Davian swallowed, pushing down his initial reactions: horror, fury, disdain, a sense of disbelief at Rohin’s words. Elder Dain was dead? Davian wasn’t sure how much, if anything, to believe of what Rohin was saying—but he also didn’t know how long he’d already been in this cell, and angering Rohin would only extend his stay. At some point, without kan—and thus without Essence—his body would simply stop functioning. Shut down.
Rohin didn’t know it, but Davian needed to get out soon.
“If that’s true, then I’m listening,” he said, hating the words but doing his best not to show it. “You say you want to be friends. What did you have in mind?”
“A truce.” Rohin stretched. “I know you’re angry now, but I’m sure that you can see how valuable I could be here. The Amnesty dictates that Augurs have to do as the Shen Council says, but now the Shen Council does as I say. We can work together, try and get the Augurs back to their rightful position in society. And we can do it with impunity—because any actions we take, the Council will say were at their behest.”
Davian nodded slowly. He wasn’t actually tempted but for a moment, he wondered whether Rohin might have a point. “We could force them to finally send us to the Boundary.”
“No.” Davian blinked at the vehemence of Rohin’s response. The other boy immediately calmed, but Davian knew that he hadn’t imagined the reaction.
“Why not?” Davian hesitated. If he wanted Rohin to believe that he was interested in what was being offered, he had to sound like he was at least trying to negotiate. “I know it probably seems irrelevant right now, but the danger is very real. If you’d seen Ilin Illan—”
“We can’t leave.” Rohin rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “We’re safe here.”
“We won’t be if the Boundary falls,” pressed Davian.
“It’s not as simple as that.” Rohin scowled. “I’ve Seen things, Davian. I’ve Seen what happens at the Boundary when it collapses. However bad you say Ilin Illan was … you cannot imagine what it will be like.” He said the last in close to a whisper.
Davian stared at him in unfeigned horror for a long few seconds.
“When it collapses?” He swallowed. “What have you Seen, exactly?”
“It doesn’t matter. We go north, we die.”
Davian was silent for a moment.
“Perhaps … perhaps you’re right, then,” he said eventually, trying to sound reluctantly convinced. He didn’t believe it for a second—regardless of what Rohin had Seen, they had to try—but his goal here wasn’t to argue.
Rohin gave him a relieved nod. “It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. The Council would have made far too much trouble for us after we left.”
Davian made certain not to outwardly react, but his breath caught. “Can’t you just convince them that they want us to go?”
Rohin hesitated and then scowled again, though mostly to himself. “It’s irrelevant.”
Davian let the matter drop, concealing his relief.
From the sounds of it, Rohin’s Control wasn’t permanent.
He studied the young man for a moment, trying to keep his head clear. Rohin was eager to talk, and that made him prone to giving away information. Davian supposed that was understandable. Having everyone agree with you sounded nice in theory, but it probably meant that Rohin hadn’t had an honest conversation since the ability had manifested itself.
Still, Davian didn’t know how much longer he had before his lack of Essence became a serious problem. He couldn’t waste time trying to wheedle more from Rohin. If he managed to get out of this cell, there would be time enough for that later.
“I’m willing to give this a try, Rohin. It’s not as if I have a lot of options, and you’re right—perhaps with your ability, we can actually do some good.” He scratched his head. He couldn’t seem to accede too easily. “I’m not convinced about the Boundary just yet, but I won’t cause trouble over it, either. We can have that discussion another time.”
Rohin nodded slowly. “Excellent.” He didn’t seem overly suspicious of Davian’s capitulation, but perhaps that was a side effect of his being accustomed to others’ obedience. “Now. All you need to do is drop your shield so that I can Read you, and we can let you out of there.”
Davian’s heart sank. “What? How can I trust you not to Control me?” he asked, trying not to panic. “Without a shield …”
Rohin frowned. “How could I possibly trust you not to betray me, otherwise? And you’re the one in the cell,” he pointed out.
