“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.
Caeden dropped to his knees beside Taeris as the others crowded around. A ghastly gash ran the length of Taeris' stomach, exposing intestines and other innards; blood pooled around him on the stone of the road, dark and smooth. The Gifted’s eyes were still open, but his breaths were shallow and had a horrible bubbling sound.
Taeris was dying.
Caeden turned to Wirr. “He needs healing,” he said urgently.
Wirr ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t have enough Essence left in my Reserve to heal him. Even if it were full, I’m not sure I could repair a wound that bad." He hesitated. "You need to do it.”
Caeden looked at Wirr, horrified. “I don’t know how.”
“You have to try and remember.” Wirr grabbed Caeden’s hand and forced it against Taeris’ stomach. “I know you can do this, Caeden. Close your eyes, try and sense your Reserve. Then you need to tap into it and infuse the wound with raw Essence. If Taeris gets enough, his own body will do the rest.”
Caeden swallowed, heart pounding. “I'll do my best.” He began to close his eyes.
“Wait.” Wirr grimaced. “Maybe I spoke too soon. It’s not like firing a bolt of energy. It’s gentler than that, trickier. You don’t hurl it, you let it flow. Like a stream.” He bit his lip. “That’s very important, Caeden. If you can’t get the difference, the energy will be too forceful. That would kill him.”
Caeden paled. “Is there some way I can practice?”
“There’s no time.” It was Aelric. He placed a hand on Caeden’s shoulder. “He’s almost gone, Caeden.”
Caeden gave a resolute nod, turning his attention to Taeris. He positioned his hands over the gash in Taeris’ stomach, ignoring the blood soaking up between his fingers. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, searching out his Reserve. Trying desperately to remember how he'd done it in his dream.
The warmth of Essence was flowing through him, out of him, before he knew what was happening.
As quickly as it had come the feeling faded and Caeden sat back, drained. The wound had closed, only the raw pink of a newly healed scar now visible, but Caeden could not see any indication of Taeris’ chest rising and falling. Wirr dropped to his knees beside the Gifted, ear over Taeris' mouth, listening for any sign of life.
There was nothing for several seconds... and then Taeris gave a violent, hacking cough, his entire body contorting with the effort. He sat up and turned, vomiting the remaining blood from his stomach. When he'd finished he slowly turned back to Caeden and the others, hand on the freshly healed wound.
“Seems taking that Shackle off was a good idea,” he said weakly.
Caeden gave him a relieved smiled and allowed his tense muscles to relax a little, from the corner of his eye seeing the others doing the same. He helped Taeris stand. The older man tested out his muscles gingerly for a few seconds; once satisfied he could move without pain, he wandered over to where his attacker had fallen. Llys' eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell rhythmically.
“We need to take her with us,” said Wirr.
Taeris sighed. “No, lad. I saw her eyes, just before she stabbed me. Her body may still be sound, but her mind is gone. Following orders, but making use of her memories to achieve them.” He rubbed his beard, expression thoughtful. “I’ve seen this once before, a long time ago - we called them Echoes. These ones were left behind deliberately, a trap for anyone who came after. Especially Gifted, apparently.”
"I think he's right," added Caeden. He flushed a little at everyone's surprised looks. "I don't know how I know, but I thought the same thing when they attacked."
Dezia stared at the woman in disbelief. “But she told us her name. They were upset about what had happened.”
Taeris shrugged. “And that was likely the case, before they were changed. But the people that they were no longer exist.”
Wirr scowled. “So you’re saying we should just kill her?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Taeris softly. “It gives me no pleasure, but it is what needs to be done. If we leave
her, she’ll kill others.”
“We don’t know that!” protested Dezia.
Taeris gave her a sorrowful look. “Didn’t you notice how the last group of bodies we saw coming in to town didn’t match the others? They were fresher, and were wearing travelling cloaks, not work clothing. There were children amongst them. I thought it was odd at the time....”
Caeden's stomach churned as he glanced back down the road. He hadn't spotted that.
To his side, Dezia’s face twisted as she realised what Taeris was saying. She looked at Llys in horror. “We can’t kill her,” she said, though her voice was more uncertain now.
“What would you have us do?" asked Taeris. "There are three options. One, she comes with us. We don’t even have rope to tie her up with, let alone know anything about her capabilities given what's been done to her. Two, we could leave her. She could come after us, or she could lay in wait for more people here. Or three, we can kill her.” He folded his arms. “She’s dead, understand. Something else is using her body and memories to trick people. She’s no longer human.” He raised an eyebrow at Wirr. “Unless you think you’ve somehow found a way around the First Tenet?”
Caeden grimaced, and Wirr turned away, looking sick. Taeris was right. Wirr had blasted Llys with Essence, something he shouldn’t have been able to do.
“We should at least wait until she wakes up,” Wirr said stubbornly. "We need to make sure."
Taeris groaned. “She will just try to fool you again, but….” He threw his hands up in the air. “Very well. You think you can restrain her?”
Wirr nodded. “I should be able to." He hesitated. "Do you think it’s still wise to be heading for Ilin Illan, now? Coming in behind this army?”
“Yes. If anything, this means it’s more important than ever we reach Tol Athian quickly, before they get to the city. Otherwise we may not be able to get inside to restore Caeden's memories," said Taeris. "We’ll take the Eastern road, go around them. We should be able to get to Ilin Illan days before they arrive.”
Wirr shook his head. “The southern road is the quicker route. I doubt we can beat them there by much.”
“Look around you, Wirr.” Taeris gestured at the rubble that surrounded them. “This army isn’t in any hurry. Regardless of whether what Jashel told us was true, they certainly took the time to take down these buildings brick-by-brick. There are no signs of them using fire – probably because they didn’t want the smoke letting people know they were coming. But they have managed to destroy every structure here nonetheless, and done horrible, unspeakable things to the occupants. It all takes time, time a normal army wouldn’t bother wasting.”
Caeden stared at the remains of the town. “Why do you think they did it?”
Taeris scratched his beard. “Could be that they're trying to draw the king’s forces out of Ilin Illan, to engage them in the field rather than meet them on the city’s walls. These things seemed designed to taunt.”
Suddenly there was a moan from the prostrate woman on the ground, and all five of them took a wary step back. Llys shook her head groggily, getting slowly to her feet. “What happened?” she asked in bemusement. Then her eyes fell on Jashel’s corpse and a scream ripped from her throat, a heart-rending sound full of pain. Heedless of the onlookers she rushed over to her son, cradling his head in her arms.
“No, no, no,” she sobbed, repeating the words over and over again as she rocked back and forth, the boy’s blood smearing across her already-dirty dress. “No, no, no.”
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.
- Chapter 34 -
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.
The Shadow Of What Was Lost (Book 1) Page 42