The Shadow Of What Was Lost (24 page)

His opposition was a giant of a
man. Muscle rippled along his arms with every movement, and the sword in his
hand looked more like a rapier than the broadsword it actually was. His face
was crisscrossed with scars; it was difficult to tell, but he looked older,
possibly in his early forties. He stood stock-still, staring at the other man
as if watching his prey.

“They’re not wearing armour,”
Davian noted in surprise. Both men wore simple pants and loose-fitting shirts
which were open at the front; there was no protection to speak of. Their swords
glinted in the afternoon light.

“The edges of the swords are
blunted,” explained Wirr.

“Surely that’s still dangerous?”
asked Davian.

“It
is
a swordfight,”
noted Wirr.

“It’s very rare anyone gets
killed,” interjected Taeris. “Broken bones are usually the worst of it.”

There was silence as they watched
for a few more seconds. The crowd outside had hushed as something was being
announced, though the voice was too muffled from their position to understand.

Wirr squinted at two large
banners draped from a far balcony, evidently representing the two finalists. “I
think one is an Andarran. I recognise the sigil… Shainwiere. I think.”

“Which one?” asked Davian.

Wirr studied the two men in the
arena. “The younger,” he said eventually. “Lord Shainwiere would be too old to
be here, and I doubt he’d have the skill anyway. It must be his son.”

A trumpet sounded, signalling the
beginning of the fight. The crowd roared as the combatants began circling each
other warily, feinting occasionally with their feet but otherwise simply sizing
up their opponent.

“Our man's a bit smaller than the
other one, then,” observed Davian dryly.

Wirr shrugged. “Strength is
important, but it’s usually the quicker, smarter man that wins.”

The two men were still circling,
but suddenly Shainwiere flew into action. He launched himself forward in a blur
of movement; his sword flashed again and again as the other man blocked blow
after blow, moving quickly backwards as the younger man threatened to come in
under his guard. When the swords touched there were sparks of light; Davian
could almost see the large man’s eyes go wide as he desperately tried to follow
the arc of Shainwiere’s blade. Some of the crowd leapt to their feet, and a
rousing cheer echoed thunderously around the stadium.

Shainwiere had broken off the
attack; Davian could tell even from this distance that both men were breathing
heavily. The larger man did not wait long before responding, though. He came
forward in a rush, swinging his enormous sword as if it were light as a feather.

It was Shainwiere’s turn to move
backward, though when he retreated he did so smoothly, cat-like, as if it had
been his intention to do so all along. Despite the blaze of sparks, he seemed
to be blocking his opponent’s blows almost lazily at times, though Davian had
no doubt that it must have been taking every ounce of his strength and
concentration to do so.

Without warning Shainwiere
stopped retreating and dove forward, evidently picking up on some flaw in the
other man’s footwork. Even from this distance Davian could see the surprise in
the big man's eyes as Shainwiere’s sword slashed across both his legs;
Shainwiere rolled and came to his feet behind the massive man, watching as he
slumped to his knees, mouth open in a bellow of pain that was lost beneath the
roar of the crowd.

For a second Davian thought the
fight was over, but the big man forced himself to his feet and began circling
again, his smooth motion showing no sign of his injury.

Swords clashed again and again;
minutes passed as the two combatants fought. With each engagement the crowd
seemed to roar louder, with more fervour, and before long Davian realised that
the cheers were heavily favouring the larger man.

“They don’t want an Andarran to
win,” murmured Taeris to no-one in particular, as if reading his thoughts. “The
Song's not supposed to be about politics, but there's a lot of bad blood
between the two countries right now. It would be a slap in the face to Desriel
if Shainwiere got the victory here.”

As he spoke, there seemed to be a
slight shift in the battle. The muscular man pressed forward at a furious pace;
rather than breaking off as he had done previously, he kept up the offensive,
his sword a blur as Shainwiere backed away desperately. Just as it seemed he
could attack no more, the man gave one last, heavy blow, the force of it
knocking Shainwiere’s sword from his grip and sending it sailing out of reach.
The younger man’s shoulders sagged, but he clenched his fist and held it over
his heart, a sign of both surrender and respect. The crowd screamed its
approval, and then it was over.

Davian looked at Wirr with a
disappointed expression, but his friend seemed relieved, as did Taeris. Caeden
just looked thoughtful.

“Good,” Taeris muttered to
himself, turning away from the window. “Time to get out of this place.”

