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When King Retsorn had first introduced David to Master Herb Worker Calidrad Omir, David had been taken aback by his new semi-transparent instructor. Since the night Professor Foraz had explained fading away to David, the young shadow master had dedicated some time to the study of the strange phenomenon that claimed the lives of the most powerful shadow masters. He'd never found a more satisfactory answer to the early demise of their greatest spellcrafters than Foraz had given him, and asking nearly every shadow master he'd met only provided the same answer. It was an honor to be claimed by the shadows, and shadow masters who began to fade were given great deference in their final months or years of life.
The shortest lived familial line, and subsequently the most powerful, was the Retsorn family. The Shadow King who had shown such faith in David was only twenty-four years old and could expect to live to be no older than thirty-five or forty. As was customary with the shadow kings of the past, he had married at fifteen into one of the more powerful shadow master families and fathered three children while still young, including two male heirs. His lineage was secured by the age of twenty, when more than half of his life was gone, and he'd dedicated the following four years almost exclusively to his family and securing their future.
David had never been bold enough to ask the king if he feared fading away, but he'd been given the unique opportunity to witness the transition with his instructor, Calidrad. David was appalled at first by the herb worker's calm acceptance of his impending fate. As he got to know his new master and became more familiar with the culture of the Shadow Court, he began to understand and respect the great honor and pride shadow masters portrayed in all they did. Every aspect of their lives interwove subtle and complex traditions, and David understood quickly what King Retsorn had meant when he implied that David might be an outcast here as well. Fading was one great and honorable expectation among powerful members of their community, and it was believed that their sacrifice of life was noble and necessary for maintaining the 'trust' of the shadows.
Those few chosen by the shadows to shift into another plane of existence could look over their people and maintain the connection between flesh and energy, protecting the race of shadow masters as well as fortifying the connection their people had with the shadows. As much as David feared that he would also live a shortened life, he couldn't help but be comforted by Calidrad's calm welcoming of the shift. A part of David even hoped it might happen to him, that he would be 'chosen' by the shadows. Then he could feel as though he truly belonged to his people.
David glanced up at the clock in the herb worker's study once again, as he had a dozen times that night, only this time his instructor noticed.
Calidrad paused in his instruction and calmly folded his hands over the tome from which he was reading. "What is distracting you from your work, young David?" Though there was a lot of gray in the seventy-year-old herb worker's hair, his face was that of a middle-aged man. If he weren't in the process of being claimed by the shadows, he would be considered in the prime of his life with more than a century of health to look forward to.
David could see the text of the tome through Calidrad's fingers, and he resisted the urge to frown. "Nothing of import, Master, please continue." David looked down to the parchment on which he'd been taking notes, skimming the last sentence he'd written.
"It seems to be of import to you," Calidrad noted, making no indication of continuing his lecture. "I have seen your eye on that clock all night."
"I did not mean disrespect, Master," David quickly apologized. "I would never wish to imply that your lectures are not completely engaging."
Calidrad laughed softly at David's defense. "You devour your studies with unique dedication, David. I would never suspect your interest in the subject was lax." He sighed and glanced to the clock himself. "Always on this night . . . I have noticed."
David frowned, feigning ignorance. "I do not understand, Master."
"Not once in the eleven months since you've come to us have you requested a night away for yourself." The herb worker closed his tome definitively and drew a stack of correspondence from his desk drawer. "Go. Ease your mind, and return tomorrow."
David hesitated a moment, then stood and bowed. "Thank you, Master." He collected his notes quickly. Calidrad nodded distractedly and dismissed David with a careless wave of his translucent fingers.
* * *
David knew before he exited the shadows at the ruins that Ferremor was there, waiting. Had his friend waited there every month for the past three years? He wasn't surprised, and he was a little ashamed. Ferremor was loyal in ways that David had never been, and possibly could never be.
Ferremor stood from where he'd been reclining on the rubble and hugged David without a word. The younger man was stunned by the sadness in Ferremor's eyes and the unconditional acceptance and affection he was unabashedly given. Though he felt a little awkward after so much time, he returned the firm embrace.
"I have missed you terribly, David," Ferremor quietly intoned when they drew apart. He took in the changes in his young friend. "I see you wear formal robes. Where have your talents brought you?"
David couldn't believe the changes in his friend. Ferremor had grown very broad in the shoulder, and his features had sharpened distinctively. He'd grown several inches and wore the muscle of a man on his frame. He had become imposing in spite of the withdrawn and lonely shadow in his eyes. David felt another pang of shame, knowing that he was very well the cause for the darkness in Ferremor's gaze.
