The Shadow Of What Was Lost (62 page)

He shook his head in chagrin.
“I’m not explaining it very well. My friends were there,” he clarified. “It
was... simple. The school was my home. It may sound monotonous - it
was
monotonous, I suppose - but for the most part, I loved my life there.” With
another twinge of sadness, he realised just how true that statement was.

Ishelle shook her head. “I cannot
imagine being forced to stay in the one place all those years,” she admitted.
“It sounds like just another prison, barely any different to what the Tols must
have been like during the sieges. Essence and kan are both dull unless you can
go out into the real world and actually
use
them.”

Davian leaned forward, glad of
the shift in conversation. "I take it you aren't a student at one of
Shen's schools, then - you never got the Mark? Because if you had, there
wouldn't have been much choice in the matter," he added dryly.

"No, thank the fates."
Ishelle gave him a half-apologetic shrug. "I work in the kitchens at Tol
Shen, when I'm not out with Driscin trying to find other Augurs. But Driscin always
made sure I didn't draw enough Essence to be bound by the Tenets." Ishelle
frowned. "You did, though, I take it?"

Davian hesitated, then nodded.
"I don't remember it, but... yes." He fell silent as he thought about
that day, thought about what Driscin had told him earlier. He had a sudden urge
to ask Ishelle exactly what she'd seen when she had Read Taeris... but he knew
that whatever the answer, he wouldn't believe a word of it until he spoke to
Taeris himself.

The moment passed, and Ishelle
evidently sensed that Davian didn't want to speak further on the subject. The
conversation turned to lighter things as they ate and for a while, Davian
actually found himself relaxing.

Soon enough, though, their plates
were cleared and he remembered the long journey he had ahead. He sighed. He
still mistrusted Ishelle, but the meal
had
been a pleasant respite from
the road. "I should go soon," he observed. "Before I do, though
- is there anything else you can tell me about this invasion?"

Ishelle shrugged; it might have
been Davian's imagination, but he thought he saw a flash of disappointment on
her face. “The Andarran army was about to meet the invaders, last I heard.
Hopefully that will be the end of it."

Davian shook his head. "No.
A while back, I... saw something. The invaders, camped outside Ilin Illan.
That's why I'm trying to get back there. If there is going to be a siege, they
will need all the help they can get." He raised an eyebrow at her.
"You could come. Two of us could make a real difference."

Ishelle hesitated.
"No," she said slowly. "I don't think that's for me."

Davian made a face but nodded,
having not really expected a different response. “Have you heard if the king is
going to change the First Tenet, to let the Gifted fight?”

Ishelle shook her head. “Nothing
beyond what Driscin said earlier. King Andras has made some strong statements
against the Gifted in the past few weeks... if those are anything to go by,
it's not likely.” Her eyes narrowed. “You
have
been isolated, haven’t
you? Tell me, Davian, in truth. Where did you disappear to? How did you do it?”
Her eyes burned bright with curiosity.

Davian grimaced; he had no desire
to talk about Deilannis. He could see the determination in Ishelle’s eyes,
though - her desire to know how he’d escaped her for so long.

He quickly came to a decision.
“Let's trade. If you tell me how to make myself invisible, I’ll tell you how I
avoided your tracking.”

Ishelle considered for a moment.
“You first.”

Davian smiled, knowing he had her
hooked. “Not a chance.”

“Nothing else you want to know
more?”

“Invisibility,” Davian replied in
a firm tone.

Ishelle sighed. “Very well.” She
played with her fringe idly. “It’s not terribly difficult, once you get the
hang of it. Encase yourself in a kan
shield, but rather than have the
kan absorb Essence, make it redirect it – a little like when you draw it out of
the environment, I suppose. Bend it around yourself, so it’s as if the Essence
is passing through empty space.” She grinned. “It was an accident, to be
honest. Driscin and I were testing ways of deflecting attacks one day, and,
surprise!” She made a dramatic gesture. “Driscin nearly had a heart attack.”

Davian smiled. “I can only
imagine.”

Ishelle grinned. “Driscin thinks
it works by bending the light,” she continued. “The Essence drags it around the
shield, rather than letting it through.”

Davian glanced around at the
other occupants of the room. “I probably shouldn't test it right now,” he said
regretfully.

“Try it on an object. Something
small so no-one notices,” suggested Ishelle.

