The Shadow Of What Was Lost (73 page)

“I don’t think you have enough
hands, Fess,” he said in amusement.

His eyes glazed over, and his
enormous chest became still.

Fessi just knelt there, head
bowed over him, her long hair hanging onto his chest. Silent sobs wracked her
body; dazed, Asha knelt by her side, putting an arm around her shoulder.

Then Asha, too, had tears
trickling down her cheeks. It couldn’t be true. Kol was too big, too strong to
die. He would wake up, and later they would all laugh at what a scare he had
given them.

Erran carefully knelt opposite
the girls, expression stunned, eyes glistening. Gently, he lifted Fessi’s hands
from Kol’s bloodied chest, then drew the large man’s eyelids closed.

All three of them knelt there for
several minutes in silence, in shock, grieving for the loss of their friend.

Eventually Fessi looked up, and
when her eyes met Asha's, they were cold.

"You knew. You tried to stop
him," she said. "You knew, and you let him come here."

"Fessi!" It was Erran.
"This wasn't Asha's fault, and you know it." He took a deep breath.
"I'd read his vision too, you know. There was no way of knowing this
was...."

He trailed off, overcome with
emotion. Fessi didn't respond, just bent her head over Kol's body again, not
moving.

Asha finally sat back, her mind
reeling. It had all happened so fast. And as little as she wanted to face the
fact, there was still a battle going on - there was no time to grieve, no time
to take stock. Especially not if what Scyner had told them was true.

"Erran," she said
quietly. "What Scyner said...."

Erran took a deep breath, then
straightened. "It's possible, I suppose," he admitted. "I've
considered it before - a few times - but the physical symptoms just don't make
sense. I tried to check a couple of times anyway, but...." He grimaced,
giving a reluctant nod. "Being connected to Elocien all the time did make
sensing kan harder. I might have missed something."

Asha bit her lip. "Then we
need to speak to someone about this. Even if we do discover the king is being
controlled, we can't exactly march in there and tell people to stop listening
to him. We need someone who will know how best to handle a situation like
that." She looked at Erran. "Can Master Kardai be trusted?"

Erran inclined his head.
"Yes."

"Then let's find him."
Asha gave Erran a doubtful glance as she registered just how unsteady he was on
his feet. "Are you going to be able to do this?"

"Not much of a choice,"
observed Erran, his tone grim.

Asha nodded. She brushed a loose
strand of hair from her face and looked across at Fessi, who was still on her
knees beside Kol. The other girl hadn't reacted to anything that had just been
said.

Erran followed her gaze. He
hesitated, then reached over to Fessi, placing a comforting hand on her
shoulder.

"Fess," he said gently,
voice catching. "I know this is hard, but we might need you. We will come
back for Kol. I promise."

Fessi didn't respond at first.
Then she shook her head, her eyes lingering on Kol’s motionless features.

"If you need me, I'll be
here," she said.

After a few moments, Erran
nodded. He got gingerly to his feet, accepting Asha's arm in support. They
paused in the doorway as they left, watching as Fessi stroked the hair back
from Kol's face.

"We need to go, Asha,"
said Erran quietly.

Asha nodded, swallowing a sudden
lump in her throat.

She made sure Erran had a firm
grip on her arm, and they began slowly limping towards the Great Hall.

***

The doors to the Great Hall were
open, much to Asha's surprise.

One of the guards outside
recognised her and after a moment's hesitation, waved her and Erran straight
through. Asha frowned uneasily as she entered. The enormous room was near
empty, its only occupants a small group of people talking in hushed tones off
to one side. The throne up on the dais was, disconcertingly, vacant.

She exchanged worried glances
with Erran, then headed towards the circle of people. The group looked to be
mostly made up of men from the Great Houses, but she breathed a sigh of relief
as she recognised Laiman in amongst them. The king's advisor spotted her a
moment later, smiling and murmuring a quick apology to his companions before
walking over.

"Ashalia!" Laiman had
dark circles beneath his eyes, but his demeanour seemed almost cheerful.
"What can I do for you?"

