Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

Skeelana nodded. “It was violent enough-my insides rebelled worse than any time I can remember-but it passed almost immediately after. I was dizzy for a bit, when I spoke with you, but otherwise fine, and even that didn’t last all that long.”

“I should have stayed with you.” She glanced at me, one pierced eyebrow raised. Quickly, I added, “Outside, I mean. Last night. To be sure you were well. I shouldn’t have left you out there by yourself.”

“If you recall, I told you to.” She smiled. “And besides, while that fumbling gallantry of yours is endearing, I can fend for myself just fine. If you recall.”

I did recall, all too well. That Hornman blinded, swinging wildly after she stole his sight. While she might not have been able to cripple or kill like Soffjian, I had no doubt she could defend herself well enough, at least long enough to escape an assailant. Which of course there were none of in a dead and deserted plague village. “But if that spell hadn’t passed quickly, or had stolen your wits or laid you low? No one but me knew where you were.”

“Less fumbling, no less endearing.” She ducked a low-hanging branch and I did as well. “The other woman, the nomad in your party-Lloi, was it?”

I nodded.

“Was she ever overwhelmed? Or so sick she couldn’t recover?”

“I only saw her treat the captain one time, and she wasn’t then, but from what I heard she didn’t fare so well the first time. And I can’t speak to how long it took her to manage what she did. To not pass out or avoid choking on her vomit or whatever.”

“Gallant and charming.”

My cheeks flushed hot at the sarcasm, but she was still smiling and continued before I floundered over any more words. “But she wasn’t a trained Memoridon. While I’d never attempted anything quite like that, I know what I can do and can’t do, and what’s more, how to monitor and control myself while doing it. Still, thank you for the misplaced concern.”

We rode along in quiet, winding down a brambly trail into thicker foliage, the birch and poplars growing more crowded, the leaves rustling in the breeze above. “Are we in the Forest of Deadmoss now?”

She looked around, the ring in her nose glinting. “Looks mossy enough to me-I think so. I saw a low stone wall on the outer edge of the woods, near a meadow. I’m pretty sure that marked the beginning of the priestwood.”

Even though it was daylight, and there was no threat to be seen, who knew if Henlester had men patrolling the woods, or if Brunesmen were circling the area as well. Quiet seemed prudent. And still, my train of thought led me to a question I couldn’t put aside.

I tried for a whisper, but it still seemed obscenely loud in the forest. “Is Sunwrack near any part of the Godveil?”

That almost-but-not-quite-mocking grin. “Is anything? No one intentionally lives near it, do they?”

“But I imagine you’ve seen it?”

“Of course. It marks the eastern border of Urglovia.”

“Some say you-the Memoridons, I mean-that the original ones, they inherited their powers from the Deserter Gods. Do you think that’s true?”

Skeelana’s grin got bigger. “A bit presumptuous. But I have heard that rumor.”

I tried to phrase it as if I was only making idle conversation, not actively looking for any information. “Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

“I wasn’t there, Arki. It was a loooooong time ago. When those Gods left, they did a pretty good job of not leaving many clues behind. So no one can say with any certainty.”

“Maybe not. But do you think it’s possible? What your kind can do, it’s obviously…”

“Yes?” Again, the quizzical look. It was actually growing on me.

“Well, except for the Syldoon, the entire world would rather see you dead than exercising those powers. They’re obviously potent. And alarming. So when you’re first trained, do your masters tell you their theory about the origins?”

“They do indeed.”

I waited, and when she stopped there, toying with me no doubt, I asked, “Aaaaand? What did they tell you?”

“That we were trained as the high priests of the Deserters. Before they deserted of course.”

I resisted the urge to yank on the reins. “What? You just said you didn’t know. And that it was presumptuous.”

“I did. And I did.”

“But-”

“I didn’t say I believed it. But that is what we are taught, yes.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

“I didn’t say that either, now did I?” She started to laugh and then stifled it, looking ahead to Soffjian to see if she overheard. More quietly, she said, “I think skepticism is healthy. And that we can’t ever know. I’m more concerned with the here and now than what happened over a millennium ago, anyway.” She gave me a pointed look. “Why are you so curious?” She was still smiling. But not as large.

“It’s my nature. And my training. I ask questions. Look for answers.”

“I see. Even when they are impossible to know or find?”

My horse clomped along, leaves mulching underhoof as we started up a rise. “There are always answers. If you are stubborn enough to keep looking.”

She shrugged. “Or convince yourself of them. Why did you ask about the Godveil?”

I leaned forward slightly to compensate as the ground sloped a bit more. “They erected that behind them. I was just thinking, there must be answers to a great deal of questions on the other side.”

When I stopped there, she waited and then said, “Aaaaaaaaand?”

It was my turn to bite down on a laugh. “I was also thinking that if the Deserters had really gifted some of their powers and knowledge to the Memoridons, even ages ago-if that were true, than perhaps you possessed the key to parting the Veil. Really parting it, passing through.”

She nodded very slowly. “Well, given no one knows for sure where those lovely gifts came from-despite seeming awfully, zealously certain, and wanting desperately to believe they were handed down from on high, because wouldn’t that be a wonderful boost to self-esteem-then the odds of us discovering a means of overcoming something erected by the Gods themselves seems pretty thin to me. And no amount of wishing otherwise or hunting is going to-”

We heard a low whistle and stopped. Ahead of us, Soffjian had one arm raised, the back of her hand to us. The Syldoon had stopped not too much further in front of her as well, and they were climbing down off their horses.

Soffjian did as well, and Skeelana took that as our cue. As always, I was the last one to catch up. Skeelana and I walked our horses up to the rest of the company. Braylar lashed Scorn to a tree, and everyone knew that wherever else we might be going it was on foot, and they did the same.

Then the captain faced our small company and pointed to the top of the hill. “We’re nearing a small ridge. We walk until we get close to the top. Then we slither the rest of the way. The hunting lodge is in a cleared-out space on the other side. We aren’t the first ones here, but that’s no surprise. Foss reports our dear friend, Captain Gurdinn, has led a Brunesmen expedition here as well. So, we take up position near the top-” He glared at me and the Memoridons for emphasis-“Silent position, it should go without saying, but I am forced to, lest someone alert the entire valley to the fact that we’ve joined this little party as well-and then we will see what we see, yes?”

I heard “Aye, Captain” several times from those closest, and the rest nodded, and he looked directly at me and the Memoridons to be sure interpretation wasn’t an issue.

The Syldoon crouched down, their armor covered by tunics again, their shields obscured by leather covers, helmets blackened by soot, though not the mail drapes the captain and lieutenants had on theirs. Still, it was clear they had opted for stealth again as much as possible.