The Shadow of What Was Lost (The Licanius Trilogy, #1)

by James Islington

Kol sat heavily as what Erran was saying sunk in. “You’ve been Controlling Elocien?”

There was so much rage and fear when he looked at his son…sometimes I could barely manage it. So I had to send him away.”

Asha grabbed him, able to restrain him in his weakened state. Then she shifted a little, stretching out her hand and letting what little Essence she had left in her Reserve flow into her ring.

The Augurs’ abrupt departure had suddenly given her pause, made her wonder whether it was really worth her going back to Fedris Idri.

Wirr shook his head. “I’ve known these words for years, Elder Eilinar,” he interrupted gently. “And I mean no offense to the Council,

but I don’t trust anyone else to help me. It’s that simple.”

Killing a man in cold blood—even a man such as Ionis, even in defense of something far greater than himself—should have shaken him to his core. It hadn’t.

those new Tenets may still be restricting, but fates take me if they aren’t an improvement.”

The wolf tattoo had vanished as soon as he’d touched the bronze box at the Tol,

Caeden stared at the blade curiously. Something about it looked…alive. It gleamed not with the eerie red of the lava, but rather with a white light, like that of Essence.

“You have come for Licanius, as you always do. The question is, how did you get in this time?

“Another body again, I see. Which poor soul did you take it from this time?

“We have danced this dance for near five hundred years,” he said. “I am Garadis ru Dagen, and I know you, Tal’kamar, no matter what you do to your face.

You don’t even remember Andrael, let alone why he bound us to this agreement.”

He who comes to take Licanius shall be refused her.

And you are not here to take Licanius. You are here to find out who you are, and how you might help your friends.”

As Guardian, I have read your mind and find no thoughts or memories that should cause me to deny you Licanius. She is yours.”

“Then can you at least tell me who I am?” Garadis stared at him, expressionless. “Where to begin? You are Tal’kamar, though precious few know you as such. You destroyed Saran’geth for an ideal. You butchered the Arathi for revenge. You created the Plains of Decay for the love of a woman long dead.” He paused. “You saved Jala Terr knowing it would cost you a century alone. You hid Wereth from the Shadows because you believed a good man

was worth more than a good name. You destroyed us—and then, when we hated you most, you saved us at the expense of everything you ever wanted.”

“You have lived for over four thousand years, and done so much evil and so much good. You are a legend here amongst the Lyth, despised and beloved, fam...

“What does Licanius mean? It sounds Darecian. You could at least tell me that much.” There was silence from Garadis. “‘Fate,’” he said eventually. “The translation is more specific, but in your language, it means ‘fate.’”

“You have a year and a day. Should the pact be broken, the binding will compel you to return to us. Licanius will become the property of the Lyth, to do with as we see fit. And once she is truly at our command, we will see fit to use her for that which she was designed.”

“Do what you must. But return within a year and a day with your solution, else you will lose Licanius forever.”

Without hesitation he stepped through the shimmering portal and back onto the streets of Ilin Illan.

But Caeden says there’s something else coming—something worse than what we saw tonight. If that’s really the case, then I have to go where I’m going to be of most use.”

She grabbed Davian’s hand and pressed the object into his palm. “They’re eventually going to take this away from me if I hang on to it. Just…keep it for me.” It might have been Davian’s imagination, but he thought her eyes were glistening. “You can give it back to me when we see each other next.”

He opened his hand slowly. The ring was silver, three bands twisted together in a distinctive pattern. Davian stared at it, dazed.

We’ve both read Alchesh. He’s as important as Caeden, maybe more so.”

When she’d spoken to him after the battle, Davian had been convinced that Taeris was responsible for the attack on him three years earlier.

“Laiman,” he said quietly, “I think it’s time we organized a trip back to Deilannis.”

“Tal’kamar. I’d begun to wonder if something had gone wrong,” said the old man. “But I see that all has gone as planned after all.” He indicated the sword hanging from Caeden’s belt.

And you, Tal’kamar, are here to remember.”

“We are acquainted,” said Asar. “You asked me to restore your memories, once you arrived here.”

“The problem, Tal’kamar, is that if you do not know who you were, you cannot know to change.”

He had to survive a few weeks, just until Davian arrived with the Portal Box.

“No. I can’t be him. I can’t be Aarkein Devaed. No. I’m supposed to fight Devaed, to help save Andarra.” His voice broke. “I can’t be him.”

“You are who you are, Tal’kamar,”