If he had been expecting an
immediate audience, though, he was to be disappointed. It was at least another
hour, well after the presentation to the winner had been completed, before the
door to the hallway outside finally opened again.

Taeris groaned under his breath
as a tall, thin man in a red cloak swept into the room. “He’s from Tol Shen.
This may be more difficult than I first thought,” he muttered to Davian.

The Elder stopped when he saw
Taeris, staring hard into his scarred face for several seconds. Then he gave a
sneering laugh. “Taeris Sarr,” he said with a smile that held a complete lack
of warmth. “I almost didn’t recognise you. So you’re still alive. I always
thought we got rid of you a little too easily.” He examined Taeris
disdainfully. "What happened to your face?"

Taeris stiffened, but ignored the
insult. "Administration were... not kind, before I escaped," he said
quietly. “We've had our differences, Dras, but I hope we can look past them
today. I need your aid. We have nowhere else to turn.”

Davian watched Taeris silently.
None of them had asked their companion how he had come by his myriad scars, but
Davian had wondered - and now he knew. Another on the list of sacrifices Taeris
had made for him.

Dras sighed. “I’ve already
distracted a Gil’shar escort
and
Karaliene’s two Administrators just to
come and see you. I’m not sure what more I want to do for a criminal like
yourself.”

Taeris kept his face smooth.
“These boys need safe passage out of Desriel.”

Dras stared at Taeris for a
moment, then roared with laughter. “Is that all?” he chuckled. He turned from
Taeris, shaking his head in disbelief as he inspected Davian, Wirr and Caeden.
It was only a cursory glance, but then his smile faded and he looked at them again,
this time through narrowed eyes.

“You are keeping worse company
than usual, Taeris,” he said, all traces of amusement gone from his tone. He
pointed to Caeden. “His disguise may have fooled the savages thus far, but I
wouldn’t trust to it doing so for much longer. Those likenesses around the
place are surprisingly accurate.”

“He was falsely accused, Dras,”
said Taeris. “You know what the Gil’shar are like.”

“Even if I believed you and was
inclined to help, did you really think the princess would allow this man to
travel with her? Did you think she would vouch for him at the border?” Dras
shook his head, not taking his eyes from Caeden, who had shrunk back under the
thin man’s gaze. “Even
you
are smarter than that, Taeris. Why would she
take the risk? If the Gil’shar found out, it would likely start a war.”

“Who’s starting a war?” a female
voice came from the doorway.

As one, everyone in the room
turned. The young woman who had spoken swept into the room, followed closely by
several others; from the way everyone moved, Davian had no doubt that this was
the princess.

He felt himself gaping a little
at her entrance. She was magnificent. Her long flaxen hair was delicately
arranged so that not a strand was out of place. Her elegant deep blue dress was
simple but stylishly cut, and sparkling jewels glittered on her ears and at her
neck. She was pretty, with green eyes and high, delicate cheekbones. But beyond
all that, she had an air of authority, an indefinable presence that made him
stand up a little straighter. To Davian's left even Caeden, normally all but
unreadable, wore a captivated expression as he looked at her.

Behind her trailed two men and a
woman who immediately faded into the background; bodyguards, unless Davian
missed his guess. After them came a couple of older attendants, then a younger
man and woman, who looked around as if uncertain as to whether they should even
be present.

With a start, Davian realised
that the young man was the fighter they had seen out in the stadium. He had
changed clothes and bore no signs of the bout he had lost, though his demeanour
seemed odd. He stood in the corner of the room, and if Davian had not just seen
him put up such a brave fight in front of thousands of people, he would have
said he looked sulky.

Taeris stepped forward, ignoring
Dras and bowing to the woman. “Your Royal Highness,” he said formally. “I hope
that no-one will be starting anything. My companions and I are in grave danger,
and….” He trailed off, realising the princess was no longer paying attention to
him.

Davian turned, following her
gaze.

At the back of the room, Wirr was
cringing under the princess’ increasingly outraged glare. Taeris and Dras both
looked from Karaliene, to Wirr, and then back again in complete confusion.

“You,” Princess Karaliene said
imperiously, pointing directly at Wirr. “Walk with me.”

Wirr grimaced, shuffling forward,
avoiding everyone’s stares. As Karaliene’s entourage began to follow her from
the room, she turned, shaking her head at them. “You will stay here and attend
to these men until I return,” she said firmly.

