The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Chapter 2

Davian awoke with a start.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound that had woken him – an insistent knocking at the door - came again. He looked around blearily, the fog of sleep not yet departed. What time was it? The distant chatter of voices from the courtyard below indicated that lessons had already begun for the day. Motes of dust drifted lazily through the light that streamed in through the still-open window; from the angle, he realised it must be at least mid-morning, if not later.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Davian flung himself to his feet. He usually woke at dawn and had trusted his body to keep to that schedule, but apparently he had deprived it of sleep for one too many nights in a row. The knocking came again; hurriedly throwing on some clothes, he stumbled over to the door and opened it.

The girl waiting outside had blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and the recent good weather had left her with the faintest smattering of freckles high on her cheeks. She smiled at him, a guileless expression, and amusement danced in her sea-green eyes.

“Hello, Ash,” Davian said awkwardly, suddenly aware of his dishevelled appearance.

“Morning, Dav. You look….”

“I know.” He raked through his thick, unruly black hair with his fingers, but he knew it would make little difference. “Apparently I overslept.”

“Apparently you did. Quite a bit,” said Asha, with a brief, meaningful glance towards the window. Then, after a careful examination of the hallway to check they were truly alone, she lowered her voice. “Mistress Alita’s been keeping me on the run this morning, but I came as soon as I had an excuse." Her smile faded. "I heard about Leehim.”

The memory of the previous night came crashing back into Davian; it must have shown in his expression because Asha stepped forward, eyes suddenly soft with sympathy and concern. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” It was a lie; he actually felt a renewed flood of fear as he remembered Leehim’s convulsing form, the black veins crawling their way across the other boy’s face. Still, he wasn’t about to admit any of that to Asha. “It was nothing I hadn’t seen before. It just… reminded me how close the Trials are, I suppose.”

Asha grimaced at that but nodded, saying nothing.

Davian’s chest tightened a little as he watched her. As the last few months had flown by, he’d faced plenty of fears about becoming a Shadow. It had only been recently, though, that he’d realised that never being able to see Asha again was far and away the worst of them. That their friendship of the past couple of years had developed into something more, at least for him.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not now. It would only make the next few weeks harder on both of them, regardless of whether Asha felt the same way.

There was silence for a few moments; Davian glanced at the angle of the sun, which was high enough now that it barely came through his east-facing window. “I’ll tell you the full story later,” he promised, suddenly remembering that he had other responsibilities. He forced a smile as he spoke, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m supposed to be going into Caladel today.”

“You were supposed to be going into Caladel two or three hours ago,” corrected Asha. “Actually – I don’t want to make your day any worse, but that’s why I’m here. Mistress Alita realised that you haven’t been by to get the list.”

Davian groaned. “What did she say?” Mistress Alita took students shirking their responsibilities more seriously than any of the Elders. Worse, having all but raised Davian, any sign of him avoiding his tasks was considered by the head cook to be a personal affront.

Asha shrugged. “You know – the usual. Something about you, boiling water and that large knife she keeps hanging by the bench. It was too detailed to remember all of it.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to repeat it for you, though.”

“Wonderful.” Davian paused. “I don’t suppose you could… omit… that I overslept, when you speak to her?”

"She’s going to ask."

"Lie." Davian raised an eyebrow. "I meant lie."

Asha gave him a look of mock surprise. “You of all people….”

Davian sighed, repressing a smile. “I’d owe you one.”

“Another one,” Asha corrected.

Davian narrowed his eyes, but this time couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks, Ash.”

Once Asha had vanished down the stairs he shut the door again, his mood improved. As little as he was looking forward to a tongue-lashing from Mistress Alita – and as heavily as the memory of last night was beginning to weigh on him again – waking up to a visit from Asha was far from a bad start to the day.

