The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Chapter 50

Wirr stood alongside Aelric and Dezia atop the First Shield, staring apprehensively out over the plains beyond Fedris Idri as they waited for the first sign of the enemy.

The Blind were coming, and fast. The report had arrived an hour ago from one of General Parathe’s scouts, who had ridden his horse near to death in his urgency to return. The invaders were no longer taking their time; they had seemingly marched throughout the previous night, pausing for neither sleep nor food. They were likely to reach the city walls by nightfall.

Now afternoon was waning to dusk, and the gates below were finally shutting. Wirr flinched as the massive doors sealed the city, the ominous boom echoing around the narrow pass.

Then the sound faded, leaving almost utter silence. At least a few minutes ago there had been the low murmur of voices from the several hundred men manning the First Shield, even the occasional nervous laugh. Now that had died away too as the sun began to slip below the horizon.

Wirr felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Aelric looking at him with a serious expression.

"Are you sure you want to be up here?" the young swordsman asked quietly. He glanced across at his sister, including her in the query. "It’s not like the Second Shield isn’t going to need defenders."

Wirr winced, glancing around to check that no-one had overheard. His father had warned him that the fighting would reach Ilin Illan itself, and Wirr in turn had felt the need to tell Dezia and Aelric. That didn’t mean he wanted the soldiers to know, though. For most of the men, their hope of victory - their belief that it was attainable - was what gave them the courage to fight.

Dezia evidently knew that too and gave her brother a withering look, shaking her bow at him. "We’ve already discussed this. My skills are going to be all but useless once it comes to hand-to-hand combat," she said in a whisper. "I may as well make a difference while I can."

"And I can be most effective healing the wounded from up here, getting them back in the fight quickly," added Wirr. "No different to the Shen Gifted." He glanced across at the nervous cluster of red-cloaked men and women, who stood together at the city end of the wall, back a little from the front lines. There weren’t many of them, but it was more than Wirr had expected from Tol Shen. And their presence would make a real difference.

Aelric grunted as he followed Wirr’s gaze. "Fair enough. Just… stay as far back as you can once everything starts, both of you. You’re no good to anyone if you get hurt," he said gruffly, turning his gaze back out onto the plains.

Wirr exchanged a small grin with Dezia; her brother had already said something similar a few times in the past hour. He clapped Aelric on the back. "We will," he assured the young man.

On a whim Wirr wandered closer to the edge of the wall, tentatively leaning forward to see the hard stone below, marvelling again at just how high up they were. A mild wave of vertigo washed over him before he drew back. The First Shield – the outermost of Fedris Idri’s defences, atop which he now stood – was at least fifty feet tall, allowing anyone manning it to see for miles across the plains in any direction.

Height wasn’t its only advantage. Despite the narrow pass, the Shield’s depth allowed hundreds of men to be atop it at once. At the front, its thin parapet tapered upward everywhere into sharp points, jagged but elegantly symmetrical, as if rows of enormous swords had been carved from the stone itself.

He’d tested one of the edges of those impossibly thin stone spikes himself, drawing blood from the lightest of touches. His father had once explained that the Builders had created every edge of the parapet to be razor-sharp; any attackers clambering over it would inevitably be cut. And the tapering shape of the parapet itself meant that ladders could never sit flat against it, could never jut out over it in order to bypass its dangers altogether.

Even so, none of it made Wirr feel any safer.

"So what news from General Parathe?" he asked after a moment. "I saw you speaking to him a few minutes ago."

Aelric shrugged. "He says there’s likely to be about a thousand of the Blind. They’re not going to fit more than a couple of hundred into the pass at once, though, so that’s something." He hesitated, glancing along the line and lowering his voice. "He’s worried about how these men are going to hold up in a battle. Many of them were left out of Jash’tar’s force for a reason - Parathe said a lot of them have had discipline issues, lately. Difficulty completing their drills sometimes. Gone for a day or so doing fates know what, then back and pretending like nothing’s wrong. Not men he particularly wanted to have to rely on."

Wirr grimaced. "Just what we need."

Aelric grunted his agreement. The three of them stood side-by-side for a while, the heavy silence pressing on Wirr’s shoulders like a physical weight. He was so lost in thought that he jumped when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

Wirr turned.