Asha indicated the empty throne.
"What's happened? Where's the king?" she asked, unable to keep the
anxiety from her tone.

"Sleeping." Laiman
lowered his voice. "Whatever was afflicting him seems to have just... stopped.
It was only a few minutes ago. One moment he was ranting about the Gifted
again, and the next...." He shook his head. "It was like something
just snapped. He almost collapsed, didn't know what was going on. But when I
told him about the Blind, he immediately put Karaliene in charge until he was
well enough to resume his duties."

Asha glanced at Erran, who gave a
small, nonplussed shrug. She turned back to Laiman. "Do you know what
changed?"

Laiman hesitated, then nodded.
"The Tenets," he said softly. "We don't know what the new ones
are yet, but Dras felt it happen. It couldn't have been more than a minute
later that the king came to himself." He shook his head at her bemused
expression. "I don't know the significance of it either, but for now I'm
just grateful. Karaliene knows what she's doing, and if the Tenets are
different, I'm hoping it means the Gifted can fight."

 Asha shook her head, a little
dazed, relieved to hear that Wirr had been successful but unsure how it could
possibly have affected events here. "So what happens now?"

"Now? There's little else
left but to get everyone we can to the Shields," said Laiman grimly. He
glanced back over towards the gathered lords. "Speaking of which...."

Asha nodded her understanding.
"Thank-you, Master Kardai," she said. "Fates be with you out
there."

"And with you, Ashalia.
Erran." Laiman nodded to them both, then hurried back towards the gathered
noblemen.

Asha and Erran left the Great
Hall again and began heading back towards Fessi and the Lockroom, silent for a
time as they walked.

"What do you think it
means?" asked Asha eventually.

Erran shook his head. "I
don't know," he admitted. "The Tenets shouldn't affect kan. I'm glad
the king is free of whatever was wrong with him, but... it makes no
sense."

Asha just gave a frustrated nod,
having reached much the same conclusion.

They arrived at the Lockroom to
find Fessi sitting on the couch, still staring listlessly at Kol's prone form.
She didn't look up as they entered.

Asha gave Erran a hesitant
glance, then crouched down in front of Fessi. "Fessi. The king has
recovered," she said. "The Blind are still attacking, though. It's
time we went to the Shields to see how we can help."

Fessi looked up, but at Erran
rather than Asha. There was a second of silence as the two gazed at each other,
and then Fessi gave a small nod.

Erran coughed, suddenly awkward.

"We've... decided to leave,
Asha," he said in an apologetic tone, looking uncomfortable as he said the
words. "You're certainly welcome to come with us, though."

"What?" Asha looked
between the two of them, stunned. They must have been communicating using
Erran's ability; Asha felt a stab of anger at being so bluntly excluded.
"You can't leave now! And besides, there's no way out."

"There are still some
smaller ships in the harbour - the Houses left them there as a way to retreat,
should the Shields fall," explained Erran. "They won't be guarded
now, and there are more than enough for us to take one without putting anyone
in danger."

Asha gave him an incredulous stare.
"Do either of you even know how to sail?"

"Elocien did." Erran
looked her in the eye. "We can't stay, Asha. Surely you must see that.
With Scyner out there, knowing what he knows... he's either going to try and
use us, or turn us in. Until we can figure out a way to deal with him, it's not
safe for us here. Or you, for that matter." His tone was earnest.
"Please. Come with us. "

Asha hesitated for the briefest
of moments, then shook her head.

"I can't. I suppose I
understand, but... I just can't." She paused, then laid a hand on Fessi's
shoulder. "I will take care of Kol's burial, though. I promise."

Fessi looked up at her for the
first time since Asha had entered the room.

"Thank-you," she said
softly.

Erran watched for a moment, his
expression sad, then took two quick steps and embraced her. "Fates be with
you, Asha."

"You too, Erran." Asha
looked down at Fessi. "And you, Fess. I'll be thinking of you. Be
safe."

Fessi gave her a tight, tearful
smile. "We'll see you again, Asha." Her voice shook a little, but
there was hardness behind her eyes, too. "We'll be back to deal with
Scyner soon enough."