He stood in front of the mirror, taking a few minutes to rub the sleep from his eyes, straighten his clothes and rake his fingers through his hair until it sat in a vaguely respectable state. The Elders were firm on anyone going outside the school walls appearing presentable. He was already late, so there was no point worsening his lecture by rushing off and looking dishevelled into the bargain.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Davian hurried down the spiral staircase of the North Tower and into the inner courtyard of the castle. A group of younger students were gathered around Elder Jarras at the far wall, some of them giggling at a story he was telling them. Davian watched as the thick-bearded man made a deliberately overdramatic sweeping gesture with his deep red Gifted’s cloak, his eyes widening comically, sending the children into more peals of laughter. Davian smiled. Everyone liked Jarras.

He moved on, hurrying through a narrow breezeway to the back entrance of the kitchen. Most of the students used the main door from the dining area, but he’d been a serving boy here long before becoming a student, and a lifetime of habit was hard to break.

He slipped inside as quietly as possible, taking in the familiar sensations. The heat from the fireplace as a pot boiled busily above crackling flames. The smells of various spices mingling together. The cheerful chatter from Tori and Gunder, the cook and her apprentice, their backs facing him as they chopped away at some vegetables. Even after three years, this felt more like home than his room in the tower ever had.

He hesitated; Mistress Alita was nowhere to be seen. Tori, a middle-aged, dowdy woman who had always spoiled him before he had discovered he was Gifted, finally noticed that someone had entered. She glanced away again when she realised who it was. Her conversation with Gunder died within seconds as the teenage boy saw too.

Davian flushed, as always feeling like he was intruding. Gunder and Davian had been apprentices together, had shared a room until Davian’s abilities were uncovered. Now they were strangers. The servants here might work for the Gifted, but the war had left too many scars for them to look past what their employers were. What he was.

Sometimes he caught the familiar faces looking at him, a kind of sad accusation in their eyes. As if he had betrayed them, chosen this path rather than been pushed down it.

Davian forced himself to ignore the stares today, eyes darting around the room for the slip of paper that would tell him what was needed from town. If he could just find that list and leave before Mistress Alita returned….

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

The familiar voice came from behind him. His heart sank as he turned to see the head cook standing with a frown plastered across her face, waving the list at him.

Davian grimaced. “Sorry,” he said, abashed.

The portly woman shook her head in irritation. “Don’t apologise to me. The Elders are the ones whose plates will be empty at lunch. I’ll be sure to let them know who to speak to when they ask why.”

Mistress Alita seemed about to launch into one of her tirades when she suddenly stopped, eyes narrowing as she examined his appearance. “You look tired.” She was clearly still displeased with him, but there was a question in her voice now. “I haven’t laid eyes on you in days.”

Davian glanced over towards Tori and Gunder, but they had both returned to their task and were talking amongst themselves. Students were not supposed to speak to non-Gifted about their training, but he and Mistress Alita regularly flouted that rule. She had looked after him for years after he’d been left to the school’s care as an infant. She had a right to know at least a little of what was going on in his life.

“The Trials are soon,” he said quietly by way of explanation.

The head cook’s brow furrowed, and she lowered her voice so that it would not carry to the others. “No progress?” Her frown deepened as she studied his face. “You’re still not sure if you can pass?”

Davian bit his lip. He didn’t want to give Mistress Alita cause for concern. “It’s… still a risk,” he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

“But you’re worried.” It was a statement rather than a question. She knew him too well.

Davian hesitated. “Terrified,” he admitted softly.

Mistress Alita gave him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on his shoulder in a maternal manner and giving it a light squeeze. “El doesn’t give us burdens we can’t carry, Davian. Always remember that.”

“I will.” Davian nodded, but the words didn’t make him feel any better. Mistress Alita had tried raising him as an adherent of the Old Religion, but everyone knew that all confidence in El and his Grand Design had died along with the Augurs twenty years ago. Davian – like most people in Andarra, now – couldn’t bring himself to believe in something that had been so clearly disproven. Still, Mistress Alita was devout, and he had always respected that.

The head cook pressed the slip of paper and a few heavy coins into his palm, then gave him a light but firm cuff to the back of the head with her other hand, her usual grumpy exterior reasserting itself. “Now get moving; Administrator Talean is expecting you. And if this happens again, I’ll be thinking up a proper punishment, Trials or no.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And it won’t involve Asha waking you up next time, either. I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.”