"Davian!" he exclaimed.

Davian smiled tiredly, then gave a short laugh of surprise as he was enveloped by embraces from Aelric and Dezia.

"Wirr said you were alive, but I wasn’t sure I believed him until now. It’s good to see you, Davian," said Aelric.

"You too," said Davian. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

Wirr’s heart sank as he saw the expression on his friend’s face. "Tol Athian…?"

"Did not go well." Davian paused, then gave Aelric and Dezia a hesitant glance.

"They know about you, Dav," said Wirr, a little apologetically. "There didn’t seem to be much point hiding the truth after Deilannis."

Davian inclined his head, looking more relieved than anything else, and related what had happened at the Tol.

"Fates," murmured Wirr when he was done, a sick feeling in his stomach. "So only the Shen Gifted to heal the wounded, and now we have to keep an eye out for Caeden, too. And the Council locked Taeris up?"

Davian nodded. He looked about to say more when there was a shout from down the wall, followed by a low murmuring as soldiers began to point out towards the plains. Wirr looked up, squinting in the fading light.

Fires had begun to dot the horizon.

Aelric turned to Davian, his voice tight. "Things are going to get messy up here soon. Are you going to be able to fight?"

Davian didn’t respond for a moment, staring out over the plains as if he could see something the others couldn’t. Then he shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "There’s no point me trying to use Essence - there aren’t enough sources nearby, and even if there were, I’d be bound by the Tenets as soon as I drew enough to be useful. I might be able to use kan, though." He bit his lip. "I could use a sword, too, if there are any spare."

Wirr gave him a sceptical look. "A sword? Dav, we can find one for you, but… is there really any point?"

Davian hesitated, then glanced across at Aelric.

"Aelric. I will understand if you don’t want me to, but… may I Read you? If you let me, I can access your memories, relive some of your training. I don’t think it will give me anywhere near your level of ability, unfortunately - I’ve read that physical skills don’t translate very well due to the bodies being different - but even just knowing some of the basics would help."

Aelric stared at Davian, wide-eyed, for a long few moments. He licked his lips, looking nervous, and Wirr felt sure he was going to refuse.

Then he sighed. "That’s all you’ll see?"

"Yes," Davian assured him.

Aelric gave a slow nod. "Anything I can do to help."

Davian inclined his head gratefully, then stepped forward. He touched Aelric lightly on the forehead and closed his eyes, standing like that for several seconds. Wirr and Dezia looked on with silent curiosity. As far as Wirr could see, there was nothing to indicate anything unusual was happening.

After a few more moments Davian opened his eyes again, stepping back. "Thank-you."

"That’s all?" Aelric rubbed his forehead where Davian’s hand had been, looking uneasy. "I didn’t feel anything."

"That’s all," said Davian with a smile.

Wirr stared at his friend, fascinated. "Did it work?"

Davian shrugged. "I should get myself a sword… after that, I suppose we’ll know soon enough."

Wirr went to help Davian secure a weapon; by the time they returned to Aelric and Dezia sunset was vanishing into dusk, leaving only a slowly fading glow and plunging the flat plains that approached Ilin Tora into a deep murk.

They had been standing there for less than a minute when Wirr spotted a flicker of movement in the distance. A few moments later, a horn blasted from somewhere down the wall.

"Here they come," muttered Aelric.

A mass of glinting black resolved itself from the gloom that covered the plains, moving faster than Wirr would have believed possible as it surged forward into the narrow pass. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but Wirr thought there were a couple of hundred men rushing into the enclosed space below - three hundred at most.

"Where are the rest of them?" he wondered aloud, nerves making his voice tight.

Aelric shook his head. "This is just the first wave. They know that having more than two hundred men in here at once is a waste of energy."

Wirr didn’t respond, chewing at his lip as Dezia walked forward to join the other Andarran archers at the front of the wall. The order to draw rang out, and Dezia notched an arrow, her actions deliberate and her hands steady. Wirr couldn’t help but admire her composure.

