Holes in the Veil

by Beth Overmyer

  Quick’s stomach growled a few times, but he must have been feeling sorry about eating half of their supplies earlier, for he did not say another word about more food. Soon his gentle snores filled the night.

  Jinn knew she ought to keep watch, to make certain the strange eyes did not return or the fire go out. But she had been so long without enough sleep that soon her eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and she found herself drifting off.

  The dreams she dreamt were nonsense at first, mostly about a lonely castle by the sea and gulls swooping down into the water to feast on tiny fish. But then she dreamed of Quick, all by himself, calling for her. She could hear him, but no matter which way she turned, she was met by a wall of darkness. The darkness surrounded her and was fast moving in, until it was all she could see. Darkness poured out of her mouth and nose as she breathed, and downward she fell, Quick’s voice growing louder and louder as the void stamped her out.

  Jinn awoke, gasping for breath. She looked around, expecting to see only darkness, and was relieved to find a glimmer of light at her feet. The fire was down to embers, and the moon shone overhead. As Quick was fast asleep, Jinn shook herself and mended the fire on her own. A few logs and some more tinder later, it had repaired nicely, and Jinn lay back down, hoping to get more sleep before sunrise. But her mind was troubled, and sleep proved elusive. After about an hour of trying to rest, Jinn thought she felt a slight tremor in the ground. When she had lived in the cave with Quick, there had been what felt like small earthquakes. Mother always explained that there were feral dwarves mining below them, which had not comforted Jinn in the least. Surely no one was tunneling under them now?

  She shook her head and sat up, meaning to drink some water. Again the ground shook. “What the devil?”

  “Hmm?” Quick cried out in his sleep as one of the logs fell over in the fire, but soon he was snoring again, unaware of whatever was happening.

  Creeping out of their shelter, Jinn removed the hag’s dagger, which she had wrapped in leather and attached to the side of her pack. Moonlight glinted off the blade’s sharp edge as Jinn wandered a few steps into the night. The earth’s quaking had stopped. Jinn listened.

  Faintly she could make out the sounds of someone speaking. At first the words were indiscernible, but then she could make out: “Why so dark? Are we below ground?”

  “Quick, someone’s out there,” she whispered at her brother, who didn’t stir. “Quick. Give me a little help, please.” There was a great scraping noise, and the earth quaked again. Jinn raised the hag’s blade and crept toward where it sounded like the voices were coming from, making certain to remain out of view. The sound of scraping became more pronounced, and the voice grew louder.

  “Up, a little higher. We must be close. I can sense warmth.”

  Jinn’s gaze darted about, but she could discern nothing in the woods beyond the reach of the fire’s light. Since Quick wasn’t waking, she stepped out farther from the enclosure, but now the sounds were right behind her. She spun around, ready to bring the blade down on whoever might be standing there, but there was no one.

  “There, Master. We’re here.” Something red glowed on the ground a few short paces from the fire. The earth ceased to tremble, and the light died out.

  Shaking, Jinn lowered the hag’s dagger and approached the spot where she had seen the red light. There, just discernible by the fire’s glow, lay the strange dagger she had buried earlier. Jinn swore softly, and flipped the blade over with the one in her hand. “I must be losing my mind,” she muttered. Daggers didn’t make eyes appear in fires and then dig themselves out of holes. They just didn’t…or at least, shouldn’t. But then, people should not be able to see the future or lift impossibly heavy objects. A lot of things were that should not be, and this blade was one of them.

  Meaning to fling the dagger out into the woods as far as she could, Jinn reached down and picked it up by the handle. Nothing happened at first, so she took aim and was prepared to let it fly, but her hand wouldn’t let go. She tried prying her skin free, but it wouldn’t move. Trying not to panic, she attempted to release the blade and was prepared to use the hag’s knife if it came to that, but a deep voice in the back of her mind said, Wait!

  Jinn screamed, and the blade grew uncomfortably warm before falling out of her hand. Gingerly she took it by the tips of her fingers, and this time managed to toss it far into the woods, where it landed with a thud.

