An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Then he glanced at the two swords. He had no weapon of his own, and there had to be a reason that the blades were locked away down here.

  He’d seen Breshada’s sword, Whisper, in action. If these were other Named swords …

  He stretched out a hand toward the curved blade, then hesitated again. He could all but see Driscin’s disapproving glare.

  In and of itself, the memory of the Elder’s warning didn’t dissuade him—but it was too much of a risk. There was a good chance these swords were valuable weapons, and taking one could well help Davian. But if they weren’t—if they harmed him somehow, hampered his efforts to stop Rohin in any way …

  He sighed, letting his hand drop to his side. He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it, despite the temptation.

  With a last, regretful glance at the weapons, he started back. The thrumming sound faded a little as he pushed himself up the stairs again, now acutely aware of just how tired he was. His limbs felt heavy, and even his thought processes were seconds slower than they should have been.

  Davian stumbled a little as he came to the entrance, swallowing as he caught sight of Driscin’s expression through the doorway.

  “We have company.” Driscin gestured to the hall beyond the archway, eyes taut with concern.

  “A lot of company.”

  Davian scowled through the arch at the sea of red-cloaked bodies that had assembled in the hall.

  “Driscin, listen to me.” It was Elder Aliria standing at the front of the crowd, her tone urgent. “You’re being influenced by Davian. He’s jealous of Rohin, wants to kill him. He’s using you to do that.” She was echoed by a multitude of other voices, many of them desperate. Davian heard several other members of the Council in the chorus.

  Driscin glanced across at Davian. “That true?”

  Davian stared at him blankly.

  Driscin turned back to the Council, shaking his head. “Davian says that’s not true,” he called.

  “I’m not sure that’s helping,” murmured Davian.

  Driscin shrugged. “Nothing we say is going to change their minds.” More quietly, he added, “How long do you think until they get here?”

  As if in answer to his question, the mass of red cloaks suddenly parted and Ishelle and Rohin walked into view along the wide hallway, Rohin with a dark expression. The handsome young Augur studied Davian silently for a few moments.

  “So. Graybeard was wrong about him being the only one who could get in there,” he said eventually, shaking his head in disgust. He glanced at Ishelle. “Seems like killing him was a waste.”

  Davian could sense Driscin’s expression darkening at the words, but he said nothing.

  Rohin sighed. “It’s over, Davian.” He nodded to the satchel slung over Davian’s shoulder. “Whatever you came for, you can’t use it from in there.”

  Davian leaned against the wall, studying him. He couldn’t see the kan but he assumed that Ishelle would be maintaining her Disruption shield around the two of them. If Ishelle had been prudent—and he knew that she would have been—there would also be a similar barrier right in front of the entrance to the vault. Not as effective as something actively maintained, perhaps, but unavoidable if he couldn’t see it. Enough to stun him as soon as he exited.

  “You know you can’t get away,” added Ishelle, as if reading his thoughts. “Just come out here with that bag, and we can talk.”

  Davian slowly unslung the leather satchel from around his neck, feeling the weight of the two Vessels within. He grimaced as a wave of tiredness washed over him, and he barely avoided staggering.

  His artificial Reserve was running out.

  Driscin turned away from the door, a deliberate act of disregard, but also so that only Davian could see his mouth move. “Take your time once you’re out there,” he said in a low voice. “The longer it takes for them to realize—”

  “You. Big Nose,” called Rohin suddenly, his impatient voice ringing across the square. “You need to kill yourself.”

  Davian and Driscin both spun, wide-eyed, just in time to watch as Elder Narius—a wiry, silver-haired man with a prominent nose—produced a hard, thin sliver of Essence in his left hand, and then calmly drew it across his right wrist.

  As Davian and Driscin cried out in horror—their voices the only ones in the silence—Elder Narius switched the Essence blade to the other hand and proceeded to slit his left wrist, too. He let the energy dissipate and then stood there, frowning down in mild confusion at the blood gushing over his fingers and onto the stone.

  A few moments later, he was slumping to the ground.

