An Echo of Things to Come

by James Islington

  Asha and Erran looked around curiously as they were led through the small village at the base of the mountain.

  Eyes peered out at them nervously from doorways that spilled lamplight into the street, the chaos of their entry no doubt having woken most of the residents. The buildings here were universally short and squat, made from simple gray stone, unadorned but sturdy-looking. Off to the side, Asha spotted several small garden beds that looked to be growing crops, and somewhere off in the distance she could even hear a dog barking. The Shadows, she was pleased to see, were not living in hardship here.

  “Why did you attack us?” she asked Shana quietly as they walked. The young woman hadn’t said much at all since Asha and Erran had arrived; despite Asha’s offer to explain why they were there, Shana had simply asked for them to follow her. They didn’t appear to be in any danger from the Shadows—Shana had even seemed reasonably happy to see her—so Asha and Erran had obliged. The other Shadows had stayed behind, apparently to guard the edge of the forest. Against exactly what, though, Asha wasn’t sure.

  The young woman rolled her shoulders at the question, giving Asha a nervous glance. “There have been … things … appearing at night over the past couple of weeks,” she said uneasily. “Usually from the same direction from which you came. They’re dangerous; we’ve lost a few people to them already.” She sighed. “Someone saw movement, and … well, we’re not really used to having guests.”

  “Things?” asked Erran.

  “Monsters.” Shana shook her head. “They crawl up out of the water. They look like scorpions, but … big. I’ve seen the stings on their tails skewer a man clean through.” She said the last part softly, the memory evidently still painfully fresh for her.

  Asha swallowed, exchanging a glance with Erran before turning back to Shana. “Should we be worried?”

  The Shadow shook her head. “We’ve kept them back so far.” She kept her gaze straight ahead, though, looking reluctant to talk about it further.

  Asha bit her lip, then nodded, dropping the line of questioning for now. “How did you all get here?”

  “The Shadraehin used a Vessel of some kind. Once the battle at Ilin Illan was over, he opened a portal from the Sanctuary to this island.”

  Asha saw Erran stiffen at the mention of Scyner, but she gave him a slight, cautioning shake of the head. Scyner had killed Kol, and both Asha and Erran badly wanted to bring him to justice for that. But making accusations now, causing trouble, wouldn’t help their cause.

  “So he made you all criminals,” said Erran, unable to hide the disdain in his tone.

  Shana shook her head defensively. “He saved us. Do you have any idea what would have happened, if we’d stayed in Ilin Illan? How do you think Administration would have reacted to our being able to use Vessels? Or everyone else, for that matter?” She glowered at him.

  “And the children came with you?” asked Asha, heart skipping a beat as she was suddenly reminded of the Echo that she’d seen in the Sanctuary.

  Shana’s face twisted, but it was more in sadness than pain. “Almost all of them. When the Shadraehin realized that the Blind were using the catacombs, he did everything that he could to get our families out. He took on the Blind by himself so that they’d have time to escape. Nearly died doing it.” She swallowed. “But … still. Not everyone got out.”

  Asha nodded, exhaling. Ever since her last trip to the Sanctuary, she had feared the worst for the children of the Shadows. Regardless of whether Scyner had actually saved them as heroically as Shana claimed, knowing that most of them had escaped was some of the best news that she’d heard in a while.

  They walked on for a little longer, eventually coming to a building set apart from the others, right at the base of the mountain. Shana paused, then rapped on the door.

  There was a stirring inside, and the door opened. The lamplight from inside spilled onto the path out front, silhouetting a figure that Asha immediately recognized.

  The man stifled a yawn, then nodded politely to her and Erran, stepping forward so that his features were clearly visible.

  “Hello, Ashalia,” said Scyner.

  There was dead silence for several seconds as Asha stared at the prewar Augur, heart pounding as she tried to assess the situation.

  “Erran,” she said warningly, placing a restraining hand on his arm. The muscles beneath her grip were taut; her friend had gone stock-still and was staring at Scyner with clenched fists, breathing heavily.

