The Shadow of What Was Lost

by James Islington

  They had reached a black iron gate; with a gentle push Caeden opened it enough for them to pass through into the building beyond.

  “Around,” replied Gellen.

  Caeden frowned. “Needless to say, it is untrue.” In some ways it couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “Of course,” said Gellen smoothly.

  They walked inside without another word.

  As Caeden’s vision cleared, his triumphant smile faded.

  The sha’teth stood exactly where it had. Its hand was outstretched, and a black, translucent rippling bubble surrounded the creature’s body.

  The sha’teth lowered its hand, and the bubble disappeared. It gave a rasping laugh. “You truly have forgotten, haven’t you, Tal’kamar,” it said to Caeden softly. Pityingly. “Aelrith was caught by surprise when you attacked him, and Khaerish and Methaniel were craven. But I am neither unprepared nor afraid.” It stood motionless, waiting.

  Caeden hesitated, still shaken by the memory. As with the earlier one, aspects of it were crystal clear—but there was no further knowledge, no sudden rush of information to tell him who he’d been. He could picture Gellen and knew his name, but knew nothing more of him outside that memory. And what he’d said about the sha’teth…

  “Who do you serve?” he asked the sha’teth suddenly, muscles tensed in case the creature attacked.

  The creature chuckled. “Are you not the one who set us free? Who do you serve, Tal’kamar?” it replied, quietly enough that the others could not overhear. “I can never keep track.”

  Caeden felt the blood drain from his face. He dared not look back at the others. “I serve my friends, and Andarra. Whatever ties I had in my past life are gone.” He said the words with as much confidence as he could muster.

  The sha’teth laughed again in its raspy voice. “You cannot escape yourself forever.”

  Suddenly a glow surrounded it, and time seemed to slow. Bursts of light erupted from the sha’teth’s chest, streaks of power that headed toward the other four members of Caeden’s party. He knew instantly that should those bolts touch them, they would be dead.

  There was only a moment to stop them; even with his newfound control of Essence, he couldn’t shield them all.

  He couldn’t choose, though. He wanted to save them all. He needed to save them all.

  Desperately, he willed the bolts to stop.

  Dark bubbles, exactly like the one that had surrounded the sha’teth, sprang up around Caeden’s companions. The bolts sizzled into the surface of each one and simply vanished, gone as if they had never existed. The sha’teth gave an angry hiss as it realized its attack had been thwarted.

  “So. You have forgotten some, but not all,” it said.

  Caeden nodded, trying to hide the fact that he was as surprised as the sha’teth that the bubbles had appeared. “Not all,” he repeated grimly. He stretched out his hand once again toward the creature.

  This time, though, he didn’t use Essence. There was something else there, the same thing he’d used to create his companions’ shields. The bubble appeared again around the sha’teth, but Caeden simply pushed at it. He felt it move, flex beneath his pressure. He closed his eyes, then imagined himself ripping the bubble away, tearing it like a piece of parchment.

  There was a shriek, and he opened his eyes to see the sha’teth on the ground, writhing in pain.

  “No!” it screeched, angry and despairing. “It is not possible!”

  Caeden walked over to it, ignoring the cautioning cries of the others, who hadn’t moved since the sha’teth had first appeared. He stood over the creature, then leaned down and pulled back its hood.

  Beneath there was a man’s head, but it was disfigured, pale, and scarred. That was not what made Caeden take an involuntary step back, though. The creature’s eyes stared back at him with pain, with anger. Human eyes.

  Aside from its glare, the sha’teth showed no further outward signs of distress. It had stopped writhing, and was instead staring up at Caeden. It wore an almost curious expression.

  “You should know. I was the one who killed him,” it whispered. It wasn’t a confession; there was no trace of sadness in the statement. It was gleeful.

  Caeden frowned. “Who?”

  The sha’teth scowled. It tried to rise, but Caeden knelt on its chest, forcing it back down. For some reason it was evidently unable to use its powers at the moment. “And I had so looked forward to telling you,” it hissed, disappointed.