“Princess!” The cry of protest
came from Dras. “I must insist that someone accompany you. This boy is
travelling in the company of a murderer. Two murderers! There is no telling
what danger he might pose!”

“Are you refusing to follow my
express command, and thus the command of my father, Representative Lothlar?”
snapped Karaliene. It had the exasperated sound of someone who had had this
conversation before.

Dras hesitated, then subsided,
confusion still plastered on his face. “No. No of course not, Your Highness,”
he said, giving her an obsequious bow.

Karaliene responded with a curt
nod, then spun on her heel and left, Wirr trailing behind. The door shut, and
everyone in the room was left gaping at each other in open astonishment.

Taeris turned to Davian. “That,”
he said with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, “ was unexpected.”

Finally recovering his wits, Dras
rounded on Taeris, fire in his eyes. “Sarr,” he spat venomously, “ what game
are you playing at here?”

Taeris couldn’t keep the
bafflement from his features. “For perhaps the first time, Dras, I am as
ignorant as you.” He shot a questioning glance at Davian, who shook his head.
He was as stunned as everyone else at the turn of events.

Having little other recourse,
they settled down to wait for Wirr and the princess to return.

***

Wirr followed Karaliene, silently
cursing his bad luck. He’d known this moment would come eventually, but he’d
wanted it to be on his terms, not like this.

They reached another small room,
not too far from the one they had just left, but empty. They entered, and
Karaliene closed the door behind them with a cold anger that made Wirr even
more certain of the trouble he had caused. He braced himself.

Karaliene turned to him, arms
crossed, assessing him with those calculating green eyes he remembered from so
many years ago.

“Hello, cousin,” she said darkly.

Wirr gave an embarrassed smile.

“Hello, Kara,” he said, trying to
keep his tone light. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Karaliene scowled at him. “Don’t
do that. Don’t act like this is all a joke.” She shook her head. “Fates, Torin,
where have you been? How are you here, of all places? Do you have any idea how
sick with worry both our fathers are?”

Wirr made what he hoped was a
calming gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, putting as much penitence in his
tone as he could muster. His shoulders slumped, and the last of his bravado
left him. “I never meant for things to get so out of hand.”

Karaliene continued to glare at
him for a moment. Then she sighed, and the hint of a smile crept onto her lips.
“’Kara’. No-one except my father and yours calls me that any more.” She stepped
forward, giving him a sudden and tight hug. “It's been weeks... we didn't know
what to think, Tor. It’s good to see you.”

Wirr returned the embrace.
“Torin. I’m going to have to get used to that again.” After so many years he
couldn’t help but think of himself as Wirrander now, even though it was the
second of his given names. He ran his hands through his hair. “So, I take it
your father told you the truth about me? About where I’ve been?”

Karaliene nodded. “He told me as
soon as we heard the news about the school; he was panicking and there was no
way to hide it from me. I’m the only one, though. To everyone else, you’ve just
been delayed in returning from Calandra. You probably have another month or so
before anybody becomes too suspicious.”

Wirr nodded. The court had been
told that he’d gone to the Isles of Calandra, to serve at the Andarran outpost
there. It was unusual but not unheard of: a prince being sent to one of
Andarra’s outlying colonies to learn warfare and tactics, to experience some
'real danger'. The Isles were so remote that only someone who served at the
actual outpost would be able to confirm he hadn’t been there – and those men
had all sworn oaths not to reveal that information.

Then he frowned. Something
Karaliene had said....

“What did you hear about the
school?" He shook his head. "All things considered, I’d have thought
they’d want to keep our running away fairly quiet.”

“Running away?” repeated
Karaliene, nonplussed. “Torin….” She hesitated. A range of emotions flashed
across her face, from confusion to understanding to pity. “Oh, Tor. You haven’t
heard. Something terrible happened. Someone….” She trailed off, suddenly
flustered. She stepped closer, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “The night
you left, someone, or something, attacked. Everyone who was still there... they
died.”

Wirr stared at Karaliene. “That’s
a poor joke, Kara.”

Karaliene just looked at him
sadly.

His body recognised the truth
before his mind could; his knees went weak and he slumped into a nearby chair,
hands suddenly shaking. “All of them?”

Karaliene nodded. “I’m so sorry,
Tor. There were no survivors.”

