An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Wirr met her gaze steadily. “You have my word.”

  Geladra studied him silently.

  She slid Elocien’s notebook into a pocket.

  “I’ll go north,” she said loudly. Her expression was grim, and Wirr could tell that she thought she was calling his bluff. She turned to face the rest of the room. “And I urge every single Administrator who can be spared to do the same.”

  The murmuring in the room increased to a rumble as she turned back to him. “I hope that you are serious about this plan, Torin,” she said softly. “Because there is no way to retract it now.”

  Other than his mother’s brief speech, there was no reaction from the room beyond everyone talking among themselves in low tones. They’d come here expecting a grand speech, probably promises from him about the direction in which he wanted to take Administration—but certainly not this.

  Wirr gazed around at the crowd. He wasn’t sure that he’d made the right decision—but it was done, and there was no time to worry about it now.

  He motioned to Tachievar, who had come closest to replacing Pria over the past few days.

  “Please find out who is willing to come north, and have them ready to leave in a few hours,” he said to the tall man quietly. He glanced toward the door.

  “I need to warn the Representative that we might have a few extras along.”

  Wirr shivered in the cool afternoon wind as he walked up to join Taeris and Asha, nodding briefly to the uneasy-looking group of Administrators gathered on the other side of the courtyard.

  “Thank you for waiting,” he said to Taeris, noting the steadily fading light. It had taken a little longer than he’d expected, organizing everything that he needed to before he left. While the trip north would be instantaneous, the journey back would take a few weeks, and there were several things that he’d had to get in order before leaving.

  Particularly, as he’d realized nervously, because when he returned it may not be as Northwarden.

  Taeris just grunted in response, still looking displeased. He’d been frustrated with Wirr’s decision not to use the Oathstone, calling it rash, foolish, and several other choice words. Eventually, though, he’d reluctantly accepted that Wirr wasn’t going to change his mind.

  “You’ve spoken further to Laiman?” asked Taeris eventually.

  Wirr nodded. “I told him that I wanted him to tell my uncle the truth—all of it. They’ve been friends for years, and the news should come from him. But given Laiman’s position, it’s not a secret that I feel I can keep from Uncle.”

  Taeris nodded. “Laiman will appreciate the chance to explain himself,” he said quietly. “They are friends, you know. That was never something he lied about.”

  The Representative sighed heavily as he contemplated the situation, then glanced at Asha, who was staring apprehensively toward the palace entrance. “You don’t need to listen to Dras,” he told her gently. “Your position will be here when you get back. No matter how long you’re away.”

  Wirr raised an eyebrow at his friend, who shrugged. “He heard that I was leaving again. Told me that if I went, it was proof that I wasn’t taking my responsibilities here seriously. Said that he would make sure I wasn’t Representative when I got back,” she said tiredly.

  Wirr’s expression darkened. “If there was time, I’d be having a word with him.” He’d already considered seeking out the Shen Representative before leaving. He knew that Taeris and Laiman suspected Dras of having a hand in his uncle’s illness during the Blind’s invasion, and now that Wirr had the Oathstone, he had no compunction about forcing Dras to reveal any involvement.

  Taeris nodded approvingly, evidently following his train of thought. “When you get back, Sire?”

  “When I get back,” agreed Wirr quietly.

  He sighed, touching the stone in his pocket, reminding himself to be careful not to issue any direct orders. He’d considered leaving it behind, but he was about to travel to one of the most dangerous places in Andarra—with a group of people who didn’t believe that there was any threat. He sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t need to force anyone to do anything, but given that a situation up there could quickly become life-or-death, it seemed foolish to leave himself without the option.

  Taeris glanced across at the Administrators. “So this is all of them?”

  “Yes.” Including his mother, there were only a dozen or so of the hundred who had been at the meeting—but it was enough. Their word would carry weight with the others. Regardless of whether Wirr remained Northwarden, he felt confident that Administration would finally begin taking the northern threat seriously once they returned.

  He’d used the afternoon to try and convince a few others to come, too, but without any success. In particular, he’d targeted ambassadors like Thurin, who had previously expressed their skepticism about the Boundary. Convincing them—and potentially gaining allies in the Boundary’s defense—would have been a very large bonus.

  None of them had been willing to make the journey, though. It was disappointing, but Wirr didn’t regret trying.

  “Then let’s not waste time.” Taeris drew out the familiar smooth black stone from his pocket, motioning the group standing across from him to join them. They did so, if somewhat reluctantly.

  “Wait!”

  Wirr turned with a frown to see Karaliene emerging from the palace. She had a determined look in her eye.

  “Kara?” Wirr gave her a confused smile as she approached. “I didn’t know you were back!”

  His eyes unconsciously flicked behind her; the princess and Dezia were good friends and often arrived together. No one else appeared, though, of course.

  Wirr sighed inwardly. He hoped that wherever Dezia was at the moment, she was getting on well. Was safe.

  “I’m going with you.” Karaliene shook her head with a glare as he opened his mouth to protest. “Administrators are all well and good, but you need someone who can convince the Houses, too.” She stared at him defiantly.