She sent him on his way with a gentle push, leaving him blushing in surprise.

He chewed his lip as he walked. Were his feelings becoming so obvious? Asha spent plenty of time around the kitchens; whatever Mistress Alita suspected, he just hoped she would be tactful enough not to say anything.

He headed towards the Administrator’s office. The courtyard was quiet now; Jarras and his class had vanished. A couple of younger students were sparring to the side, overseen by a still sombre-looking Elder Seandra, but otherwise there was no sign of movement.

Davian paused for a moment to watch the bout. Despite his best efforts, jealousy stabbed at him as whip-thin tongues of light periodically lashed out from the students’ hands, flicking towards the other before being met by bright, rippling shields of Essence, energy crackling as the two forces collided.

He examined the contest analytically. Both children – they could not have been older than twelve – seemed about equal in strength, but Davian could immediately see the smaller one’s shield was better-formed, more complete. Even as he watched, a sliver of bright Essence pierced the taller one’s shield and touched him on the arm, making the boy yelp in surprised pain. It would only be a matter of time before the match was over.

Davian tore his eyes away and kept walking, pushing down the frustration he felt every time he saw the Gift being used. Move on. Get his chores done quickly, then try again. There was nothing more he could do.

His stomach twisted as he approached the Administrator’s office, the memory of last night still fresh in his mind. The door to Talean’s office was ajar but as Davian moved to knock, he heard low voices coming from inside - one of which he didn’t recognise. That was unusual in the small, close-knit school, enough so that it made him pause.

“So you understand our true purpose here?” the unfamiliar voice was asking.

There was silence for a few moments, then, “You’ve come for the boy.” It was Talean.

“We have. The Northwarden thought it was time.”

Davian frowned. The Northwarden – the king’s brother and head of the Administrators? What were they talking about?

Talean spoke again. “I would hope so. I heard about the school at Arris.”

“Dasari was hit too.” A different stranger’s voice this time, a woman’s, her tone grim. “A hundred or so dead, and no-one saw anything.”

Talean let out a long breath. “I am sorry to hear that.”

There was a grunt, evidently from someone dubious about the Administrator’s sincerity. “Tell me. What are your defences like here?”

“Three guards at the gate at all times. Usually an Elder and two senior students, or three students if need be. The castle walls are warded; if anyone tries to scale them, the Elders know straight away.” There was a pause. “You think there should be more?”

“Perhaps,” came the first stranger’s voice, sounding unimpressed. “It should suffice for now.”

“That’s good." A pause. " So do you think it’s Hunters, then? I heard that -”

There was a scuffling of feet too close for Davian’s comfort, right by the door. He darted away. Whatever that conversation had been about, it hadn’t been meant for his ears, and it sounded far too serious for him to simply interrupt.

He walked around the hallways for a few minutes, uneasy as he puzzled over what he’d heard. Schools had been attacked? He knew it happened, every so often - Hunters working in groups, or sometimes just common townsfolk deciding that they didn’t like living so close to the Gifted. But he hadn’t heard of any major attacks in the last few months, and certainly none on the scale the strangers had been suggesting.

Eventually he sighed, realising that he hadn’t overheard enough to understand what was really going on. If it was something he and the other students needed to be worried about, he was sure the Elders would let them know.

Soon he decided that enough time had passed to try again; sure enough, when he returned to the Administrator’s office the door was wide open. Talean was alone as he pored over some notes, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his blue Administrator’s cloak draped over the back of a nearby chair. He removed his reading glasses and stood as Davian came to a halt in front of the desk.

“Ah, so Mistress Alita finally found you. I see you’re still in one piece,” he said with a hint of amusement.

The corners of Davian’s mouth turned upward, relieved that Talean was not going to dwell on the events of last night with him. “I’ll wait until everyone finds out why there’s no midday meal before I celebrate,” he said dryly.