Then the Blind were in range and arrows were raining down upon them. Wirr’s heart sank as he watched the men below rush onward, unfazed. The archers fired again, and again, but it didn’t seem to matter. Wirr didn’t see a single enemy soldier falter, let alone fall.

The oncoming black mass hit the wall like a wave as the last of the light faded from the sky.

The next few minutes passed in chaos.

All along the First Shield, screams rang out as attackers started appearing like wraiths along the battlements, reaching over with preternatural speed and strength to pull soldiers over the wall and to their deaths. They were little more than black shadows, silent, appearing from nowhere and vanishing behind the parapet again within moments.

Wirr had already begun retreating when a darker shape against the night sky shifted in the corner of his eye. Davian leapt forward, blade whipping out; there was no sound except that of metal on metal, but his sword met solid resistance and the owner of the armour was sent flying backward into the darkness.

“They’re not using ladders,” Davian warned Wirr. “You should get further back. They could be coming up anywhere.”

“How is that possible?” asked Wirr.

“It has to be the armour,” interjected Dezia, who had also retreated a little, but was still smoothly firing off arrows whenever she caught sight of movement. She allowed herself a quick glance along the battlements. “It must allow them to climb the wall somehow.”

Wirr followed her gaze. There were plenty of men crowding along the parapet, but already it seemed as though the Andarran front line was thinning. Replacements were being ushered up the stairs at the back, but Wirr could already see the futility of it. The Blind might be heavily outnumbered, but each attacker was going to be worth too many defenders.

"It’s blocking kan, too," added Davian grimly, his sword lashing out at another Shadow. His movements didn’t look anywhere near as assured as Aelric’s, but Wirr could tell Davian knew how to handle a blade now. "I can’t push it past those El-cursed helmets."

"Wonderful," said Aelric, already a little out of breath. He flinched back as another blade slashed out from the black. "We’re not going to last an hour if we can’t see them. I take it neither of you can do anything about that?"

Wirr hesitated, then closed his eyes, tapping his Reserve. Focused inward. Cautiously, he drew from the pool of molten light, then… twisted it. Condensed it, made it brighter, as he’d done countless times before.

Nothing happened.

"El-cursed Tenets," he muttered. He issued a frustrated shake of the head to Aelric as the other man backed away from the edge of the wall for a moment, giving Wirr a questioning glance. "It’s still trying to use Essence with the intent to cause harm to non-Gifted."

Things passed in a blur after that. Wirr was reluctant to leave his friends, but he knew he was needed elsewhere; soon enough he had joined the Gifted from Tol Shen, healing those soldiers who were still able to stagger away from the front lines. Wirr was the strongest of the group, and he threw himself into the work. It was all he could do to concentrate, to block out the screams of the injured, the scent of men soiling themselves, and the hot, sticky feel of blood.

Finally, though, his Reserve began to empty, and he looked up to see the Andarran line was dangerously thin, threatening to break. Even as he did so, a horn rang out with two quick blasts. The signal to fall back, abandon the First Shield.

He headed for the stairs, numb as he glanced back to see black-clad soldiers pouring over the parapet, dispatching anyone too slow to retreat.

They were losing.

Asha stared up at the Second Shield in horror, stomach churning as the screams of the dying echoed around the pass.

She glanced behind her at the long line of Shadows that followed in her wake, suddenly uncertain. Were they too late? Word of the Blind’s sooner-than-expected attack had only reached them an hour ago; though she’d done her best to organise the Shadows quickly, she could see that the First Shield had already fallen.

She stared for a moment longer, then drew a deep, steadying breath and grabbed the arm of the nearest soldier. "Where’s General Parathe?"

The man blinked at her in surprise, his gaze shifting over her shoulder to take in the small army of Shadows behind her. "I’m not sure if -"

"Just tell me," said Asha, putting as much cool anger into her tone as she could manage.

The soldier blanched, then gestured towards the top of the wall.

Asha gave a sharp nod. She turned to Gaell, an older Shadow who had helped her distribute the Vessels to everyone else.

"Keep everyone here. I’ll see where they want us," she told him.

Gaell nodded, turning to let the others know as Asha hurried off. Several soldiers paused to give her curious looks as she shouldered her way towards the Second Shield, but none moved to stop her.

