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

by James Islington

“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.” There was sadness in those blue eyes as he said the last. Sadness, and bright pain. “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, famous and infamous both. You are Tal’kamar,”

“I said there were no wards that would harm you,” corrected Garadis. “Then what in fates was that?” Caeden demanded. “A binding,” replied Garadis. “The final consummation of the trade between my people and Andrael. The Lyth guard Licanius until one who passes the Tests wields her. In exchange, the one who takes her up must then free us. It is the pact that you have been trying so very hard to avoid these past centuries.” He sighed, a contented sound. “You must have been desperate.”

Caeden stared at his now-bare forearm worriedly. “Free you from what?” Garadis leaned forward. “From here, Tal’kamar. From this. We cannot survive without the raw Essence Res Kartha produces. You need to find a way for us to leave, and not perish.”

“If you want my help, you’ll also want me to survive the next few days,” he observed. “I am going to return to Ilin Illan, to fight alongside my friends. If there is any way you can help me…”

“You have audacity, Tal’kamar,” he said softly. “I will grant you that.” “You know how it works?” Garadis gave a slow nod. “Considering you stole it from me? Yes, I know how it works,” he said, smoldering lip curling slightly. “To think, I didn’t even know it was gone.”

“Wait, Caeden,” he said quickly. “I Read Ilseth Tenvar earlier today, and…that Vessel is dangerous. It was sent to you by the same man who ordered the deaths of everyone at my school; from what he said, your using it is going to play straight into Devaed’s hands. If it hasn’t already.”

“No. I don’t know what you saw, but this took me exactly where I needed to go. I wouldn’t have been able to help you here, to stop the Blind, if I hadn’t used it.” He unconsciously touched the sword at his hip.

“Maybe.” Davian turned to look at his friend, and Wirr could see the frustration on his face. “I know he said he was only able to save us because of where that box took him, but after what I saw in Tenvar’s memory…it just doesn’t make sense.” He rubbed his forehead, expression worried. “I feel like there’s something we’re missing. Something important.” Wirr sighed. “I don’t disagree, Dav, but there’s

She gave him another tight, brief hug, then spun and walked off before he could say anything. He opened his hand slowly. The ring was silver, three bands twisted together in a distinctive pattern. Davian stared at it, dazed. The last time he’d seen this ring, Malshash had been destroying it in Deilannis. He hesitated for a long moment. Then he slipped the ring onto his finger, shaking his head slightly at the familiar weight. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to Ishelle, and they made their way toward the cluster of red-cloaked Gifted. It was time to move

“Taeris!” Laiman glanced around to make sure no one else was in the vicinity, then beckoned the heavily scarred man inside. “They decided not to keep you locked away, I see,” he said with some amusement. Asha studied the newcomer’s crisscrossed features as he entered. This was clearly Taeris Sarr—the man Davian said had orchestrated the attack on him three years earlier. She frowned as she watched Laiman’s and Taeris’s body language. The two

But Caeden’s little performance has changed a few minds, convinced them that there might at least be some merit to what I’ve been saying.” He sank into a nearby chair. “Enough for a reprieve from my cell, anyway.”

“I hear the king has recovered,” said Taeris. “He has,” said Laiman absently as he scanned a document, though his tone held a note of reservation. “You don’t sound happy.” Laiman grimaced, looking up from what he was reading. “He remembers very little from the past two months.” Taeris frowned. “Control, then,” he concluded. “We’re fortunate they didn’t try to take things further.”

Taeris shrugged. “Maybe the Blind realized what had happened, and decided he wasn’t worth the effort anymore?”

“Just think, for a moment. Given the way things turned out. Who benefited most from having the king act the way he did?” “Aside from the Blind?” Taeris tapped his fingers together as he considered. “Well, the king looks a fool now, stubborn for not changing the Tenets. There’s no proof he was Controlled, and most people don’t even believe that power exists, so it’s not exactly something the palace can claim. So I suppose…” He trailed off, staring at Laiman in mild disbelief. “Us? The Gifted?” “Tol Shen, to be more precise,” said Laiman, opening another drawer. “It’s no secret that Athian decided to hide in the Tol until the Tenets were changed. Shen, on the other hand, had people on the Shields healing the wounded from the start.” He paused, rubbing his forehead. “And the only memories the king has that

Still standing motionless in the corner, Asha stared at the two men in horror. Could it be true? The Journal Erran had shown her had pages missing; that must be what the king’s adviser was referring

I still think he’s the key, Thell. We’ve both read Alchesh. He’s as important as Caeden, maybe more so.”

“And Taeris? It’s Laiman now. Always Laiman, even in here.” Thell. Asha’s brow furrowed, and she made a mental note of the name. If the king’s adviser wasn’t using his real name, it was worth finding out why. Taeris acknowledged the rebuke with a nod. “Sorry.” He frowned contemplatively, then exhaled. “At least I still know where he is, I suppose.”

“Dar’gaithin scales?” Laiman nodded grimly. “Melded together into plates somehow.”

“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. Caeden struggled in vain against his invisible bonds. “Who are you? Where am I, and why am I here?” he demanded. He tried to reach for Licanius, but it was no use. His arms might as well have been encased in stone, for all he could move them. His attacker smiled. “Good to see you too, old friend,” he said. “To answer each of your questions: I am Tae’shadon, the Keeper—Asar Shenelac to my friends. These are the Wells of Mor Aruil. And you, Tal’kamar, are here to remember.”

Asar sighed. “I think…I think you wanted to change who you were.” He leaned forward. “The problem, Tal’kamar, is that if you do not know who you were, you cannot know to change.”

That had been only a hundred years ago—not long before he’d finally rejected the name Aarkein Devaed, realized his mistakes, and started along the path that had ultimately led here. He knew he’d hated what he’d done, hated what he’d become as Devaed, but he couldn’t remember the details anymore. Odd, but he supposed it didn’t really matter now. He would be free of it all for good soon enough. He finally turned away from the corpses, knowing he had only minutes left—nowhere near enough time to hide the bodies. He needed to flee, to get as far from here as he possibly could.

“But it can’t be!” Caeden shook his head desperately, tears streaming down his face. The images of the people he’d killed flashed in a grisly parade before him. “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.” Asar just stared at him. For a moment his expression was…pitying. “You are who you are, Tal’kamar,” he said softly. “When you’re ready to know more, come and find me.”