The Shadow Of What Was Lost Read Online Free PDF Page B

Master Dael’s inevitable wrath on himself. Still.
    Before long, Master Dael had
helped him secure the last of his purchases and had disappeared back inside the
shop. Davian took Jeni's reins.
    A small object flew over his
shoulder from behind, missing his face by inches.
    He spun, startled, to see a group
of boys lounging at the mouth of the alleyway. They looked younger than him by
a couple of years – they were perhaps fourteen – and all wore wide smiles as
they observed his discomfort. One of the boys was standing, tossing another small
rock from hand to hand, eyeing him in the same way Davian had seen cats eye
mice.
    “Sorry, Bleeder. Must have
slipped,” said the boy, affecting innocence. The others laughed.
    Davian gritted his teeth, biting
back a retort. Bleeder. A common enough slur against the Gifted, he knew,
though he’d rarely heard it directed at him.
    “What do you want?” he asked
uneasily. He was accustomed to hostility and even outright verbal abuse, but
there was something about this situation that seemed… off.
    The boy who had called out –
clearly the leader of the pack – smiled at him, hefting the stone in his hand.
    Davian’s anxiety hardened into a
sliver of panic; for a moment all he could think about was waking up three
years ago, barely able to move from his myriad injuries. He tensed himself to
run, to abandon his purchases in the event of an attack. The boys were all
smaller than he, but the Shackle would rob him of some of his strength, and it
would be five onto one in a straight fight.
    Besides, he couldn’t risk an altercation.
Administration would never listen to his side of the story. He’d be accused of
provoking the attack, no matter the facts.
    Suddenly there was a flash of
blue on the main street.
    “Administrator!” yelled Davian,
trying to keep the desperation from his voice.
    The Administrator paused at the
shout, head swivelling towards the alleyway. He was a younger man, perhaps
thirty. His eyes absorbed the scene with cool disinterest.
    Then he turned and kept walking.
Within moments, he was lost from view.
    The boys had hesitated when
Davian had cried out, but now their swagger returned.
    “Nice try,” called one mockingly.
    Their leader sauntered closer.
“How did you get to be so ugly, Bleeder?” The boy grinned, tracing a finger
down his cheek to indicate Davian’s scar.
    Davian turned to run… and the
blood drained from his face as he discovered more of the group had cut around
the buildings, blocking off the other end of the alley.
    The boy continued, “It looks like
you got it in a fight. Bleeders aren’t supposed to be able to fight, you know.”
The other boys muttered their agreement.
    Davian’s mouth went dry. “It was
an accident, from a long time ago,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
His hands were shaking, though whether it was in fear or anger he wasn’t sure.
He did his best to sound deferential. “I apologise, but I really must be
going.” He moved to step around one of the aggressors, but the boy side-stepped
back into his path, staring at him with a smile that never touched his eyes.
    “This is a violation of the
Treaty,” Davian said desperately, stepping forward once again. This time the
boy shoved him backwards, hard enough that Davian landed flat on his back,
breath exploding from his lungs. Then the youths’ leader was leaning over him,
face close to his.
    “Do I look like an
Administrator?” he whispered, a cold hunger in his eyes.
    Davian tensed, expecting to feel
the first blow at any moment.
    Instead, an angry male voice
yelled something from the main street; suddenly the boys were scattering,
leaving him lying alone, dazed, on the sun-warmed stone.
    He sensed rather than saw the
approaching figure. Heart still pounding he stumbled to his feet, hands held
out in a defensive posture.
    “Easy, lad. I’m not going to hurt
you.” The man standing before him gestured in a calming manner, his voice
gentle with