The Shadow Of What Was Lost (19 page)

“How did you do that?” he asked,
stunned.

Taeris shrugged. “An old trick.
Not one many of your generation would know, but common enough knowledge back
when the Augurs ruled. It’s a mental defence, a shield against invasions of the
mind. It takes training to do for any period of time, but most people could
hold it for a few minutes effectively enough.” He shook his head, seeing the
stricken look on Davian’s face. “I am sorry, lad. Truly.”

“But…” Davian stared at the man
on the floor. “Who is he, then? Why did Elder Tenvar send me here?”

“That’s what we’re going to find
out. For what it's worth, I don't believe Tenvar was lying about the Boundary.
He probably had to lace his tale with as much truth as possible, to be sure he
could fool your ability.” Taeris rose. “I have a few enquiries to make in town.
If your story checks out, we'll talk some more.”

He started walking towards the
door, then paused, indicating the man sleeping on the floor. “It’s not likely
he’ll wake before I’m back, but if he does… best to pretend you’re still
asleep. I don't know why Tenvar lied to you, but if he went to such lengths to
send you here, he probably didn't have your best interests at heart. Which
means that man probably doesn't, either.”

He left. The door closed behind
him, leaving Davian pale and shaken.

Tenvar had lied. It had all been
for nothing.

Daylight was fading outside by
the time Wirr finally stirred.

It didn't take Davian long to
explain to his disbelieving friend what had transpired. Wirr took the news
about Ilseth's deception stoically, for which Davian was grateful. It was
Davian's blind trust of his ability that had led them here, placed them in such
a perilous situation. He wasn't sure he could have handled anger from Wirr atop
his own guilt.

Once Davian was finished, Wirr
shifted awkwardly on his bed, evidently trying to stretch out some stiff
muscles. “So you’re sure it’s Taeris Sarr?”

“As sure as I can be.”

Wirr bit his lip. “Dav, if it is…
I know the man saved you, but… you should know that I’ve heard things about
him. He’s supposed to be dangerous. Unbalanced, even. If he -”

He cut off at the sound of a key
rattling in the lock on the door.

Taeris bustled in, apparently
oblivious to the fact he’d interrupted their conversation, and gave a satisfied
nod when he saw the man on the floor was still unconscious.

“Davian's told you who I am?” he
asked, turning his attention to Wirr.

Wirr nodded, watching the scarred
man with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. “Yes.”

“Good.” Taeris went on to ask
Wirr a series of questions about the past few weeks; once he was satisfied that
Wirr's and Davian's accounts were the same, he strode over to Davian’s bed and
began untying him. “My contacts in town were able to verify parts of your
story. A well-known Hunter killed in a scuffle in Fejett. A man in Talmiel who
collapsed under suspicious circumstances, and woke up with the last two years
of his life missing. Not much, but enough for now.”

Davian massaged his wrists as he
sat up straight, stretching muscles stiff from disuse. “What did you say about
the man from Talmiel?” he asked suddenly, a chill running through him.

Taeris gave him a considering
look. “You wondered whether you had done something to make your smuggler friend
‘forget’ about the Vessel. From the sounds of it, you were right.” He moved on
to releasing Wirr.

Davian felt sick. Anaar may have
deserved punishment, but that was of little comfort. He was another person he’d
managed to hurt because he'd been too eager, too gullible to see through
Tenvar’s lies.

Wirr stood as soon as he was
able, walking in circles to loosen his muscles. He nodded to the man on the
floor. “So what do you know about him?” he asked Taeris, mistrust thick in his
voice. “Davian says you were tracking him. Why?”

"Because of what's happening
at the Boundary. That part of what Tenvar told Davian, at least, I believe to
be true." Taeris sighed. "Except it's more than that. I don’t think
the decay of the Boundary is happening naturally. I studied it for years, even
before the war. The Essence that sustains it has only started to noticeably
decay in the last decade.”

Wirr frowned. “Why is that
significant?”

“Think of it as a physical wall.
You build the wall out of good, thick, solid stone, and you leave it for two
thousand years. When you come back, it’s still standing – crumbling, maybe, and
worn by wind and rain, but still strong. Still serving its original purpose.”
Taeris paused. “Then you come back a decade after that, and it’s completely
gone. What conclusion do you draw?”