Asha climbed the stairs two at a time, quickly spotting General Parathe once she was at the top. She was about to head towards him when there was motion to her left, and a blue cloak suddenly stood in her way.

"What do you think you’re doing up here?" the young Administrator asked, his tone grim.

"I’m here to help," Asha replied, staring the man in the eye. "I just need to speak to the general. Please let me past."

The Administrator stared at her in disbelief for a few moments.

"Nonsense. Get off the wall," he sneered eventually. "You’re only going to get in the -"

Asha gestured, a small movement. She’d managed to practice a little with the ring today, knew enough to control its strength now. And there wasn’t time for this.

The Administrator stumbled backward as if shoved hard in the chest, tripping and sliding several feet before coming to a sprawling halt.

Asha walked past, ignoring the startled stares from those around her who had seen what had happened.

"General Parathe," she called when she was within hearing range.

The general looked up, frowning a little when he saw who it was, but waving her through the cordon of men surrounding him.

"Ashalia, isn’t it," said Parathe, examining her with undisguised curiosity. "The Athian Representative."

Asha nodded. "I’m not here in that capacity right now, I’m afraid," she said. "But I do have a hundred Shadows with me, and we all have Vessels that can be used as weapons. Just tell me how we can help."

The general stared at her for a few moments in silence.

"Do you now," he said softly, a flicker of hope in his weary eyes. "Anything that can get rid of this El-cursed darkness?"

Asha nodded; there were a few Vessels that would create plenty of light, even if that wasn’t their primary purpose. "Some that can heal people, too," she said, noting a wounded man being carried down the stairs.

Parathe nodded slowly, staring out into the darkness towards the First Shield.

"Send a few of them up," he said. "Let’s see what you can do."

Asha nodded, exhaling in relief and hastening back to find the others. The presence of the Shadows had already caused a small stir on the ground, but thankfully the soldiers there had too many other concerns already to have become confrontational. Soon she was hurrying back up to Parathe with a small group of Shadows in tow, and the general quickly allocated them to various points along the wall.

"Where do you want me?" she asked Parathe as he sent the last man on his way.

The general shook his head. "I need to keep you safe," he said. "I don’t know any of these people, and they don’t know me. If they listen to you, I have to make sure you don’t come to any harm."

Asha grimaced, but accepted the general’s logic with a reluctant nod.

Parathe turned to the man at his right. "Hael. Give the Shadows the order."

Asha stiffened at the familiar name. This was Hael - the man from Erran’s vision? In the back of her mind, she suddenly wondered where the Augurs were in all this. She watched the middle-aged man as he signalled to two Shadows standing at the back of the Shield. He looked no different to, nor more threatening than, any of the other soldiers along the wall.

She turned her attention to the Shadows he had motioned to. Each held long, thin white rods; at Hael’s gesture they pointed the Vessels at opposite sides of the pass and closed their eyes.

Two lines of light burst into existence, molten streams of twisted energy pulsing along the smoothly cut walls of Fedris Idri, throwing everything into sharp relief. For a moment everything paused; even Asha, who had been expecting it, was shocked at the sudden brightness.

She looked over towards the edge of the Shield, now able to see the black-armoured men as they scrambled over the parapet. She shivered as she took in the unsettling, eyeless helmets - and then her stomach churned as she recognised the design etched onto the front of them.

It was the symbol she’d seen on the side of Davian’s neck, that night he had appeared in her room. The one that had been cut into his skin.

She gave the attackers her full attention now. In the distance, atop the First Shield, she could see more of the Blind standing amongst the Andarran corpses that were littered across it. These ones had no helmets, though.

They just… stood there, motionless. Watching.

"Asha?"

The familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, and she tore her gaze away with a shiver to see Wirr kneeling beside a wounded man only a few feet away, staring at her in surprise. Her friend let the last traces of Essence vanish into the man’s newly-healed side, then stood, hurrying over to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, concern in his tone.

A long horn blast echoed along the wall, the signal Parathe had arranged for the Shadows to attack.

The area in front of the Second Shield exploded into a cauldron of light, wind and fire.

