Jeff Salyards - Scourge of the Betrayer

“When the captain discovered what you could do, why didn’t he bring you back to the empire, or wherever it is Memoridon are trained? Wouldn’t you have been more, uh, useful to him if you had some tutelage or mentorship?”

Lloi looked up the line again to be sure none of Braylar’s retinue were in earshot, which would have been difficult, since I could barely hear her over the clomping of hooves. Satisfied, she said, “Got the real solid impression the Syldoon give the memory witches as wide a berth as they’re able. Seems to be most times, you attracted their attention, you attracted nothing of any kind you wanted. Things go sour right quick when the witches and the soldiers mix it up.

“That, and Captain Noose got a sister who’s one.”

That was exceptionally unexpected. “A Memoridon? His sister?”

“Yup. And from what I gather, the only blood they got betwixt them is poison bad.”

I was about to ask more when a Syldoon soldier rejoined the group and spoke briefly with Braylar. I expected that meant we were nearing our destination. We rode up a steep wooded hill, winding our way through bent and bowed trees that must have been ancient. Braylar told us all to dismount before we reached the top, and we walked our horses the rest of the way.

At the top of the hill, I saw the temple ruins laid out below us, nestled in the crook of a sludgy brown river. While the temple had probably been quite a sight a thousand years ago, it was now mostly a shell. The roof and whatever domes or tiles or spires it had once possessed were completely gone, dragged off to serve other buildings when the temple had been abandoned. There were sections of the wall still intact, though few enough, and arches here and there, some even freestanding, but much of that had been picked clean as well. I wondered why it had been abandoned, but the answer was clear when I looked at the meadows and river behind the ruins.

The Godveil.

The air shimmered slightly, like hot air rising off an arid plain that warps whatever appears beyond. The only difference was, this shimmering continued much higher into the sky, bending even the bottoms of the dense clouds, and it wasn’t isolated to one particular spot, but crossed the entire shallow valley floor, over the river, and up into the woods beyond, continuing until it disappeared behind the ridge. And once my eye had caught it, the senses picked up two other things as well-the tiniest noise, so remote it was barely audible, like the last note played by a harp, hanging in the air just before it disappeared entirely, only this note never quite got that far. It simply hung there, thrumming so low you would be hard pressed to notice it at all if you hadn’t already seen the warping air. There was also a whiff of a mildly unpleasant odor, a combination of singed hair and vinegar, so faint and unobtrusive, you might have thought you imagined it if the other signals weren’t there to tell you the Godveil was in the vicinity. I’d seen it once, when I was very young, but it had been from very far away, and for only a short time.

I’d run away from home-though I can’t recall why now. Some tiff with my mother, no doubt. Most children threaten as much, and never journey too far from the front door, but I promised myself I was going to run as far as I could, never to return. I even packed some food and clothes, and slipped off through the woods. I didn’t know where I was headed, only that I was going to keep going. And I might have. I put several miles behind me when suddenly the woods got quiet. There were no more bird calls. No more scurrying squirrels. Just empty, still woods. And then I saw it, through the trees… the Godveil. My mother had warned me it was out there, somewhere, and that it was the deadliest thing in the world that no living thing could abide. And looking around the deserted woods, I could see she was right. No one lived near the Godveil, or trafficked in the vicinity if they could help it. To do so was to invite death. So I ran back home as fast as my feet could carry me. My mother whipped me double hard when she learned where I’d gone, and made me swear I’d never do anything half so stupid again. And I hadn’t. Until accompanying the Syldoon.

It’s said the Godveil wraps around the entire world, stretching over mountains, deserts, and every other empty, desolate locale. I hoped never to travel widely enough to confirm or deny that claim, but there was no mistaking that however long or short it was, some part of the Godveil ran its ethereal course behind the ruins before us. There was a good reason no one lived close to the Veil, or built near it either-there were no active settlements, outposts, or communities anywhere along its entire length, if reports were to be believed.

The only structures remotely close were utterly deserted. All I could imagine was that this temple had predated the Veil.

Lloi made some strange fluttery sign over her chest and face and looked shaken. When she saw me staring at her she let out a deep breath. “Like I told you, when my people figured what I could do, they gave me a choice. Leave off some finger bits, or part the Veil. Weren’t much of a choice, really.” And then she shivered, which made me shiver as well, despite the warm, heavy air.

That was obviously an expression, “part the Veil,” and ironic at that. You could walk towards it, but no could walk through it. The Veil didn’t part for anyone. But trying, approaching it too closely, that meant the end, just as surely as walking off a cliff.

I glanced around. The Brunesmen looked uncomfortable being this close as well, and one mumbled a near-silent prayer. Another behind me spoke quietly, with a kind of awe, “Back in Threespire, they got lodges. Call them dream stations. Built right close to the Veil. Never been there, but I hear you pay some coin, you get tethered to the lodge, to a post anyways, so you can walk just close enough. Said the world opens behind your eyes when you do, you see things that never been seen before.”

Another Brunesman replied, “Same where I’m from. Call them something different though. Must be something to it, I reckon. You reckon?”

Mulldoos looked at the pair. “I reckon you two are just about the dumbest bastards in the wide world. Only dumber being some fools willing to pay for a tethering. Veil’s the same as any other natural thing that can kill you. Fire, lightning. Nothing more mystical than that. Only thing that opens up if you get real close is the back of your skull.” He looked up at the broiling clouds. “You don’t run around with your sword in the air when it’s thundering, you don’t go walking towards the Veil. Unless you figure being dead sounds mighty fine. Simple as that.”

Hewspear replied, “Is it? Fires run their course and eventually burn out, and lightning flashes once and is gone. But our grandfather’s grandfathers have seen the Godveil, and their grandfather’s grandfathers besides. A thousand years, maybe more, shifting, but never changing. Calling to any who would travel close, drawing them closer. A beautiful seductress who kills. You don’t find that strange?”

Mulldoos laughed. “I find superstitious old goats strange.”

After a pause, a Brunesman suggested, “It’s said you can see the Deserters, you get close enough. Moving like shadows on the other side. Catch a glimpse of them from time to time. Maybe that’s why they build the dream stations.”

Even now, long, long after those old gods abandoned humanity, they were still mentioned with a kind of reverence.

By most anyway. Voice wrought with scorn, Mulldoos said, “Called Deserters for a reason. They good and left us clean, back when your grandfathers’ grandfathers got grandfathers with grandfathers, ain’t that right, Hew? They abandoned our sorry asses. You think they’re sitting pretty on the other side, posing for a painting? Dumb horsecunts, the lot of you. Deserters ain’t never coming back, ain’t never going to be seen again. Maybe they died on the other side. I hope they did. If we deserved deserting, they deserve something worse. But either way, they’re gone forever and more, and there’s no sense talking about it. So quit your cunty yapping before I take your purses and throw you into the Veil myself.”