  “Redhead,” said Rohin calmly, glancing at Aliria before his gaze locked again with Davian’s. “You—”

  “Stop!” Davian shouted, his dizziness no longer entirely from the lack of Essence. They’d anticipated threats, maybe injuries, but hadn’t thought that Rohin would escalate things so quickly.

  “Wait,” muttered Driscin. “If he’s willing to do that—”

  “No choice. I’m almost out of Essence anyway,” said Davian between gritted teeth. He adjusted the satchel so that it hung on his hip, then held up his hands in a sign of surrender.

  “I’m coming out now,” he said loudly.

  He stepped out of the antechamber.

  He stumbled immediately as pain lanced through his mind; everything spun and he went to his knees with a groan, despite Essence beginning to flood back into him. He couldn’t even attempt to grasp kan, let alone try to escape.

  Still, he caught the flicker—a fraction of a fraction of a moment—when the cell door to his left seemed to move slightly, and then the bag slung over his shoulder felt lighter. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “You should stop struggling,” Rohin said to him grimly.

  Davian gasped, the momentary hope forgotten as dark smoke snaked from Rohin’s mouth, arrowing toward him and burrowing into his head, clogging up his nose and mouth, wrapping itself around his mind. He collapsed to the cold stone floor, rasping, struggling for air.

  Then there was someone in a red cloak at his side, ripping the satchel from him.

  “Empty,” a male voice snarled.

  “What are you playing at, Davian?” It was Ishelle’s voice, urgent, accompanied by a low murmur of concern rippling through the gathered Gifted. “Where is whatever it was you took?” Anger entered her tone and she moved closer to him, though still near enough to Rohin to protect the other Augur. “Where. Is. It?”

  Davian continued to cough, pretending for a few extra moments, though the worst of the pain from Rohin’s ability had passed. He saw Rohin open his mouth again, but Ishelle put a restraining hand on the other Augur’s arm.

  “Left it with Driscin,” Davian choked out eventually. “No way I’m letting you have it.”

  Ishelle stared into his eyes, then suddenly paled, swivelling to stare around the room.

  “He’s delaying.” Davian could see the gears of her quick mind whirring. “Fates. The cells. He could have had another Augur hiding in there, and we wouldn’t have been able to sense them. They’ve taken whatever he got from the vault.”

  “What?” Rohin scowled, then turned and spoke loudly. “Anyone listening should show themselves.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Check the cells,” snarled Ishelle to the Gifted, though she turned back to Davian straight away, clearly not expecting them to find anything. “What did you take, and where did your Augur friend go?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” coughed Davian.

  Rohin scowled, then turned back toward the archway. “Time to come out of there, Elder.”

  “No thanks,” called back Driscin cheerfully.

  Rohin shrugged. “Davian. You should kill yourself.”

  Davian was braced for the impact but it still hurt. His vision receded as darkness tore at his head, tendrils of kan stabbing into his mind but unable to take hold. He screamed, writhing, for what felt like minutes.

/>   After a time the pain finally eased and he just lay there, panting, tears streaming down his face.

  “Very well,” said Rohin quietly, seeing that Driscin was simply watching, apparently unperturbed by Davian’s pain. “Ishelle. On the count of five, if Driscin has not come out, you should kill Davian.”

  Ishelle nodded, drawing a dagger from somewhere beneath her cloak and crouching, placing the blade across Davian’s throat. He stared up into her eyes, but he saw no mercy there.

  She would do it.

  “One,” said Rohin calmly. “Two. Three.”

  Davian swallowed, forcing himself not to flinch as the motion pressed the blade a little deeper. He was fairly sure that there was blood trickling down his neck now. “Driscin …” He licked his lips nervously.

  “Four,” said Rohin. Davian saw the muscles in Ishelle’s arm tense; he briefly thought about trying to attack her, but knew immediately that he was still too weak to do anything before she slit his throat. What was Driscin doing?

  There was a long silence, then Rohin grimaced. “Fine,” he muttered. He glanced across at Ishelle. “That was ‘fine,’ not ‘five,’ by the way. You shouldn’t kill him,” he added absently, chewing his lip.

