He knew the princess was being nothing more than friendly, but Caeden had begun to live for those times. Though he’d often enjoyed his talks with Wirr, Davian, Taeris, and the others, the specter of his past had always hovered over those exchanges. Around Kara that never seemed to be the case. Their conversations were more relaxed, lighter somehow, even if the topics were serious; with her, for just a few hours each day, he was able to forget all the problems that he faced—that they all faced—and just take pleasure in someone else’s company.
Today, however, was different. Kara had looked exhausted when he’d opened his door this morning, and now he knew why.
“How soon until they arrive?” asked Caeden, his stomach churning.
“A couple of days—maybe less, if they push. Nobody is really sure.” Kara watched Caeden’s expression. “What are you and Taeris going to do?”
Caeden hesitated. He hadn’t confided Taeris’s contingency plan to the princess—not due to a lack of trust, but rather because Caeden didn’t want to put the princess in yet another awkward position. Knowing her as he now did, Caeden had no doubt that if he told Kara that he and Taeris were intending to break into the Tol, she would feel guilty for not acting on the information. Would feel party to whatever happened as a result.
But he realized now that he couldn’t leave her completely in the dark, either. She hadn’t made him put the Shackle back on—if he left without warning, she would think he’d just run away, abandoned the city. Abandoned her.
Before he could speak, though, he spotted a harried-looking Taeris hurrying toward them. Caeden grimaced, but nodded to the older man and stood.
“Caeden,” said Taeris in half-irritated relief when he got a little closer. His eyes widened as he recognized Caeden’s companion, and his demeanor transformed. He gave a low bow. “Your Highness. I… I’m afraid I will need to borrow Caeden for a while.”
Kara nodded slowly. “That is fine, Taeris,” she said, suddenly the cool and formal version of herself that Caeden now saw only on occasion. She turned to Caeden with the hint of a wry smile. “Perhaps there will be an opportunity to continue this sometime later today.”
She began to walk away. Caeden watched her go in frustration, knowing why Taeris had come to find him.
“Your Highness,” he abruptly called after her. “Please wait a moment.”
He hurried over to the princess, ignoring Taeris’s surprised look.
“I’m not sure we will get the chance to speak again before the Blind arrive, Your Highness,” Caeden said in a meaningful tone, locking gazes with Kara. “I think other matters may… keep me away.”
Kara looked between Caeden and Taeris for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding. Her eyes were suddenly sad.
“Then we will just have to wait until after everything is over,” she said softly. She stepped forward, her lips brushing against his cheek. “Fates guide you, Caeden.”
Caeden swallowed, blushing. “You, too, Kara,” he said, quietly enough that Taeris couldn’t overhear.
Kara just nodded, then turned and disappeared back into the main palace building without another word.
Caeden watched her go, then turned to Taeris and opened his mouth to explain.
“I… don’t want to know,” said Taeris gruffly, shaking his head. There was something approaching an amused smile on his lips, though it faded almost immediately. “You’ve heard about the Blind?”
“Just then,” said Caeden. He hesitated. “The Travel Stone is really our only option?”
Taeris nodded. “It is now, and we should think about using it straight away. It’s early enough that we might catch some of the Gifted still asleep in the Tol, maybe buy ourselves a couple of extra minutes to get the memory device working.” He glanced around. “We can’t just open the portal out in the open, though; the last thing we need is someone seeing and trying to interfere. Doing it from my quarters would be best.”
Caeden nodded, and they started toward Taeris’s rooms.
After a few minutes they rounded a corner and Taeris issued a soft, panicked curse. Caeden looked up at him in alarm as the scarred man faltered, breaking his stride for a moment as he stared down the hallway ahead.
Caeden followed his gaze. A blond-haired man in a fine blue cloak was walking toward them, though he was absorbed in reading some papers in his hand and hadn’t yet noticed their presence. Caeden glanced at Taeris, who had now bowed his head, evidently doing his best to hide his face from the stranger.
The Administrator looked up just before they were past and came to an abrupt halt, holding up a hand to indicate that they should do the same.
“Taeris Sarr,” he said once Taeris had stopped, a quiet certainty in his voice.
Taeris’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded. “Duke Andras,” he responded dully.
Caeden’s stomach twisted. The duke was one of the people whom they had been desperate to avoid, who Taeris was certain would turn them over to Administration.
The duke studied Taeris and Caeden for a long moment.
“Try not to be seen,” he said.
He turned his attention back to his papers and walked off without another word.
Taeris and Caeden both gaped after the Administrator for a few seconds.
“Why didn’t he raise the alarm?” asked Caeden.
Taeris shook his head in confusion. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “But let’s get moving before he changes his mind.”
They made it to Taeris’s rooms without further incident; the few other people they passed in the hallways all appeared distracted, hurrying about their business and paying little heed to the two men.
Once they were inside, Taeris turned to Caeden, still looking a little shaken.
“Before we do this—I need to make one thing clear, Caeden. This was a last resort for good reason. I can get us in, but not out again. If we let the Gifted catch us, they will lock us up and we’ll be of no help to anyone… so whatever happens, you’re going to need to get free. Fight your way out if you have to, but make sure you get to the Shields by the time the Blind get here. Even if that means leaving me behind.”
