James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Then he could see them properly. Covered in black scales, the creatures stood at least nine feet tall; their bodies were slim and sinuous, with no neck to speak of. Their heads were shaped like that of a snake, but when they looked at him, he saw the rows of tiny, sharp teeth that filled their mouths. The two creatures watched him for a moment, lashing their tails as they stared hungrily. There was something eerily intelligent about their expressions.

Then they were gone into the smoke, moving faster than he would have believed.

He was kneeling. He looked up to see the smoke had gone; he was in an underground cavern of some kind, the roof stretching upward so far that he could barely see the top. He was sweating; a little way to his left a pool of molten rock bubbled threateningly.

In front of him was a being that seemed made of pure fire, its skin smouldering and writhing, even the strands of its hair glowing with energy. Its eyes, though, contemplating him as they were, were undeniably human.

The creature was holding a sword, and Caeden knew that the sword was important somehow. It bent the light around it, drank it in, but Caeden could still see the symbols inscribed onto the blade, words in a different language. They were familiar to him, but he didn’t have time to concentrate on them.

“You are unworthy,” said the creature holding the sword. Its voice was rough, deep and knowledgeable. “You have come for Licanius, and so may not have her.”

The scene shifted yet again, but this time the sensation was different, though he couldn’t say how. He stood in the centre of a large, open field; it was night, and a gentle breeze made the long grass seem as though there were silvery-black waves sliding over the ground. Everything was in stark contrast, with the moonlight almost blinding, and the shadows as dark and impenetrable as pitch. He looked down. He was wearing a black tunic of fine silk, the threads snug against his skin. It was a familiar feeling. A good feeling.

In the distance, emerging from a copse of swaying birches, he saw a man approach. As he came closer, Caeden could see that he was tall, muscular, with chiselled features and a wide, welcoming smile. The man raised his hand in greeting; hesitantly, Caeden raised his in return. A sense of familiarity flashed through him. Somehow, from somewhere, he knew this man.

“Tal’kamar!” the man called when he was closer, a jovial, welcoming note in his voice. He strode over, and before Caeden could react he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace. “I knew you’d find your way here eventually! It is good to see you, old friend.”

Caeden blinked. “Is this actually happening?” He knew as soon as he said the words that it was. The previous images had been vague, hazy – memories, perhaps, though seen in a detached sort of way. This was something different.

The man chuckled. “Of course! We’re in a dok’en. Your dok’en, actually.” His smile slipped a little. “You’re serious?”

Caeden’s heart leapt. This man seemed to know him – seemed to be friends with him. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I know it sounds strange, but I have no memory of anything beyond a month or so ago. If you know me….”

The man’s smile faded entirely, and he bit his lip. “Then it is true,” he said, sadness in his voice. He sighed. “My name is Alaris.” He put his hand on Caeden’s shoulder. “We are friends, you and I. Brothers.”

Caeden leaned forward. “You can tell me who I am? How I came to be here?”

Alaris nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said in an amiable tone. He glanced around. “There may not be time right now, though.”

“Why?”

Alaris gestured. “Look for yourself.”

Caeden looked back over his shoulder. A black shadow had fallen over some of the field; where there had once been a wide expanse of open grass, there was now nothing to be seen. As he watched, the shadow inched forward some more. He turned back to Alaris, panic welling up inside of him.

“What happens when the shadow reaches us?”

Alaris smiled. “Nothing, to you. It’s your dok’en.”

“Dok’en?” The word was familiar, but Caeden couldn’t recall its meaning.

Alaris rolled his eyes in amusement. “A place you created some time ago, Tal’kamar. Once, you had many of these lying around, and I knew where you’d hidden most of them… but this is the only one that I know of, now. You must not have lost all of your memories, to find your way back here.” He looked around with a frown. “Dok’en are always based on real places, though, and I’m not sure where this was in real life. The Shattered Lands, perhaps? You were always fond of travelling there.” He checked the oncoming shadow again. “Regardless. You’re not doing a terribly good job of keeping this place stable, and I really do need to leave before everything disappears, so let’s make this quick. Where are you?”

Caeden hesitated. The man knew him, but was he trustworthy? Eventually he shook his head. “People are hunting us, and I do not know you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Alaris looked exasperated, but gave a reluctant nod. “I understand.” Then he frowned. “Wait. ’Us’?”

“The people I am travelling with,” elaborated Caeden, still unsure how much to reveal. “Gifted.”

Aelric looked displeased at that. “And who is hunting you?”

“Creatures. They’re called sha’teth.”

Alaris’ expression froze, and Caeden thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly, all humour vanished.

“You know of them?”

Alaris glanced over Caeden’s shoulder, clearly distracted by the oncoming shadow. “You could say that. A tale for another time, my friend.” He grabbed Caeden by the arm. “You are in serious danger, Tal’kamar. If the people you are with find out who you really are, they will kill you without a second’s hesitation. We are at war, and though they may not seem like it now, they are the enemy.” His expression was deadly serious.

Caeden shook his head, refusing to accept the statement. “They have already risked their lives for me.”

“Because they don’t know who you are,” countered Alaris. He eyed the field behind Caeden nervously. "Read them. If you don’t find they’re capable of what I say, then forget I ever spoke ill of them."

Caeden shook his head. “I… don’t know how,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Alaris looked at Caeden, his expression pitying. “I see,” he said softly. “It’s like that.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Tal’kamar. There simply isn’t time to explain.”

He started backing away; Caeden turned to see that the shadow was almost upon them. “The dok’en is about to fail, Tal’kamar," said Alaris. "Once that happens, we cannot use it again. I may not see you for some time.” He paused, looking conflicted, then came to a decision. “In Ilin Illan, there lives a man called Havran Das. Find a way to get to him, without your companions knowing. He’s a merchant dealing in fine wines, and someone who is… reliable. I will contact him myself; he will be able to help you.”

Caeden shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”

Alaris gripped Caeden’s arm. “Because we are brothers, and we have a bond that not even time can break.” He closed his eyes. “Until we meet again, my friend. It was good to see you.”

"Wait! One more question." Caeden clenched his fists; he was afraid to ask, but he had to know. "I was accused of a crime, from before I can remember. Killing people… slaughtering them for no reason." He watched Alaris closely, dreading the answer. "Is that the kind of man I am? Would I have done that?"