James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Alaris hesitated.

"No, Tal’kamar," he said softly. "Never without a reason."

He faded just as the shadow touched Caeden.

“Caeden,” came Taeris' voice.

He shook his head, trying to focus. The world around him bled back into view, slowly regaining colour and clarity. He was on the ground. Taeris was looking at him anxiously and the others were watching a little distance away, concern on their faces too.

“Take it easy,” Taeris advised as Caeden struggled to rise. “You collapsed.”

Caeden took a moment, then levered himself upward. The momentary disorientation had passed.

“I’m okay,” he said, getting to his feet. Still, his stomach lurched. Never without a reason .

“What happened?” asked Wirr.

Caeden stared at the worried faces around him for a long moment. Then he glanced at Aelric, who was clearly still concerned that his Shackle had been removed.

“Just a dizzy spell,” he assured everyone.

Taeris hesitated, then gave him a gentle clap on the back. “Probably a side-effect of having the Shackle on for so long,” he said. “Are you able to travel?”

Caeden gave a silent nod of confirmation, his thoughts already elsewhere.

Havran Das.

He fixed the name in his mind as he began helping the others break camp. He didn’t know if he could trust Alaris, but one thing was certain.

He was going to find out more once they reached Ilin Illan.

Wirr poked at the fire with a stick, keeping a thoughtful silence.

He glanced across at the three sleeping forms lying at the edge of the flickering light. Caeden had made his excuses and retired early tonight; though apparently recovered from his sudden collapse that morning, he’d seemed a little off throughout the day. Aelric and Dezia had soon followed, leaving Wirr and Taeris on first watch.

The lack of conversation had suited Wirr. He needed time to gather himself after the madness of the past couple of days.

His thoughts, as they often did now, drifted to the friend he’d lost. Wirr forced himself to picture Davian’s face - to once again accept the accompanying pain and regret that settled heavily in his chest. He knew he should have been smarter than to shout out, to try and draw on Essence.

Unbidden, he recalled that moment. The dar’gaithin, the shouting. The desperate sprint after Caeden, back the way they had come.

Then he frowned. Since leaving Deilannis, something had been tugging at his the corners of his mind, small but insistent. This time, he realised what it was.

“What was in the building?” he asked abruptly, tone low so as not to wake the others.

Taeris blinked, shaken from a reverie of his own. “Pardon?”

Wirr leaned forward. “The building,” he repeated. “In Deilannis. You were going to go inside. You wanted something in there, but Nihim stopped you.” His frown deepened as he remembered. “You led us there, didn’t you. You knew it wasn’t the way out. Caeden even told you, but you ignored him.”

Taeris stared at Wirr for a moment. “Yes.”

Rage began to boil up inside Wirr; it was all he could do to keep his voice low. “Why? Davian and Nihim died, Taeris! My friend and your friend died because you wanted something so badly, you were willing to risk all our lives for it. So you will tell me what was in that building.” His voice was cold and hard, anger sitting just beneath the surface.

“A weapon,” said Taeris, looking more resigned than surprised at Wirr’s tone. “A weapon that was built to defeat Aarkein Devaed himself. Lost for thousands of years.” He sighed. “The time approaches, Wirr, when we may need a weapon against whatever is waiting for us in the North. So… yes. I risked lives.”

Wirr felt some of the anger drain away, but far from all of it. “And what would this weapon be?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Taeris. “That’s part of the problem. We need to know what it is, how it works, before the time comes to put it to use.”

Wirr shook his head. “You should have told us. We had a right to know,” he said furiously. “Why now? You’ve lived in Desriel for years. Why wait?”

Taeris bowed his head. “Because it was only supposed to be Nihim,” he said, voice aching.

Wirr frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Taeris took a deep breath. “Before the Unseen War, Nihim was approached by an Augur, who told him he would die in Deilannis - but in the process, supposedly, of helping one of the most important men of our time. The Augur also told him – promised him! – that no-one else would die. That all others travelling with him would be safe.” He shook his head. “I thought… I thought it gave me a free pass, Wirr. Nihim insisted on coming, said it was his time. I thought that knowing he was the only one who died would give us impunity to investigate. That it was perhaps my only chance to do so safely.” He looked up. “I’m sorry.”

Wirr saw it then - the guilt that was crushing Taeris, as real and raw as his own.

It didn’t matter, though. In some ways it was worse; Wirr had been shouldering the burden of Davian’s death, when in reality that responsibility was shared.

"So you risked our lives, based on a vision an Augur told you twenty years ago. Despite knowing that their visions stopped coming to pass," he said in quiet disbelief. He stood, hands shaking, almost too angry to think. “I’m going for a walk.”

Taeris grimaced. “That’s probably not the best idea -”

“Enough, Taeris,” Wirr snarled as softly as he could. “I’ll stay nearby in case there’s trouble.”

He walked off into the darkness, the jumble of emotions that had died down since Deilannis back now, worse than ever. He’d just pushed them down before, but he knew he needed to deal with them this time.

He found a log still dry despite the damp of the evening, well away from the fire, out of earshot of the rest of the camp. He sat, staring at nothing for several long minutes.

Finally the tears began to fall. The frustration, the anger, the pain all bubbled to the surface, and he let it out, weeping harder than when he’d heard about Caladel - as he hadn’t done since he was a child, the day he’d discovered he was Gifted.

There was nothing left. Everything from the past three years, everything he’d valued, was gone forever.

He didn’t move for a long time.

It was an hour later when Wirr returned.

Taeris watched him silently, nodding as he sat down on the opposite side of the fire. Wirr stared at the other man for a long moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure I can forgive you,” he said, keeping his voice low. He held up his hand as Taeris opened his mouth. “Perhaps in time. However, I understand what you were trying to do. I understand that you thought we were safe.” He set his face in a grim mask as he leaned forward. “But the secrets have to stop here . Here and now. If you’d just explained what we were doing beforehand, we might have agreed to help. Us knowing might have changed things… we might be young, Taeris, but we’re not children. We’re on your side. You don’t need to lie to us.”

Taeris considered, then slowly inclined his head. “True. But that needs to go both ways.”

Wirr grimaced; he’d thought long and hard about this, and he knew he was just as guilty as Taeris when it came to keeping secrets. He nodded. “Very well. Allow me to start.” He rose, crossed to the other side of the fire, and extended his hand to Taeris. “I am Prince Torin Wirrander Andras.”

Taeris gave the hand a blank stare. “The son of Elocien Andras.” The shock on his face made it very hard for Wirr not to laugh.