The soldiers along the top of the Shield stopped as one, watching in awe as the pass below vanished under wreaths of thick, swirling smoke, which flickered an ominous red with the light of the fierce flames beneath. Several men covered their ears as shrieks of power ripped through the night, bolts of Essence sizzling down from the Second Shield into the maelstrom.

A thunderous gust of wind suddenly swept down, catching up the black-clad men clambering over the wall and casting them back out into space like rag dolls. Asha watched as they vanished, screaming, into the cloud of crimson smoke. She spotted one or two holding on and flicked her wrist at them; they sailed off into the air like the others as Wirr looked on, frozen to the spot, open-mouthed.

"Prince Torin!" It was Parathe, shouting over the cacophony that still thundered around the pass. "The Shadows look to have things under control for the time being. Get some rest!"

Wirr glanced around, spotting the group of Shadows that had joined the Gifted and had started healing some of the wounded. He sagged with visible relief and for the first time, Asha realised just how pale and drawn he looked. She didn’t know how many people he’d healed, but it was evident he’d pushed himself to the brink.

Even so, Wirr looked about to protest before eventually giving a reluctant nod. "You fetch me if I’m needed!" he yelled to Parathe. He threw a questioning glance at Asha, but she shook her head, indicating that she was going to stay. She was needed up here.

Wirr gave her a tired smile, squeezing her arm in farewell before joining a trail of weary soldiers limping down the stairs.

Soon the initial thunder of the Shadows' attack quietened, and an eerie hush descended on the smoke-filled pass. The silence was still broken by an occasional ear-piercing shriek as one or another of the Shadows fired bolts of energy into the chaos below, but the ringing in Asha’s ears slowly faded.

Finally confident that the Blind had broken off their attack, she crept forward to the edge of the Shield, peering down. Smoke still obscured some of the gap between the First and Second Shields, but enough was visible to know that the Blind had withdrawn, regrouping atop the First Shield and out of range of the Shadows' weapons.

There were plenty of bodies below, but her stomach lurched as she realised that few of the ones she could see were clad in black. Either the Blind had dragged away their dead, or - more ominously - not many of those who had been blasted off the Second Shield had been killed by the fall.

"We’ve pushed them back for now," said Parathe as he joined her at the parapet. He stared down into the smoke-filled pass below, his expression pensive. "Those flames are too hot even for them to get through, I suspect… but there’s only stone down there. Nothing that will burn of its own accord."

Asha gave a thoughtful nod. "If we rotate fresh people onto those Vessels every so often, we should be able to keep the fires going indefinitely," she said in response to the implied query.

Parathe exhaled, a relieved sound. "Thank the fates," he said. "If you hadn’t arrived when you did…."

He was silent for a few moments, then clapped her gently on the shoulder. "I’m heading down to check how everyone is faring below, but stay alert. If you see anything, have someone fetch me. You’ve given us an advantage, but these El-cursed Blind don’t strike me as the type to give up. It’s not over yet. Not even close," he concluded, gazing through the shimmering red haze towards the First Shield.

Asha watched as Parathe walked away, wondering if the general knew exactly how true those words really were.

"Not even close," she repeated quietly.

Wirr flinched as another shriek of power cut the air, echoing off the walls of Fedris Idri.

He glanced back up towards the top of the Second Shield, swaying a little as exhaustion threatened to get the better of him. He knew he needed to sit down, to rest, but already the screams of the dying were beginning to weigh on him. Even with the Shen Gifted and the Shadows still on the wall, he was one of only a handful of people who could truly help the wounded.

"I wonder how long they can keep that up," came a voice from behind him.

Wirr turned to see Davian following his gaze upward. His friend looked haggard, but uninjured.

"Davian!" He embraced the black-haired boy in relief. "I lost track of you. I didn’t know…."

Davian gave him a tired grin. "Can’t say it wasn’t a near thing, but I’m okay. And Aelric and Dezia are, too; they’re around here somewhere. We all fell back after the Shadows… did what they did." He shook his head dazedly at the memory, as if still unwilling to believe what had just transpired.

Wirr knew exactly how he felt; he was still trying to comprehend the implications of Shadows apparently being able to use Vessels. "Did you see Asha?" he asked.

Davian frowned. "She’s here?"

