James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

From the line of trees up ahead, there was suddenly movement. Taeris held up a warning hand to the others.

Two people hurried towards them; they stopped in the middle of what would have been the town square, clearly unwilling to run the gauntlet of the dead. Taeris urged his companions towards them.

Thanks to a stiff breeze, the air was much clearer in the middle of the town, enough so that Caeden felt comfortable lowering his kerchief. As he drew closer to the newcomers – a woman and a young boy, perhaps fifteen - he could see their red eyes, their ragged clothing and the cuts and bruises on their hands. They had been running, then. Possibly for days.

“Who are you?” called the boy as they approached. “What are you doing here?”

Caeden and the others stopped just short of the two. “We are travellers,” said Taeris, tone gentle, seeing the fear and suspicion on the strangers’ faces. “On our way to Ilin Illan. What has happened here?”

Something seemed to break in the woman, and she rushed forward, embracing Taeris and beginning to sob. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure what to do.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said eventually, stepping back in embarrassment and wiping her eyes with a dirty sleeve. “We’ve not seen another living soul for three days. Not since it….” She broke down again, and the young boy hurried forward to comfort her.

“We were attacked,” said the boy. His tone was devoid of hope, and his eyes looked dead to Caeden. “Soldiers in armour black as night, men with no eyes. Our Watch tried to fight them, but they were so fast.” He shivered at the memory. “It wasn’t really a battle. None of the invaders died at all.”

Caeden took a step back, a chill running through his veins. He’d been worried about his potential involvement in whatever was going on, but this… this was worse than anything he’d feared.

Taeris, too, looked at the boy in dismay. “This was the invaders' doing?”

The boy nodded, still comforting the weeping woman, whom Caeden assumed was probably his mother. “Word came only a few hours before they got here.”

“Who are they?” Taeris asked, clearly unsettled. “Where did they come from?”

“The riders who came to warn us said they were from the North. From beyond the Boundary.” The boy rubbed his hands together nervously, glancing around as if he expected the enemy soldiers to reappear at any moment. “Don’t know about that, but they weren’t natural, I promise you that. Stronger and faster than normal men, and like I said, their helmets had no holes for them to see out of. It was something twisted, no doubt about that.” He spat to the side. “The Bleeders are rising up again, maybe.”

Taeris winced, and Caeden saw Wirr scowling from the corner of his eye. “The Gifted are still bound by the Tenets, lad,” said Taeris. “But I believe what you say.” He gestured to some of the larger stones left from the destroyed houses. “Please, sit. Tell me what happened. As much detail as you can.”

The boy shook his head. “I wish I could, but me and my mother ran once we saw what they were doing. Ran into the forest and just kept going for the entire night, until we were too tired to go any further.” He rubbed at the cuts on his arms. “They weren’t like our soldiers would have been. People were screaming for mercy, but they wouldn’t listen. They killed the men, and then what they did to the women….” He trailed off.

Taeris patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, lad. You’ve been a great help already.” He guided both the boy and his mother over to a stone on which they could sit. “What are your names?”

“I’m Jashel. My mother’s name is Llys,” the boy said, still scratching at his arms.

“I’m Taeris,” said the scarred man. He glanced towards the trees from which the two had emerged. “How long have you been hiding in the forest, Jashel?”

“Three days,” said Jashel. “We came back yesterday, and the soldiers were still here, camping in the town. They were pulling down the buildings one by one, and dragging the corpses out to the road. Placing them like they are now.” He bit his lip. “They left last night. We were still trying to decide what to do when you showed up - we would have gone for Naser, but my mother has something wrong with her leg. It would be too hard for her to walk all that way.”

Taeris nodded. He reached into his knapsack and drew out a loaf of bread, offering it to Jashel. The boy took it hungrily, breaking it in two, thrusting one half at his mother and then wolfing down the other.

Caeden watched him eat in silence. What this young boy had been through these past few days was beyond what any person should ever have to endure.

“We need to bury them,” announced Jashel, his mouth still full with the last chunk of bread.

Taeris blinked, glancing back along the road. Caeden followed his gaze. There were hundreds of bodies. “They’ll get a proper burial, Jashel, I promise,” Taeris said as gently as he could, “ but there are not enough of us to do it.”

Jashel’s face started to go red. “They’re my friends,” he said angrily. “My father is out there. He fought knowing he was going to die, so we could get away! He deserves a burial!”

Taeris tried to hold Jashel’s gaze, but couldn’t. He looked away. “I’m sorry, lad.”

“It’s not your fault, sir.” It was Llys, talking again for the first time since breaking down in Taeris’ arms. She moved across to give Jashel a fierce hug. “We can’t do it, Jashel,” she said to her son. “I understand. I want to as well. But there are too many.” She smiled sadly at him. “We are alive. We need to worry about surviving. Your father would have wanted that.”

Jashel looked like he was about to argue, then sagged, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder. He let out a couple of long, heaving sobs. Caeden looked away awkwardly.

“Is there any way we can help?” asked Taeris to Llys after a while. “We can give you supplies enough to see you to Naser.”

Llys shook her head. She drew up her skirt, revealing a blackened and swollen ankle. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

Taeris hesitated. Then he stepped forward, kneeling beside Llys and placing his hands around her evidently broken ankle. He closed his eyes.

Llys’ ankle began to glow as Essence flowed through Taeris. By the time he took his hands away – only a few seconds after he had begun – the ankle’s swelling and bruising had disappeared.

“That should make it easier,” he said with a small smile, looking drained.

Llys wiggled her ankle in astonishment. “You’re Gifted,” she said quietly.

The knife was in Taeris' belly before any of them realised what was happening, and everything seemed to move in slow motion after that.

Taeris emitted a single, low moan before collapsing, and Caeden knew straight away that the blade had gone in deep and long, a killing blow. Mother and son both had daggers in their hands, their dead eyes suddenly registering with Caeden. Absently, through the sudden fear, he wondered how he hadn’t seen it earlier. They weren’t just tired, terrified. It was like there was no life in them at all.

And though he couldn’t say why, he knew exactly what it meant.

Caeden dove at Llys, wresting the blade from her hand before she could stab Taeris again, but she kept fighting, clawing at his face, his arms, anything she could touch. She hissed, her eyes wild, feral and red-rimmed, moving with inhuman speed and strength.

To Caeden’s left, Aelric’s sword struck like lightning, spearing young Jashel through the neck just before the boy’s blade descended on Dezia’s exposed back. Then there was a blinding blast of Essence, and Caeden felt the attack stop, the woman in front of him slumping to the ground as if her bones had turned to jelly. He looked over his shoulder to see Wirr standing there, panting, his arms outstretched.