  Ishelle immediately put the blade away and Davian closed his eyes for a moment, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

  “You don’t care about him,” mused Rohin, sounding more thoughtful than angry. He turned to Ishelle.

  “Ishelle. If Driscin has not come out of there within the next ten seconds, kill yourself.”

  Ishelle gave a short nod, turning the blade toward her own heart.

  Before Davian could even call out for her to stop, Driscin was walking out under the archway.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly to Davian, defeat on his face.

  “There it is,” said Rohin with a wry smile. “Now, Driscin. You should do everything you can to help me. You should tell me the plan, backup plans … anything I need to know.”

  “Don’t!” choked Davian.

  “We’re working with another Augur. Fessi. She’s the one who has the weapon,” said Driscin calmly, ignoring Davian. “It’s a small stone dagger.”

  Ishelle glanced at Rohin with a frown. “Elder Dain told us about that,” she said slowly. “But it needs a Trace to work. You don’t have Rohin’s Trace.”

  Driscin met her gaze, but Davian could see the pain in his eyes.

  “I never said that we were targeting Rohin,” he said softly.

  Ishelle paled as she realized what he was implying, glancing down at the silver band on her wrist. “Fates. The Council Chambers.” She turned to Rohin. “They have my Trace there. If they kill me, you won’t be able to stop another Augur.”

  “She’ll try not to kill you,” said Driscin softly, “but I’m not sure that anything less is possible. Once you’re out of the way, she’ll come for Rohin. Her ability to step outside of time means that he won’t be able to command her before she gets to him.”

  Ishelle hesitated, then looked at Davian with a frown. “I wouldn’t have thought—”

  “Fates, just go!” snarled Rohin, gesturing desperately. “Stop her! I have everything here under control!”

  Ishelle blinked away, Davian’s vague impression of her Disruption shield vanishing at the same time. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Now, Erran.

  Erran appeared behind Rohin, calmly reaching around and placing the golden amulet against his throat before anyone was even aware of his presence.

  Rohin screamed.

  Every motion in the hall came to an abrupt, shocked halt at the sound. Rohin collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony and tearing at his throat as the gold melted quickly around his neck, forming to his skin just as a Shackle would have done.

  Davian struggled to his feet, a little stunned at the reaction himself. He’d expected surprise and outrage, certainly resistance. But not agony.

  He barely had time to worry about it, though. Flashes of Essence filled the room as the Elders recovered and began to attack him and Erran. There were a few moments of real concern as Davian dove away from a couple of blasts, struggling to regain his grasp on kan. Erran, fortunately, had been prepared and blocked the attacks that would have otherwise struck him.

  Things moved quickly after that. Once Davian was able to focus, he carefully drew Essence from those nearby, just enough to render them unconscious. Before long, only he and Erran remained standing, though both of them were breathing hard, hands on their knees.

  Davian’s gaze flicked back to Rohin. The Augur’s screams had rapidly dampened to moans, but seemingly only because his throat had started to close up. He looked at Davian, wide eyes filled with pain. “Please,” he wept, hands beating feebly at his neck. “Please. It’s killing me.”

  Davian hesitated, a sudden seed of doubt entering his mind. Driscin had admitted that there were some assumptions surrounding the amulet, and that he didn’t know specifically what it was supposed to do—only that it was meant to disable an Augur.

  He reached out with kan, trying to see what was happening, and immediately recoiled.

  Darkness was pouring from the amulet and slashing into Rohin with a fury such as Davian had never seen. It didn’t seem to be doing any physical damage, but wisps of torn kan floated up from Rohin’s face—from his nose, his mouth, his ears, and his eyes. Davian’s stomach churned.

  This wasn’t just a Shackle for Augurs. This was actively hurting Rohin, even if Davian couldn’t tell exactly how.

  But he didn’t think it was killing him, either.

  “You brought this on yourself, Rohin,” he said quietly.

  Rohin tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth; his eyes rolled upward in his head as he finally went limp.

  Erran glanced up at Davian, still a little winded. “So. That went well.”