Wirr was about to reply when he spotted his father approaching, walking alongside a fatigued-looking General Parathe. Wirr gave his father a weary smile, and the two embraced.

"My father," he explained to Davian after stepping back again. "And General Parathe."

Davian shook hands awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, general. Your Grace."

The duke gave an absent nod, though his eyes were still fixed on the top of the Second Shield. "And you, Davian. Torin has told me all about you," he said. "We have much to discuss once this is all over."

Wirr smiled when he saw Davian’s expression. "He really does just mean a discussion, Dav - nothing sinister. I promise."

"Of course," said Davian quickly, though Wirr could still see a hint of nervousness in his nod. Wirr turned to Parathe. "How are they doing up there, general?"

"Well enough, for now," said Parathe. "The Shadows say they can do what they’re doing indefinitely. It at least buys us some time." He hesitated, casting a cautious glance at the duke. "And perhaps if the king changes his mind…."

"No. No chance." Elocien shook his head. "If anything, my brother is worse. I spoke to him not an hour ago, told him we were being beaten back. He still won’t take action. I suspect he’ll let the city burn before he lets the Gifted fight, in his current state." He rubbed his forehead. "I shudder to think what he’ll do when he hears about the Shadows."

Parathe looked sick at the news, but nodded. "We’ll just have to manage with what we -"

Two bodies landed with a crashing of armour against stone, not twenty feet from where they stood.

All four men stared in shock for a moment, then as one turned their gaze upward as panicked shouts began echoing along the Second Shield.

Wirr squinted against the bright light shining down from the walls of the pass. The sporadic flashes from the Shadows' weapons had stopped; there was plenty of motion atop the Shield, but he couldn’t tell what was going on at this distance. No-one had sounded the retreat, and there were too many men atop that wall to have been overwhelmed so suddenly.

Yet without warning, another two pairs of screaming men plummeted from the sky, crashing to their deaths against the floor of the pass.

"Fates," muttered Parathe. He turned to a nearby soldier, who was looking in horror at the motionless bodies. "Nihk. Find out what in fates is going on up there."

The soldier nodded, taking two steps towards the Shield.

Then he spun, sword out and flashing. The man who had been standing guard next to him cried out in alarm, but he was too slow. Nihk’s blade embedded itself in his skull with a sickening, wet crunch.

The next few moments passed as if they were minutes.

Everyone stared in frozen, stunned horror as Nihk wrenched his blade free. Then Parathe and two of the other guards went for their swords. Nihk turned to the general, lips curled back in a rictus of rage as he leapt, sword outstretched, its connection with Parathe’s chest inevitable.

And then the blade had vanished from Nihk’s hands, and reappeared through his neck with Davian holding the hilt.

Nihk slumped to the ground, eyes glassy as blood spurted onto the stone.

Parathe stood frozen, his hand on his hilt. "Thank-you," he said to Davian, dazed. "But how -"

"No time." Davian gestured.

Wirr turned to where he was pointing, suddenly aware of how close the surprised shouts of the men had become. He stared around in dismay.

Andarran defenders everywhere were turning on each other; soldiers were drawing their swords and lunging at their comrades, apparently heedless of any harm they might come to themselves. Duels were breaking out all along the pass, men defending themselves desperately against those who moments ago had been their allies. In less than thirty seconds, the relative calm between the Second and Third Shields had descended into chaos.

"We’ve been betrayed," said Parathe, his voice hollow.

Wirr found himself shaking his head as he briefly replayed Nihk’s attack, remembering the man’s dead eyes.

"No. I’ve seen this before." He turned to Parathe. "They’re called Echoes, general. I don’t know a lot about it, but the Blind are controlling them, somehow."

"They’re not doing this of their own volition?" Parathe gave Wirr a hopeful look. "Is there any way to snap them out of it?"

Wirr grimaced. "No. It’s not them any more," he said reluctantly. "Anyone who’s an Echo is already dead. Tell your men not to hesitate."

"He’s right." It was Davian, who was staring at the nearest Echoes with a perturbed expression. "I can’t Read them. They’re just… empty," he finished, shivering.

