Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

I was shaken awake, and not gently. Opening my eyes, disoriented, I found myself asleep on the table, a puddle of drool by my mouth, a page stuck to my lip. The other pages and inkwell were still in front of me, the quill still in my hand, fingers stained, muscles cramping, everything between my temples pounding.

Braylar rapped on the table, doing my head no favors as I slowly lifted it up. “Pack your things. We go.”

“Go?” I asked, wiping off my mouth and looking out the window. It was the middle of the night, or at least not dawn yet. “Where? Why? What’s happened?”

“I will explain as we move. Pack your things. Now. We won’t be returning, so leave nothing behind.”

I stood up, reeling, feeling almost drunk. Eating might have helped. I took a drink of warm water out of my cup. “Not returning? I don’t-”

But the captain had gone into his chamber and either didn’t hear me or was in no mood to answer. It was only when he came back out that I noticed he was in full armor from head to toe, the splinted vambraces, mail byrnie, lamellar cuirass, weapons belts. He had his helm with the aventail in the crook of his arm, and of course Bloodsounder at his side.

I was folding up my writing case and stopped. “I discovered something!”

“I do hope it was a sense of urgency.”

“What? No. In the texts! I read throughout the night-”

“So I gathered.”

“And there were three more references to Sentries, to weapons like Bloodsounder.”

Braylar stopped by the door, turned and looked at me. “Presumably like Bloodsounder. We have no proof.”

“No,” I admitted. “But the Emperor didn’t have any proof that whatever rites or rituals he discovered in his texts about syphoning control of the Memoridons worked either, but they did. And now he does. Have proof, that is.”

He considered that briefly. “So then, out with it, quickly. What is it you think you’ve discovered?”

I started going through my notes, flipping over parchment and scanning, and he stopped me. “Quick. Ly. Summarize.”

Putting the pages down, I replied, “Well, remember I mentioned the guardians disappeared from the temples, taking the weapons with them.”

“I do. And I remember telling you they more likely died or got lost in a bog.”

“Well, there are two accounts in here of guardians who returned. After crossing the Godveil.”

I waited for that to sink in, elicit some kind of reaction. I might as well have been talking to his helm. “And this is proof of something how, exactly? Tales recorded by ale-addled priests or foolish boys. Nothing more.”

“Perhaps. Always possible. But in one account, there were a dozen witnesses, notarized in the record, who watched the guardian, Frustwin, pass through, return for a time, but also cross back over. Only when he did, he took one of the underpriests with him.”

Braylar did seem taken aback by that. If only slightly. “With him? How?”

“The sentry. The weapon. It was some kind of key, and it protected the guardian and the underpriest. They both passed through the Veil. Neither died.”

He twitch-sneered. “According to the tale, which was likely found between bestiaries full of goblins and a tome of prophecies that failed to come true.”

“According to the notarized tale that was sanctioned and included in formal temple records.”

“And when he allegedly returned the first time in front of all these witnesses, is there a narrative of what he claims to have seen on the other side?”

I hedged. “There was. Though it was confusing. The temple guardian was overcome by fervor or fever or-”

“Unadulterated madness. Or the person who jotted down this episode was. Anything else?”

“You did ask me to look for references like this, Captain. I am simply recording what you ordered me to. And while it isn’t conclusive of anything-”

“Anything. Else.”

I sighed. “Yes, actually. There was another priest named Vortniss who must have come across Anroviak’s writing, or Untwik’s. And while he lacked the zeal and obsession with the subject, was actively skeptical in fact-”

“A healthy perspective.”

“Vortniss was still gripped by what he discovered. And he continued hunting for any similar evidence of controlling memory witches. He made it sound like an academic exercise, or indulgence he allowed himself, but it was clear the more he compiled, the more invested he was. And while the memoir is incomplete, it sounds as if he was on the brink of creating something, building on what Untwik discovered, or maybe inspired by something else-there aren’t enough details. But he mentions “frames” several times. And-”

“Plural?” Braylar narrowed his eyes. “Frames? You are certain?”

“Yes. Well, as certain as I can be. I would like to go through it more closely, and I would really like to find the remainder of that memoir.”

“Now that is interesting.” Braylar pulled the door open. “But we have a road to ride. Gather your satchel and case. Lock everything down tight. Syldoon will transport the chests to the wagon. Meet me in the stables. We leave.”

And with that, he was gone. I continued packing up my things, shaking my head. Such a meager collection. Even journeyman craftsmen had more to carry on their backs than I did. It seemed whenever I began thinking I was going to settle down somewhere for a prolonged length of time, it was proven illusory faster each time. The idea of settling in Sunwrack as a complete outsider was daunting, and not an especially pleasant prospect, but I assumed that was going to be my life for the foreseeable future, at least until the captain and his crew were sent on campaign somewhere. I never imagined that would happen less than a tenday after arriving, and possibly permanently.

Now… leaving without changing clothes more than a few times, we were heading into a dark and uncertain future that surely didn’t bode well.

When it came to the Syldoon, I simply needed to stop forming expectations at all. No matter what, they were destined to be thwarted.

I arrived in the extensive stables, expecting to see Braylar and his small retinue, but instead found what must have been close to one hundred Syldoon in armor with their horses saddled, grooms running everywhere, and several wagons harnessed to teams of horses. Wherever we were going, it was a lot of us.

Vendurro hunched down as he stepped out of the covered portion of a wagon, hailed me, and then sat on the bench in front.

As I walked over, I noticed there were only a few lanterns lit in the very back of the stables, and immediately thought about the eyes that might be on us right now. If we weren’t doing anything illicit, we were at least being awfully secretive. Which seemed perfectly appropriate for the Jackal Tower.

And perfectly likely to get us all killed.

I climbed up and sat down next to Vendurro. He bit a boiled egg in half, offered me one with the shell still on it. Starving, I took it and started peeling. “What is going on here? The captain wasn’t especially forthcoming.”

“No,” he replied, spewing bits of yolk. “Forthcoming ain’t really Cap’s thing.”

“He only said we were leaving, and it sounded pretty final.”

“Expect it would.” Vendurro plopped the other half in his mouth.

“So it’s true? We’re leaving Sunwrack for good?”

“It ain’t false.” He managed not to spray any more egg at me.

I took a bite. Could do with some salt. Amazing that I could think about that when Jackal Tower could be crashing down around us at any moment. “So, what is happening? You are nearly as bad as the captain.”

Vendurro laughed, dusted his hands off on his knees. “Captains convened last night. That knowing look on your face tells me you knew that already.”