The next few minutes passed in a
blur. At first he was simply dazed, unable to comprehend the idea that everyone
he had known for the last few years was dead. Once the reality set in, though,
he felt only emptiness inside. It had surely been his fault. Whoever had
attacked had been looking for him. It was
his fault
.

There were no tears, for which he
was grateful; a disconnected part of his mind thought he would have been
embarrassed to cry in front of his cousin. At one point an Andarran guard
opened the door to fetch the princess for some event or other, but Karaliene
waved him away silently. Eventually Wirr’s initial dizziness at the news passed
and he took some deep breaths, focusing again on the present.

They sat in silence for a little
while, then Karaliene said gently, “We assumed either you'd escaped and were in
hiding, or had been taken. But if you didn't know - why leave?”

"It was important. We heard
a rumour that the Boundary was weakening, maybe about to collapse. The sig'nari
were gathering Augurs, and my friend was... he had a way to find them. He
needed my help, and I needed to find out how much of it was true. And to make
sure the sig'nari weren't planning some kind of rebellion. It... seemed like
the right choice at the time." The words came out heavily. He gave a
hollow laugh when he saw the expression on Karaliene's face. "Don't worry
- they're not. Though I think the Boundary side of it might be true. It's... a
long story."

"I have time."

Wirr hesitated, taking a deep
breath. "I can explain, but first I need your word - you won't act on
anything I tell you, and what I say doesn't go beyond this room. There are some
things you're not going to like. Some things I'm not sure I like, to be
honest."

Karaliene made a face, but
nodded.

Wirr told her the whole story,
leaving nothing out. A part of him wondered at the wisdom of it, but it all
seemed so insignificant in light of the news. Even as he spoke, names and faces
flashed through his head. Asha. Elder Jarras, Elder Olin, Alita. Talean. Absently
he wondered if he were lucky to have left with Davian when he did, and then
immediately hated himself for the thought. With a flood of nausea, he realised
he would have to be the one to tell his friend the news.

Karaliene listened to his story
in silence, her expression changing only once – when he admitted to helping
rescue Caeden from the Desrielite soldiers. Wirr saw the dismay on her face,
and she opened her mouth to interject, but quickly closed it again to let him
continue. He was grateful for that. If he’d had to stop, he didn’t know if he
could have started again.

He finished, and Karaliene
watched him for a few moments before speaking.

“Tor,” she said softly. “What
have you done?”

Wirr tensed. “Don’t discount what
Taeris says, Karaliene. I don’t know if he’s right, but clearly
something
is going on. If there’s some threat waiting for us beyond the Boundary, we need
to be prepared. And getting Caeden back to Andarra, restoring his memories –
it’s the only way I can think of to find out more.”

Karaliene held up her hand.
“Taeris Sarr is a murderer, Torin. Administration were within their mandate to
cover up his escape, but now I know… I should be taking him back to Andarra to
complete his sentence, not helping him.”

Wirr frowned. "I told you
there would be things you didn't like. You haven’t even spoken to him.” He
crossed his arms. “I was dubious at first too, but he killed those men to save
Davian's life.”

Karaliene shook her head. “I was
at his trial, Tor. He didn’t just kill them. He
mutilated
them. Carved
marks into their faces while they were still alive. And he never revealed how
he got around the First Tenet.”

“Taeris tells a different story.
And he explained about the First Tenet.”

“Tell that to the twenty or so
who heard the screams of the men he was killing, some from several streets
away.” Karaliene looked troubled. “The evidence was overwhelming... your father
passed his sentence, you know.”

“I know.” Wirr hesitated. He also
knew that Davian remembered nothing of that day, or at least had forced the
memories so far into the recesses of his mind that they were no longer easily
accessed. And if Taeris had lied, he apparently could have hidden it from
Davian’s ability.

What Karaliene said was possible,
he supposed.

Still, he had met Taeris. He was
capable of violence, certainly - but was he the kind of man to delight in it?
Wirr thought not.

“So you’re telling me that there
have been no reports from the north of anything unusual.” Wirr gave her a
querying look.

Karaliene scowled. “There are
always
reports from the north, Torin! Every year they come in. Hoaxes played by
children who were weaned on stories of Talan Gol. The overactive imaginations
of farmers who weren’t vigilant enough to protect their livestock from wolves.”

“And the scale he showed us?”