Caeden didn’t reply for a moment, wanting to protest, knowing that this was his last chance to change his mind. He’d suspected that this would be the way of things, ever since Taeris had told him the plan… was he really capable of fighting his way out of Tol Athian, though? He knew he probably had the raw strength; if his memories were fully restored, he would, hopefully, have the skill as well.
But whether he would be able to do it without hurting anyone was another matter entirely. Despite their stubbornness, the Gifted were to a large extent innocent in all of this, and Caeden had no desire to injure anyone at the Tol. Deep down, though, he understood that an escape without casualties might turn out to be impossible.
And he did need to escape—needed to do everything he could to fight the Blind.
“I understand,” he said reluctantly.
Taeris gave him a relieved nod. “Are you ready? Once we start this process, Administrators will be on their way. We won’t get a second chance at it.”
Caeden took a couple of steadying breaths. “Ready.”
Taeris put his hand above the Travel Stone and closed his eyes. A stream of white energy started pouring from him into the stone; he stayed like that for several seconds before stopping the flow with a slight shudder.
He picked up the stone from the table and held it out, away from his body. The Vessel began to glow; a shimmering line of light appeared in front of Taeris, spinning and expanding until it formed a circle twice Caeden’s height and just as wide.
Then it vanished, replaced by a hole that simply hung in the air. Caeden peered through it into what appeared to be a vast storage room.
He glanced at Taeris, who made an impatient gesture.
“Go. Quickly,” the Elder said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold it open for more than a few seconds.”
Caeden bra
ced himself, then tentatively stepped through the hole. He’d expected some sort of sensation or resistance, but it was no different from stepping through a doorway.
Taeris followed and the portal blinked shut behind him. He moved quickly over to a nearby table, then scooped up a polished black stone and pocketed it before turning to Caeden.
“Now,” he said, “Let’s find this device.”
Caeden barely heard the words.
On a shelf, not far from where the stone had been, was the bronze box.
To Caeden’s eyes it burned like the sun, though he knew only he and Davian saw it that way. Taeris probably hadn’t even noticed it yet.
The tattoo on Caeden’s wrist was shining brighter than ever, too, even through the fabric of his shirt.
“Where should we look?” asked Caeden, not taking his eyes from the Vessel.
Taeris shuffled his feet, casting a nervous glance toward the door. “It’s large. A pillar of stone, about three feet tall if I remember correctly. If we just—”
Taeris’s voice faded into the background.
Caeden stepped forward, reached out his hand, and picked up the bronze Vessel from the shelf.
The explosion nearly tore him from his feet.
He stumbled backward, throwing a hand to his eyes to shield them from the intense red light that had erupted in front of him. Taeris was yelling something at him, screaming it, but there was a roar of power that drowned out everything else.
When Caeden’s eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, he felt a stab of fear. Before him was an enormous vortex of pure red fire, swirling and coalescing, stretching from roof to ceiling. He stared at it for a few moments in shock, then glanced down at the box in his hand. It was warm, but its glow—so bright a moment before—had vanished.
As had the glow from his wrist.
“What is it?” he screamed to Taeris.
“I don’t know!” Taeris yelled back, only just audible. “We should leave it be, though! There’s no telling what it does!”
To his left the door to the storeroom burst open.
Caeden turned to see a wild-eyed Davian rushing inside, followed closely by a red-cloaked man he recognized as Elder Eilinar. Both men stared at the vortex in shock, then headed straight for Caeden.
“Caeden!” screamed Davian, seeing the box in his hands. “Put it down!”
Caeden barely heard, even his shocked delight at seeing Davian alive registering as only a minor distraction. Somehow he knew that the vortex was meant for him. He was supposed to step into it. It would take him… he wasn’t sure where, but it was somewhere he wanted to go. Somewhere he needed to go.
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled, including both Davian and Taeris in the apology. “I have to do this.”
“Caeden! Don’t!” It was Taeris. “We need you here!”
Caeden closed his eyes. Breathed steadily.
Then he spun and sprinted as hard as he could toward the tunnel of fire. He could sense Taeris and Davian both moving to stop him, but he was too fast. He was always going to be too fast.
He leaped into the vortex at full speed, bracing himself.
There was heat, the briefest instant of feeling as if the flames were dancing on his skin. The shouts behind him faded.
And then he was somewhere else.
Chapter 50
Wirr stood alongside Aelric and Dezia atop the First Shield, staring apprehensively out over the steadily darkening green of the rolling plains beyond Fedris Idri as they waited for the first sign of the enemy.
The Blind were coming, and fast. The report had arrived an hour earlier from one of General Parathe’s scouts, who had ridden his horse near to death in his urgency to return. The invaders were no longer taking their time; they had seemingly marched throughout the previous night, pausing for neither sleep nor food. They were likely to reach the city walls by nightfall.
Now afternoon was waning to dusk, and the gates below were finally shutting. Wirr flinched as the massive doors sealed the city, the ominous boom echoing around the narrow pass.
