had been mostly one-sided. He gave Ilseth a curious glance. “I’ve never met an Outsider before.”

Ilseth grunted. “That’s because there weren’t many of us left, by the end. If you weren’t lucky enough to be inside the walls of Tol Athian or Tol Shen when it all began, your chances of survival were… slim. Believe me.”

“What was it like? If you don’t mind me asking,” Davian added hurriedly, suddenly realising he was prying.

Ilseth gave a slight shrug, looking distant. “I don’t mind, lad. It was a long time ago.” He scratched his beard. “It was… lonely. Most people will tell you the worst thing was the pressure of being hunted, the constant fear, how you always had to be on your guard. They’re not wrong, exactly – you slept light and felt lucky if you got to the end of the day. But for me, it’s the loneliness I remember the most.”

Davian wiped a bead of sweat from his brow; being mostly uphill, the return walk from Caladel always required a little more exertion, and the sun was now beating down with intensity as well. “You didn’t try and get back to Tol Athian?”

Ilseth smiled wryly, as if at a poor joke. “Only those of us who couldn’t take it any more did that. It was suicide to be anywhere near the capital, let alone try and get to Athian. The same went for Tol Shen down south – and the other three Tols had all been destroyed by that point.”

Davian nodded; though the Elders were usually close-mouthed about the war, he’d already gleaned that much. Once, there had been five Tols – five different groups of Gifted, each teaching different philosophies and skills in their various schools, filling specific roles for the Augur leadership. Now, only two survived – Tol Athian, under whose governance his own school fell, and Tol Shen.

Ilseth continued, “No – I just went from town to town, trying to stay quiet, always on the lookout for Hunters and Loyalists. And always alone. During those days, if you spotted someone else who was Gifted, you went in the opposite direction. Most of us who survived were like me – smart enough to realise that aside from direct skin contact, the Finders could only detect you while you were using Essence. And if you could sense another Gifted, it was because they were doing exactly that… which usually also meant that the Hunters were on their way.”

Davian stayed silent, trying to imagine it. Three entire Tols wiped out, the other two besieged. Every school in the country overrun, everyone who had lived there butchered. A time when things were worse for the Gifted, when they had leapt at the chance to sign the Treaty, submit themselves to the Tenets.

He watched Ilseth from the corner of his eye. The Elders at the school were always reticent when it came to the Unseen War, but Ilseth seemed perfectly willing to talk about it.

“Did you ever meet the Augurs? Before it all started, I mean?”