James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Taeris glanced sideways at Wirr, seeing the dismay and sorrow on his face. He groaned, grabbing the golden-haired boy by the shoulder.

“You are only making this more difficult for yourself,” he warned Wirr. “She’ll act exactly like Llys until the moment she can strike. The creature inside of her is making use of her memories, just as it is borrowing her body. Trust me on this.”

"Listen to him, Wirr," said Caeden worriedly. He too had no doubt the woman was still dangerous.

Wirr scowled at both of them. “You don’t know that! Either of you,” he protested. He turned to Taeris. “You say you’ve only seen this once before, and it was years ago. You don’t even know if there might be a way to cure her, to save her! We can’t just kill her.”

He shook off Taeris' grasp, moving over to the woman and kneeling beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tone gentle. “What can we do to help?”

Llys just kept on weeping, her body wracked with deep sobs. Wirr turned to look at the others helplessly.

Behind him, Llys moved like a cat. She snatched the dagger from her dead son’s hands and spun, blade arcing towards Wirr’s heart.

Before anyone else could react, Dezia drew her bow and fired.

The arrow sped past Wirr’s ear and took Llys in the eye; the woman gave a single scream and then collapsed, motionless. Everyone else stood there, frozen to the spot; even Taeris looked shocked by the speed at which events had turned.

Wirr twisted in his crouching position to look at the corpse behind him, then rose.

“Thank-you, Dezia,” he said sadly.

Taeris grimaced, then stepped forward. “We need to move. There could be more of them out there, for all we know. This area isn’t safe.”

The others gave him silent acknowledgements and they moved onwards, away from the horrors of Gahille. Though no-one suggested it, they travelled late into the night. None of them wanted to be closer to the desecrated town than they had to be.

They walked in heavy, stunned silence, but every time someone glanced in his direction, Caeden couldn’t help but flinch a little. They didn’t show it, but his companions had to be wondering anew about his role in all this - what his connection was to these invaders. They had to be asking themselves just how far he could be trusted.

And after what he’d just seen, he couldn’t blame them.

He gritted his teeth and marched on.

Asha stared at the ring in the palm of her hand.

"You seem preoccupied."

She started as Erran’s voice came from just behind her ear. She spun, flushing.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that ring goes with the weapons." Erran gingerly removed the thin silver circle from her grasp. "It creates a focused burst of air."

Asha frowned. "Doesn’t sound terribly dangerous."

"It’s strong enough to punch through a wall," Erran assured her.

"How do you know?"

"Best we don’t talk about that." Erran placed the ring next to a pair of copper gauntlets on the shelf. "But it certainly doesn’t need testing. As denoted by the fact it was on the weapons shelf."

Asha shook her head again, flushing. "Sorry." When Elocien had suggested that she help Erran sift through Administration’s stockpile of Vessels - to look for something that could potentially be used against the Blind - she had thought it sounded like an interesting diversion. The reality had been that though Erran needed someone on hand in case he injured himself testing a new device, there wasn’t a lot she could do to assist him otherwise. Even watching the process was relatively dull; Erran was always cautious and only ever fed a trickle of Essence into each device, often with no result. With little else to keep her occupied, her thoughts kept drifting.

It had been a week since the Shadraehin’s grisly gift had been delivered, and as her residual fears after the kidnapping had gradually eased, her focus had more and more turned back to Davian. His appearance in her room seemed an age ago now, and sometimes she doubted her memory of the event. Even so, when she thought about it - really thought about it - she knew she hadn’t been dreaming.

"It’s okay." Erran gave her a quizzical look. "Is… something wrong? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning."

"No. I’m fine."

"Well… best you pay attention, if you can. We’re not filing books here. Some of these things really could be useful, and I’d hate to miss something."

"Sorry," Asha repeated, more contritely this time. Erran was right. She needed to concentrate.

She wandered over to an unsorted shelf, picking up an abstract symbol carved from some sort of blue-green rock. "How much chance do you think we have of finding something we can use?"

"Almost none," replied Erran cheerfully. "I’ve done this a few times, now. The Veils are the most useful thing we’ve found by a long way, and that was more than a year ago now." He shrugged. "It’s just a slow process. I’m not supposed to put too much Essence into any one Vessel - safety reasons, aside from not wanting to get a Mark or set off any Finders - so most of the time, testing does nothing. As you’ve no doubt concluded," he added with a wry grin.

Asha gave him an absent nod in response, suddenly noticing a pile of small black discs heaped on another shelf of sorted Vessels. She knew what they were - had witnessed enough people being made into Shadows, even if she couldn’t remember the experience herself.

She stared at the pile, her thoughts already beginning to drift again as Erran turned back to his task. She mentally replayed what Davian had said to her, as she’d often found herself doing over the past few days. Felt herself flush with anger as she considered what it meant if he’d really been there.

It would mean that she’d been lied to by Ilseth. It would mean that the story of how she’d become a Shadow was just that - a story.

This time the frustration and anger settled in her stomach, burned steady rather than faded. It was too much. She was tired of being used, tired of not knowing what to believe. She needed to find out what was real.

She took a deep breath.

"If I let you Read me, do you think it’s possible you could access the memories from when I was made a Shadow? The ones from the morning of the attack at Caladel?"

Erran stopped what he was doing, gaping at her.

"What?"

Asha turned to face him. The anger was still there, hot and low, nowhere to escape. "Can you access the memories I’ve lost?" she asked succinctly.

"Why… why would you want to do that?" Erran looked flustered.

"Because I think the man who made me a Shadow might have lied about the reason why," said Asha. "Can you do it?"

Erran slowly put down the Vessel he’d been holding, shaking his head. "I… don’t know," he admitted after a moment. "There are a lot of variables. If the memory has just been walled off, rather than erased…. maybe. But it could be dangerous. There has to be a reason Shadows lose that memory, Asha. It’s probably a defence. Messing with the mind when it’s trying to protect you… I have no idea of the consequences." He frowned. "And even if I could access the memory, I’d have to break down whatever barriers are in place to get at it. Which means that it won’t be shut off from your mind any more, either. I just don’t think -"

Asha spun, stiffening as a metallic scratching sound echoed through the room.

Erran paled. He heard it too.

Someone was unlocking the door.

"No time," he murmured, snatching up something from the shelf nearby and tossing it to Asha. She caught it before realising what it was. A Veil.