An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  She wedged herself into the most out-of-the-way corner, nestling the Veil in her hands. She wouldn’t use it for now—not while she was so alert, anyway. The drain on her Essence wasn’t a necessary one, and she could activate it the moment that she heard or saw something. She would have to use it again if she became sleepy later on, but she would deal with that if and when the time came.

  Trying to keep the terror at bay, she released a few steadying breaths into the darkness, and settled down to wait.

  Chapter 10

  Davian exhaled as he walked through the Tol’s Essence-lit eastern gate and onto the wide but busy pathways of Outer Ward.

  The trip back from Prythe had been a nervous one, filled with hesitant pauses to check whether anyone was trailing him through the steadily encroaching darkness. He’d seen nothing, but if he was right—if an Augur had truly Controlled someone simply to speak with him—it wouldn’t take much for them to remain hidden. The somewhat familiar surrounds of Tol Shen had never felt friendlier, even the passing glances from the Gifted suddenly seeming less hostile than usual.

  He didn’t loiter before heading for Inner Ward though, hurrying through the connecting tunnel with a wave of his silver armband. A few minutes later, after a surprisingly polite and helpful conversation with the guards outside the Augurs’ residence, he found himself headed for the Inner Archive.

  The Inner Archive was a large library that, while not close to the size of the Great Library in Deilannis, still rivaled anything else Davian had seen. Each ward had its own Archive, he knew, but the breadth and depth of knowledge available varied greatly between them. He had been largely unimpressed with his sole visit to the Outer Archive, which appeared focused more toward basic texts and theory for the newer Gifted students. And he and Ishelle hadn’t been inside the Central Archive yet, though an eventual visit had been promised. Much to his frustration, Davian suspected that any truly useful tomes—anything relating to the Boundary, or even Augurs for that matter—would be stored there.

  Soon reaching the Inner Archive, he hurried beneath its towering archway of an entrance and inside, breathing out when he finally spotted Ishelle, who was reclining at a table in the corner and reading by the gentle light of an Essence globe.

  “I need your help,” he said as he slid into the chair opposite her.

  Ishelle didn’t look up from her book. “I know.”

  Davian grunted. “Very funny. I think there might be another Augur in Prythe.”

  Ishelle straightened, shutting the tome she’d been reading and sliding it to one side. “What?”

  Davian quickly related what had happened, eliciting an unsurprised eye roll when he revealed that Thameron had been following him. When he described the singer’s odd memory loss, though, Ishelle leaned back.

  “Fates,” she murmured. “Two in a day.” She smiled slightly, watching Davian’s reaction.

  Davian opened his mouth to respond, then caught himself. He stared at Ishelle for a few moments in confusion, then slowly matched her expression.

  “Someone came forward?”

  “You chose the wrong afternoon to take a break. Only two troublemakers … and our first genuine Augur.” Her smile widened at the excitement in Davian’s expression.

  “You’re certain?”

  “He let me Read him. I’m certain.”

  Davian gave a short, loud laugh, pushing back his chair eagerly and ignoring the irritated looks from the Gifted studying in the Archive. “So where is he?”

  Ishelle waved him back into his seat. “His name’s Rohin, and he’s in a meeting with the Elders—which I said we wouldn’t interrupt,” she said firmly. “We went through some basic tests, though. He doesn’t seem particularly strong in any one area—he’s got some talent Reading people, but I wouldn’t say he’s better at it than you or I. And he says he’s only had about a half-dozen visions in the past year. All minor, personal things.” She shrugged. “No training. No experience. He only figured out what he was a few months ago, and he’s been busy hiding it from everyone ever since. So don’t expect too much from him.”

  Davian nodded; it was hardly surprising that the newcomer wasn’t especially skilled. Davian’s time in Deilannis had given him a strong foundation in all the Augur abilities, and Ishelle had been training for years. They’d both known that new Augurs would need nurturing. It didn’t detract from his excitement.

  “So he was here while I was in Prythe. He definitely wasn’t the one who spoke to me,” he mused. “If Rohin won’t be available for a while, do you feel like a trip into the city?”

  Ishelle hesitated, then shook her head. “The Council has called everyone to the Great Hall this evening, to introduce him formally to all the Gifted once they’re done with their meeting. At least one of us should be here when that happens.”

  “When?”

  “Could be an hour, could be three.” Ishelle shrugged. “They weren’t specific.”

  Davian grunted. He was eager to meet the new Augur, but he didn’t want to let the one in Prythe slip away, either. He’d come back because he’d wanted Ishelle’s presence in the event that he was attacked. But if getting rid of Thameron had been the first step toward the Augur in the city making contact, Davian wanted to provide them with another chance soon—before whomever it was decided that the risk wasn’t worth it and left again.

  “You’re going back, I take it?” said Ishelle, though it was more statement than question.

  Davian inclined his head. “I think I should. You’ll have to pass on my apologies,” he added with sincere regret. He sighed, standing; there was no point in delaying. “What’s Rohin like?”