Parathe gave Davian an uneasy glance, then turned back to Wirr. "Are you certain about this, Your Highness?"

"Quite." Wirr extended a hand as one of the Echoes nearby made straight for their group. There wasn’t much left in his Reserve after all the healing he’d performed, but it was enough.

A bolt of white light sped from his fingertips, blasting the man he’d spotted backward.

"They’re dead," he repeated grimly in response to the surprised look of the others. "Or at least no longer human. I wouldn’t have been able to do that, otherwise."

Parathe looked sick. "We have to fall back to the Third Shield," he concluded in a heavy tone. Before he could give the order though, Parathe’s second-in-command, Hael, rushed through the fighting towards them.

“Sir,” he gasped to Parathe. “The enemy have taken the harbour and the Lower District. They’re pressing us hard, trying to get to the Third Shield. If they reach it, we’ll be trapped.”

Parathe paled. “How is that possible?” he demanded.

“No-one knows, sir. Only that they’re inside the walls. We need to fall back if we hope to defend the Upper District.”

Parathe didn’t hesitate. "You’re right. There’s no way we can fight the Blind if they’re coming at us from both sides." He cursed. “Sound the retreat, Hael. We’ll regroup at the palace.”

Parathe turned to Elocien. "We need the El-cursed Gifted, Northwarden. No two ways about it,” he said, his expression grim. “The palace is the strongest defensible position in the city, but even with the Shadows I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold it.”

A horn blast sounded the retreat, and the Essence lighting the pass abruptly blinked out. Suddenly Wirr froze, glancing up at the top of the Second Shield, where the chaos sounded worst.

"What is it?" Davian asked, seeing his expression.

"Asha is up there."

Davian was moving before Wirr realised what was happening.

He sprinted after his friend; they made it almost halfway to the stairs before two armour-clad Echoes stepped into their path.

"I don’t have any Essence left, Dav," Wirr warned. He saw Davian hesitating. "They’re not human any more. Trust me."

Davian nodded silently. He stretched out his hand as the Echoes closed in on them.

For a moment nothing happened. Then one of the attackers roared, knees buckling as a line of pulsing Essence appeared between him and Davian. The man’s face seemed to… whither, as if it were aging at an incredible rate; his skin became sallow before finally disintegrating, leaving only a fine white dust that drifted, smoke-like in the wind.

The second Echo hadn’t paused in his wild rush towards them; Davian turned to face him, releasing the Essence he’d drawn. It wasn’t a bolt though, as Wirr would have expected, but something… thinner. Harder.

The energy sped towards their attacker, taking him in the neck and slicing clean through. The soldier’s head bounced grotesquely on the ground towards them, carried by his momentum.

Neither boy moved for a moment.

"So… I see you can use Essence now, too," said Wirr, a little out of breath as they stepped over the decapitated body and pressed forward.

Davian nodded, eyes fixed on the way ahead. "As long as I don’t draw too much at once," he muttered, more to himself than to Wirr. Wirr didn’t understand the comment, but Davian didn’t elaborate and there was no time to ask about it.

They managed to avoid further confrontation until they reached the top of the Second Shield, where they were once again brought to an abrupt halt. This time four Echoes stood in their way, not moving yet, but their dead eyes focused on the two boys.

"I don’t think I can take them all. I’m tired, and it’s getting harder and harder to use kan," said Davian as he drew his sword, his tone grim. "But I’m not leaving her. I -"

The Echoes sailed clear over the parapet, spinning away to crash to their deaths on the hard stone below.

Davian and Wirr both flinched back; when they looked up again, Asha was hurrying through the space where the Echoes had just been.

"You need to get out of here," she said bluntly as soon as she saw them. "Follow me. I don’t have a lot left in my Reserve, but it should be enough to get us back to the Third Shield."

She slipped past them without waiting for a response.

Davian exchanged a vaguely rueful glance with Wirr, and then the two of them turned and hurried after her.

Asha cleared their path twice more before they reached the temporary refuge of the Third Shield. Wirr’s father was waiting for them there, a clearly anxious Parathe and Hael standing by the duke’s side.

Elocien nodded his relief to Wirr, and without a word the group headed towards the city. As they emerged from Fedris Idri though, Parathe held up a hand, bringing them to an abrupt halt.