  “You must finish it, Caeden!” called Taeris. “Don’t let it distract you!”

  Caeden hesitated, then leaned forward. “Who are you talking about?” He clenched his hand into a fist. “Why did you come for me?” he whispered, low enough that the others could not overhear. “Who wants me, and why?”

  The sha’teth gave a rasping laugh. “I will tell you—but it will be so all your friends can hear. So they can know what kind of man you truly are.” It raised its voice, calling out the words. “Can you all hear me?”

  Caeden moved without thinking. He drew back his hand, letting Essence flow through him and into his fist. Then he drove it down into the sha’teth’s disfigured face.

  There was a blinding light, and a final scream from the creature.

  When Caeden’s vision cleared, all that remained was a pile of ash.

  He knelt there, silent and trembling, for what felt like an age. Finally a hand clasped his shoulder. He looked up to see Taeris watching him, concerned.

  “Are you hurt?” the older man asked.

  Caeden forced himself to stand, still trying to comprehend what had happened. He had killed the creature. Had it been the right thing to do? Would it have told the truth about who he was—and if it had, would he have liked what it said?

  He stared at the pile of ashes morosely. There could be no knowing now.

  “I’ll survive,” he said softly.

  Wirr came to stand next to him, looking at the ashes on the road in fascination. A gentle wind sprang up, scattering some of them to the grass on the roadside. “How did you do that, Caeden?” he asked. “The shields you gave us. I’ve never seen anything like it. It wasn’t Essence.”

  Caeden shook his head. Already the memory of how to use that power was hazy again, though he knew it would not fade entirely. There was something about Essence—something about wielding it—that seemed to stimulate his memories, bringing them to the fore. He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but it was valuable knowledge nonetheless.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted to Wirr. “I just reacted instinctively, and they appeared.”

  “Just in time,” noted Taeris. He clapped Caeden on the back. “You saved our lives, lad.”

  Caeden forced a smile. “Perhaps it can go some way to paying you back for bringing the sha’teth down on you in the first place,” he said wryly.

  “That’s hardly your fault.”

  Caeden started. It was Aelric who had spoken, still standing a little distance away but looking at him with an expression of vague approval. “We owe you a debt, Caeden.”

  Not knowing what to say, Caeden gave Aelric an appreciative nod. The five of them stared at the remains of the sha’teth for a moment longer, then Taeris said, “We should get moving before those other travelers come back and start asking questions.”

  Caeden glanced up. The road ahead was empty aside from scattered belongings and the four bodies a little farther along; everyone else had fled, running as hard as they could until they had lost sight of the road altogether. Still, many of them had left what were probably their only possessions behind. It would not be long before some of them began to venture back.

  “What about the bodies?” asked Wirr. “We can’t just leave them.”

  Taeris grimaced. “We have no choice. Those who come back will see they get a proper burial, I’m sure.”

  They began walking again, carefully navigating around the blood-soaked section of road where the corpses lay. After a few minutes
, Taeris matched his stride to Caeden’s.

  “So. It seems you’re an Augur, too,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Wirr was right. That wasn’t Essence you used to save us.”

  Caeden didn’t respond for a few seconds. He’d guessed as much, but at the moment it felt like just one more thing to worry about. “It was instinct,” he eventually reiterated, not taking his eyes from the road ahead. “I don’t know how I did it.”

  Taeris grunted, looking dissatisfied but seeing he was not going to get any further comment on the matter. “What did the sha’teth say to you, just before the end?”

  Caeden shrugged. “It was spouting nonsense. Nothing that made sense.”

  Taeris raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” He scratched his beard. “It might be important.”

  Caeden hesitated. He had no intention of telling Taeris what the sha’teth had been going to reveal. “It said it had killed him. When I asked who it meant, it just acted disappointed that I didn’t know.” It was at least some of the truth, hopefully enough to satisfy Taeris’s curiosity.