Karaliene snorted. “It could be
anything. He could have made it himself! No-one has seen a dar’gaithin for
literally
thousands of years.” She leaned forward. “Think, Tor. Just think. He’s a
murderer. He is asking for political asylum for another man wanted for the same
crime – a man who may be a conspirator in what happened to your school, for all
you know! Is this the kind of man a prince of the realm should be travelling
with?”

Wirr scowled. “Davian verified
Caeden’s story about having lost his memory.”

“The same Davian who set you on
this journey to begin with.” She held up her hand as he began to protest. “I
believe you when you say he had no part in what happened. Don't worry, I'll
keep my word - if you tell me he can be trusted, I won't tell anyone he's an
Augur. But his ability has a very serious flaw if he is so easily fooled. I for
one would not trust it implicitly.” She paused. “And even if this Caeden truly
has lost his memory, it does not make him innocent, either.”

Wirr ran his fingers through his
hair in frustration. He remembered this Karaliene. Good at arguing, not so good
at listening. “So you’ll not help us?”

There was silence as the two
glared at each other, then Karaliene crossed her arms, coming to a decision. “I
can arrange for you and your friend to return with us. It will be tricky – the
Gil’shar know how many Gifted came with us. You’ll have to act like just
another Gifted; the Desrielites screen everyone at the border, and the entire
country will know within days if Prince Torin sets off a Finder.”

She pursed her lips. “This other
man, Caeden, is a different matter. His description is everywhere; frankly I’m
surprised you made it this far without being discovered. But he’ll be
recognised soon enough. Representative Lothlar was right, you know. If we give
him asylum, it could very well mean war.” She shrugged. “Handing him over might
just offset the fallout of taking you with us, though.”

Wirr’s heart sank, and he gave a
heavy sigh. “I understand,” he admitted, “ and you’re being very generous with
your offer. But I'm afraid I must refuse.”

Karaliene blinked. “Pardon?” she
said in disbelief.

Wirr grimaced. “Call me
irresponsible if you want, Kara, but there is something about Caeden I trust. I
believe him.” As he was saying it, he was surprised to find it was true. “I
know he’s not making it up. I won’t abandon him to be executed.”

Karaliene took a second to
compose herself. “You don’t have a choice,” she said abruptly. “You’re too
important. You’ll come back with me if I have to bind you and drag you there
myself.”

Wirr laughed. “Do that, and I’ll
just come forward and tell everyone that I’m Torin Wirrander Andras, Prince of
Andarra. Then I’ll grant asylum for Davian, Taeris and Caeden myself.”

Karaliene scowled. “You wouldn’t.
Otherwise you would have done so long ago.”

Wirr grinned. “I was trying to
find a better way. Prevent a war and all that. But if you leave me no choice….”

For a moment it looked like
Karaliene was going to argue further; then her face fell and she gestured in
disgust. “Very well,” she said in exasperation. “Though I think you’re a fool
for doing this.”

“Goes without saying,” said Wirr.

Karaliene glared at him for a
moment longer, but eventually couldn't stop the corners of her mouth creeping
upward.

“You used to be so serious,” she
said with a wondering shake of her head. “What happened?”

Wirr shrugged. “I think... you
get a different perspective when people treat you as an equal. It changes the
way you look at things,” he said, a pang of guilt and sorrow running through
him as he thought about the school again.

Karaliene watched him, her gaze
appraising. “I like you better this way,” she admitted. “Just don’t tell anyone
I said that. There are going to be some very, very angry people once I get word
of this back to Andarra.”

“Which will be when?”

Karaliene considered. “I can't
trust this sort of thing to a pigeon or a rider - I'll have to deliver it
myself. So... a few weeks, maybe a little more?” She grimaced. "I know I
gave you my word, Tor, but I
have
to tell our fathers something. And
once they know you're alive, they're going to want a full explanation."

"Then tell them I'm here
because I think the Boundary may be weakening - but that I'm heading home, and
I promise to explain everything to them when I arrive. They don't need to know
about Davian, or Caeden, or Taeris for now." He held up his hand as
Karaliene made to protest. "If you tell them, the only thing it will do is
worry them more. Having that information won't help them in the
slightest."

"What if you don't make it
back?"

"If I'm not home in six
weeks, you can tell them everything."

Karaliene scowled, but after a
few seconds gave a reluctant nod. "On one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you let me send some
protection with you." Karaliene brushed a loose strand of hair from her
eyes. "Your father will skin me alive if I don't do that much. And at
least this way, I can give him
some
sort of reassurance."