  “What happened?” Quick yelled, crashing his head through the roof of their shelter. “Jinn get hurt?”

  “No, Quick. I’m fine,” she lied. “I just – thought I saw a snake.”

  There was a pause as Quick lowered his head back through the roof – or rather, tried to. The rest of the twigs and leaves came down with him, and he looked rather wild. “Snake? Not more fire vipers?”

  “No, it was just a stick.” She picked up her fire-poking stick and came over to him with it. “See? Not a snake.”

  He took it from her and made a face. “What is on Jinn’s hand?”

  Jinn shrugged. “Probably some dirt or ash. Let’s try to get some more sleep, shall we?” She tried to sound calm, but her heart continued to race. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that the dagger she had tossed had spoken to her mind.

  “You telling truth?”

  “Always,” Jinn lied, peering at her hand. At first it looked like a rash, but upon squinting, Jinn could see that they were words written in red on her skin: Don’t run. Peace, friend.

  Quick began to sit up. “Something’s wrong.”

  “No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I just have a bit of a rash.” She hated to lie to her twin, but they had been through enough already that week, what with the strange eyes in the fire and almost being eaten by hags. “Come, let’s sleep.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jinn

  For the remainder of the night, Jinn slept as one dead. There were no dreams, no visions, no worries whatsoever to disturb her slumber. Not even Quick’s snores bothered her. She awoke feeling made new, and with peace in her mind and praise on her lips, Jinn bowed toward the north and said as long a prayer as she could, before her brother interrupted her.

  “Hungry,” was his first word to greet her that morning.

  Jinn could not bring herself to snap at him or even feel irked. Instead, she rose from her incumbent position, wiped the soil from her knees, and went straight for her pack, which she had used as a pillow during the night. “Good morning, Quick.”

  The look he gave her was puzzled. “Morning?”

  Of all things, Jinn found herself wanting to sing. She had not slept so deeply since…well, since she could remember. Not that it was saying much: with visions coming and going ever since she had been Jolted at the tender age of five, Jinn had never rested well. “It is a good morning. Thank you.” She reached into her pack and produced enough rations to get them through the first portion of their journey that morning.

  “You in good mood. Why?”

  Jinn laughed. “I have been a bit irascible lately, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

  Quick started counting on his fingers, before holding up five. “This many weeks. Since before we left the caves. You are scared.”

  Yes, that was a fair assessment. They were new travelers to the world, untested and naïve. That had not improved much since they had set out. “Here you are. Don’t eat too fast. You’ll feel fuller if you savor it.” She had handed him some dried meat, cheese, and an apple, and produced half that amount for herself.

  It did not take long for Quick to finish and ask for seconds, which he was cheerfully denied. He grumbled and satisfied himself with half draining one of the water bladders. “Quick thinks he likes you grumpy better.” He made a face. “Why in a good mood?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, taking back the water bladder. The mark from the night previous was still clear and pink
on her right hand: Don’t run. Peace, friend. A chill went down her spine, and some of the glee went out of her.

  Quick did not seem to notice her sudden change in mood. He was too busy licking the last of breakfast from his hands. “You look ahead?”

  Jinn’s stomach clenched. If the mere thought of using foresight made her queasy, what would actually taking a careful look into the future do? It was necessary…or was it? She perked up at once when she remembered the rapids from yesterday. “There’s a stream nearby, I’m sure of it.”

  “Rapids dangerous.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, of course they are. But what if we found a spot downstream of it all? You know, calmer waters?” Bending over, Jinn began scattering the firewood and kindling that had made up their blaze during the night and was still smoldering. When that would not entirely put out their fire, Jinn took a large stick and buried the remainder until it smoked no longer.

  “Bladders need filling?” Quick scratched his great head.

  “Yes, and….” Jinn cringed. She knew Quick was not going to like this part. “Quick, you know how difficult it is, trying to look ahead?”