He frowned, cocking his head to one side.

“I don’t hear any fighting,” he realised. “We should have been able to -”

He cut off mid-sentence with a choking sound, eyes wide with pain.

Behind him Hael stepped away, the dagger in his hand dripping blood. He bared his teeth, eyes glazed as Parathe dropped to the ground, dead before he hit the cobblestones.

Before anyone could react he leapt forward towards a paralysed Wirr, dagger lashing out in slow motion.

It all happened in a moment. Elocien roared as he leapt in front of his son, taking the blade squarely in the stomach. Davian, who had been several strides ahead with Asha, was suddenly there and ramming his sword through Hael’s chest. Both Elocien and Hael crumpled to the ground, the former moaning in pain, the latter twitching once and laying still.

Wirr finally found the ability to move; he dropped to his knees beside his gasping father, pressing his hands in vain against the fountain of blood pumping from Elocien’s rent flesh. He closed his eyes. Healing a wound this severe would take a lot of Essence; he would need to use everything he had left. He just hoped it would be enough.

“No, Torin.” Flecks of foamy blood appeared at the corner of the duke’s mouth, but his tone was firm, even at a whisper. “No healing.”

Wirr stared at his father in shock. “But you’ll die!” he protested. He furiously wiped away tears that he hadn’t even realised he’d begun to shed. “I can save you!”

Elocien gave him a sad, affectionate smile, clasping Wirr’s hand in his own. “But you must not,” he murmured. “We’ve been tricked, Torin. They’ll be coming through Fedris Idri. We need the Gifted to fight, else we all die, not just me.”

“But -”

“Promise me, Torin.” Elocien’s grip began to weaken, but his tone was edged with urgency. “I’m starting to lose focus; if I get confused, I need you to know that this is what I want. Changing the Tenets is all that matters now. I need you to swear to me that you will let me go.”

Wirr stared at him for a long moment, then sat back, letting his shoulders slump. The tears ran freely down his face now. “I promise.”

The duke sighed in satisfaction. His eyes glazed for just a second and he coughed, then moaned in pain. When he looked up at Wirr again, his gaze seemed… different. Panicked.

“Torin?” he whispered. “What is happening?”

Wirr paused uncertainly, then swallowed a lump in his throat. The loss of blood was starting to disorient his father. “You were stabbed,” said Wirr, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. “You saved me.”

Elocien groaned. “You’re older. I don’t understand.”

Wirr held his father’s hand tight. Elocien was fading fast. “Everything’s alright. I’ll be here until the end.”

Elocien shook his head in desperation. “No. I don’t want to die. Help me.” He grabbed Wirr by the shirt, pulling him close so that all Wirr could see was the fear in his eyes. “Help me, son! I beg of you. I know you can heal me. Do not let me die.”

Wirr looked away. “I’m so sorry,” he said, barely choking out the words. “You told me not to.” He swallowed. “I love you, father.”

“No,” whispered Elocien. “No.”

His hand went limp, and his eyes stared sightlessly into the night sky.

Wirr just knelt there, wracked by sobs as he bent over his father’s body. He stayed like that for several seconds; then he took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing down his emotions and wiping his face, doing his best to regain a semblance of composure. There would be a time for grieving, but for now, he needed to make sure his father’s sacrifice had not been in vain.

"Oh, no."

Wirr’s head snapped up at the horror in Asha’s voice. She was staring at Elocien’s motionless form as if she had just understood something terrible.

"I’m so sorry, Wirr," she said softly, dazedly. She shook her head, looking at both him and Davian. "There’s something I have to do. I… I have to go."

She hurried off before either of them could respond.

Wirr watched her go, too numb to wonder at her reaction. “Raise the alarm,” he said dully to the soldiers nearby, who were looking on in mute dismay. “The Blind have tricked us. We need everyone back to the Shields.”

He watched the men leave, then turned to Davian. "And we need to go to Tol Athian."

Davian was still staring at the three bodies on the road, bloodied sword hanging limp in his hand. "Why?"

"Because it’s time to end this," said Wirr heavily. He got to his feet. "It’s time to change the Tenets."