Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

“But even without being privy to all those awful personal details of the men killed, it’s still impossible not to think of everything you ended. All with a simple blow, or worse, the squeeze of a long steel trigger. So much obliterated by such a simple act.”

“And yet they donned the armor. They picked up the weapons. They knew they were taking the risks, these men. It’s not as if you senselessly murdered someone in the street.”

“No,” I replied. “That’s so. And while knowing that should make it easier to deal with, to bundle any guilt in a box and bury it somewhere, the truth is it doesn’t. You asked me how I feel, Skeelana? I feel worse. Happy?”

Her smile turned slightly sad, and then disappeared altogether as the moon was cloaked again. “No. I’d hoped to hear it was easier and less terrible, truly.”

“Why? You’ll stay out of the fray, won’t you? You said as much.”

“I will try, Arki. I will certainly try. I did witness it, all of it, from the trees. And when I saw you shoot that soldier, shoot him dead, I imagined it was me, and imagined how I’d feel. I’m sorry to say I guessed right.”

We rode in silence for a while, and then Skeelana asked, “Speaking of Bloodsounder, how is your captain faring? As you said, unlike anyone else here, he has more than his own ghosts or demons to contend with, doesn’t he?”

“That he does.” I nodded slowly, remembering what Braylar had said about the Memoridons, and considered what I could or should share with her. For better or worse, I was aligned with Captain Killcoin and his men. He clearly didn’t trust these women, his sister least of all, but it obviously extended to any in their order. And yet, Skeelana already knew his secret, and having already drawn out the poisonous memories once, knew it better than anyone else, really. There was little point in dissembling now, or even withholding information. And yet… “The captain doesn’t confide in me a great deal. Much at all, truly. So you would need to speak to him to better gauge his condition. And I wouldn’t suggest it. He is… prickly.”

“Truly? I hadn’t noticed.” She chuckled to herself, and as usual, I felt myself drawn to her, against my better judgment and admonishment from the captain.

There was some silence after that, and I yawned, and she did immediately after. I looked up the line at the soldiers half asleep on their horses, and back, seeing the next rider several yards behind, bobbing in the saddle. Lowering my voice, I said, “When you were… inside the captain, scouring out those foreign memories, you had orders to stop there.”

“Yes. That is true.”

“But was that even possible? Surely you must have encountered his memories.”

She hesitated before replying, “Not intentionally. But I did have to sift around inside your captain to discover those memories infecting him. And it wasn’t a pleasure barge down a languid river, that’s for sure.”

“So… then-”

“Are you asking me what I saw, or felt, that I shouldn’t have?” “I suppose I am.”

She rolled her shoulders and stretched. “Never fear. I obeyed Mulldoos-I didn’t want to spend any longer in the man than I had to, and I had a job to do. I saw snippets here, quick flashes there, nothing substantial, more impressions really. I worked fast. I will say this. While he might not consider you his closest companion, and barks at you frequently, he does bear a certain fondness for you. I think it even troubles him that he does, but there it is.”

“But sometimes you enter someone like that, hunting for the truth of something, right? Intent on unveiling what someone knows or recalls?”

“Sadly, interrogation like that is sometimes necessary. Though it’s not always even what a person actively recalls. Some memories get locked away, buried, and those can be the greatest finds of all. But yes, sometimes we have to explore anything and everything. Why?”

I kept my gaze straight ahead. There was something frightening about the prospect of a Memoridon slipping inside you, about such a power, about being so vulnerable to it. But something else, as well? A thrill perhaps? The idea of such a connection, such intimacy, was unnerving to be sure, but also exciting. With Skeelana at least. The thought of Soffjian invading was beyond terrifying.

“Well,” I began slowly, “do memories ever break apart or get lost forever? Painful ones? Early ones?”

“Yes, memories can erode. Or rot. Like food left too long in the undercroft. Some memories are definitely more impermanent or perishable than others. Smart Memoridons have cast theories about for ages, but no one truly knows why. Not really.” She looked closely at me. “Why do you ask?”

Before I could answer, the riders ahead of us slowed and then reined in completely, so we did as well. I squinted into the dark and watched another single rider slowly materialize far ahead of our company, coming down the road toward us. He stopped as he reached Braylar. They spoke for a few moments and then Mulldoos rode down the line, calling out, “Almost to the wagons, you whoresons. Then you’ll get out of the saddle for a couple of hours. Quicker we get there, quicker you get some relief.”

I sighed. A few miles weren’t a huge ordeal after riding most of the night, but the wagons weren’t over the very next hill either. I turned to say as much to Skeelana but she was gone.

When we rejoined our wagons, it was everything I could do not to collapse on the spot. But the horses needed to be taken care of. I understood now why all my Anjurian patrons had employed grooms and stable hands. While I was grudgingly coming to appreciate the bond a man and a horse could have, and the opportunities to deepen in it the quiet moments of unsaddling the beast, brushing it, caring for it, I wanted nothing more than to let it ride off into the fields and disappear forever if it meant I could finally rest.

But I forced myself not to rush, to do it all properly, no matter how tired, or how much I felt like I might be sacrificing crucial minutes of my own sleep. I’d heard the Syldoon talk about the importance of horse care enough to realize that if I skimped, even a little, I increased the chances of my mount coming up lame or sick, and therefore my own chances to lose my mount and to be left behind.

When I was finally finished, I didn’t ask Braylar if I could use the interior of the wagon for sleep-that might have played in the Green Sea, when it had just been the two of us and very occasionally Lloi, but no one was sleeping in there now, and I knew it would appear presumptuous, weak, or both to ask for special accommodations. The Syldoon who had been with the wagons took watch. I unrolled my bedroll, set my crossbow next to me on the grass, with the quiver in easy reach, and pulled a blanket up to my chin, curling my body in a ball to ward off the chill.

Even though I was cold, sore, exhausted, hungry, and uncomfortable on the unforgiving ground, I still fell into inky slumber before I had a chance to tally a single one of those complaints.

I was shaken awake and it felt like I’d only just closed my eyes, despite the sun having risen for quite some time, judging by its height. Vendurro looked down at me, big toothy smile on his face. “Climb the ladder and empty the bladder, Arki! Time to move.”

Sitting up, I wished I had another half day to sleep. Everywhere around me, men were moving, armored and saddling up. I would have been more amazed I’d been able to sleep through all the activity at all if I hadn’t spent most of the night riding away from an enemy who might catch up to us at any time. The Syldoon always seemed to have one enemy or another chasing us.

Vendurro handed me a flask. “Cap says you’re to ride with him, you lucky bastard. Got your horses tethered to that wagon already.”