  Davian nodded wearily. “Tell Fessi that she doesn’t need to activate that dagger, and to get back here. Ishelle’s not great at altering her passage through time, but if this amulet really does hide Rohin from her ability, she’ll realize something’s wrong and be on her way back here at any moment.” He gazed around the room grimly. “Any luck getting rid of Rohin’s influence?”

  Erran’s lip curled as he shook his head. “We’ll just have to wait for it to wear off.” He glanced down at Driscin’s prone form. “He’s not going to be pleased about what I did, is he?”

  “We can always tell him that your wiping his memory of you was his idea.” Davian forced a grin. “It’s not like he can claim otherwise.”

  “I’m just glad it worked,” said Erran. “I know Fessi would have activated that Vessel, but …”

  Davian nodded grimly. They’d known that Rohin wouldn’t let Ishelle leave his side without a good reason—and not without believing that he already knew what they were planning. Ishelle’s need to move quickly had meant that she couldn’t take Rohin with her, but thanks to Driscin, Rohin had felt as though he’d had every threat accounted for anyway.

  Davian breathed out, still barely believing it had worked. They’d done everything they could to ensure that events would play out this way, but there had been no guarantee that it would work. If they hadn’t been able to get the amulet on Rohin—if Ishelle hadn’t taken the bait, or if Rohin had insisted on going with her at the expense of slowing her down—then the next step had been for Fessi to use Ishelle’s Trace, activate the dagger she’d taken from Davian, and hope that it wouldn’t kill Ishelle.

  It still unsettled him that that had been their next best option.

  Fessi appeared abruptly beside Erran, scowling down at Rohin. “She’s slow, but she’s on her way back. We need to go.” She glanced at Erran. “Can you carry him?”

  Erran sighed but stooped, slinging Rohin unceremoniously over his shoulder.

  “We’re going to have to rest now and then,” he grunted, the strain of the other Augur’s weight evident.

  Fessi nodded and placed a hand on Erran’s other
shoulder, then hesitated.

  “What about you?” she asked Davian. “Once Ishelle realizes that she can’t find Rohin, you’re her next best bet. And she can track you. It won’t be easy getting back to the passageway.”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Davian quietly, nodding at Rohin’s unconscious form. “Just get him hidden for a few days. I’ll wait for you to make contact back at the tavern.”

  Fessi inclined her head, and the three Augurs vanished.

  Davian took a deep breath, staring around at the carnage in the hall. Remarkably—aside from the bloodied form of Elder Narius—everyone appeared to be still breathing. It was as good an outcome as they could possibly have hoped for.

  He nodded grimly to himself, and hurried toward the exit.

  Chapter 24

  Wirr stared absently out the carriage window at Fedris Idri.

  Save for the men on guard, the pass through Ilin Tora was empty at this time of night. The polished-smooth brown walls reflected the dancing torches placed both along the road and atop the First Shield, the light bouncing and coalescing to make the narrow passageway into Ilin Illan seem bright as day.

  “I will give you one thing, prince. It is beautiful here.”

  Wirr turned to Breshada, who was sitting opposite and also peering outside the stationary carriage. He watched her for a moment, then inclined his head, though she couldn’t see the gesture. He supposed she was right. Fedris Idri was always a striking sight, but even more so when accentuated through the lens of a hundred gently flickering torches.

  He pulled back, letting the heavy curtain drop again, glad to let the scene disappear. He doubted beauty was something that he would ever see in this place again.

  “Desriel must have its wonders, too,” he observed. “The Builders vanished long before our two countries split.”

  Breshada nodded distractedly, still peering through the glass. “But those, I will never see again,” she said softly.

  Wirr nodded silently again, not knowing how else to respond to the Hunter’s statement. He glanced over at Deldri, whose eyes were still closed, her slumped position against the side of the carriage barely having changed since she had fallen asleep halfway through the journey. His sister had readily accepted Wirr’s explanation that Breshada was another bodyguard—just one whose job was to keep mostly out of sight. The Hunter’s permanent scowl, unwillingness to talk, and generally threatening demeanor had sold the lie well enough. Wirr was confident that Deldri wouldn’t mention her presence to anyone once they arrived at the palace.