  Scyner observed the two of them for a moment, then turned to Shana.

  “Thank you, Shana,” he said politely. “I can entertain our guests from here.”

  Shana nodded, giving Erran a wide-eyed glance before hurrying away.

  Scyner—the man whom they suspected had once been called Jakarris—waited until the Shadow was out of earshot, and then turned back to them.

  “Please, come inside,” he said quietly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “You’re a murderer.” Erran hissed the words, jaw clenched. “You killed my friend.”

  “I am. I did.” Scyner said the words calmly and directly, meeting Erran’s gaze. “You can try to kill me now in vengeance—either failing and dying, too, or succeeding and putting the entire world in jeopardy. Or, you can put aside your hatred, and I can explain to Ashalia here exactly what she needs to do to save us all.”

  Erran clenched and unclenched his fists, not moving for a long few moments. Frustration and anger warred on his face.

  Then he let his shoulders sag, his stance finally shifting. Becoming wary rather than aggressive.

  Asha let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  “Good.” Scyner nodded.

  He turned and disappeared inside, beckoning for them to follow.

  The inside of the building was only a little less stark than the outside: a single large room with a rug, a bed in the corner, and a few chairs against the wall. Scyner sat, gesturing for the other two to follow suit. Asha took a chair but Erran stood by the doorway, eyes never leaving the older man.

  Scyner sighed, but nodded an acknowledgment. He turned to Asha.

  “Has Tal’kamar succeeded in binding the Lyth?”

  Asha stared at him in surprise for a moment, then grunted and inclined her head. “If you were expecting us—or someone, at least—then why not tell the Shadows?” she asked irritably. “And what are these monsters Shana was talking about?”

  “I didn’t tell them because I knew that you, specifically, wouldn’t be troubled by a few Shadows with Vessels. And nobody else was welcome.” Scyner squinted at her. “As for the second question—do you know what tek’ryl are?”

  Asha frowned, trying to remember the tales from the Old Religion. “Like dar’gaithin,” she said eventually. “A cross between man and animal. But tek’ryl … they only attack ships?”

  “That’s how they’re described in the stories. They’re amphibious.” Scyner’s expression was one of distaste. “Bodies like scorpions, six legs but with a tail that lets them swim. They’ve attacked this island several times already, looking for the Tributary.”

  “They know that it’s here?” asked Asha.

  Scyner nodded grimly. “I’m not sure whether it’s knowledge or instinct, but more and more have been getting through the Boundary, and they all seem intent on coming here. Once the Tributary is activated, it will create its own defenses against them, as well as against anyone or anything else that may wish to interfere with its operation. But until that happens …” He shrugged. “That’s why we brought the Shadows here. They’re the only group that we can actually depend upon to defend this place.” He held up a hand, forestalling Asha’s protest. “They know a lot about what’s happening, now—why they’re here, what’s at stake. Not everything, but they’re not doing this blind, either.”

  Asha shut her mouth again reluctantly. She didn’t like the idea of the Shadows being used in this way, but they had seemed unsurprised by her ability to dr
ain their Reserves. Perhaps Scyner was telling the truth.

  Erran had remained silent thus far, his glare never leaving Scyner. Now, however, his gaze had focused on something on the desk in the corner of the room.

  Abruptly he moved, striding over to it, his expression appalled.

  “What is this doing here?” He snatched up something small, brandishing it at Scyner. An amulet, gold, depicting an eagle with widespread wings.

  “I took it from the boy you put it on, after I killed him,” said Scyner. He appeared to flicker for a moment, and suddenly he was the one holding the amulet rather than Erran. “Do not touch it again,” he added grimly.

  Erran paled. “You killed Rohin?” He shook his head in confusion. “Why? He was harmless so as long as he was wearing this. And Fessi thought that you were the one who sent …”

  He gazed at the amulet in Scyner’s hand for a long, silent moment, expression turning to horrified understanding. “You sent him there so that you could get that?”