"I am apprenticed to the Master Herb Worker of King Retsorn. I'm to replace him in a year or two." It was odd to be speaking to Ferremor after so long, and David fidgeted unconsciously with the hem of his sleeves. Oddly, Ferremor seemed completely casual, as if David had merely been gone for a season. David envied Ferremor's ability to simply be at ease with his friend as if there was never a harsh word between them.
Ferremor smiled. "Congratulations!" he declared, his voice genuine. "I knew they would welcome you in the Shadow King's court if you ever sought them out."
David nodded, feeling the tension and doubt from the past years fading. Ferremor had clearly understood David's need to escape and had accepted the young shadow master's absence without resentment. "How about you?" David prodded, chuckling a little dryly. "With that nice, embroidered cloak? Did Alex make that for you?" He looked out across the expanse of ruined stone, still too uncomfortable to meet Ferremor's gaze for very long. It still hurt to talk about Alex and Ferremor, but David had accepted his life, and he wanted Ferremor to know that he bore no more ill feelings.
"How are the two of you anyway?" David continued. "How was the wedding? Did old Nelan cry like an old woman?" David's voice trailed off when he noticed the silence. Ferremor had stiffened and looked away, his expression horrible to see. "Oh, God, Ferremor! Did Nelan pass?" David flinched at his insensitivity. His heart clutched at the death of the headmaster who had always shown David and Ferremor such kindness and respect. "I'm so sorry. I know he was a father to you."
"David, stop," Ferremor whispered, taking several short breaths. David was instantly silenced by the ragged harshness of his friend's voice. "There is something I need to tell you."
David's heart seemed to stop. He started to shake his head before Ferremor could share the terrible news. It couldn't be Alex. Not Alex. She had to be safe.
"There was a fire at the orphanage."
"What? No!" David blurted out. "Who was hurt? Are Alex and Nelan alright?" Ferremor put a hand on David's shoulder, but the younger man shrugged it off. "A fire? You were there!" David shook his head, his eyes falling to his hands. His fingers were shaking, and he clasped them tightly together. "You . . . You can douse fire with shadows! I don't know how you do it, but I've seen it!"
"David, I wasn't there when it happened." Ferremor's voice was thick with sorrow and regret.
David's mind made all of the awful connections it needed to. Ferremor looked haunted, lonely. He looked lean and dark. He'd suffered a great tragedy. David backed quickly away. "Where's Alex?" he demanded. "She's smart. Did she get many of the others out in time?"
Ferremor nodded slowly as moisture rimmed his eyes. "She saved Mary, Belise, and Freddy. She must have gone back in for more, but . . ." Ferremor hesitated, and David felt the world crumbling. "The only two I could save were Yester and Trent." Ferremor kept talking, but David's mind was reeling. He barely heard the words his friend was speaking. "They were the only survivors. I took the kids to Headmaster Doland, and he—"
"No!" David fled to the shadows, unable to hear more. He traveled to the orphanage he had abandoned three years ago. The blackened and overgrown remains of the reformed chapel were such a shock that he thought at first he had made a miscalculation in his travels. The horrible truth sank in so quickly that he fell to his knees, screaming.
Ferremor was there just after. He put a hand on his friend's back. "She went in to save the children . . . she was trapped." Ferremor choked on the words.
"Not Alex!" David howled. "Not this! Fire? Oh, God. Oh, God!" David covered his face, trying to block out the image of Alex's mischievous smirk blistering and twisting in the heat. "No!" he screamed, pulling on his hair to force the image out.
"It was just nine months after you'd left."
David spun away from Ferremor, fumbling over his robes in his clumsy attempts to rise to his feet. "You! You couldn't let things be! I might have been here!" he screamed, blind with rage and grief. "We could have saved her! Why weren't you there?" he demanded fiercely. Ferremor made no effort to defend himself against David's bitter words and harsh condemnation. "Where were you when Alex and Nelan and the children burned alive? Where?" he accused savagely.
Ferremor sank to his knees on the ground where David had left him, tears running down his face. "I was at the ruins," he croaked, bowing his head in shame. "I shouldn't have left her! I should have been there!" he sobbed. "You're right, and I will never forgive myself!" Ferremor stared down at his long fingers, his eyes wide and horrified. "I bring pain to everyone I love! I must truly be a thing of evil!" he wailed. "Nelan, Alex, you, the children, and now Tessa." He buried his face in his hands and wept brokenly.
David fled again. Alex was gone? He couldn't believe it. He couldn't accept it. He couldn't bear thinking about how she had died, in so much pain! He was so furious at Ferremor that he couldn't breathe, but he still couldn't stand to witness his friend's tears. David ran to his quarters in the Shadow King's castle and collapsed, screaming, on the rug. He beat his fists against the floor and wailed in anger and sorrow until he was completely spent. When sleep claimed him, his dreams were haunted with wails of misery and the heat of deadly flame.