  Ishelle shrugged. “He’s our age, of course. He seemed … nice, I suppose. I didn’t get much of an opportunity to talk to him, and I did go into that meeting half expecting another would-be assassin, but …” She grinned. “I’m sure we’ll all get along. Fates, believe it or not, even the Elders seemed to like him.”

  Davian felt his eyebrows raise a little. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.” He smirked. “Or wonder whether all the Elders have suddenly stopped using their shields.”

  Ishelle snorted, glancing around surreptitiously. “Don’t even joke about that.” Her smile faded. “Don’t leave yourself open to whomever this is in the city, either. Be careful out there.”

  Davian nodded a grim acknowledgment, then set out for Prythe once again.

  Davian set down his empty cup, trying not to look exasperated as he surveyed the bustling, noisy tavern.

  It was late, and both his patience and confidence were rapidly running thin. He’d been here, alone at a table, for close to an hour; preceding that he’d walked the torchlit streets of Prythe for closer to two, retracing his steps from earlier that day and giving anyone who wanted to approach him plenty of opportunity.

  Thus far, no one had even looked at him twice.

  There was no one from the Tol following him this time to scare them off, either. He suspected Thameron had related the afternoon’s incident to the Council—or, possibly, everyone was too distracted by news of the new Augur to worry about what Davian got up to for an evening in Prythe. Either way, he was confident that he wasn’t being watched by one of the Gifted.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have made a difference.

  He sighed, silently berating himself. The longer he’d been here, the more foolish this idea had seemed. He had no idea how the Augur had recognized him earlier, and there was no telling if they’d realize he was back in the city. If it had been an Augur. With so much time to think, his doubts over even that much had been steadily growing.

  He braced himself against the table and stood, pressing a coin onto its surface and nodding politely to the barkeep as he headed for the door. There was no point in staying; he’d checked the tavern’s customers several times for any sign of Control, and even briefly Read each of them to ensure that the Augur hadn’t come to follow him in person. He should have stayed at the
Tol to meet Rohin. This had been a waste of time.

  The crush of people in this section of the city, despite the late hour, immediately enveloped him when he hit the street; he moved slowly through the crowds in the general direction of the Tol, deep in thought.

  There was one last thing he could try—the same thing that he’d done to Thameron that morning. It felt like it was probably not worth the effort, but he was here now. It couldn’t hurt.

  He made the decision abruptly and moved to the side, ducking into a dimly lit side alley and then hurrying as quickly as he could without drawing attention. Halfway along he slipped into an even narrower alley, this one entirely empty and dark, little more than a couple of feet of space between two buildings. He stopped just inside and turned, closing his eyes.

  He pushed through kan, extending his senses, carefully focusing as bright silhouettes became sharp all around him. Other sources of Essence—the flame from the fire in a nearby kitchen, two cats stalking along the roof, flowers in the garden over to the right—he mentally filtered out, leaving only the people in his immediate vicinity. Within moments he’d isolated the images of the crowd and was able to watch their movements.

  One silhouette immediately stood out. It was cutting its way directly toward his position, weaving around others with a definite sense of purpose.

  Davian’s heart skipped a beat. He let the other figures fade from his mind, giving this one his full attention. It paused when it came to the mouth of the alley, and Davian knew his pursuer was peering down it, no doubt trying to determine where he’d gone. They were close—close enough that Davian could probably emerge from his hiding spot and see their face, perhaps even catch them—but he held back.

  There was something else, almost imperceptible. Certainly impossible to see if he hadn’t been studying this one person with such intense focus.

  A minute thread of kan stretched away from the silhouette.

  The person following him was being Controlled.

  He took a steadying breath. The Augur had known where he was for a while, presumably … but they hadn’t taken the opportunity to approach him, didn’t seem to want to talk.

  He quickly made himself invisible as whoever was being Controlled started down the alley. The mesh for invisibility used very fine strands of kan, and someone being Controlled wouldn’t be able to look for it anyway. Unless the Augur was close by, there was no way they would be able to spot him.

  A few moments later someone appeared a few feet in front of him, pausing to peer down the narrow gap in which he’d concealed himself. Her features were difficult to make out beneath a tightly drawn hood but it was clearly a young woman, one he thought looked no older than he. For a moment Davian worried that she was going to walk toward him—he couldn’t move from beneath the mesh of kan without revealing himself, and he wouldn’t be able to physically avoid her in this narrow space—but she gave a slight, puzzled frown and then moved on.

  Davian waited until she’d exited the alley and then sprang into motion, ducking back the way he’d come, carefully tracing the line of kan he’d spotted back through the crowd. It was difficult, maintaining his awareness of what was around him while following the thread—he earned more than a few irritated stares from people as he bumped into them—but for the most part, he avoided notice.

  Before long, he found the source.

  The Augur was standing at the mouth of a narrow gap between two buildings, alone, leaning against the wall and watching those going past with keen interest. The light here was dim, but enough for Davian to see that it was a young man with no black marks on his face—not Scyner, then, whom Asha had described as a Shadow in his forties.

  Davian studied him for a moment and then circled around the building, coming up behind the other Augur. He carefully prepared a kan blade, then gripped the stranger’s shoulder.