Davian gave her an approving
look, then concentrated. He covered his bowl in a tight mesh of kan, then
altered its properties so that it redirected Essence as Ishelle had suggested.
Nothing happened; Davian adjusted the hardness of the kan a little, making it
act almost like a mirror.

The bowl wavered in front of him,
then vanished.

Davian’s eyes widened, and he
felt himself grinning. “This could be useful,” he mused.

Ishelle beamed. “You have no
idea,” she said with a wink. She leaned forward. “Your turn.”

Davian looked her in the eye.
“I’ve changed my mind, actually.”

Ishelle gaped at him for several
seconds.

“You lied to me?” she eventually
choked out in quiet, outraged disbelief.

“Fair is fair,” replied Davian
cheerfully. “You should have been checking. And anyway, you drugged me. I think
we might be even now.”

Ishelle stared at him, caught
between shock, annoyance and amused chagrin. “You’re serious. You’re not going
to tell me.”

Davian shrugged. “Perhaps we can
make a new deal. I'll tell you if you come to Ilin Illan.”

Ishelle looked at him through
narrowed eyes. “Tempting, if I thought you would hold up your end of the
bargain.” She shook her head, smile rueful. "I suppose I'll just have to
wait until Tol Shen to get it out of you, then." She hesitated, looking
him in the eye, suddenly serious. "Speaking of which. You
are
going
to come, aren't you?"

Davian inclined his head.
"As soon as this invasion has been defeated - but as I said, it will just
be until we figure out how to seal the Boundary." They both stood.
“Thank-you for the meal,” Davian added sincerely.

Ishelle nodded. “Thank-you for
the company,” she said with a small smile, apparently willing to forgive his
deception. “And keep safe. I don't want you dying until I get that answer from
you.” She nodded towards the stairs. “If you change your mind about staying the
night, you can have the room upstairs. First on the left. It's paid for until
tomorrow, and I thought you might like somewhere familiar to sleep.”

She flashed a pretty smile at him
and then before he could respond, spun on her heel and disappeared out the
door.

Davian stared after her for a
moment, not sure whether to be irritated or amused.

He shook his head, but despite
his best efforts he felt a small smile force its way onto his face.

Still smiling, he walked up the
stairs to the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He had no
intention of staying the night, but before he left, he was going to take
advantage of the lamplight and the comfortable bed.

He was going to keep searching
through his book for information about Aarkein Devaed.

Davian lay on the bed, opening
the book he had taken from the Great Library and flipping through to where he'd
left off, rescanning the pages as he went for any clue as to why the Adviser
had picked it out.

He was almost to the end of the
thick tome, and thus far, the book had been exactly what it seemed - a
collection of old fables, interesting enough but meaningless as far as he could
tell. A few pages in tonight, though, a small picture at the beginning of one
of the stories caught his eye. Frowning, he studied it carefully.

The image was of a soldier.
Whereas most of the other drawings he’d seen in the book were rudimentary, even
fanciful, this one was detailed, as if the soldier had actually posed for the
picture. The man’s armour was shaded so that it had a dark aspect to it, but
the headpiece was what caught Davian’s eye. There were no gaps for eyes, and
over the face, a sole symbol was inscribed. Three ‘S’ lines, drawn vertically,
and circled.

The same symbol he’d seen in his
vision.

Hands shaking slightly, he moved
on to what was written beneath.

Hail, king of traitors!

We who knew you mourn what was
lost.

Only a shadow remains:

A whisper where once a shout,

A pond where once an ocean,

A flickering candle where once
the sun itself.

Hail, king of corruption!

We who serve you despair for what
is to come.

You will break the Oath,

You will shatter the Path,

You will sing the Song of Days as
a dirge.

Your people will weep tears of
ice and blood

And only the fallen will know
peace.

He flipped slowly to the
beginning of the story and began to read.

The Impossible Tasks of Alarais
Shar

(Translated from the original
High Darecian)

In the Shining Lands, the immortal
king Alarais Shar once reigned.

He was known as one of the great
kings; perhaps
the
great king. He forged a treaty with the vicious northern Qui’tir. He led the
final battle against the Darklands and was victorious, sealing their domain
away from the mortal world forever. He was wise in his rulings, swift and
decisive in dispensing justice, and beloved by his people.

Much was his immortality
discussed. Steel could not pierce his skin; fire did not burn him and his bones
did not break. No-one knew the source of his longevity, but of all the mages in
the Shining Lands, he was the most powerful.