  Wirr hesitated. “Does Uncle know?”

  “I just spoke with him,” Karaliene assured him, a little too quickly.

  Wirr’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll rephrase. Did he say that you could go?”

  “I didn’t ask, because I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” observed Karaliene testily.

  Wirr exchanged a glance with Taeris, who immediately shook his head. “Don’t drag me into it.”

  Wirr sighed, then shrugged.

  “Then I suppose you’re coming with us,” he said with a small smile at his cousin.

  Taeris waited until they were all assembled and then closed his eyes, pouring white energy into the stone as he held it away from his body. The Vessel began to pulse and a sharp line of light materialized in front of the Representative, expanding until suddenly it blinked out again, accompanied by a low gasp from the Administrators. A hole now hung in the air, revealing a plain, gray-walled room on the other side of the portal.

  Taeris gestured. “Whenever you’re ready.” He reluctantly handed the black Travel Stone to Wirr. “You’ll need to be the last to step through—the portal will close once the stone is on the other side.” He hesitated. “Get it back here as quickly as you can, Sire.”

  Wirr nodded, slipping the stone into his pocket and waiting patiently as first Asha, then Karaliene, then his mother and the Administrators cautiously stepped through. Eventually, only he and Taeris were left in the courtyard.

  “I have more questions for you and Laiman, Taeris,” he said quietly, looking at the scarred man meaningfully. “A lot more questions.”

  “I know.” Taeris inclined his head. “When you get back, I’ll answer them. You have my word.”

  Wirr nodded, then braced himself and stepped through the portal, blinking as he was struck by how much warmer it was here. The opening behind him winked out.

  The room was empty save for its new occupants, a table, and a few packs thrown in the corner, but it did have a window. He glanced a
t Asha, and they walked across to it together, gazing out.

  Wirr gaped.

  They were positioned at the top of a cliff, overlooking a massive stretch of flat ground. The distance, though, was dominated by an enormous wall of pulsing, shimmering energy. The size and scope of it were … staggering.

  He glanced back at the milling Administrators, then turned to Asha, exhaling.

  “I think we’re here,” he said quietly.

  Chapter 42

  Davian wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and made another notation on the page, forehead wrinkled as he tried to make sense of what he was writing.

  “Why would it absorb Essence there,” he muttered, following the link in his notation to one that Ishelle had made the previous day. “There’s no danger if the Essence overflows there. It would just decay. It’s an unnecessary addition.”

  He studied the page in puzzlement for a few seconds longer and then growled, head aching from the long process of trying to piece together the enormously complex mechanisms of the Boundary. It had been four days since they’d arrived, and already they had pages upon pages of notes filled with their observations and analysis. Or speculation, in many cases.

  But, slowly, even some of that speculation was beginning to form a picture. A vague idea of what some of the most basic components of the foundational pillars were intended to do.

  He glanced over at the others, who were illuminated by the ghostly light of the Boundary. They had taken to working late—until they were ready to drop from exhaustion, in fact. It was too far to constantly travel back and forth to the safety of the outpost. They took occasional breaks, chatting as cheerfully as they could given the grim nature of both their surroundings and task. The vast majority of the time, though, their energy was spent examining the various functions of the Boundary.

  Davian stared again at the column rising out of the ground a good thirty feet away, glowing with the familiar symbol of the wolf’s head. It was there as a way to ensure that none of the kan moved; the positioning of each element appeared to be as important as its actual function. He resisted the urge to edge in for a closer look. He’d figured out enough of what the Boundary was capable of doing to know better.

  Suddenly there was a flicker of movement at the corner of his vision, and he froze.

  The torrent of Essence flying between each pillar was always in flux, but now, for a few seconds, it just … stopped. The Boundary sputtered, its low thrum hesitating, the usually regular pressure against Davian’s ears stuttering.

  His eyes widened.

  On the other side of the torrent of Essence, between the flickering translucent lines, were several figures.

  For a long few moments Davian stared at the motionless silhouettes, who seemed as startled as he by the sudden increase in visibility. They were human in shape—he could make out that much—but beyond that, they were little more than dark outlines against the lighter background. Illuminated by the Essence, but features indistinguishable.

  He shouted out to the others urgently, turning to make sure that he’d gotten their attention. The thrum resumed just as he did so and when he turned back, the figures had vanished again behind a wall of blue-white Essence.

  “Did something happen?” asked Ishelle as she rushed over, the others right behind her.

  “I saw … people. On the other side,” Davian said grimly as the other two joined them.

  Erran glanced toward the Boundary. “Are you sure?”

  “Certain. The section here … it failed for a few seconds.”

  Silence met the statement, and the other three suddenly looked as nervous as Davian felt.

  “We were about to call you over,” said Erran suddenly. He gestured for the others to follow and then struck out for where he and Fessi had been standing, about a hundred feet farther along. “We found something.”

  Davian and Ishelle hurried after him. “Found what?” asked Ishelle.

  Erran’s tone and expression indicated worry more than excitement. “Something you’re going to want to see.” He pointed to a section of the wall of light, which on the surface was no different from the rest of it. “Look there,” he said quietly.

