The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Chapter 18

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."

Wirr hesitated, then nodded. "Done."

"Good." Karaliene released a deep breath. “I think I can manage that much without raising any suspicion. None of the Gifted, mind you – the Desrielites might be a little unhappy if we go back one or two short.” She smirked at the thought. “I can organise someone to be at the northern gate of Thrindar at dawn tomorrow. I assume you won’t be staying longer than necessary.”

“I think that’s a fair guess,” admitted Wirr. “Thank-you.”

Karaliene inclined her head. “You know that if you’re caught, you won’t be able to claim any ties to the throne without starting a war?”

“I know.”

They both stood, signalling the end of their conversation. “What should I tell the others?” Wirr wondered aloud.

“That’s the least of your worries.” Karaliene watched him for a moment, then abruptly stepped forward, giving Wirr a long, tight hug. “Be safe, Tor.”

Wirr smiled affectionately. “Thanks, Kara,” he said, returning the embrace.

At that moment the creaking of the door indicated someone had entered. Wirr and Karaliene leapt apart, turning to face the entrance.

The swordsman who had fought in the contest earlier stood in the doorway, hand frozen on the door frame as he stared at them. There was an awkward silence.

“I apologise, Your Highness,” said the young man stiffly, giving a slight bow in Karaliene’s direction. “I should have knocked.”

He spun and vanished, shutting the door behind him.

“Aelric!” The princess’ call came too late; he was gone. She turned to Wirr. “I am going to have to do some explaining later,” she sighed, an exasperated look on her face.

Wirr hesitated. “Is that safe?”

“What?” Karaliene had been staring at the closed door; she waved him away distractedly. “Don’t worry, Aelric is trustworthy. A bit full of himself at times, but eminently trustworthy.” She saw Wirr’s expression. “Oh, very well. I won’t tell him who you are.”

Wirr felt his eyebrows raise a little. “Are you two….”

“No.” Karaliene made a face. “Friends, but not suited to each other like that. I just wish he felt the same.”

They began to walk back through the corridors. “So do any of your friends know who you really are?” asked Karaliene, her tone curious.

Wirr grunted. “If there was one thing father was exceptionally clear on before I left, it was that no-one else was to know.” He saw her surprised expression and scowled. “He said that anyone I told would have to be killed.”

Karaliene grinned, though Wirr didn’t see the humour. “I’m not judging,” she said. They made the last turn, coming back in sight of the guards outside the room where Taeris and the others were waiting.

Karaliene put her hand on Wirr’s shoulder, holding him back for a moment. She looked him in the eye.

“Do you even want to go back to Ilin Illan?” she asked quietly.

Wirr held her gaze for a moment, then glanced away.

“They must be wondering where we are,” he said, gesturing to the door ahead.

Karaliene nodded thoughtfully. “Of course.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Davian stirred as the door opened and the princess walked in, trailed by a drained, sombre-looking Wirr.

The room had been uncomfortably quiet since they’d left, with only Dras and the other members of the princess’ entourage occasionally chatting amongst themselves, and that at a whisper so that Davian and the others could not overhear. Taeris had made a few polite efforts at conversation, but had been bluntly ignored. He’d stopped trying after the first few minutes.

Everyone rose as Karaliene entered. She looked around to make sure she had everyone’s attention, then spoke directly to Taeris.

“There will be no asylum,” she said in a clear voice. From the corner of his eye, Davian could see Dras beginning to smirk. “Andarra will have nothing to do with helping a murderer, or one who has been accused of such ” – she looked with disdain at Caeden as she said the words, who flushed beneath her gaze – “ but neither will we act to turn you over to the mercies of the Gil’shar. Tonight you will stay at The Juggler, an inn near the northern gate. I will send word you are coming; we have friends there and you should be safe. At first light tomorrow, you are to leave Thrindar and not return. You will receive no further aid, and any claim you make to have met with us here today will be denied.”

With a final grim glance at Wirr, she spun and strode from the room, her entourage trailing after her. Dras lingered a moment in the doorway, shooting Wirr a long, curious look before following the others.

They were escorted from the stadium by a couple of soldiers; once outside the men vanished, leaving Wirr, Davian, Taeris and Caeden facing the milling crowds once again. There was a moment of silence as they all looked at Wirr.

Wirr returned their looks levelly.

“I suppose we should go and find this inn,” he said.

Without anything further, he started off northward.