  He responded with a shrug and shouldered his pack.

  Jinn took that as encouragement to continue, so she hoisted her own pack onto her shoulders and led the way away from their shelter. “What if there was a way to know everything? Not the future, I mean, but everything as it is right now.” She pulled ahead of him. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “Jinn,” Quick whined. “You want to make a seeing pool? Bad idea. Very, very bad idea.”

  “No,” she assured him. “That would be very dangerous, indeed. This would be much less dangerous.” Jinn chanced a look back over her shoulder and was amused to find her brother looking up at a water bird flying overhead.

  “Large birds are a bad omen.”

  She allowed him that, acknowledging the point with a sigh. “Quick, you do trust me, don’t you? I would never do anything to put you in danger.”

  He looked down at her with his innocent eyes, and nodded, albeit reluctantly. “What is Jinn thinking?”

  If she told him everything, he would never be for the idea, so she decided to skate around the edges of it. “We’re going to seek someone who knows what we need to know.” Jinn picked her way around some large roots.

  “What we need to know?”

  What didn’t they need to know? “Well, this person will be able to tell us where we can replenish our supplies. Then they’ll know where we can find the Summoner. No more guesswork, Quick. Real, solid, unchangeable information.”

  They trudged southeast mostly in silence for the next half hour, muttering encouragement to each other every now and again when the way became difficult. The sun sat behind clouds, and what light had managed to filter through that and the tree cover was dingy. Thick roots rose up before them in knots, and Jinn found herself wondering how the trees had not managed to choke each other out. The tree trunks themselves were four times as thick as Quick, and Jinn could not begin to wonder at the height. Briars made the path between trees difficult going. More than twice, Quick had to pluck Jinn out of a mess and carry her until they were clear of it.

  At the end of the first hour, they paused to catch their breath and drink some water. Jinn took a few gulps and then passed the bladder back to Quick, who might have emptied it had she not snatched it back in time.

  “How much farther?” Quick asked, wiping sweat from his brow. “Quick is hungry.”

  “We’ll catch fish there,” Jinn promised. “It shouldn’t be more than two hours before we reach a good spot.”

  Quick eyed her with suspicion. “You look ahead or Quick does. No more guessing.”

  How could she argue with that, after having forbidden him from looking ahead himself? It was unfair. “All right,” she said, feeling substantially less cheerful than she had upon waking. Jinn closed her eyes and focused on the next ten minutes, adjusted their path a little and looked ahead a bit more, and was surprised to find themselves arriving at a lagoon not half an hour hence. “If you can endure just twenty-five minutes more, we should reach the spot by then.”

  Far from looking relieved, Quick frowned. But he nodded and shouldered his pack once more. “You certain this isn’t dangerous?”

  Jinn nodded. “Of course.”

  Quick did not look reassured. “Quick knows you read books. Quick does not. Mother thinks Quick stupid.” He sighed and helped Jinn overcome a sticky web of spiders. “We look for some great creature, yes?”

  She did not answer at first, but she knew her silence would spook him, so she tried to think of something to say to soothe his worries. “It’s not some great creature. If my books are correct, and I am certain that they are, these wise people will be no bigger than me.” Jinn stole a sideways look at Quick. “Definitely not as big as you.”

  This caused Quick to sigh. “No big feat.” He caught Jinn grinning, and grinned as well. “But what might they be?” The question hung in the air between them for a moment, before Quick was again distracted by the birds flying overhead. One relieved itself on his head, and he swore up a storm before looking down at Jinn, who laughed even more heartily. “Not funny.”

  “You never swear, Quick. Of course it’s funny. Besides, you can wash it off once we reach the water.” Her stomach clenched at the thought of what she must do to ensure the creatures would come. Perhaps she should have peered further ahead than she had….

  The remainder of their walk was uneventful. Quick asked no questions, and Jinn did not offer any answers. Soon the land grew marshy, only to be converted into solid stone, which gave way to sand just as it met the banks of crystal-clear water.