One day Alarais heard of a new
power rising to the east, a king who had united the lands of Kal and Derethmar.
He determined to seek out this new king. He hoped to discover an ally, but the
reports he had heard of the new king’s victories disturbed him greatly, and so
he held out little hope.

He rode for many miles and
eventually came to the great city of Kyste. Once beautiful and proud, the
buildings now lay mostly in ruins, and the people stared blankly at Alarais as
he rode by, their clothes little more than rags, their stomachs distended by
lack of food. The dead lay in the street next to piles of refuse. Though they
had been the Shining Lands' sworn enemies, Alarais wept when he saw what had
befallen Kal’s people.

By the time he reached the palace
itself, Alarais was filled with a burning anger. His eyes blazed with righteous
fury as he was led before the man who had conquered Kal, and who now did so
little for its people.

The man on the throne of Kal was
not what Alarais had expected. As a man, he was impressive. Tall, strong and
handsome, the new king looked every inch a warrior, a hero. But as Alarais
looked at him, he seemed to shimmer, to pulse and fade with a strange,
otherworldly energy. He seemed more an ethereal being, an apparition rather
than a mortal.

Still, Alarais was unafraid, and
what he had seen in the city was still fresh in his mind. He stood before the
throne proudly, waiting for the king to address him, as was proper. But the
shimmering man simply watched him, until Alarais could take the silence no
longer.

“I am Alarais Shar, King of the
Shining Lands.” He paused, but the man on the throne said nothing. “I had come
to see if a bond of friendship could be forged between our lands. But I have
seen the state of Kyste. I have seen her people’s suffering, and cannot fathom
the reason for it. Why do you not help them?”

Still there was silence. Just
when Alarais had determined to leave and return home, the shimmering man spoke.
“I am Ghash, Seer of the White Temple, Herald of Shammaeloth. The ones of which
you speak are beyond saving. This I have Seen.”

“How can you say this?” cried
Alarais in frustration.

“I have Seen the destruction of
those who still live here,” replied Ghash. “I have Seen what is to come. To
help them now would be wasteful.”

Alarais did not understand. “If
you see their destruction, then why not save them?”

“Because what has been Seen
cannot be undone. No efforts of yours or mine can change their fate.”

“I cannot accept that,” said
Alarais stubbornly.

“And yet you must,” said Ghash, “
for I have long known your fate too, Alarais Shar. The Shining Lands will fall,
and you will come to serve me willingly. Together we are to conquer the world.”

Alarais laughed, and Ghash saw
that he would not easily be convinced. “Allow me to prove what I say,” he said.
“I will set you three tasks. If you can complete any of the three, I will
withdraw from these lands. If you cannot fulfil even one, though, you will
serve me, and the Shining Lands shall be mine.”

Alarais replied, “I cannot accept
this challenge without first knowing what tasks you will set.”

Ghash nodded. “So be it,” he
said. “Hear the tasks I would give you: first, to find a subject worthy of your
kingship; second, to find a man worthy of your friendship; and third, to find a
woman worthy of your love.”

 Alarais laughed. “These are
weighty tasks indeed, mighty Ghash. How long might you wait for me to complete
them?”

Ghash smiled. “I am like you,
Alarais - untouched by time. Search for however long you need. I know you to be
a man of honour. Once you know a task to be impossible, you will tell me. Until
then, I will not move against your realm.” He paused. “I ask only that you
speak of your quest to no-one, including those whom you bring here. Should you
do this, I will know, and will consider all three tasks to have been failed.”

Alarais thought for a long time,
but could not see any reason to refuse. “I accept,” he said.

They bound the bargain in blood,
and it was witnessed by Ghash’s court under the Old Law.

Wasting no time, and confident of
his success, Alarais returned to the Shining Lands full of hope. Many years
passed, and Alarais finally found a man he thought more worthy a subject than
any he had seen before: a warrior named Jadlis, fiercely loyal and brave.
Alarais travelled with Jadlis back to Kyste, coming before Ghash, his spirits
high.

“Mighty Ghash,” he said, “I have
successfully completed your first task. This man is named Jadlis. His skill is
immense. His bravery is unquestionable. His loyalty is fierce and endless. He
is a subject most worthy of my kingship.”

Ghash examined Jadlis silently
for some time, and Alarais' confidence grew within him. Then Ghash spoke.