She stood, reaching over and
taking Erran's hand in her own.

They vanished.

Asha didn't move for a long
moment, twisting the ring on her finger nervously. The Augurs' abrupt departure
had suddenly given her pause, made her wonder whether it was really worth her
going back to Fedris Idri. Her Reserve was close to drained; she wasn't sure
how much more she could do in battle anyway. And it felt wrong to leave Kol
like this, alone on the floor....

But she knew straight away that
those were just excuses. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Even
if she was only able to summon one final blast with her Vessel, returning to
help at the Shields was the right thing to do.

She took a long last look at
Kol's lifeless form, grief still heavy in her chest. 

Then she turned and left, heading
for Fedris Idri.

Wirr rolled his shoulders,
sensing more than seeing Elder Eilinar's glare.

There was a stony silence as the
group walked deeper into the Tol, broken only by the occasional nervous cough
from one member of the Council or another. Wirr scowled to himself. His arrival
at the Tol, and his announcement that he was going to change the Tenets, had been
met with open arms. His insistence that Davian accompany him to do so had not.

He glanced across at his friend,
who was walking alongside, evidently lost in thought. The Council had been
furious at Wirr's obstinance, going so far as to call Davian a threat after
what he'd done to Ilseth Tenvar. Eventually, though, Eilinar had relented - if
not graciously.

Wirr could still feel the man's
anger emanating from him whenever they locked gazes, but he didn't care. He was
here for one purpose only: to fulfil his father's dying wish. To make sure his
sacrifice had not been in vain.

"I would have understood,
you know," murmured Davian suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. "You
didn't have to rile them on my account."

Wirr shrugged. "I needed
someone with me for this. Someone I can trust."

Davian inclined his head.
"Still. I'm not sure that I blame Eilinar. I probably wouldn't want me
involved in this either, after what happened this morning."

Wirr gave him a stern sideways
glance. "What you did to Tenvar was an accident, Dav," he said.
"You were doing what needed to be done - and honestly, it's not like the
man didn't deserve it."

Davian grimaced, but nodded. He
watched his friend for a moment. "How are you holding up?"

Wirr gritted his teeth,
swallowing a sudden lump in his throat. He'd managed to push what had happened
to the back of his mind for now, and he wanted it to stay there, to keep the
emotions at bay until this was done. "There will be time for grief later.
This is what my father wanted," he said grimly.

Davian gave him another nod,
accepting the statement in silence.

After a while they came to a halt
in front of a large, solid-looking steel door; Eilinar pressed his hand against
its surface, releasing the wards that protected it. Once he was done, he produced
a set of keys and opened it, holding it ajar so that everyone could pass
through.

Wirr stared around the chamber
within as he entered. It was entirely empty of furnishings except for a thick,
squat table in the centre, which itself looked carved from the same black rock
as the rest of the room. In all, it seemed unremarkable.

Nashrel waited until all the
Elders were inside and then walked over to the table, placing a hand on it with
something approaching reverence as he closed his eyes. He murmured a few words
under his breath, and Essence began flowing from him into the stone.

Wirr watched, wide-eyed. The
table turned a deeper shade of black; suddenly the torches on the walls were
reflected on its now glistening dark surface. Then there was a rippling, a
shimmering in its centre; it began to stretch and morph as something new rose
out of the stone.

Wirr stared. It appeared to be an
ornate shield – but too large, taller and wider than even the largest of men,
impossible to wield.

“This is the Vessel through which
you will need to rebind the Tenets, Your Grace,” Nashrel explained to Wirr,
eyes not leaving the shield. “You must place your hand on it, keeping a steady
stream of Essence flowing into it, and speak the vows that you want all the
Gifted to be bound by.”

Wirr frowned at the shield.
“That’s it?”

Nashrel nodded. “Your new vows
should take the place of the old ones. Beyond that….” He shrugged. “The Tenets
have never been successfully changed, and this Vessel was not made by us, so I
cannot speak as to any other consequences.”

Davian and Wirr both stared at
the shield. Its steel was almost as black as the table beneath, and as Wirr
took a closer look, he saw that it was covered by hundreds of finely inscribed
symbols.

