The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Chapter 29

Caeden woke.

He climbed slowly to his feet, wincing as he stretched stiff muscles. It was just past dawn; the sun had not yet risen above the mountains behind them.

They were only a day past Deilannis, yet already he felt… less. The overpowering familiarity he’d felt in the city – his recognition of buildings, streets – had faded almost as soon as they had left the mists. He’d felt stronger there, more confident.

Now it was all a distant memory, and the old feelings of helplessness had returned. He didn’t know who he was. Didn’t know why Davian had been sent to find him, or why he was connected to the Vessel Taeris was carrying, or what he was involved in.

Worst of all, he didn’t know if he’d done what he’d been accused of.

He rubbed the Shackle on his left arm, trying to ignore the constant glow of the wolf tattoo there. Its light never faded; Taeris still had the Vessel on his person somewhere, though Caeden hadn’t sighted it since Thrindar. There were moments he’d considered trying to find it – there had been opportunities, while Taeris was asleep – but caution had won out each time. Taeris said it could be dangerous, and the scarred man had helped him, saved him. Caeden had to put aside his uncertainties and trust in his companions.

Still, the lure of the box was almost more than he could bear, sometimes. None of them spoke about it, but everyone knew that there was a possibility it was meant to restore his memories. And as much as Caeden dreaded that happening, not knowing the truth was worse by far.

Sighing, he glanced over towards the rest of the group as they began to stir.

Everyone’s mood, Caeden’s included, had been understandably morose since the loss of Davian and Nihim. Caeden had liked Davian, and his conversation with Nihim after his duel had been a comfort, too. He’d felt their absence keenly since Deilannis, and still sometimes found himself glancing over his shoulder, scanning the horizon for them.

He often caught Wirr doing the same thing. Despite Taeris' grim assurances, none of them really felt as though the other two were truly gone.

He stretched, nodding to Taeris, who was already up and had evidently been on watch. Though Caeden tried not to let on, Taeris' scars sometimes made him uncomfortable. They were a constant reminder of what the Gil’shar had accused him of doing to the villagers' bodies.

Taeris nodded back, looking thoughtful, then walked over to him.

“Can I trust you?”

Caeden blinked, taken aback by the question. “Yes. Of course,” he replied after a moment.

Taeris locked eyes with him for a long few seconds. Then he reached down and before Caeden realised what was happening, touched the Shackle on his arm.

There was a cold, slithering feeling, and the metallic torc dropped to the ground. Caeden shook his head in surprise. He suddenly felt lighter, more energetic. Free. Even the tattoo on his wrist seemed to pulse brighter. It had been so long since he’d felt this way, he’d barely remembered what it was like.

Aelric, who was standing a little way off, rushed over when he saw what was happening. “What do you think you’re doing?” he exclaimed.

Taeris raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been thinking about this all night, Aelric, and Caeden has earned our trust. We have monsters hunting us - going through Deilannis has gained us some respite, but they won’t have given up. And you saw how powerful those creatures are. We need every advantage we can get.”

Aelric scowled. “You still can’t let him free,” he said grimly. He turned to Caeden. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying I think you’re a threat to us, but after what you were accused of in Desriel….”

Taeris scowled back. “He’s been with me for many weeks now, Aelric. He saved us in Deilannis, and I’m risking my life to bring him before the Council. I feel warranted in making this decision.”

Caeden frowned. Taeris' voice seemed… small. Far off. He tried to focus on what else was being said, but the sounds all blurred together.

He stood on a hilltop, a breathtaking vista below him – green fields and rolling hills for a short distance, and beyond that the ocean, glittering like diamonds in the afternoon sunlight. A pleasant warm breeze ruffled his hair gently. He was suddenly aware he was holding hands with someone; he looked to his side, heart leaping to his throat.

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing next to him. Her alabaster skin was flawless. Her long black hair was loose, cascading down her back almost to her waist, shining in the sunlight. She had a perfectly oval face, with full, red lips and cheeks rosy from the climb up the hill. Her eyes were blue, not like the ocean or the sky, but something deeper, stronger, more indefinable. She turned to him, smiling, and those eyes shone as they gazed upon him. So focused. Like he was the only thing in the world, or at least the only thing of importance.

The image faded, the colour draining away from the scene. He was standing outside a massive city. Even from a distance away the walls loomed ominously; at a glance he thought they were at least a hundred feet high, probably more. They were made from a black, rocky stone, jagged edges everywhere.

