Davian’s stomach twisted. Asha. Wirr. What would they think? He couldn’t go and explain what was happening now; even if there was time, he had no doubt that they would try to stop him.
He hesitated, then looked Ilseth in the eye. “If I go, you need to promise me you will tell my friends why I left. They can keep a secret.”
“The two I saw you with earlier, I assume.” Ilseth sighed. “They know of your ability?”
“Yes.”
There was silence as Ilseth thought for a moment, adjusting his glasses absently as he did so. “Very well. I’d advise against it, but if it will make your decision easier, I will speak to them after the Trials tomorrow. You have my word.”
Davian nodded. It did make the decision easier—not palatable, not comfortable, but it did help.
And, he realized with surprise, he’d made that decision. Ilseth hadn’t lied once. The chance to finally confront this strange ability he had, the chance to be around people who could tell him something about the Augurs—he had longed for it for some time. And compared to what would happen if he stayed…
“So. North,” he said quietly, hefting the cube in his hand.
“Yes,” said Ilseth with a visible flash of relief. He obviously hadn’t been certain that Davian would go. “I was told only that you need to head northward for as long as it takes, and that you will know exactly where to go when the time comes.” He spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I hate to be so cryptic, but that is all the information I have.”
Davian just nodded. He was accepting so much else on faith, the vagueness of the directions felt hardly surprising. He looked around his room, mind clearer now that he knew his course. “It will take me a few minutes to gather my things.” He paused. “Someone will be on duty at the gate.”
“Leave that to me.” Ilseth drew a small pouch from beneath his robe. It clinked as he tossed it to Davian. “For your journey. Stay away from towns where you can, but you’ll need to buy food, and there will be some nights where it’s too cold or wet to sleep out in the open.”
Davian peered inside. A number of gold coins glittered in the heavy pouch—enough to feed him indefinitely, and more. A small fortune.
“Fates,” he breathed, a little stunned. “Thank you.”
Ilseth stood, laying a hand on Davian’s shoulder. “If you can learn to become a true Augur, lad, then it’s worth it a hundred times over.” He headed for the door. “Give me a quarter hour to take care of the guards, then leave. No later, mind you. I won’t be able to distract them for long.” He paused. “And be very careful over the next few weeks, Davian. Stay out of sight where you can. People will be looking for you.”
He opened the door and slipped through, shutting it again behind him.
Davian sat for a few minutes, just holding the bronze box Ilseth had given him, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. Was this really happening? Dazedly he recalled what he’d overheard earlier that day. Could he be “the boy” Talean and Ilseth had been talking about, that the Northwarden himself was so interested in? He dismissed the idea immediately. If the other Elders had no knowledge of his ability, there was no way the Northwarden would.
He stood mechanically, fetching a bag from beneath his bed and throwing his scant belongings into it. A couple of plain woolen tunics, a pair of trousers, the cloak Mistress Alita had given him for his last birthday. He had not bothered to undress for bed; he tucked the pouch of coins safely into his belt, hidden from view. Bandits would be an issue on the road anyway, but there was no benefit to tempting them.
The box Ilseth had given him he wrapped in its cloth and then slipped into a pocket. It was bulky, but if it was as important as Ilseth said, the discomfort was worth having it on his person.
Just as he finished, another soft knock from the hallway—this one familiar—made him curse silently. Wirr’s timing couldn’t have been worse.
He hesitated, considering just waiting until his friend left. The room was unlocked, though, and locking it would give away that he was there; Wirr was just as likely to come in uninvited as he was to give up.
Moving quietly, Davian stuffed the bag beneath his bed.
Wirr looked up as the door swung open, a solemn expression in place of his usual grin. Davian gestured for him to enter, mind racing. There were only minutes before he had to leave, and Wirr would want to stay for longer than that.
He came to a decision before the door was shut. Ilseth had warned him not to talk to anyone, but this was Wirr. Besides, he needed to tell someone.
“I’m leaving, Wirr. Tonight.” He said the words softly but firmly.
Wirr blinked. “What?” He had begun to sit, but now stood again, shaking his head. “Dav, no! That’s a bad idea. I know becoming a Shadow is a terrifying thought, but—”
“I’m not running away,” Davian interrupted. “Elder Tenvar, from Tol Athian, was just here. He asked me to go.” He hurriedly related the conversation, finishing by reaching into his pocket and pulling out the bronze Vessel. He unwrapped the cloth cover and held it up for Wirr’s inspection. “The Elder doesn’t know what this is, only that it will guide me to where I need to go—somewhere to the north. Once I get there, I’ll start my training. Learn how to become an Augur. Hopefully help seal up the Boundary again, before it’s too late.”
Wirr, who had listened to the entire story in silence, frowned. “You’re sure he was telling the truth?”
“Yes. Completely. I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”
Wirr’s expression didn’t change; if anything his frown deepened as he thought. “‘North’ is a little vague, don’t you think?”
Davian shrugged, turning the box over in his hands. “Apparently this will lead me the rest of the way.”
“Perhaps.” Wirr still did not sound convinced. “And you can’t mention this to anyone here?”