Davian squeezed his eyes shut; it was getting harder and harder to mask his weariness. “Fine,” he muttered.
Rohin began unlocking the cell, then hesitated. “I can’t Read you without this door open, but you need to stay back until I’m done. No tricks, or it will go poorly for you.”
Davian grimaced but nodded, feeling his energy slipping away. It was becoming difficult to breathe. He sat on the far edge of the room and closed his eyes, waiting until he heard the sound of the door opening.
The moment it did, everything became … clearer. The pulsing pillar from outside was blinding with Essence, as was Rohin himself as he stood in the doorway. Davian could suddenly sense the other pillars in the hall, too, as well as another source not far behind Rohin that he didn’t recognize.
Davian’s body had started sucking hungrily at Essence already, but he knew that he didn’t have long. He augmented the draining process, focusing on Rohin, trying to keep the lines of energy thin enough that the Augur wouldn’t notice.
“You still have your shield up, Davian,” he could hear Rohin saying in the background. “You need to … wait. What are you doing?”
Davian didn’t stop; the pillars began to dim out in the hallway behind Rohin, plunging the cell into deep shadow. He began drawing harder from Rohin, watching as the young man’s source began to shrink. It wasn’t difficult, and he felt the strength flowing back into his limbs, sharpening his mind.
And suddenly, he realized how easy it would be just to end this.
One sharp, violent drain would kill Rohin, just as it had Ionis. It was safer. More reliable. To take the right amount to simply render Rohin unconscious meant a constant draw, which the other Augur could cut off if he was quick enough.
Davian almost did it.
Something held him back, though. A nagging sense in the back of his mind that making that choice, when it was expedient rather than necessary, was not a step that he could come back from.
He breathed deeply and then began stumbling toward the exit. Rohin shook his head as if to clear it, gripping the frame of the door to steady himself. His eyes were wide, but his understanding had come too late to stop Davian. Every moment that passed, Davian grew stronger and Rohin became weaker.
Then there was a rush of kan slicing through his lines of Essence, and a Disruption shield abruptly materialized around Rohin, blocking the doorway.
In the hall behind the young man, Ishelle had dropped her invisibility.
Davian stuttered to a stop, heart sinking as he saw her expression. “Ishelle,” he said urgently. “He’s Controlling you. Controlling everyone. You heard him.”
“Kill him,” choked Rohin.
Ishelle hesitated. For a moment, no one moved.
Davian gathered all his concentration and tried to step outside of time, but he was still too dizzy; time stuttered for barely a moment before washing back over him. Ishelle came to a decision and moved toward him.
Davian changed his focus and lashed out with Essence instead, trying to push her out of his way without causing her injury. Ishelle blocked the attack easily, then simply dragged Rohin back into the hallway and began to shut the cell door.
Davian acted on instinct, hardening a sphere of kan within himself and sucking all the extra Essence he’d gathered into it.
The door clanked shut.
“I said kill him,” snarled Rohin, stumbling to his feet.
“I am,” said Ishelle quietly. “A fight is a
n unnecessary risk. No food or water will do the job just as effectively.”
Rohin shook his head in disgust, though the action was directed more at Davian than Ishelle. “Why? Why try and escape when I offer you so much?”
Davian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of something to say that could help his situation. There was nothing, though.
“What you’re doing is wrong, Rohin,” he said softly. “Surely, deep down, you know that. Surely you can see …”
He trailed off as Rohin simply walked away, gesturing curtly for Ishelle to follow. Within moments, Davian was alone once again.
He swallowed, forcing down a sudden swell of panic. He hadn’t anticipated Ishelle helping Rohin—an oversight, in retrospect, but there was nothing to be done about it now. At least he’d bought himself some time.
He slumped to the floor, his back against the smooth white wall, and began to nervously examine the hollowed-out ball of kan he’d created. He could sense it well enough—just couldn’t touch it, couldn’t modify it in any way. If there was a flaw in what he’d done, there was no way to fix it now.