Above the walls rose the city itself. It seemed to be built atop a peak; Caeden couldn’t see any buildings near the wall, but could easily make out roads and structures further towards the city centre. Nothing moved within, though. There were no guards, nor any gates he could see. Massive fires burned at various points around the top of the wall, the red-orange of the flames the only colour in an otherwise drab landscape.

It was night, the moonlight casting a strange silver pallor over everything. He was in a field, though most of the grass seemed dead, or at least struggling to survive. He looked over his shoulder. There were no trees in sight, with the flat, barren fields stretching on as far as the eye could see in all directions. All was silent here. No wind, no animals.

Then he was somewhere else. It was day again, he thought, but the sky was blacked out by billowing smoke from burning homes. Around him he could hear the screams of people as they died, not quite drowning out the quieter cries of panic and confusion. The smoke shifted and twisted around him; suddenly two dark silhouettes were visible through it. They were humanoid in nature, but too tall, too thin.

Then he could see them properly. Covered in black scales, the creatures stood at least nine feet tall; their bodies were slim and sinuous, with no neck to speak of. Their heads were shaped like that of a snake, but when they looked at him, he saw the rows of tiny, sharp teeth that filled their mouths. The two creatures watched him for a moment, lashing their tails as they stared hungrily. There was something eerily intelligent about their expressions.

Then they were gone into the smoke, moving faster than he would have believed.

He was kneeling. He looked up to see the smoke had gone; he was in an underground cavern of some kind, the roof stretching upward so far that he could barely see the top. He was sweating; a little way to his left a pool of molten rock bubbled threateningly.

In front of him was a being that seemed made of pure fire, its skin smouldering and writhing, even the strands of its hair glowing with energy. Its eyes, though, contemplating him as they were, were undeniably human.

The creature was holding a sword, and Caeden knew that the sword was important somehow. It bent the light around it, drank it in, but Caeden could still see the symbols inscribed onto the blade, words in a different language. They were familiar to him, but he didn’t have time to concentrate on them.

“You are unworthy,” said the creature holding the sword. Its voice was rough, deep and knowledgeable. “You have come for Licanius, and so may not have her.”

The scene shifted yet again, but this time the sensation was different, though he couldn’t say how. He stood in the centre of a large, open field; it was night, and a gentle breeze made the long grass seem as though there were silvery-black waves sliding over the ground. Everything was in stark contrast, with the moonlight almost blinding, and the shadows as dark and impenetrable as pitch. He looked down. He was wearing a black tunic of fine silk, the threads snug against his skin. It was a familiar feeling. A good feeling.

In the distance, emerging from a copse of swaying birches, he saw a man approach. As he came closer, Caeden could see that he was tall, muscular, with chiselled features and a wide, welcoming smile. The man raised his hand in greeting; hesitantly, Caeden raised his in return. A sense of familiarity flashed through him. Somehow, from somewhere, he knew this man.

“Tal’kamar!” the man called when he was closer, a jovial, welcoming note in his voice. He strode over, and before Caeden could react he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace. “I knew you’d find your way here eventually! It is good to see you, old friend.”

Caeden blinked. “Is this actually happening?” He knew as soon as he said the words that it was. The previous images had been vague, hazy – memories, perhaps, though seen in a detached sort of way. This was something different.

The man chuckled. “Of course! We’re in a dok’en. Your dok’en, actually.” His smile slipped a little. “You’re serious?”

Caeden’s heart leapt. This man seemed to know him – seemed to be friends with him. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I know it sounds strange, but I have no memory of anything beyond a month or so ago. If you know me….”

The man’s smile faded entirely, and he bit his lip. “Then it is true,” he said, sadness in his voice. He sighed. “My name is Alaris.” He put his hand on Caeden’s shoulder. “We are friends, you and I. Brothers.”

Caeden leaned forward. “You can tell me who I am? How I came to be here?”

Alaris nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said in an amiable tone. He glanced around. “There may not be time right now, though.”

“Why?”

Alaris gestured. “Look for yourself.”

Caeden looked back over his shoulder. A black shadow had fallen over some of the field; where there had once been a wide expanse of open grass, there was now nothing to be seen. As he watched, the shadow inched forward some more. He turned back to Alaris, panic welling up inside of him.