Then the sound faded, leaving almost utter silence. At least a few minutes earlier there had been the low murmur of voices from the several hundred men manning the First Shield, even the occasional nervous laugh. Now that had died away too as the sun began to slip below the horizon.
Wirr felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Aelric looking at him with a serious expression.
“Are you sure you want to be up here?” the young swordsman asked quietly. He glanced across at his sister, including her in the query. “It’s not like the Second Shield isn’t going to need defenders.”
Wirr winced, glancing around to check that no one had overheard. His father had warned him that the fighting would reach Ilin Illan itself, and Wirr in turn had felt the need to tell Dezia and Aelric. That didn’t mean he wanted the soldiers to know, though. For most of the men, the hope of victory—the belief that it was attainable—was what gave them the courage to fight.
Dezia evidently knew that too and gave her brother a withering look, shaking her bow at him. “We’ve already discussed this. My skills are going to be all but useless once it comes to hand-to-hand combat,” she said in a whisper. “I may as well make a difference while I can.”
“And I can be most effective healing the wounded from up here, getting them back in the fight quickly,” added Wirr. “No different from the Shen Gifted.” He glanced across at the nervous cluster of red-cloaked men and women, who stood together at the city end of the wall, back a little from the front lines. There weren’t many of them, but it was more than Wirr had expected from Tol Shen. And their presence would make a real difference.
Aelric grunted as he followed Wirr’s gaze. “Fair enough. Just… stay as far back as you can once everything starts, both of you. You’re no good to anyone if you get hurt,” he said gruffly, turning his gaze back out onto the plains.
Wirr exchanged a small grin with Dezia; her brother had already said something similar a few times in the past hour. He clapped Aelric on the back. “We will,” he assured the young man.
On a whim Wirr wandered closer to the edge of the wall, tentatively leaning forward to see the hard stone below, marveling again at just how high up they were. A mild wave of vertigo washed over him before he drew back. The First Shield—the outermost of Fedris Idri’s defenses, atop which he now stood—was at least fifty feet tall, allowing anyone manning it to see for miles across the plains in any direction.
Height wasn’t its only advantage. Despite the narrow pass, the Shield’s depth allowed hundreds of people to be atop it at once. At the front its thin parapet tapered upward everywhere into sharp points, jagged but elegantly symmetrical, as if rows of enormous swords had been carved from the stone itself.
He’d tested one of the edges of those impossibly thin stone spikes himself, drawing blood from the lightest of touches. His father had once explained that the Builders had created every edge of the parapet to be razor sharp; any attackers clambering over it would inevitably be cut. And the tapering shape of the parapet itself meant that ladders could never sit flat against it, could never jut out above it in order to bypass its dangers altogether.
Even so, none of it made Wirr feel any safer.
“So what news from General Parathe?” he asked after a moment. “I saw you speaking to him a few minutes ago.”
Aelric shrugged. “He says there’s likely to be about a thousand of the Blind. They’re not going to fit more than a couple of hundred into the pass at once, though, so that’s something.” He hesitated, glancing along the line and lowering his voice. “He’s worried about how these men are going to hold up in a battle. Many of them were left out of Jash’tar’s force for a reason—Parathe said a lot of them have had discipline issues lately. Difficulty completing their drills sometimes. Gone for a day or so doing fates know what, then back and pretending like nothing’s wrong. Not men he particularly wanted to have t
o rely on.”
Wirr grimaced. “Just what we need.”
Aelric grunted his agreement. The three of them stood side by side for a while, the heavy silence pressing on Wirr’s shoulders like a physical weight. He was so lost in thought that he jumped when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
Wirr turned.
“Davian!” he exclaimed.
Davian smiled tiredly, then gave a short laugh of surprise as he was enveloped by embraces from Aelric and Dezia.
“Wirr said you were alive, but I wasn’t sure I believed him until now. It’s good to see you, Davian,” said Aelric.
“You, too,” said Davian. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
Wirr’s heart sank as he saw the expression on his friend’s face. “Tol Athian…?”
“Did not go well.” Davian paused, then gave Aelric and Dezia a hesitant glance.
“They know about you, Dav,” said Wirr, a little apologetically. “There didn’t seem to be much point hiding the truth after Deilannis.”
Davian inclined his head, looking more relieved than anything else, and related what had happened at the Tol.
“Fates,” murmured Wirr when he was done, a sick feeling in his stomach. “So only the Shen Gifted to heal the wounded, and now we have to keep an eye out for Caeden, too. And the Council locked Taeris up?”
Davian nodded. He looked about to say more when there was a shout from down the wall, followed by a low murmuring as soldiers began to point out toward the plains. Wirr looked up, squinting in the fading light.
Fires had begun to dot the horizon.
Aelric turned to Davian, his voice tight. “Things are going to get messy up here soon. Are you going to be able to fight?”
Davian didn’t respond for a moment, staring out over the plains as if he could see something the others couldn’t. Then he shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “There’s no point me trying to use Essence—there aren’t enough sources nearby, and even if there were, I’d be bound by the Tenets as soon as I drew enough to be useful. I might be able to use kan, though.” He bit his lip. “I could use a sword, too, if there are any to spare.”
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