Davian's brow furrowed.
“Something knocked it down.”

“Or someone,” Wirr added quietly.

“Exactly.”

There was silence for a moment,
then Wirr frowned. “Do the Tols know about your suspicions? You said you began
noticing the decay ten years ago, and you’ve only been here for three.”

“I tried to tell both Councils,
several times, but….” Taeris shook his head in frustration. “The Tols stopped
checking the Boundary regularly more than a thousand years ago, so my old notes
were the only real proof that the decay had accelerated. They accepted that the
Boundary might be decaying, but not that it was happening rapidly - they didn't
believe that it was being caused by anything except the passage of time. Tol
Athian told me I was being alarmist, and Tol Shen just laughed in my face.”

“But you
are
certain.”

“Yes. So for the last few years,
I’ve been keeping watch for anything that might be related. Any sign that the
Boundary failing is part of a greater plan, proof that I can take back to the
Tols.” He walked over and pulled back the man’s sleeve, revealing the black
wolf tattoo on his wrist. “I found a few clues, but nothing I could use or
pursue – until a contact of mine told me about this. This symbol is carved into
every Boundary Stone. And our friend here has it tattooed on his wrist.”

“So you think he may know
something. Be involved, somehow.” Davian stared at the sleeping man with new
trepidation.

“And by extension, so may Ilseth
Tenvar,” noted Wirr, his tone grim.

Taeris nodded. “That this
particular symbol was used as the link for you to find him… I don’t know what
it means, yet, but it has to be significant.
Something
is going on.” He
hesitated. “There’s more, though.” He drew back the man’s left sleeve further,
baring his left forearm.

For a moment, Davian didn’t
understand. Then his eyes widened, and to his left he heard Wirr’s sharp intake
of breath.

The young man did not have the
Mark.

“
Fates
. He’s not bound by
the Tenets?” Wirr asked softly.

“It seems not,” said Taeris.

Davian suddenly made the
connection. “
This
is the man the Hunters were talking about – the one
who killed all those people?”

Taeris nodded. “At least, that’s
what the Gil’shar are saying. An entire village slain, and they’re claiming it
was by his hand.” He shook his head. “As to the truth of it, I can’t say; I
know all too well the stories people make up out of fear of the Gifted.
Unfortunately, the result is the same.”

“That story is everywhere. The
entire country will be looking for him. For
us
,” breathed Wirr.

Taeris nodded. “Before you
intervened, he was being taken to Thrindar for a very public execution – during
the Song of Swords, no less. The Gil’shar wanted to show all the countries
present that not only are the Gifted evil, but that they are something to
always be feared. That the Tenets are no reason for anyone to accept us, to
relax their guard.”

Davian frowned, taking a small
step away from the sleeping man as the new information sank in. He didn’t
look
like a murderer, and he was still tied up, but… even so.

Beside him, Wirr was becoming
increasingly agitated. “If the Gil’shar find out that he was freed by other
Gifted….” He shook his head, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “There will be
outrage. Claims it was ordered by the Andarran government, or that we’re using
him to find a way for
everyone
to break free of the Tenets. A case for
war.”

Taeris nodded, giving Wirr a
respectful look. “One of the many good reasons I hadn’t already rescued him,”
he said, a little dryly. “The Gil’shar barely need an excuse for war as it is.
The one reason they haven’t attacked Andarra over the past fifteen years is
that they fear it will cause King Andras to change the Tenets – but if they
think we’re trying to get around them anyway, there will be nothing holding
them back.”

Davian paled; the implications of
their actions reached further than he could possibly have imagined. “So what
can we do?” he asked. “We can’t just give him back to the Gil’shar.”

“We can if he’s guilty,” pointed
out Wirr. “We
should
. Better to let them have their political posturing
in Thrindar than to risk an incident like this.”

Davian turned to his friend,
aghast. “You cannot be serious.”

Taeris held up his hand. “Let’s
hear his story before we made any decisions. He’s healed at a remarkable rate –
I think we can wake him, now.”

Wirr raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t
heal him?”

Taeris shook his head. “I
couldn’t risk using Essence; there are too many soldiers around with Finders.
But it seems he’s instinctively drawing from his own Reserve to heal himself
anyway. It’s quite remarkable.”

