Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Braylar’s teeth barely parted as he spoke, a throaty rasp. “You healed me, sister, or played a role. For that, I have an unfortunate debt. But that won’t stop me from striking you down the second it is repaid.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Who would hold a man to a vow he made as an enraged child, ancestors as witnesses or no? But it isn’t solely father. You had a chance to save our people, Bray, and you failed. You chose your new murderous brethren over true kin.”

“And you overstate and overheat things, as you’ve always done. I followed my Tower Commander’s orders. Honored my vows. Nothing more. There was no opportunity to save anyone. Our people, who, I remind you, I hadn’t seen in fifteen years, and were strangers to me-they doomed themselves.”

“Your Tower Commander sought your counsel. And you sought mine before giving it. Exactly as you did when preparing your plan of vengeance so very many, many years ago. Only this time, you chose to ignore it.”

“I told my Commander what he needed to know, Soff. All for the Empire. You remember so much with perfect clarity. Save that. We are Empire now. You, me. Everyone in this room. There is no going back.”

Soffjian leaned forward, looking every bit as predatory as her brother normally did. “You rejected your homeland, your ancestors, your people. Tell yourself whatever serves as a salve but do not pretend you did what you could for them. You could have persuaded the Tower Commander to a different course of action.”

“I did what I could. This is ancient history, and has nothing to do with the now.”

Soffjian gripped the haft of her ranseur in both hands, knuckles growing white. “You asked me why I helped you.”

“Which you failed to clarify. Utterly.”

“I swore an oath to my captors as well. To the same Commander. And part of that vow was to keep you alive at all costs.”

He gave a half-smile, or the twitchy resemblance to one. “Commendable. See how rewarding maintaining your vows can be?”

Soffjian moved away from the bed. “But know this, brother. I, too, have another vow. Grounded in the fervor for Tower and Empire you conveniently espouse. And if a time comes when my pledge to keep you alive is superseded, and I am no longer restrained, you can be sure I will marshal my hate for you into action. I will not hesitate in the slightest to do so. I will ruin you. And that will be truly rewarding,”

The muscles in Braylar’s arms were corded from keeping him upright, and he trembled ever so slightly with the strain. “I stand warned. Well, recline warned, really. But many thanks, just the same.”

Soffjian marched out of the room, leaving a daunting silence in her wake. I had a hundred questions, none of which I could ask. Hewspear and Mulldoos seemed to be steadying themselves for the verbal lashing they expected.

For his part, the captain settled back against the chipped headboard, breathing fast, face flushed, fingers digging into the mattress as if he hoped to claw the straw out, his eyes still on the door.

It felt as if we were frozen in a frieze, time passed so slowly. I expected someone to clear his throat or announce something, but the silence seemed to have been almost spell-woven, it was so resolute and powerful.

Finally, Braylar said, to everyone and no one, “You have doomed me. You know this, yes?”

Hewspear looked at both of us before saying, “Captain, we were simply out of options. You had sunk too deep. That was doom, doom we couldn’t afford. So-”

“Do you suspect my sister will simply forget this happened? What she discovered? She is a Memoridon. Bloodsounder. Memory magic. Memoridon. And one who seethes to see me undone. But this is larger than me. If Skeelana has divined our secondary purpose in this region, and reports it to my sweet sister, that, too will be cut short. Everything we’ve accomplished here, and hope to, undone.” He released the mattress, flexed his fingers.

“Got to say, Cap,” Mulldoos replied, “Borderline ungrateful, really. We disobeyed you, aye, but Skeelana saved your-”

“Larger. It is larger. Out. The lot of you. And send someone up with some ale. Any ale will do. Just so long as the man who brings it isn’t one of you. Or I will be in need of my sister’s help again. And that I simply can’t stomach.”

Though his words lacked the usual volume and venom, there was no mistaking the absolute truth in them.

Everyone filed out without another word. I was the last, and stopped at the door, turned around to ask whether he wanted it closed or not. Braylar was staring at Bloodsounder, the chains spread on the bed next to him, one of the heads of the Deserter Gods tipped so it appeared to be staring back at him. Or would have been, if it hadn’t had spikes extending in place of eyes.

I closed the door quickly, shivering, as if I had just seen an apparition. Though it was hard to say whether the man or the weapon seemed more haunted, saved or no.

I crept down the stairs as quietly as possible. The ground floor was dark except for a few tapers here or there still barely glowing, and most of the men had claimed rooms from the looks of it, or left to bunk down in one of the nearby houses, but there were still some forms on the common room floor. Hewspear and Mulldoos were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they must have left already. Which was all for the best. Bumping into Mulldoos in the dark was only marginally better than being crept up on by Soffjian.

The stairs were worn smooth and indented where traffic over the years had been heaviest, but even stepping elsewhere, the boards creaked and groaned as if they were designed to wake everyone sleeping within one hundred feet. Still, I managed to get to the bottom without disturbing anyone, but I wasn’t ready to go to sleep. I navigated through the room without too much trouble, though I did nearly trip over someone’s foot before finally making it out the door.

Outside, the night air was cold, and I clutched the writing case tight, hunched my shoulders, shivered, and started walking, unsure what my plan was. There were some blankets in the wagon in the barn and I briefly considered heading there, if not for the night, at least until I cleared my head. But my last visit there hadn’t gone all that well, so I kept going.

Even with the moon and its ring flaring brightly in the mostly cloudless sky, and the stars out in force, the village and the world around was as close to complete darkness as you could imagine. The fact that it was utterly deserted except for our small troop made it all the stranger. Lost in the Green Sea, there was a sense of desolation, hopelessness I never imagined I could repeat in any remotely populated area. But here, with all of the trappings of civilization but none of the population, it was somehow even lonelier.

I was feeling forlorn and frankly sorry for myself when I thought I saw a silhouetted figure standing in a small lane between two houses. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, but there was no mistaking it-I wasn’t alone. There was a figure there, still as a scarecrow, where no scarecrow could possibly be. My heart started beating like a rabbit’s, and I cursed myself for leaving Lloi’s sword in the wagon, even if I was just as likely to hurt myself with it as anyone else. An assailant might not know that.

The voice almost made me unleash my bladder. “You were right. About the vomit. And I’m glad I didn’t have any wine. I think. Though that might have dulled the sensations a little, it wouldn’t have improved the taste at all.”

I breathed easier and started to walk forward, but then thought better of it. Perhaps Skeelana wanted to be alone. “How are you? I mean, I know you’re not well. Based on seeing someone do what you did before. What they did before. Not you. Since you hadn’t. Done it before, that is.” Mulldoos was right-I was a charmer. “How are you?”