“Who
did
make it?” Wirr asked
abruptly. “Where did it come from?”

"Only the Loyalists know the
answer to that question," said Nashrel. His glance flicked to Wirr, then
away again.

“Why doesn’t someone just destroy
it?” asked Davian.

Nashrel shook his head. “That is
why it is left in Athian's care, hidden, and not at the palace. If it were
destroyed, we suspect that the Tenets could not be undone. Its terms would last
forever.”

“Then perhaps that is what we
must do,” came a deep voice from the entrance.

Wirr spun, heart sinking as soon
as he saw the blue cloak. All the Administrators were supposed to have left,
called to fight at Fedris Idri.

Then he grimaced as the man
stepped forward into the light.

“Ionis. I’m sorry, but this is
how it has to be,” Wirr said quietly. “We need the Gifted to be able to fight,
else the city will fall, and we’ll all die.”

“Then we will all die, Your
Grace,” replied Ionis, his tone calm. “An unpleasant fate, and yet preferable
to having the Bleeders running things again. I lived through those times, Prince
Torin. I’ll not return to them.”

Wirr turned back to the shield,
away from the Administrator. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Actually, I do. Prince Torin, I
command you by the Fourth Tenet. Do not use Essence unless I tell you to.”

Wirr gasped as his hand froze,
only inches above the shield. He scowled, concentrating, willing his hand
downward. Instead he found himself pulling back, away from the metallic
surface.

He took a couple of steps away
from the table, until it was well out of reach. Then, able to move freely
again, he rounded on Ionis.

“Administrator, you must do as I
tell you. Fates, man, I’m the prince; I’m the
Northwarden
now! Release
me to do as I wish, or I’ll have you strung up for treason!”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I
won’t be doing that.” Ionis looked… composed. Almost unconcerned. With good
reason, too, Wirr realised dully. So long as the original Tenets remained in
place, Ionis was safe. “And I suspect that of the two of us, once King Andras
finds out what has happened here today, it might rather be you looking at the
hangman's noose,” the Administrator added.

Wirr grimaced, remembering his
last conversation with his uncle. “What do you want?”

Ionis leaned forward, and Wirr
shuddered as he caught the look in his eye. There was a hint of mania there, an
unmistakably zealous fire. “I want you to create a new, single Tenet. That any
man, woman or child who is Gifted must take their own life.”

Wirr felt himself pale, and there
were gasps of horror from around the room, which had been utterly silent up
until now. "You can't," he said suddenly. "You're an
Administrator; you took the Oath. The Third Tenet binds you just as much as us
- you cannot cause harm, physical or otherwise, to any of the Gifted."

Ionis inclined his head, looking
unperturbed. "And perhaps if our positions were reversed, that would stop
you. You may not realise it, but for some Administrators, their interpretation
of 'harm' means that they cannot act to even
upset
one of the Gifted
deliberately." He took a step forward, eyes glittering in the torchlight.
"But not me. This power, the 'Gift' as you call it - it is a disease. I
believe that, more deeply than I have ever believed anything. So you see,
Prince Torin, doing this to the Gifted... it is not causing them harm. Far from
it. It is putting them out of their misery. It is
helping
them. "

Wirr shivered under Ionis' gaze.
He didn't want to believe the man, and yet there was something in his eyes, a
fearsome certainty that what he was doing was right. In that moment, Wirr knew
that the Administrator truly thought that he was doing the Gifted a kind of
twisted favour.

“You're insane,” he said softly.
"We could help, Ionis. We could fight the Blind."

"The long-term is the only
thing that matters, Your Highness," said Ionis.

Wirr just stared at the
blue-cloaked man, aghast. He tried to make his body move towards Ionis but it
wouldn’t budge; subjective or not, the Third Tenet prevented him from taking
any action with the intent to hurt an Administrator.

His jaw clenched in helpless
frustration. He’d known this was a weakness; it had been one of the most
pressing reasons to keep his abilities a secret in the first place. His father
had always been concerned that an Administrator would find the temptation of
having a prince under their control too hard to resist.