Davian exchanged glances with his other two companions, then sighed and set off after his friend.

Wirr had a lot of explaining to do.

The room was quiet.

Faintly from below, the boisterous sounds of laughter and men clapping to a musician’s beat filtered through the floorboards, but from within the room there was only an awkward silence. They had eaten their meal in the common room in a similar silence; with the patronage the inn was seeing this evening, it had not seemed prudent to discuss their situation until they could do so in private.

Finally Davian took a deep breath and turned to Wirr, recognising that his friend was not about to volunteer anything. “Well?”

Wirr looked at the floor, grimacing. “Well what?”

“Come on, Wirr!” Davian burst out in exasperation. “The princess knew you; she picked you out and you had a private conversation with her – at the end of which, she told us that there would be no help from her! I’ve been patient with you for a long time about your past, and especially so since the El-cursed sha’teth, but… I think we’re owed the truth now. We’ve come too long a way to have our plans fail like that without an explanation.”

Wirr shook his head, still staring at the floorboards as if he could see through them and was watching something in the room below. “I want to,” he said, desperation filling his voice, “ but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” He looked up at Davian, his expression serious. “In fact, I’m fairly sure it’s not. Otherwise I would have told you earlier. Years ago, Dav. I swear it.”

Davian gaped at his friend. “I think the time for you deciding what’s best has passed, Wirr,” he said, his tone harder than he meant it to be. “Tell us, and we’ll decide for ourselves.”

Taeris, who had been watching Wirr closely, gently interjected. “Perhaps Caeden and I can go downstairs and get a drink,” he suggested.

Wirr thought for a few moments, then nodded, his face clearing. “If you’re thirsty anyway….”

“Parched.” Taeris looked at Caeden, inclining his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Caeden followed Taeris out the door. When it was shut, Wirr allowed his shoulders to slump, and he sat heavily on one of the beds. “I’ve made some mistakes, Dav,” he admitted. “Perhaps one of them was not telling you the whole truth from the very start.” He gestured, a resigned motion. “Ask your questions, use your ability. I will answer everything, complete and honest.”

Davian felt some of his anger fade as he watched the forlorn figure of his friend. “Thank-you, Wirr,” he said quietly. He tapped his lips with a finger. “How do you know the princess?”

“She’s my cousin,” said Wirr, without a trace of humour.

Davian gave a disbelieving laugh, but his smile faded when Wirr’s expression didn’t change. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Despite his obviously downcast mood, the corners of Wirr’s mouth twitched upward as he watched Davian’s reaction.

Davian felt his brow furrow as he tried to grasp this information. “So… you’re….”

“Torin Wirrander Andras, son of Northwarden Elocien Andras. Third in line for the throne of Andarra, behind Karaliene and my father.”

Davian shook his head, dazed. Wirr had to be making a joke… and yet there had been no black smoke from his mouth.

He just looked at his friend in stunned silence for a few seconds, feeling as though he were really seeing him for the first time. Wirr had always had natural bearing and presence; suddenly that made sense, was put into context. His polite avoidances of potential romances at the school were him being cautious rather than picky. And the way he’d never wanted to talk about what the future held for him at the Tol…

“You were never going to Tol Athian,” realised Davian aloud, accusation in his voice.

Wirr shook his head. “I would have been taken to Ilin Illan separately, avoiding Athian altogether. I was meant to integrate into court life, keeping my abilities hidden. Ceasing all contact with the Tol and anyone associated with it.” He hesitated. "The thing is, Dav - wherever the Vessel that created the Tenets came from, it’s tied to the line of Tel’Andras. Tied to my bloodline. It was meant to be a way of ensuring that the Gifted would need to earn the trust of the royal family before the Tenets could be changed, but…."

Davian went cold as he processed the implications. He stared at Wirr in disbelief.

"You can change the Tenets? By yourself?" he asked, voice little more than a whisper.

Wirr held up a hand. "Not yet - hopefully not for some time, to be honest. My father and uncle were the ones tied to it. When uncle dies, his connection will pass to Karaliene. And when my father dies, his will pass to me." He looked at Davian nervously. "So… you see why I didn’t tell you?"

"Yes. Fates, yes of course," said Davian, shaking his head. The burden of responsibility Wirr must have been living with, these past few years, was beyond anything Davian could imagine. He felt a chill run through him. “But if you remove the Tenets, wouldn’t it mean another war?”