  “Stay calm,” he growled, leaning forward so that he could murmur the words into the young man’s ear. “I just want to have a chat about why you’re following me.”

  The stranger flinched away and tried to use Essence, but Davian was ready; he slashed out with the kan blade, ending the attempt to draw energy before his stalker could utilize it. Davian followed that by slamming down a Disruption shield. It was nowhere near as good as Ishelle’s, but it would do what he needed it to.

  “I doubt you want Administration on top of us, so don’t try that again,” Davian muttered impatiently. “We’re both Augurs. Let’s talk.”

  The stranger’s shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he said, not turning. He rubbed his forehead. “Fates. You’re better than I realized.”

  Davian grunted. “You can stop Controlling that girl you had following me, now, too.”

  Then he frowned. The line of kan hadn’t dissipated, so he knew that the Augur hadn’t broken the connection. But the direction of that line had changed.

  Now it led behind him.

  “I’m flattered that you think I’m in charge,” said the young man wryly.

  Pain blossomed at the base of Davian’s skull, and everything went black.

  Chapter 11

  The voice seeped through the pain, a whisper among screams.

  “Wake up, Devaed,” it growled again, quiet yet hard as stone.

  Every nerve felt like it was firing in exquisite agony; Caeden’s eyes fluttered open and he began to jerk desperately, manically, panicking as he took in the hundreds of razor-edged needles that pierced his body. Trying to extricate himself only made it worse, though, if that were possible. He gave a clawing, rasping groan and forced himself to still.

  His gaze lifted slowly from the quivering black slivers protruding from his chest, his vision tinged red.

  A man stood in front of him, watching impassively. He was tall, his skin a deep brown, eyes gray and cold and focused calmly on his. He did not look like he was taking pleasure in Caeden’s situation, but neither did he seem sympathetic.

  “You … you were in here,” Caeden gasped, mind finally fitting the pieces together.

  “Still,” agreed the man quietly. “Even after all this time. And every time I woke up, every time I went through the Shift, I thought about what you said when you put me in there.” He leaned forward, expression going as still and cold as ice. “I would take your place if I could.”

  Caeden gave a sobbing moan in response, unable to formulate anything except the most basic thoughts. The man knew him. The man hated him. He was helpless.

  “Why did you come here? Why did you release me?”

  Caeden closed his eyes. He needed to lie but his thoughts were fragmented, torn apart by the pain before they had a chance to fully form.

  “I need your help,” he gasped.

  The man laughed, a genuinely surprised sound. “My help? My help?” He stared at Caeden in bewilderment. “Have you switched sides yet again, old friend? Why in the One God’s name would I help you?”

  Caeden drew a shaky breath. “Lyth,” he whispered.

  His torturer’s smile faded.

  “Ah,” he said, nodding to himself. He leaned over; when he straightened again he was holding Licanius, examining it with fascination. “So this is it? This is the last sword Andrael ever forged?” He turned it over in his hands, but Caeden could see the care with which he handled the blade. He knew of what it was capable. A ripple of panic ran through him.

  “I never saw it, you know,” the stranger continued, tone almost conversational as he looked it over. “We talked about it so much, but this is the first time …” He squinted, spotting the inscription. “‘For those who need me most’? He was never shy about wanting it to end, was he? You, on the other hand …”

  He waved his hand dismissively, as if suddenly realizing that he was talking mostly to himself. “And there’s the trap. I use Licanius on you, and I have no idea how to stop the Lyth coming for the rest of us. Which I can only assume that you do, if you agreed to Andrael’s binding. Because even in your madness, Devaed, you were never a fool. More’s t
he pity.” He tossed the blade aside, looking half-amused and half-disgusted. “So where is Asar, then? Waiting on the edge of the Plains like a frightened child, I suppose?”

  Caeden was unable to hide a flicker of emotion at the name; the man saw his grimace and froze, eyes narrowing as he studied Caeden’s expression.

  “He’s dead?” He glanced back at the sword on the ground. “You killed him?” His face transformed into a mask of pure anger. He moved as if to retrieve the blade and from the sense of purpose to his stride, Caeden could guess on his next course of action.

  “Not me,” gasped Caeden quickly. “A woman.” He shook his head, but the movement sent blinding torture through every nerve. “She … not my wife,” he murmured hazily, knowing the words would be close to unintelligible.

  It was enough, though. The man stopped dead.

  “Ah.” The stranger’s shoulders slumped, the tension draining from his stance. “I see.”

  He said something else, but that was the last Caeden heard.

  The voice faded.

  Caeden paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt Ell as she sang softly to herself.

  He recognized the tune after a few moments—sad and slow, the haunting melody had always been one of her favorites. He closed his eyes as Ell’s voice drifted through the room, clear and beautiful as always, each note shimmering in the air.

  The dead know not on what they lay

  The dead fear not the silent ground

  The dead hear not what people say

  The dead care not if they are found

  The dead feel not if bones are set

  The dead think not of battles lost

  The dead dwell not on their regret

  The dead remember not the cost

  The dead have now their struggles ceased

  The dead long not for what may be

  The dead are gone, and now know peace