  Taeris thought for a moment. “Another mystery,” he sighed eventually, rubbing his forehead. “The sooner we get your memories back, lad, the better.”

  “No argument here,” Caeden replied heavily.

  They kept walking. In the distance Fedris Idri was now clearly visible, and farther along the road he could see more people heading toward them. A steady stream, in fact.

  They were almost to Ilin Illan.

  Chapter 37

  Asha watched as Erran shifted uncomfortably in front of her, clearly reluctant to proceed.

  The young man took a deep breath, exchanging worried glances with Elocien, Kol, and Fessi, who had gathered for the occasion and were looking on from the corner of the room. Then he turned back to Asha.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure,” Asha affirmed, though her stomach twisted as she said the words. In truth the certainty she’d felt the previous day had faded.

  “Ashalia,” interjected the duke, his tone gentle. “Do you really think Elder Tenvar lied to you?” He hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I wouldn’t want to see you go through this for no reason.”

  Asha turned to him. “I need to know,” she said simply.

  Elocien inclined his head, and Kol and Fessi both gave her encouraging smiles, though the concern in their eyes was obvious. Erran hadn’t minced words when he’d explained the dangers of trying to restore her memory.

  In front of her, Erran sighed. “All right.” He paced back and forth for a couple of seconds, rubbing his hands together in a nervous motion. “All right. Ready?”

  Asha nodded.

  Erran stopped in front of her, leaned forward, and pressed his fingertips against her temple. There was nothing for a few moments and then the slightest pressure at the back of her skull, like the beginnings of a headache.

  The feeling began to build, gradually at first, but soon enough Asha’s head was throbbing with it.

  “Erran,” she said uncertainly. “I’m not sure if—”

  The pressure burst.

  A gentle warmth flooded through her head. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but it made her gasp nonetheless. Her thoughts were suddenly scattered, jumbled.

  Erran stepped back, lowering his hand. His eyes were full of horror.

  “Fates. I’m so sorry.”

  And then the memory came crashing back into her.

  * * *

  There was pain behind Asha’s eyes, but she forced them open anyway.

  She stared around, trying to get her bearings. What had happened? Jagged-edged images flashed through her mind and she sat up sharply, heart pounding, panic threatening to take over.

  Someone had attacked the school. Everyone was dead.

  “Ashalia.”

  She turned to see a blond-haired Administrator watching her with a worried expression. He looked… familiar. She stared at his face for a few seconds in confusion.

  “Do you recognize me?” asked the man, his tone gentle.

  “Yes,” said Asha slowly. Her memories began to order themselves, and the fear subsided. Faded into grief. “Duke Andras. Elocien.”

  “Good.” Elocien looked relieved. He leaned forward, taking her hand and squeezing it. “We were worried.”

  “We?” Asha looked around with some effort, but only she and the duke were in the room. It was her sleeping quarters, she realized after a few seconds.

  “All of us. It’s almost dawn; the others went to bed a few hours ago. You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”

  Asha struggled up into a sitting position. “That long?”

  Elocien nodded. Then his expression sobered. “Erran told us what happened. What you saw, before Tenvar made you a Shadow.” He shook his head. “That note from Torin… I never knew about it. I suspect the Council didn’t, either.”

  Asha smiled as she remembered. Davian and I have had to leave. “He’s alive,” she murmured, still barely daring to believe it. Then her smile faded, and a wave of fury washed through her as her thoughts cleared and she was able to analyze the new memories, come to grips with them. “What have you done about Elder Tenvar?”

  Elocien grimaced. “We’re watching him.”

  “We need to lock him up.” She thought of everyone who had died at the school, of the bloodied corpses of her friends, and her expression hardened. “At the least.”

