Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

“I know Gurdinn leaves his own wagons, he’ll run us to ground, sure as spit.”

“And if he does, we’ll make him deeply regret doing so. We have the priest. We have our treasure.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at me, though I hadn’t even known he was aware I was there. “And we have the scholar to unriddle them, yes? So. We return with all of it, or we do not return. That is all. You are expert tacticians. I suggest you craft tactics to make sure it happens.”

Mulldoos grumbled something to Hewspear, who nodded slowly. They talked, or argued-it was difficult to tell one from the other with them-with barely any space between them or their mounts as they nearly knocked helms together.

I moved up along the other side of Captain Killcoin. He didn’t turn my way or address me, content to simply ride into darkness as quickly as was safe to manage. Braylar seemed to sense my unease, or at least my shoddy horsemanship. “Do not worry, Arki. They have good eyes for the night. Better than ours, I believe. Riding along a beaten trail like this, we are fairly safe. Provided no one thrusts a torch in their faces. And we don’t have to gallop or jump any walls.”

“Will we need to? Gallop or jump, that is?”

Braylar turned in my direction, his eyes lost in the shadows of his helm, face covered by the mail drape. It was a visage that did nothing at all to calm the nerves. “Hard to say. If we do, I expect we will be light one archivist when we are done.” His humor was difficult to read most of the time, but more so with only a little moonlight flashing on his eyes to indicate there was a man in the helm at all.

I supressed a shiver as best I could and we rode in silence, but I couldn’t resist staring at him.

Braylar glanced at me and said, “Out with it. Your unspoken questions are more often annoying than the ones you insist on jabbering, as they hang there invisible, fraught with portent and nervous energy. Speak.”

I looked over my shoulder briefly, spotting Soffjian and Skeelana near the rear of the company, far from listening distance. “Are you feeling… well?”

“I am alive. Beyond that, wellness is a luxury.”

“What I mean to ask is-”

“I know precisely what it is you mean to ask. I suspected as much before you asked it. As to how I feel, I will tell you this-the memories have not begun invading as yet, but I sense their scouts. Tentatively exploring, moving hidden and malicious. If I had a way to trap and destroy them I would. But even Lloi could never manage that.”

I stole another quick glance behind us. “Perhaps a Memoridon could. They already know you will be bombarded, so maybe you could-”

Braylar’s breath came out diffused, broken by the mail mesh. “They know far more than they should already. I will give them no more opportunity than that.”

I framed the next question carefully, turning it over in my mind and asking it a few different ways silently before settling on the one I gave voice to. “Would you be so reluctant if your sister wasn’t involved?”

“No. I would be more so. Far better to have a known enemy than an unknown one.”

“But how are Memoridons enemies? I still don’t understand this relationship. They answer to your Tower Commander as well, don’t they?”

“To him and only to him, Arki. Their agendas are frequently not synonymous with the rank and file soldier. And when it comes to matters of memory magic-with Bloodsounder and my own peculiar affliction clearly falling within that purview-that is their jurisdiction. I have no wish to be their pet, or their experiment, or part of some obscene research. Skeelana has been in me once already. I would not invite her there again unless I have exhausted all other options. And what is more, unlike the Syldoon soldier, they had no choice in their tenure in the Empire. They obey the Commander only because they have to. Coerced fealty is not loyalty.” He turned, and it was as baleful a look as could be cloaked in so much metal. “You would do well to remember that.”

I nodded quickly and he said, “Very good. Now be silent. I will simply have to endure your unasked questions harassing me. It will be a long night and a long ride.” And then he nudged his horse further ahead, plagued by whatever unseen devils assaulted him.

Hours drifted by under the light of the moon and its crown, as we stopped only briefly to water and feed the horses and take a breather ourselves before climbing back in the saddle. We left the Forest of Deadmoss and put its walled enclosure far behind us, passing farmsteads and sleeping villages, but mostly open fields.

My body was stiff and sore, but aside from the small wound on my side that burned abominably, I was not in horrible shape. I wondered how well the other Syldoon were holding up. And more importantly, how long their old captive would be able to continue. I’m sure he was far more accustomed to perfumed pillows than midnight flights. Still, he seemed to sit the saddle much better than I did, his posture and bearing erect, his white hair lit like snow in the moonlight. You would have thought we were stealing a king.

Falling back slightly, I found a place in the line mostly to myself, not speaking with anyone, and doing my best to stay out of the way.

I’d never ridden in the middle of the night before, and while I wouldn’t have guessed I could fall asleep bouncing and jostling so much, I had to pinch my wrist to keep myself from sliding out of the saddle. But after a while even that failed, and for long stretches I felt myself dozing, starting awake every time my chin dropped toward my chest, and then almost immediately after shutting my eyes again.

After one such start, I heard a voice next to me. “So, you’ve pulled the trigger twice now. How do you feel?”

I nearly jumped out of the saddle. Even though she kept her voice low, I had been dozing deeply enough to miss Skeelana riding up alongside me.

“What? What did you-”

She smiled. “To be accurate, you’ve probably pulled it countless times now. The trigger, that is. But only a handful in battle, by your own admission. And only twice that ended someone’s life. So, sympathetically, I can’t help wondering-was it easier the second time? Or do you feel worse?”

I looked at her. Several pins in her hair glinted before winking out as some clouds draped the moon completely. “Well, perhaps next time we are stuck in battle, you might lend a hand. Find out for yourself.”

She shrugged. “Like I told you, I’m no war Memoridon. I wouldn’t even wear this stupid suroka, except it’s mandated. Far more likely to stab myself with it than anyone else.”

“Well, I’m a clumsy scribe, but pulling that trigger kept me alive, and might have done the same for someone else.”

“So you feel good about it then?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t say that. I feel awful, in fact.”

Skeelana considered that. “But better to be alive and feel horrible about what you did than the alternative, right?”

“Back in Alespell, you defended yourself when you had no choice. Maybe you didn’t draw blood with steel, but you defended yourself, and took a life. How do you feel?”

It looked like she had a small smile on her face. “Awful, in fact. I’d say that speaks well of us, really. We should feel awful. Killing another person, no matter the circumstance, well, it’s no walk on rose petals, is it? But what I’m asking is, now that you’ve done it twice, was it easier? The second time?”

I pulled a flask off my belt, uncorked the bottle, and drank some stale water before answering. Skeelana declined my offer and I slipped the stopper back in, thinking about the best way to put it, to capture some part of my feelings. “The man-the men, now-the men I killed or helped dispatch, they weren’t just alive. They had lives . Friends, families, dreams, fears, secrets. Things they hoped to do and never would have the chance now, things they wished they hadn’t done and lost the opportunity to atone for. I’m grateful I am not afflicted like Captain Killcoin. Thanks to Bloodsounder, he knows more about the men he killed then some of those in his own company, maybe even his personal retinue.