James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“The entire city?”

Malshash nodded. “Possibly the greatest weapon ever made, though in some ways even the Darecians didn’t understand that at the time. Every building here, every street, every stone, is made to capture Essence – and it all leads to the Jha’vett. That ‘altar’, as you called it, is the focus of immense energies. The High Darecians, at the height of their knowledge and power, spent a hundred and fifty years making it.”

Davian felt his eyebrows raise. Every story of the Darecians spoke at length of their powers, their abilities with Essence. “What does it do?”

“It tears a rift,” replied Malshash seriously. “It allows someone to leave time itself, to step outside the stream of time and shift themselves elsewhere along it. Forwards. Backwards. Whenever they wish.” He shook his head. “They built it so that they could go back, to before the Shining Lands were destroyed. They wanted to warn their people of what was coming. To perhaps kill the man who destroyed them, before he could do it.”

Davian gaped. “Is that possible?”

“No-one really knows, but… I am beginning to think not.” Malshash sighed, deeply and with regret.

“So they failed?"

“Not exactly,” said Malshash. “The Jha’vett works, as you can tell. But if any of the Darecians went back, they weren’t able to change anything.” He jumped up, grabbed a handful of flour from a bag on the shelf, then came back and dumped it on the table. He drew a line through it. “Imagine this is time. The Darecians believed that going back to a point in time will create this .” He drew a branching line from the original. “An alternate timeline, where things are different depending on what has been changed. Where you could go back in time, kill your parents before they ever meet, and still live out the rest of your days in a reality where you are never born.” He drew more lines. “They believed that there are infinite realities, where each choice of each person creates a new world. So possibly, they went back in time, succeeded, and are now living out a different reality to this one.”

He erased the extra lines. “ However , there may be only one timeline. One set of possible events. The Augurs have been reinforcing that theory for years, but it’s not something anyone wants to believe. We like the idea of infinite possibility. That nothing is inevitable.” He sounded frustrated. “Yet the more I see, the more inevitability seems to be the way of it. One timeline. No second chances.”

Davian frowned. “I was nowhere near the Jha’vett when all this happened. So how did I get here?”

Malshash shifted, looking uncomfortable. “There was a man. Aarkein Devaed. He was amongst those responsible for the destruction of the Shining Lands; when he invaded Andarra, he went ahead of his army and tried to use the Jha’vett for himself.” He paused. “Instead of getting it to work, though, he just… damaged it. Now, sometimes the energies in the city become misdirected. Escape, flow outward. Ripples like that are rare, but if you weren’t at the Jha’vett, it’s the only explanation.”

“There were apparitions, just before the Orkoth attacked,” said Davian, remembering. “People appearing and disappearing right in front of us. Would that have been caused by one of these… ripples?”

Malshash gave a thoughtful nod. “I would think so. Different times bleeding into each other, most likely. I’ve seen it happen once before.” He hesitated as if reminded of something, then fished around in his pocket, producing a ring with a slightly guilty expression. It was silver, and had three plain bands that twisted together to form a distinctive pattern, irregular but flowing.

Malshash held it up. “Before we go any further, you should know: I used the Jha’vett to draw you here with this,” he admitted awkwardly. “I needed something of yours, something personal. Something that meant a great deal to you.”

Davian looked at him in puzzlement. “What is it?”

Malshash raised an eyebrow. “It’s your ring.”

Davian shook his head. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s not mine.” The ring was distinctive; he’d certainly know if he’d ever owned something so fine.

“Ah. Then it will be,” said Malshash with a slight shrug.

Davian scowled. “How is that possible? How can something be important to me if I’ve never even seen it before?”

Malshash shrugged again. “Remember, you were outside of time when it drew you. There was no future, no past. When it is important to you is not relevant. At some point, it will be.”

Davian stared at him for a few seconds. “I think I’m going to have to take your word on that.”

Malshash gave him an amused half-smile in response and then tossed the ring to Davian, who caught it, examining it closely. It was unadorned with jewels, but the pattern created by the bands melding together was intricately done.

“What am I to do with this?” asked Davian.

“Keep it on you,” said Malshash. “Wear it. Don’t stray too far from it, ever. It’s the anchor that is holding you here in this time. If you get too far away, the pull of your own time may become too strong, draw you back into the rift.”

Davian stared at the ring. “Surely that would be what I want? I could go back?”

“No." Malshash shook his head, expression serious. "It’s remarkable you survived the journey here, Davian. A miracle. Most people caught in a rift are ripped apart by the sheer force of the transition; if they aren’t, they go mad, their minds unable to process the absence of time.”

Davian frowned. “Most people?”

Malshash shifted. “Everyone who has ever entered a rift, to the best of my knowledge,” he admitted. He sighed. “You will go back, I promise. But you need to hone your Augur abilities, train using kan before you can continue your journey.”

Davian looked at Malshash in open surprise. “You can teach me?”

Malshash grinned. “Ah, did I forget to mention? I’m an Augur too.” His continued to smile as he watched Davian’s shocked expression, then stood. “Finish up your meal, then rest a little more. I will return in the afternoon and we can begin your training.”

Before Davian could recover enough to speak, Malshash had left the room. Davian stared after him, mouth still open, for several more seconds.

“Yes, you forgot to mention that,” he eventually muttered to himself.

He returned to his meal, not knowing whether to feel excited or afraid.

A few hours passed before there was a knock on Davian’s door.

He had been lying on the bed, tired but unable to sleep, still struggling with the concepts Malshash had tried to explain that morning. He leapt up and opened the door, relieved to find that Malshash’s appearance had not changed since breakfast.

“Come with me,” said Malshash.

Davian trailed after the shapeshifter. They walked out of the house and down a street, neither towards the centre of the city nor towards one of the bridges.

“Where are we going?” Davian asked.

“The Great Library. I can teach you some things, a few tricks here and there, but much would be better coming straight from the Darecians.”

Davian nodded, falling silent. They walked at a casual stroll; Davian constantly had to slow to match Malshash’s pace, his skin crawling as the mists caressed it. “Aren’t you afraid the Orkoth will attack?” he asked nervously.

Malshash shook his head. “We need not fear Orkoth.”

Davian was not going to be put off. “Why?”

Malshash stopped in exasperation. He closed his eyes, gesturing in the air.

The mists thickened and a cry came, ear-splitting and chilling to the bone. Davian made to flee but suddenly found his shoulder gripped by Malshash, whose eyes were open again.