  “I understand, but… it’s not that simple,” Elocien cautioned her. “Tenvar is Gifted. There are rules that prevent us from simply marching into the Tol and arresting him. Laws that I cannot break without undeniable, airtight proof.” He gave Asha an apologetic look. “As long as he is inside the Tol, he’s under the Council’s jurisdiction, and the Gifted are the only ones who can bring him to trial and punish him. It’s part of the Treaty.”

  Asha stared at him in disbelief. “But he made me a Shadow against my will. He lied about Davian. I remember. And Erran saw, too—”

  “Which no one can know,” Elocien pointed out gently. “As for you remembering—how are you going to explain that to the Council? You can point the finger all you like, but unless they really believe you’ve got your memory back, all it will do is warn Tenvar that we know what he did.” He sighed. “Watching him… it’s the best we can do, for now. I promise you, as soon as we get the opportunity to do more, we will.”

  Asha shook her head, still trying to clear it. She should have realized that. “You seem very calm about all of this.”

  “I’ve had the entire day to be angry,” said Elocien. “And believe me, I was.” He stood, putting his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “If you’re feeling well enough, I should get the others. They will want to know you’re awake.”

  Asha nodded, lying back down and staring at the ceiling as Elocien left, trying to sort through her churning emotions. Grief and horror at what had happened. Fury at Tenvar. Fear at knowing what he was capable of.

  She took a few deep, steadying breaths as she mulled over what Elocien had said about the Gifted, about Tenvar’s immunity so long as he was inside the Tol. A plan began to form, just an idea at first, but fully fledged by the time Elocien returned with the Augurs.

  After receiving delighted hugs from the others—particularly from Erran, whose relief was so evident it made her laugh—she turned to Elocien.

  “I think I have a way to solve our problem with Tenvar. To have him locked up,” she announced.

  Elocien frowned. “We can’t risk an incident between the palace and Tol Athian, not at the moment. Tensions are already high and rising as it is, with my brother’s recent outbursts against the Gifted,” he warned her.

  “It wouldn’t involve you or anyone else here,” Asha quickly assured him. “If it fails, the worst that happens is that Tenvar knows I’ve remembered.” She outlined her idea, her four companions listening in attentive silence. There was a pause once she’d finished as everyone consid
ered what she’d proposed.

  “It’s still a risk for you, though,” noted Erran eventually, his tone uneasy. “There’s no telling what Tenvar’s reaction will be.”

  “I can handle it,” Asha told Erran, locking eyes with him. After a moment Erran nodded his acceptance, and the other Augurs soon followed suit. They were concerned for her, but none of them was going to try to convince her out of it. For that she was grateful.

  Elocien hesitated for a second longer, then inclined his head, too.

  “So you’ll need a meeting with Councillor Eilinar. And access to the storeroom in the Old Section,” he observed.

  “That should do it.”

  Elocien nodded, more to himself than to Asha.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said quietly.

  * * *

  Asha threw open the door to Ilseth’s study as hard as she could, the resultant crash echoing down the hallway.

  Ilseth jumped up, eyes wide for a moment. Then, seeing who it was, he sank back into his chair again, trying his best to look unconcerned.

  “How can I help you, Ashalia?” he asked with cool politeness. “You really should be more gentle with the door.”

  Asha paused for a long moment. Then she turned and closed the door carefully, taking a key from her pocket and, with a quick twist, locking it.

  Ilseth frowned. “Where did you get that?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Asha slipped the key back into her pocket.

  “I suppose it doesn’t,” said Ilseth, looking more amused than concerned. “What would you like to say to me?”

  Asha stared at him. “I want you to know that I remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “Everything.” Asha swallowed a lump in her throat. “I know Davian was missing, not dead. I know you made me a Shadow against my will. I know you had something to do with what happened in Caladel.” She clenched her fists, trying to contain her anger. “And now you’re going to tell me exactly what.”

  Ilseth just smiled a pleasant, nonchalant smile, though his eyes betrayed a sliver of shock. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sighed. “Perhaps you’re confused. I know Shadows have very vivid dreams about their past, sometimes—”