  Heart racing, Jinn set down her pack, and Quick did likewise. “Could you help me find the rope? I can’t remember where I packed it.”

  Quick gave her an odd look but began rummaging as well. “Jinn,” he said after a moment.

  She looked over and nearly threw up when she saw the iron dagger in his hands. “Oh, I must’ve packed that again by accident. Put it down, Quick.”

  “All right, all right. Sister gets drawers in a twist.” He set the strange knife down on the bank and kicked it for good measure. It didn’t move.

  How had it found its way back to her pack? She had thrown it as hard as she could into the woods the night previous. Jinn shuddered, but now she had an idea what she might do with it. She went back to searching her pack for the rope.

  “Here it is,” said Quick, pulling a coil from his own pack and then handing it to Jinn. “What is it for?”

  Jinn forced herself to remain calm. “Help me tie one end around my waist, will you? You’ve always been good at tying strong knots.” She slipped the rope around her waist, tied it once around, and then held the ends out for Quick, who reluctantly tied an expert knot.

  “Jinn, what is this for?” His face darkened. “You go in, right? We cannot swim.”

  “It’s just a precaution,” she assured him. “I don’t plan on going in over my head, but should I accidentally go too far, you’ll have something to pull me up by, yes?”

  He nodded, though Jinn knew he was far from reassured. “If you say so.”

  “Good. Now, be a dear and look away when I tell you.” After a moment’s hesitation, Jinn pulled her tunic sleeve over her right hand and scooped up the iron blade, hoping it would be enough to protect her from any magic. Then she handed the far end of the rope to Quick and began to wade into the water.

  “Why does Quick need to look away?”

  She wished he wouldn’t talk so loudly; from what she remembered, merrows startled easily and were repelled by too much noise. Then again, that might not be true. Creatures of the Shallows, Volume II had contradicted some of the information written in the first volume.

  Quick repeated himself. “Jinn?”

  Jinn ga
ve the knot an experimental tug. It did not budge – good. “You’ll see. Or, rather, you won’t.” She grimaced.

  “Look ahead, Jinn.”

  Her good mood evaporating entirely, Jinn threw up her arms. “All right, I’ll look ahead.” It should be no problem, she reasoned with herself. She used her foresight many times every day, so what was she afraid of now? Maybe that this plan will end badly. Jaw set in concentration, Jinn closed her eyes and then jumped. Never before had she come across so many separate strands of potential realities at the beginning of a look. The threads were all tangled in one great ball, the lines of what-might-be blurred. She tried latching on to one, a path that led to the water stirring beneath her hands, but that path at once diverged into ten other paths, which in turn diverged into twenty more. Jinn knew she could not continue looking, as she might drive herself to madness. As it was, her thoughts had already become a tangled mess, and she felt her knees buckle as she released each strand and brought her consciousness back to the moment, grounding herself to the sound of Quick’s voice.

  When she opened her eyes, Quick had a hand on her shoulder, his expression dark. “Bad things?” he asked.

  She suppressed a shudder. “Just a bit confusing.”

  “Holes? Darkness?”

  Jinn started to nod, but then shook her head decidedly. “No, I didn’t see any holes, and there definitely wasn’t any darkness.” Then why was she shaking? Quick asked as much, and she replied with, “I shouldn’t have used the gift on an empty stomach.”

  That answer seemed to satisfy her brother, and he asked her no more questions. “Quick hold rope. You wade in now – before it gets dark again.”

  She nodded and waded into the clear blue waters, her hand still curled around the magical dagger. The water was as cold as mountain runoff, and Jinn shivered as it came up to her thighs. Surely this would be far enough? “Look away, Quick,” she warned. Once Jinn was certain he had turned away, she raised the knife and pricked her finger on its fine point. Warmth blossomed at the tip of her finger, which began to throb in time to her heartbeat. Then, shivering still, she dipped the wound into the water, hoping her sacrifice would be enough.