He’d made the sphere instinctively, desperately, even though he knew that it was incredibly dangerous to do so. A container of hardened kan, within which he’d stored all the Essence he’d drawn but not used. Then he’d left the tiniest gap that he could manage in the shell, allowing a faint trickle of Essence to constantly filter out, directly into his body.
He shook his head dazedly as he studied it. Against all odds, it did seem to be working. That wasn’t supposed to be possible, though—everything he’d read in Deilannis, as well as what Ishelle had been taught, said that the presence of a kan construct within the body could cause any number of problems. Side effects were meant to range between nausea and a sudden, violent death, and yet he felt … fine.
Perhaps it was something to do with not having a source, or perhaps the consequences were not yet revealing themselves—but for now, it appeared he’d drawn enough to survive for a while longer. A day or two, perhaps?
A sliver of hope blossomed in his chest. He’d been scheduled to meet Erran and Fessi, and they would know something was wrong when he didn’t show. Would it be enough for them to come looking for him, though?
And even if they did, they wouldn’t know about Rohin’s ability, wouldn’t realize that they needed to avoid him at all costs. Davian’s flicker of excitement died again. The last thing he wanted was to hand Rohin more Augurs to control.
Sighing, he settled down in the corner of the bare cell, doing his best to clear his mind. He couldn’t panic.
There would be a way out of this.
He just had to figure out what it was.
Chapter 14
Caeden awoke to the crackling of a fire, and no pain.
He moved slowly, cautiously, testing each limb with care. He was lying flat on the ground. Nothing was piercing his body, nothing was restraining him.
He’d been released from the capsule.
There was a brief, sweet moment of relief, though that was quickly swept away as the things he’d remembered while imprisoned came flooding back. Elliavia. Nethgalla.
The same woman who had killed Asar.
He swallowed, just lying there, grief suddenly heavy against his chest again.
He knew it was just a memory—in a lot of ways, still detached from whom he currently was—and something that had happened a long, long time ago. And yet the emotion of the discovery rocked him as if it were brand new. It was brand new. He’d experienced the impossible hope of discovering that the woman he loved was still alive—and then the despair of understanding that not only was she dead, but that he’d created the mockery that had taken her place.
Caeden’s breath caught, and his mind shied away from that last thought. He didn’t remember the details of his wedding, but that … that was something that he knew he didn’t want to relive.
Suddenly recalling where he was again, he forced down the sadness and focused, propping himself slowly up onto one elbow. The man who had originally been in the torture chamber was sitting opposite, staring meditatively into the flames between them. He didn’t react to Caeden’s motion, and at first Caeden wasn’t sure he had even noticed it.
“How long, Devaed?” The stranger’s voice was quiet, but it carried clearly across the stone plateau.
Caeden hesitated, then took a deep breath and sat upright. “How long …?”
“How long was I in there?” The man finally moved, turning his head to face Caeden. He was calm, but something in his eyes smoldered as they looked into his. “Decades? Centuries?”
Caeden didn’t answer for a moment. Honesty was easiest, but honesty could also get him killed.
So too could lying, though.
“Does it matter?” he asked quietly.
The black-haired man stared at him in disbelief for a few moments, then looked away. “I suppose it does not,” he said with a soft, bitter laugh. “I just thought you might tell me. For the friendship we once had.”
Caeden opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden flash of familiarity ran through him.
Another of the walls in his mind cracked, then crumbled.
Caeden slid gracefully along the grass behind the low wall, releasing his time bubble so that he appeared midmotion to Isiliar.
“Show-off,” murmured the redheaded woman.
“Don’t pretend like you’re not impressed,” whispered Caeden, moving smoothly and pressing up against the stone barrier. He closed his eyes, reaching out with kan. “There’s only ten of them. Why bother waiting for me?”