  Scyner slipped the amulet into his pocket. “I saw only that he would eventually wear it, Erran. Not the … specifics of the problems that he caused at the Tol,” he said softly, what sounded like genuine regret in his voice. “He was a monster—I realized as much when I took this from him. Of the Augurs that I have ended, him I regret the least.”

  Erran shook his head dazedly. “Why, though?”

  “Because it is needed for what is to come.”

  Erran scowled at him. “Was Kol’s death needed, too?”

  Scyner rubbed his face tiredly.

  “Do you actually remember what happened, that night with your friend?” he asked quietly. “I could have killed all of you then and there, had I wanted to. Perhaps I could have handled the situation better, but your friend attacked me. I came there wanting your help. Perhaps I tried to get it more forcefully than I should have, and perhaps I should have tried harder to make my defense non-lethal, but …” He shook his head. “El take it, boy. Are you telling me that if three Augurs attacked you, that you’d react calmly and carefully enough not to do the same?”

  Erran stared at him silently, jaw clenched and eyes cold. “Fessi would still kill you if she were here.”

  “Then it is fortunate that she is not.” Scyner held Erran’s gaze. “Now, are you going to let me show Asha what you both came here for, or do we need to settle this?”

  Erran’s lip curled in anger but Asha stood and stepped over to him, laying a hand gently on his arm again.

  Erran took a long, frustrated breath at the touch, then turned to the door.

  “Let’s go and have a look at this fates-cursed Tributary,” he said bitterly.

  Asha paused in her ascent, turning away from the glowing ball of Essence lighting their path and glancing down at the peaceful scene below.

  Behind her, she could hear Erran and Scyner both give small sighs of relief as they came to a stop, breathing heavily. The steps winding their way up the side of the mountain were steep, though at least well-made and showing no signs of decay; it had taken a good half hour of climbing but she, Erran, and Scyner were more than halfway to the peak now. Unlike when she’d been a Shadow, though, the physical exercise felt … wonderful. She should be tired—both from the lateness of the hour and the exertion—but instead she felt just as energetic as when she’d woken that morning.

  She gave the other two a few moments to recover and gazed out past the moonlit rooftops, the gently swaying forest and the silvery ripple of waves beyond, staring at the shimmering blue-white curtain of energy stretching away as far as the eye could see. Even with the seemingly boundless power crashing around inside of her, she couldn’t help but feel another flicker of doubt as she took it all in.

  She shook her head as if the motion could clear it of the concern, turning to Erran. “Ready to keep going?”

  Erran responded with a displeased grunt, but inclined his head.

  They continued trudging upward in single file, winding their way up the side of the mountain until the treetops below began to look small. The closer that they got to the top of the stairs, the more anxious Asha found herself getting.

  After what seemed like an age she finally steeled herself, then pushed up the last few steps and onto the peak.

  She stood at the edge of the plateau, squinting in the moonlight at the surrounds. There was perhaps a hundred feet across to the other edge of the mountain, though the space in between had clearly been smoothed, flattened so that it was easy to traverse. At the northern edge of the plateau stood a small stone pavilion, composed of a multitude of meshing, curving shapes, enclosed on all sides except its northern face.

  Asha walked toward it, not waiting for the other two to catch up. The radiant light from the Boundary illuminated the inside just enough to see.

  It was entirely empty, except for the Tributary.

  Asha’s steps faltered as she approached the jagged metallic-and-black mass, straining to see the specifics of it as it glinted at her from the shadows. She placed a foot on the first step of the pavilion, then flinched back again as Essence sprang to life around the structure’s edge, lighting everything clearly.

  As she fully took in the device for the first time, she couldn’t help but shiver.

  Bathed in the pure white glow of the pavilion, the Tributary gazed back at her with polished black eyes, its maw encompassing the coffin-like opening, jagged steel teeth looking ready to snap shut over it at any moment.