Wirr shook his head. “I have no intention of annulling the Tenets - I want to amend them, so there’s a balance. Remember our discussion a couple of weeks ago? I’m not just Gifted, Dav. I’m my father’s son. He and my uncle both know about me; they’re the ones who put this plan into motion. The Treaty won’t continue to be a tool of oppression, but I’m not going to allow the Gifted the absolute power they once had, either.” Wirr’s tone was quiet, but laced with a heavy seriousness and certainty that Davian had never heard from his friend before.

He digested what Wirr had said in silence for a while, still reeling over the revelations.

"So… your father knows about you - sent you to Caladel," he said eventually. "But he created the Tenets. Does he really want you to alter them?" The idea went against everything he knew about the Northwarden. Davian knew not to put too much stock in rumours, but over the years, he’d heard so many about Elocien Andras that he’d assumed there had to be some truth to them.

Wirr hesitated. "Growing up, he hated the Gifted as much as anyone I’ve ever met," he conceded after a moment. "But when he found out I was one of them…." He shrugged, looking awkward. "I think it changed him. Changed the way he looks at us. He regrets making the Tenets the way they are, but he can’t do anything about it now - he’s already used his connection to the Vessel. That link can’t be used again until it passes to me."

Davian frowned; it was still difficult to imagine the Northwarden being sympathetic towards the Gifted, but Wirr wasn’t lying. "What about your uncle, then? If he’s in favour of this, why doesn’t he just find one of the Gifted and amend the Tenets himself?"

“He and my father may agree that the Tenets should be changed, but neither of them trust the Tols, either," admitted Wirr. "It’s the Gifted’s role to actually say the oath once the Vessel is activated - all it would take is for them to change my uncle’s wording on the spot, and there would be nothing anyone could do about it." He sighed. “I’m hoping he’ll use me when I return, to be honest. I was too young, had no control over my abilities when all this was explained to me. But now….”

Davian nodded, almost dizzy at the thought. "So who else knows?"

“To the best of my knowledge, there was only a very small group who knew the whole truth – my father and uncle, the Council at Tol Athian. Talean and the Elders at Caladel.” Pain flashed across his features at the last for some reason. “It feels good to finally tell you, though.”

Davian inclined his head. "It can’t have been easy, not being able to talk about it." He gave his friend a considering look. “So why didn’t Karaliene give us asylum? Did you… pull her hair when you were children or something?”

Wirr grunted. “I did, but that wasn’t the reason she said no. She figured she couldn’t hide us, and the Desrielites would take it amiss if they found out she was trying to.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Said it would start a war or something.”

Davian grinned. “Just the man to be rewriting the Tenets.”

Wirr smiled wryly, though the expression was still tinged with sadness. “Any other questions?”

Davian shrugged. “No doubt there will be more, but for now….” He brightened. “Oh, one very important one.”

Wirr raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Should I call you ‘Your Grace’ now?”

Wirr snorted. “No, no. Of course not. That’s my father.” He paused. “It’s ‘Your Highness’. Or, ‘My Prince’, if you prefer.”

Davian laughed, but quickly sobered. “It goes without saying that I won’t tell anyone, Wirr, but I think you should tell Taeris too. He’s risked his life to get us this far. He deserves to know.”

Wirr grimaced. “I would have agreed a few hours ago, but… Karaliene was at his trial, Dav. She says the evidence against him was stronger than he told us. Witnesses that heard people screaming. And the men he killed, he supposedly tortured them. Disfigured them.”

Davian listened in silence. “I cannot believe that,” he said eventually. “Administration wouldn’t have had any shortage of willing ‘witnesses’, I’m sure. Still… what do you think?”

Wirr shook his head slowly. “We know why he killed those men. He certainly doesn’t strike me as the type to take pleasure in killing, so if I had to guess whether the mutilation part was truth or an exaggeration… they could have been referring to knife wounds from the fight, for all we know.” He shrugged. “He saved us. That’s good enough for me.”

Davian smiled, relieved. “Agreed.”

Neither boy spoke for a few moments, and Wirr’s face fell. “Dav, there’s something else. Something big.” Davian was unsure why, but from Wirr’s expression he suddenly felt a wave of dread. As if, as awkward as the past few minutes had obviously been for Wirr, this was what his friend had actually been avoiding.

“What is it?”

Wirr just grimaced.

“I have some terrible news,” he said quietly.