“I’m building habits. Part of the team. You should try it.” Isiliar smiled. “And if you bothered to look with your eyes, you’d see that there’s twenty. They got some Telesthaesia from somewhere.”
Caeden raised an eyebrow. “More? Alaris really needs to learn to keep an eye on his belongings. Especially the things that make our job harder.” He risked a quick peek over the wall, taking in the distant group of black-armored men. “They’re far enough away that we can deal with the others before they get here, at least. And just one commander. He’s either pretty good, or has absolutely no idea what he’s in for. Nine connections at once can be brutal.”
“I’ve seen you manage at least two dozen.”
“That’s because of my vast intellect,” observed Caeden.
“Well.” Isiliar crooked a mock dubious smile at him. “Vast capacity, at least. There’s clearly plenty of room in that pretty head of yours.”
Before Caeden could respond she was moving, leaping and sliding over the wall.
With a soft laugh he followed, running a dozen paces before easily evading the first sword that sliced in his direction. The man who had swung it went down, Caeden breaking his leg without even needing to alter his momentum.
He continued forward, flashing between two more blades before disarming the man to his left and delivering a brutal blow with his elbow. The man’s nose crumpled beneath the impact, its owner unconscious before he hit the ground.
Caeden tossed aside the steel he’d confiscated, taking a moment to watch in appreciation as Isiliar spun and whirled and dealt maiming blows at every turn. She was a dervish of pain, efficient and terrible. Much better than he, if he were being honest.
Then there was a furious chorus of shouts, and their first real test rushed toward them.
Telesthaesia drank in the clean light of the morning, absorbing rather than reflecting it. Caeden knew that was due to the Absorption endpoints that occurred naturally in the dar’gaithin scales, making them immune to both kan and Essence.
“You want the pawns or the commander?” Caeden asked as Isiliar downed the last of the regular men.
Isiliar thought for a moment, ignoring the rush of black armor coming her way.
“Which way did we do it last time?”
Caeden shrugged. “I think I got the commander. I think. Ladicia is a bit of a blur, to be honest.”
“Soun
ds right. The usual stakes?”
“Of course.”
The black-clad soldiers were almost upon them. Isiliar gave a slight nod and vanished, altering her passage through time to much better effect than he had. He gave a jealous sigh, then turned his attention to his attackers.
“I really should be making Alaris do this,” he muttered to himself. Then, in a louder voice, he addressed the men coming toward him.
“Those helmets look awfully uncomfortable,” he called as he was quickly surrounded. “Don’t suppose you’d like to just … take them off?” He sighed again as the men formed a tight circle around him. “Seriously, though. Easier for all of us if you just take them off. You don’t get hurt, I don’t have to lose another bet.”
Nine swords swung at him all at once.
Caeden had known exactly what was coming; he jumped, his legs already infused with Essence. The leap took him a dozen feet into the air; he somersaulted—he didn’t think Isiliar would be watching, but the flair was worth it just in case she was—and landed gracefully outside the circle, one of the men’s helmets in his hands.
He shook it at the attackers sternly. “You see? If you take the things off, it will not be anywhere near as bad.” He paused. “Well, I suppose most of you don’t see, as such. Which is a shame. Because what I just did … it was pretty impressive. That was not easy.”
The man whose helmet he had ripped off was staring at him in shock, eyes glazed over. Caeden felt a wave of sympathy for him; breaking the connection like that was unpleasant at best, dangerous at worst. Not many minds were permanently damaged by it, but still.
“So. Surrender?” asked Caeden hopefully. “Last chance.”
Eight men came toward him, much faster than the average soldier. Their commander was certainly doing an impressive job, activating the Time endpoints in the armor at the same time as fighting Isiliar. That gave him a modicum of hope of winning his bet, at least. He brightened at the thought.
Then he created a time bubble again. Telesthaesia made it less effective, but it was still good enough.
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