“I know how it sounds, but it does make sense. There’s a reason we haven’t told the Elders what I can do.” Davian glanced at the door. “I have to go in a couple of minutes, Wirr. Ilseth is distracting the guards; it’s my only opportunity. I’m sorry to leave you like this. Truly.”
Wirr considered his friend, looking conflicted. Then he straightened. “I’m going with you.”
Davian shook his head fiercely. “No. I appreciate the offer, but I have nothing to lose. You do. You’ll do well at Tol Athian, probably end up an Elder in ten years or so. You can do something meaningful with your life. I can’t let you give that up.”
“I know exactly what I’m giving up, and it’s my decision to make.” Wirr’s voice was calm, his words measured. “You’re my friend, Dav, and this thing that you’ve been asked to do—it sounds dangerous. Fates, if the Boundary is really about to collapse, it is dangerous. I’d regret it forever if I let you go without someone there to watch out for you.” Gone was the customary lightness to Wirr’s tone.
“You can’t come,” Davian said, lacing the sentence with as much authoritative finality as he could muster.
“Then I’ll have to go and wake Elder Olin,” responded Wirr.
Davian ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Wirr had the upper hand, and both of them knew it. “There’s no time. You don’t even have any clothing.”
“I have about as many things as you do, Dav. It will take me all of two minutes.” Wirr stood, heading toward the door. Davian instinctively stepped into his path, but Wirr just raised an eyebrow in amusement at him, looming over his much smaller friend. “Really?”
Davian flushed, then stepped aside. “I’m not happy about this, Wirr.”
“Strangely enough, I’m fine with that.” Wirr paused as he opened the door. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard. And Dav”—he held up a finger in warning—“if you leave without me, I’ll raise the entire school to come after you.”
Davian rolled his eyes but nodded a grudging acknowledgement, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Wirr vanished down the hallway. Beneath his reluctance
he felt a flood of relief. Davian truly hadn’t wanted his friend to make such a sacrifice for him… but he hadn’t wanted to do this alone, either.
He waited for a few more minutes, each seeming an eternity in the silence of the evening. Eventually he snatched up his bag and slipped outside as quietly as possible. There was little chance of running into anyone at this hour, but he nonetheless kept to the shadows where he could, heart pounding. The night was cloudy, with only a few stars providing any natural light. That was good—it meant that once they were outside, there was little chance of being spotted on the road.
Wirr was already waiting when he reached the courtyard, clutching a bag similar to Davian’s. “No sign of Jarras and the others,” he whispered as Davian approached. “Your Elder seems to have kept his word.”
Davian nodded, a jolt of anxiety running through him. This was it, then. “We shouldn’t waste any time,” he whispered.
Without speaking further they crept toward the gate. Every muscle in Davian’s body was taut, and he expected someone to shout out a warning at any moment. Nothing stirred, though. Within seconds they were beneath the portcullis, and then past the edges of the torchlight and into the night.
They jogged silently along the road until they were at the tree line, then stopped as if at some unspoken signal, turning and looking back at the school. There were no cries of discovery; the looming structure was quiet. Peaceful.
“So. This is the last time we’ll be here,” Wirr said softly.
Davian nodded; he felt it, too. Regardless of how their journey went, he did not expect to see the school again.
“It’s not too late for you to turn back,” he observed.
The corners of Wirr’s mouth curled upward. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
Davian just inclined his head in response. Tearing their gazes from the familiar lines of the castle, they continued along the derelict road and into the shadowy forest.
Neither looked back.
Chapter 5
Asha stared dully at the ceiling.
She’d been doing that for the past few minutes now, ever since she’d woken and remembered what was happening today. She knew she should be leaping from her bed and finding Davian before the Trials began, even if it was only to spend just a few extra seconds with him. Her body, though, refused to move. Today would be the last she would see of him for a long time—probably ever. Getting out of bed felt as if it would just bring his leaving a little bit closer.
Finally she gritted her teeth and found the energy to throw back the blanket; she rose, shivering in the morning chill, and quickly dressed. The first true rays of dawn were brightening the horizon outside her window, and Asha grimaced at the sight. The Athian Elders would have already departed their inn in Caladel. When they arrived, the Trials would officially begin.
Suddenly she paused, puzzled.
She’d seen several Trials during her time at the school; from her experience there should be a cacophony of sound from the courtyard outside—certainly something to indicate students and Elders were preparing for such a big event. The silence was decidedly odd.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the entire feel of the morning was… off. From the corner of her eye she could see that her roommate, Quira, was still fast asleep in her bed. That wasn’t unusual, though; the younger girl tended to sleep well past dawn. Asha turned and was about to slip outside when something made her hesitate.
The room was quiet. More so than normal. Now that Asha thought about it, Quira hadn’t stirred once. The girl was a restless sleeper at best, as well as a terrible snorer.
Asha crept over to the bed, frowning. Quira was lying on her side, facing the wall. Gently Asha placed a hand on her shoulder. The slight pressure caused Quira to roll onto her back.
Asha’s breath caught in her throat. She just stared for a moment, paralyzed.