Talean grinned. “Probably wise.” He gestured for Davian to follow him over to a cupboard in the corner, the motion revealing the tattoo on his bare right forearm. Davian repressed a shudder, as he did every time he saw an Administrator’s Mark. It was the same as that found on the Gifted – a circle surrounding a man, woman and child – but the Administrators’ were always coloured red, not black. It made them look like burns, as if they had been seared into the flesh.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to put one of these on you,” Talean noted as he rummaged about in the bottom of the cupboard.

Davian shrugged. “I don’t get sent out as often as everyone else. I can’t imagine why,” he added, sarcasm thick in his tone.

Talean paused, glancing over his shoulder at Davian. “It is out of a desire to protect you, Davian. In their shoes, I might do the same. There’s no shame in it.” He scratched his beard. “Speaking of which - I know you don’t usually go out alone. I could ask Elder Olin to find you a companion, if you’d like.”

Davian reddened, shaking his head. “It’s been three years. I don’t need special treatment any more. From anyone,” he added significantly.

Talean sighed. “True. True enough.” He emerged from the cupboard grasping a torc, the twisted bands of onyx-like metal polished so brightly that Davian could see his own distorted reflection in them. “Hold out your arm. You should sit down first, too.”

Davian shrugged. “I’ve never found it has much effect on me.”

Talean grunted. “Still. I’ve had too many students say exactly that, and then wonder why I can’t be bothered catching them when they fall. Not a few Elders, too, though don’t tell them I told you so.”

Davian grinned. “Fair enough.” He sat compliantly in a nearby chair, stretching out his left arm so that the wrist was exposed, along with his own tattoo. He flinched as Talean pressed the two points of the open end of the torc against his Mark, shivering as he felt the device moulding itself to his arm, the ice-cold metal slithering forward over his skin and finally joining, completely encasing the forearm. The entire process only took a few seconds.

He looked up at the Administrator, who was watching him closely.

“Take your time,” said Talean.

Davian shook his head. “No need.” Most Gifted found putting on a Shackle a fairly traumatic experience – it could cause lethargy, dizziness, even nausea for some. All Davian felt, though, was slightly weaker and a little more weary, as if the cold metal had stolen away an hour or two of the previous night’s sleep. Even that much could have been his imagination, given how tired he was already.

Before, he’d always considered that good fortune… but today, he found himself wondering whether it was something else entirely.

Still - Davian could sense a cold layer of something sitting just beneath his skin, encasing him, sapping at his strength. The device was definitely working.

He stood, Talean still watching him intently. Davian rubbed at the Shackle with his finger, tracing the markings etched into the cold steel.

“I’m not even sure why I need to wear this, sometimes,” he said, a hint of dejection in his tone. Talean raised an eyebrow at him, and Davian snorted at his expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not questioning the Treaty. I only meant that I can’t use the Gift anyway. This, the Tenets - none of it really seems relevant to me at the moment.”

Talean grimaced, so briefly that Davian wondered if he’d imagined it. Then the Administrator gave him a sympathetic nod. “Of course. Even so.” He placed his hand on Davian’s shoulder. “By the Fourth Tenet, return to the school once you have finished.”

Davian rolled his eyes, feeling the slight warmth on his left arm as the Tenet took effect. “Is that necessary?”

Talean raised an eyebrow. “You want me to risk a troublemaker like you running away?”

Davian gave a slight smile, shaking his head in wry amusement. “Fine. I’ll see you when I get back.”

He felt a sudden stab of nervousness as he walked back out into the courtyard; he hadn’t had time to think about it since waking, but this would be the first time in months he’d been outside alone. Despite his bravado to Talean, he really would have felt more comfortable with a companion on the journey.

It was always that way, though. He couldn’t let his past – his fears - inconvenience everyone else forever.

He hitched Jeni, the school’s mule, to the rickety old cart they used for transporting supplies. She was a placid animal, and as always stood happily until the process was complete. He absently noted that there were three horses tethered in the courtyard, where there would usually be none. They belonged to the mysterious visitors he’d overheard talking to Talean, presumably.

Soon enough, he was ready. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he gave Jeni’s reins a gentle tug and set off for Caladel.