  Davian closed his eyes and stretched out, pushing through kan and letting his senses take over. The wall wasn’t as complex as the pillars; though a tangle of threads of kan stretched between the columns, the columns themselves determined those threads’ functions.

  Where Erran had indicated, though, there was … something. Something unusual. Davian frowned, peering closer at the kan construct. It was hard, shaped like an archway, a little higher than six feet.

  And to the side, there was another piece of kan machinery. At first it looked like everything else that he’d been staring at for the past several hours.

  Then he started.

  The machinery wasn’t nestled within the barrier, like everything else he’d seen. It jutted slightly. If he reached out, he would be able to access that kan device. Touch it.

  Activate it.

  “Fates,” he murmured, focusing back on the archway with a sudden surge of understanding. He opened his eyes, turning to the others in astonishment. “Is that …?”

  “We think so,” said Fessi with a nod, eyes alight with curiosity. She stared intently at the spot where Davian had been looking, even though there was nothing to see without using kan.

  “I think we just found a door.”

  Davian sat back, rubbing his eyes.

  It was late now. At least two hours after Erran had drawn his attention to the kan anomaly. Fessi and Erran had eventually gone to look at other sections of the Boundary—to see if, perhaps, there were other similar mechanisms elsewhere—but he and Ishelle had done little else except study the strange structure. Every time he looked at it, though, he came to the same conclusion.

  “I can’t see what else it could be,” he said quietly. “It seems simple enough. The kan that we can access can be pushed, shifted inward. That would block off the flow of Essence to the archway, leaving it clear to walk through.” He rubbed his forehead. “Not that we should do that,” he added drily.

  “Why not?”

  He turned to stare at Ishelle, who was frowning absently as she examined the structure. She looked up and shrugged when she saw his expression. “What if we’re not making headway because we can’t see the whole picture? What if whatever’s wrong with the Boundary is actually on the northern side? I mean—if someone’s really trying to bring it down, it makes sense that they’re doing it on the side that they can get to.”

  “There’s not much use in strengthening the Boundary if we leave a hole in it, though,” observed Davian drily.

  Ishelle rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But it’s easy enough to see that the kan could be pulled out again. It’s made to be shut as well as opened.”

  Davian grunted, examining the structure again.

  “You have a point,” he conceded eventually, “but doors can have locks, and the north was meant to be a prison. I wouldn’t assume that because we can get in, we would be able to get out again just as easily.”

  “We wouldn’t all go,” said Ishelle, her tone indicating the obviousness of the statement. “Someone could stay here, keep watch, open or close the door if necessary.” She sighed as she saw his dubious look. “I know it’s dangerous, but let’s face it. We’re not here to enjoy ourselves.”

  Davian shook his head slowly. “I see what you’re saying, but it seems too early to be taking a risk like that.”

  “Too early?” Ishelle gave him a cynical look. “Weren’t you just panicking that the entire fates-cursed wall was about to come down?”

  Davian snorted. It hadn’t been panic. “I just think that we need to get a better understanding of what everything on this side does first,” he said firmly.

  Ishelle frowned, turning and staring again into the blue-white light of the Boundary. She said nothing, and for a second Davian thought that she was having another of the strange, unsettl
ingly long lapses in concentration that had struck her now and then over the past few days. He’d tried to bring up her distracted behavior a few times—they all had—but Ishelle continued to shrug it off, and seemed to be getting more irritated every time that it was mentioned now.

  Eventually, though, she sighed and shook her head ruefully.

  “Perhaps you’re right. Just keep an open mind,” she said quietly, unaware of Davian’s concern. She covered a yawn. “Fessi and Erran can’t be too far away anyway. It’s probably time to start heading back for the night.”

  As if to punctuate her words there was a sudden thrum, followed by a thunderous crash that made Davian flinch, despite having heard it plenty of times before. Bright Essence flashed at various points along the wall as what they surmised were the Talan Gol forces—probably including eletai, from the elevation of some of those flares—flung themselves at the other side of the Boundary.

  He shook his head to stop his ears from ringing. “Let’s make a start,” he agreed, glancing along the crackling wall. Those few faltering seconds from earlier were making him even more nervous. They hadn’t seen anything get through since they’d arrived, but the Boundary needed only to fade again at the wrong moment for things to quickly become dangerous.

  They began making their way back toward the outpost. As they walked, Ishelle cast a longing look over her shoulder at where they’d found the archway.

  “You cannot seriously want to go through,” said Davian, following her gaze.

  Ishelle shook her head, not taking her eyes from the barrier. “I don’t want to. But doesn’t it make you wonder?”

  “Wonder what?”

  Ishelle shrugged. “Why, after creating such a thing—this enormous, important, last-resort barrier to stop their enemy—the Augurs would bother to put a door in it?”

  Davian opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated.

  It was strange. Surely it had been a risk. The Augurs two thousand years ago had supposedly created this from utter desperation, when there had been no other options left to them. Why leave any gap in their prison, even if it was one that could only be discovered by one of their own?