There was blood everywhere. So much blood. It was pooled mainly around Quira’s head and chest, staining the mattress a dark, violent red where it had poured from the gaping wound in her neck. Dark smears were streaked across her face; Asha realized numbly that they were where Quira’s attacker had covered her mouth to muffle any screams. The young girl’s soft brown eyes, wide with shock and fear, stared into Asha’s. Pleading.
Suddenly there was a voice, screaming for help, desperate and afraid. It took a few moments for Asha to register it was her own. She slumped to the ground beside the bunk, dazed, waiting for someone—anyone—to come to her aid. She sat there for what seemed like hours.
Nobody came.
Finally gathering her wits, Asha forced her body to move, trying to shake off the shock that was rapidly setting in. The female students’ quarters were adjacent to the courtyard; even at this early hour, someone should have been awake to hear her cries.
In the hallway the school again felt unnaturally quiet. Limbs heavy with dread, Asha moved to the next room, where Taranne and Jadan slept. The door was ajar. Somehow she knew what she would find before she entered.
There had been no attempt to hide the slaughter in this room. The blood had spilled out onto the gray stone; the girls’ heads were twisted at odd angles, with Jadan’s body hanging in grisly fashion halfway out of her bed. Unlike Quira’s, their throats had not been cleanly slit, but had rather been torn out so completely that the sharp white of the spine was visible through the pulpy red tissue.
Asha fled.
She stumbled along the hallway, too numb to cry, to scream, to do anything but keep moving, look for someone else who had survived. She couldn’t be the only one. She couldn’t.
Room after room of people she had grown up with passed in a blur. Tessia, the sweet girl who had shown more promise in her first two years than even Wirr. Danin and Shass, who had arrived only a few months earlier and couldn’t have been older than ten. She had comforted them during their first night as they had wept, helped them accept the difficult truth that their family had abandoned them. They had made her a daisy necklace to thank her, which she still kept pressed in one of her books. Now they just stared after her with horrified, vacant eyes. In each room there were more.
It only got worse.
Outside, the courtyard was littered with corpses. She almost collapsed when she saw Jarras. The Elder’s head had been torn completely off, a trail of blood between it and his torso glistening wetly in the early-morning light. Jarras’s expression, usually full of warmth and mirth, was frozen in a contortion of pure, wide-eyed fear.
Fenred and Blaine—the two boys who had evidently been on guard duty with him—lay a few feet away. Like the others, their throats had been ripped away, leaving only slivers of torn flesh and bone between their shoulders and heads.
She moved on, wandering almost mindlessly now; each room had more bodies, some of them barely identifiable with so much blood covering their features. Mistress Alita’s plump figure and long dark locks lay near the entrance to the kitchens, her face blessedly turned away from Asha. Elder Olin was still in his bed. Administrator Talean lay just outside his office.
Then something registered through the haze of panic and grief. The boys. Davian.
She was sprinting toward the North Tower in a moment, all other fears suddenly pushed aside. He had to be alive. She ran up the steps and burst into his small room in the tower, breathing heavily from both exertion and anxiety.
A quick scan gave her a sliver of hope. The bed was empty, the room devoid of any signs of violence. Her heart began beating again. Maybe he’d escaped. Maybe he’d been miraculously left alone, the same as she.
Her fears far from allayed, Asha made her way back out of the tower and toward Wirr’s quarters at a determined run. She didn’t stop to look in the other boys’ rooms as she passed, but most of their doors were ajar, and the splashes of red she saw from the corners of her eyes told her all she needed to know.
Asha skidded headlong into Wirr’s room, having only a moment to register the three surprised f
aces turning toward her before a massive weight slammed into her, forcing her to the ground with her face hard against the cold stone floor.
Her first reaction was blind panic, and she thrashed wildly against the pressure. Then she stopped, breath coming in ragged bursts, too emotionally exhausted and grief-stricken to do anything more.
After a few seconds, she felt herself being lifted up. She glanced down to see coils of Essence wrapped around her body, raising her smoothly into a standing position.
She looked up again to see three people watching her grimly. She recognized them now. The Elders from Tol Athian, the ones there for the Trials. They weren’t responsible for this, weren’t going to kill her.
Every muscle in her body went limp with relief, only the bindings preventing her from collapsing to the floor. It took her a moment to realize that one of the men was talking to her.
“Fates, girl, who are you?” the dark-skinned man asked her again, his tone urgent. His face was drawn, haggard, and he kept glancing nervously toward the door as if he expected an attack at any second. “You’re obviously Gifted, else the First Tenet would have stopped us from binding you. What do you know?”
Asha forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly. She was far from calm, but the mania that had threatened to take over a few seconds earlier was receding. She was safe with the Elders.
“Ashalia,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “My name is Ashalia. I woke up… I don’t know how long ago.” She glanced out the window. The sun was now well above the horizon. Had she been stumbling around the school for an hour? Hours? “Quira was dead… everyone in the girls’ quarters, too. They’re all dead.” Saying the words made it sink in and she choked back a sob, trailing off into silence.
The Elders exchanged meaningful glances.
“She’s the first one, Ilseth,” said the woman.
The Shadow of What Was Lost Page 6