“What happens when the shadow reaches us?”

Alaris smiled. “Nothing, to you. It’s your dok’en.”

“Dok’en?” The word was familiar, but Caeden couldn’t recall its meaning.

Alaris rolled his eyes in amusement. “A place you created some time ago, Tal’kamar. Once, you had many of these lying around, and I knew where you’d hidden most of them… but this is the only one that I know of, now. You must not have lost all of your memories, to find your way back here.” He looked around with a frown. “Dok’en are always based on real places, though, and I’m not sure where this was in real life. The Shattered Lands, perhaps? You were always fond of travelling there.” He checked the oncoming shadow again. “Regardless. You’re not doing a terribly good job of keeping this place stable, and I really do need to leave before everything disappears, so let’s make this quick. Where are you?”

Caeden hesitated. The man knew him, but was he trustworthy? Eventually he shook his head. “People are hunting us, and I do not know you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Alaris looked exasperated, but gave a reluctant nod. “I understand.” Then he frowned. “Wait. ’Us’?”

“The people I am travelling with,” elaborated Caeden, still unsure how much to reveal. “Gifted.”

Aelric looked displeased at that. “And who is hunting you?”

“Creatures. They’re called sha’teth.”

Alaris’ expression froze, and Caeden thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly, all humour vanished.

“You know of them?”

Alaris glanced over Caeden’s shoulder, clearly distracted by the oncoming shadow. “You could say that. A tale for another time, my friend.” He grabbed Caeden by the arm. “You are in serious danger, Tal’kamar. If the people you are with find out who you really are, they will kill you without a second’s hesitation. We are at war, and though they may not seem like it now, they are the enemy.” His expression was deadly serious.

Caeden shook his head, refusing to accept the statement. “They have already risked their lives for me.”

“Because they don’t know who you are,” countered Alaris. He eyed the field behind Caeden nervously. "Read them. If you don’t find they’re capable of what I say, then forget I ever spoke ill of them."

Caeden shook his head. “I… don’t know how,” he said, a little embarrassed.

Alaris looked at Caeden, his expression pitying. “I see,” he said softly. “It’s like that.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Tal’kamar. There simply isn’t time to explain.”

He started backing away; Caeden turned to see that the shadow was almost upon them. “The dok’en is about to fail, Tal’kamar," said Alaris. "Once that happens, we cannot use it again. I may not see you for some time.” He paused, looking conflicted, then came to a decision. “In Ilin Illan, there lives a man called Havran Das. Find a way to get to him, without your companions knowing. He’s a merchant dealing in fine wines, and someone who is… reliable. I will contact him myself; he will be able to help you.”

Caeden shook his head. “Why should I trust you?”

Alaris gripped Caeden’s arm. “Because we are brothers, and we have a bond that not even time can break.” He closed his eyes. “Until we meet again, my friend. It was good to see you.”

"Wait! One more question." Caeden clenched his fists; he was afraid to ask, but he had to know. "I was accused of a crime, from before I can remember. Killing people… slaughtering them for no reason." He watched Alaris closely, dreading the answer. "Is that the kind of man I am? Would I have done that?"

Alaris hesitated.

"No, Tal’kamar," he said softly. "Never without a reason."

He faded just as the shadow touched Caeden.

“Caeden,” came Taeris' voice.

He shook his head, trying to focus. The world around him bled back into view, slowly regaining colour and clarity. He was on the ground. Taeris was looking at him anxiously and the others were watching a little distance away, concern on their faces too.

“Take it easy,” Taeris advised as Caeden struggled to rise. “You collapsed.”

Caeden took a moment, then levered himself upward. The momentary disorientation had passed.

“I’m okay,” he said, getting to his feet. Still, his stomach lurched. Never without a reason.

“What happened?” asked Wirr.

Caeden stared at the worried faces around him for a long moment. Then he glanced at Aelric, who was clearly still concerned that his Shackle had been removed.

“Just a dizzy spell,” he assured everyone.

Taeris hesitated, then gave him a gentle clap on the back. “Probably a side-effect of having the Shackle on for so long,” he said. “Are you able to travel?”

Caeden gave a silent nod of confirmation, his thoughts already elsewhere.

Havran Das.

He fixed the name in his mind as he began helping the others break camp. He didn’t know if he could trust Alaris, but one thing was certain.

He was going to find out more once they reached Ilin Illan.