And apparently, Ionis was no
exception. All that remained now was for him to give the order.

The Administrator leaned forward.
“Prince Torin, by the Fourth Tenet I order you to -”

Suddenly Ionis’ smug expression
faltered, and he stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened, and his breath came in
short, ragged gasps. He spun, looking directly at Davian as his body began to
spasm.

“What are you doing?” he groaned,
collapsing to the floor.

Wirr turned to Davian. His friend
was making no outward appearance of effort, simply staring at the Administrator
with a grim expression. There could be no doubt, though. Thin tendrils of light
streamed from Ionis’ violently shaking form into Davian, vanishing as soon as
they touched the boy’s skin.

Suddenly the stream halted.

"Release him," said
Davian quietly. "Please. I have no wish to do this. Release him to change
the Tenets, and I will let you live."

Ionis gave a wracking cough,
looking twice the age he had a few moments ago. He stared at Davian in utter
fear, and for an instant Wirr thought he was going to comply.

Then he twisted away with an
effort of will, shouting the words.

"Prince Torin, by the Fourth
Tenet I -"

He cut off in a desperate,
rage-filled shriek.

Ionis’ body began to age, wrinkles
appearing on his face, his skin sagging and creasing, his features becoming
gaunt. Then his skin and muscles began to wither and decay, slowly at first but
with increasing speed, until the white of the bone underneath began to show
through.

As the last wisps of light were
sucked from the corpse, even the skeleton itself collapsed in a slight puff of
powdery-white dust.

Wirr stared at the small pile of
grime on the floor, a chill running down his spine.

"I had to," said Davian
softly. He shook his head, his hands and arms glowing with the light of the
Essence he had drained from Ionis. "I had to be sure he didn't say
it."

Wirr looked up at his friend, for
the first time really seeing how much Davian had changed since Deilannis. He
was… harder, now. As if whatever he’d gone through over the last couple of
months had sucked the innocence out of him. The changes were subtle, but they
were there. It was still his old friend, but a bleaker version. A more
world-weary version.

A moment later, the full consequences
of what had just happened hit home, and the pain of how close he’d come became
sharp in his chest.

“I can’t change the Tenets, now,”
he realised, shaking his head in steadily growing dismay. “Ionis is dead; he
can’t rescind the order. I can't use Essence."

There was silence for several
seconds, then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What if we remove the Fourth
Tenet?” Davian asked.

“What do you mean?”

Davian gestured towards the
shield on the table. “Ionis only stopped you from using Essence, not from
altering the Tenets,” he observed. “You said you needed someone here that you
trusted. Trust me now, Wirr. If you’ll let me, I’ll change the Tenets exactly
as you ask - word for word. From what you told me, all you need to do is stand
there. I do the rest.”

Wirr found himself suddenly,
unexpectedly smiling. He hadn’t been called ‘Wirr' in weeks, now. It felt good
to hear the name aloud again.

He inclined his head. Whatever
he'd been through... Davian was his friend. He
could
trust him.

“Then let's get started before
there are any other complications,” he said, glancing again at the pile of dust
on the floor where Ionis had been standing.

Davian nodded. “Good idea. What I
took from Ionis should be enough, but we do need to be fast. I have to hold
Essence outside my body if I want to use it, and I can’t stop it decaying any
more than you could.”

Wirr strode over to the shield,
hesitantly placing his hand against it. As Davian had suspected, now his intent
was not to use Essence, he was able to touch the Vessel. Davian gave him a
tight smile, then placed a hand on the shield too.

“Your Grace, if I may interject.”
It was Nashrel, looking on with a worried expression. “I mean no offense to
young Davian here” – he nodded politely at Davian – “ but if you need someone
else to assist you after all, I would… feel more comfortable if you used one of
the Elders instead. After what happened to Ilseth Tenvar, one of the Gifted and
a man ostensibly under our protection...." He shook his head. "At the
very least, perhaps you should be writing down the exact wording of the Tenets
you are going to create. The current ones took months of discussion and
negotiation before they were settled upon. Let us take a few minute to go over
them with you, advise you on how best to -”