“As king,”  he said to Alarais,
“Would you be willing to die for your people?”

“Of course,” replied Alarais. “As
any good king would.”

“Then your subjects should be
willing to die for you, also.”

Alarais hesitated. “Yes,” he
replied grimly.

Ghash turned to Jadlis. “You
would die for your king?”

“I would,” replied Jadlis
proudly.

“And if he commanded you to die
here and now?”

“Still.” Jadlis was unmoved.

“Why?”

“For the love of my king. My
country.”

Ghash shook his head. “No. You
would because the readiness to do so brings you glory - respect in the eyes of
your friends, your fellow soldiers, even your king. To be unwilling to die
would be traitorous, cowardly. You are willing to die, but you do not
want
to die. It is simply
preferable to the shame. You would die because there is not a better choice.”

“That is not true,” said Jadlis
stoically.

“But it is!” cried Ghash. “Yet
what if I told you there
was
a better way? A choice, where you earned respect rather than shame for living?”

Jadlis frowned. “If it is better for
my king that I die, then there is always shame in living.”

Ghash smiled slyly. “Very well;
here is my offer, Jadlis. Your king has been given a task. It matters not if
you do not complete this task for him, for he may try again. To fulfil this
task, though, he will ask you to sacrifice your own life.”

“Then I will!” cried Jadlis.

Ghash held up his hand. “But what
care has the king if he commands you to do this? Should he not love you as a
subject, seek to keep you from harm if there is a better way? True -  if you
obey, then your king will have succeeded, and you will have died with honour.”
He paused. “But if you refuse his command, I will give to you these lands. I
will make you king in your own right. Your wife will be your queen, your
children your heirs. You can make peace with the Shining Lands, which I wish
only to destroy. Men will honour you for your life, not your death.” Ghash
placed a hand on Jadlis’ shoulder. “You fight to uphold the ideals of your
king, and that is a fine lot. But you could be so much more.
Do
so much more. Your king
chose you because of your worthiness, your honour. That is how I know there
would be no better man as king of this realm.”

Then Ghash turned to Alarais.
“Now, he knows what is at stake. Command him to kill himself.”

Alarais shook his head. “I will
not.”

Ghash frowned. “There is no other
way to fulfil this task. You are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for
your subjects. One worthy of your kingship must be willing to do the same.”

Alarais’ heart was heavy now, but
he knew Ghash spoke truly. “Jadlis,” he said quietly. “You are a true and loyal
subject. I would ask that you take your life for this cause, for the sake of
your king and the Shining Lands.”

Jadlis thought for a long time,
then shook his head. “I am sorry, my king, but he is right. I can do more for
the Shining Lands by living,” he said to Alarais. Then he turned to Ghash. “I
accept your offer.”

At those words he fell dead to
the floor.

“The first task is failed,”
intoned Ghash. “The most loyal of your subjects refused your command, and so
was unworthy of your kingship.”

Alarais left without a word,
disappointment and sorrow mixing a bitter taste in his mouth.

A hundred years passed, and
eventually the pain of Alarais’ first defeat faded. He met a young man named
Diadan, a noble of the Shining Lands who came into his inheritance early
through tragic circumstances. With no family, Diadan had come to Alarais for
advice on how to manage his affairs.

Alarais was first a mentor to
Diadan, then after a few years, a true friend. Despite Alarais’ many years his
body had never aged, so he rarely found someone young enough to stay with him
on the hunt and in duelling, but intelligent and wise enough to hold his
interest in conversation. Yet Diadan excelled in all these areas, and proved
himself many times over to be a loyal and trustworthy friend, never seeking to
betray Alarais’ trust for his own ends. Alarais presided at Diadan’s wedding,
and Diadan became the king’s right hand.

Time passed. After thirty years
of unwavering friendship, Alarais decided that Diadan was the man to fulfil the
second task. The two men journeyed to Kyste and came before Ghash.

“Mighty Ghash,” said Alarais, “I
bring before you a man with whom I have a bond stronger than stone. A man to whom
I would entrust my life, and whom I know would do the same to me. A man my
equal in honour, in courage. My friend. This is Diadan.”

Ghash considered Diadan silently.
“This is the one you would put forward to fulfil your second task?”

“Yes,” replied Alarais.

Ghash turned to Diadan. “Your
friendship with Alarais is strong.”