Davian eyed the sleeping man
nervously. Gifted could accelerate their own healing, but he’d never heard of
anyone who was able to do it unconsciously.

Taeris stooped beside the
red-headed man, then hesitated. “Davian. I doubt he’ll have the awareness to
mask any deception, even if he knows how. Tell me if he lies.” He gripped the
sleeping boy by the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

The young man groaned, coming
awake.

“Where am I?” he asked, voice
rasping slightly. 

Taeris, Davian and Wirr all
looked at the stranger in silence for a few seconds. His appearance was
markedly different from last night; his skin was pale, showing no sign of the
bruising that had covered it only hours earlier. Ice-blue eyes searched the
room, trying to evaluate what was happening; his reddish-brown hair hung to his
shoulders, framing a face that seemed narrower than it would normally due to
his sunken cheekbones. His frame looked slight, but that was again most likely
due to a lack of food rather than his natural physical appearance.

It was Taeris who finally spoke.
“For now, you are safe. But if you lie to me, you will be back in Gil’shar
custody within the hour. Do you understand?”

The stranger nodded mutely.

Taeris held up the Vessel in
front of him. “What is this?”

The stranger squinted at the object.
“I don’t know.”

Taeris flicked a quick glance at
Davian, who inclined his head. It was the truth - so far as he could tell,
anyway.

“But you can see it glowing?”
asked Taeris.

The red-haired man nodded. “The
same as my wrist,” he said, sounding confused.

Taeris considered for a moment.
“Very well,” he said. “Who do you work for? What were you to do with this after
it was delivered to you?”

The stranger gave Taeris a
perplexed, helpless look. “I am sorry. Truly,” he said quietly. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about. My memory is….” He shook his head. “Beyond three
weeks ago, I remember nothing. I don’t even know if I’m guilty….” He trailed
off again, a pained look in his eyes.

There was a moment of silence,
then Taeris gave a derisive snort. “You will need to do better than that.”

Davian had been watching the
stranger, a small frown on his face. He turned to Taeris. “I think he’s telling
the truth.”

Taeris scowled. “Do you at least
have a name?”

“Caeden,” said the man. “That’s
what the villagers said, anyway.”

Taeris grunted. “Caeden. Like the
Darecian fairytale. How appropriate,” he said dryly. “Well, Caeden, perhaps you
should tell us what you
do
remember, and we can go from there.”

“There is not much to tell,”
Caeden admitted. “A few weeks ago I found myself in the middle of the forest,
no recollection of how I got there or who I was. I didn’t even know which
country I was in. I was holding a sword, and my clothes were soaked in blood.
At first I thought the blood was mine, but apart from a couple of scratches, I
wasn't injured.

“I found a stream and tried to
wash the blood out of my clothes, but most of it had already stained. I
wandered for a few hours until I found a road, and eventually a group of men
came across me. When I told them I couldn’t remember anything, they offered me
shelter in their village and food for the evening. One of them thought he
recognised me, said I’d probably been attacked and beaten by bandits. They
seemed like good people at the time.” Caeden grimaced at that.

“The next day, word came that my
village had been wiped out. Someone had gone through the town and put everyone
to death.
Everyone
. The people who’d seen the aftermath said there were
women and children lying in the streets, blood everywhere. And that all the faces
had been… disfigured. Mutilated beyond recognition.” He shuddered. “Many of the
people where I was staying had friends and family that had died. There was a
lot of grief, a lot of fear.

“It didn’t take long for people
to make a connection. At first they just locked me up - said not to worry, that
I’d probably been a survivor, maybe a witness, and that they were doing it
‘just in case’. But I think they’d already made up their minds.

“After a couple of days, there
was a farmer whose wife had been visiting the other village when the attack
came. He’d gone and found her body – what he thought was her body, anyway - and
then come straight back to find me.” He shivered. “He was a big man, so they
let him into my cell. The constable just looked the other way. Locked the door
with the two of us inside and left. I tried to explain, but he was so
angry
.”
Caeden’s voice wavered as he remembered. “He was going to kill me. I was so
afraid, and then I just… reacted. I used the Gift, I suppose. Threw him back
against the cell door so hard that he broke his neck.” He ran his hands through
his hair.