  “Is that a wolf’s head?” Asha asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” confirmed Scyner quietly from behind her. She turned to see him staring up at the metallic monstrosity. “It is a signature, of sorts. Long ago, all of the Venerate bound themselves to an agreement. Weapons made using kan were appearing, and they wanted to be certain that none of their own number were responsible.” He gazed at the threatening mass of steel. “This is Tal’kamar’s sigil,” he added softly.

  Asha swallowed. Caeden had made this? She stepped closer to the menacing device, which at twice her height towered over her. Then she squinted inside the coffin-like section, noting the hundreds of tiny holes in the back. “And those are for …”

  Scyner hesitated.

  “Needles,” he said eventually. “They pierce your skin, force your body to draw Essence to heal itself … but the Tributary takes away most of that Essence before it can be used. It creates a constant flow of energy, no matter whether you’re conscious.”

  Asha felt her breath getting shorter, the first true vestiges of panic setting in. “And will I be? Conscious, I mean?”

  “No.” Scyner shook his head firmly. “Every month, you’ll be woken briefly for something called the Shift—kind of a recalibration of the Boundary—but that is all. The rest of the time you’ll either be asleep, or your mind will be in a dok’en.”

  “A dok’en?”

  “You’ll be … somewhere else. You won’t feel the pain,” said Scyner.

  “How do you know all of this?”

  Scyner shrugged. “You know with whom I’ve been working.”

  Erran, who had finally caught his breath again, stared at the device and then back at Asha again in horror.

  “No.” He shook his head firmly. “No, I can’t let you do this, Asha. This is … sick.” He stared defiantly at both of them.

  “I don’t think that I have much of a choice,” said Asha softly.

  As if to punctuate her words a strange, high-pitched shrieking noise suddenly cut through the ever-present thrum of the Boundary, sending a shiver down Asha’s spine.

  She turned northward, watching wide-eyed as the Boundary … rippled. For a moment the cold Essence turned translucent; she caught a glimpse of distant, lifeless cliffs towering over the ocean in the moonlight before the wall of energy abruptly snapped back into place, solidifying again.

  She tore her eyes away from the scene, gazing again at the Tributary.

  “Wait. Just wait.” Erran put a hand on her arm. “Davian, Fessi, and Ishelle
might still be in Talan Gol. If you do this, you’ll be sealing them in there.”

  “You think I haven’t already thought of that?” Asha realized that she’d raised her voice but she didn’t care, all the tension and heartache that she was feeling at the moment suddenly released into the words.

  “There is a greater good to think about,” interjected Scyner.

  Erran rounded on him. “You stay out of this!” he snarled.

  Scyner blinked, but eventually held up his hands in a defensive posture and inclined his head. “As you wish. But whatever he says cannot change what is happening,” he added to Asha.

  He held her gaze for a few moments, ignoring Erran’s scowl, then stepped outside.

  Erran moved closer to Asha, lowering his voice. “Let me go back to the outpost. I can stay in contact with you via mental link. Let me try and make contact with them again before we do anything that we can’t undo.” He looked her in the eye. “You have a perfect view of what’s going on from up here. If you need to activate that thing … then I understand. But I can tell you right now that if you leave Scyner and I as the only Augurs in Andarra, then we’re in trouble.” He smiled weakly at her.

  Asha hesitated, then nodded slowly. She was wary of being convinced too easily; there was nothing that she wanted to do less than to step into that device. But Erran was right—she could see the Boundary well enough. As long as she was here, she could act at a moment’s notice.

  “You tell me if I need to seal it,” she said softly. “No matter what. I want Davian back and safe, but I won’t be responsible for more people dying.”

  Erran released a relieved breath, nodding.

  “Just don’t do anything until you hear from me. No matter what he says,” he said grimly, casting a dark look out the entrance at Scyner. “See you soon.”

  He vanished.

  After a few moments Scyner stepped back inside the pavilion, looking grim.

  “You’re risking the lives of everyone by delaying.” Asha wasn’t sure what, if anything, the man had overheard—but he’d clearly gathered what she had decided to do.