Holes in the Veil

by Beth Overmyer

  Her face was livid. “You made me lose it.” The dress she wore was torn in places where the bird must have snatched at her, and her hair was a tangled mess. “You blasted fool. We could have ended it.”

  “You could have died,” he pointed out.

  She snorted. “Rubbish.”

  He felt such relief that she was all right that he could not find his temper within himself. Instead, he let out a laugh, which had been the wrong noise to make. She came at him, sword in hand. “Are you going to stab me for that?” he asked, amused.

  It was Slaíne’s turn to roll her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “’Course not.” She dropped the sword at his feet, and Aidan Dismissed it before she could change her mind. “I had it.” The girl gestured wildly, flapping her arms and stomping her feet. “Its wings were inches from my face, and I reached out, but you—” Her face darkened. “You distracted me, blast you.” Exhausted apparently, the girl sank to the ground and put out her hand. “I need water.”

  Aidan Summoned a bladder and handed it to her, watching as she downed several gulps in one great pull. “If you had flown beyond the limits the curse puts between us, you might have had a fit and fallen out of the air.” He gave her a pointed look. “Better the creature got away than me finding your corpse on the ground.”

  “Better not having no curse on me head.” Slaíne thrust the bladder back at him. “That creature followed us from Grensworth. He’s what scared that man to his death. There are no coincidences.” Her shoulders heaved. “This is all connected.”

  There was no arguing with that. Aidan held the same feelings about the matter, but what was to be done other than wait for another chance to kill or capture the creature? “We should make camp soon. But might I suggest we travel a little while more today?”

  Slaíne hesitated but then nodded, her eyes on the heavens. “You feel it out there?”

  Indeed, he felt the strange Pull not that far off. Since it had taken the form of a bird, the creature could watch their progress without worrying about being easily caught or seen. But if they kept their voices lowered, they could discuss their plans without it hearing them. “Let’s see if we can lose it.” He Dismissed the water bladder, and then he and Slaíne headed northwest.

  They traveled in silence until nearing sunset, looking to the heavens from time to time, but no bird seemed to be following them from above. The Pull disappeared entirely by the time they stopped to make camp, and did not reappear while they laid out the animal skins and partook of their evening meal.

  When the light failed them and they had lain down for the night, Aidan rolled onto his back and looked at the stars. It was a clear, cold night, and several constellations popped out at him. He thought of the maps and what Treevain had said in the Beyond.

  “Follow the Pull of magical blood, seek the starberry circle ’neath the shadow of the Ludland. There, ’neath the crown, find the dark place.” He was following the Pull, but why was the word ‘Ludland’ so familiar?

  Slaíne was lying several feet away. His query could wait ’til morning, perhaps, but he wanted to know now.

  He called out to her. “Slaíne, I have a question.”

  At once the girl sat up, her eyes wide in the night. “Mr. Aidan, you about near made my heart stop.” Indeed, she was clutching her chest, which rose and fell quickly. Once the shock seemed to have worn off, she asked, “Is the creature back again?”

  Aidan shook his head. “The creature is a ways off and hasn’t come any nearer since we’ve settled.”

  “Then why’d you bother me?” She lay back down, but rolled over on her side to face him. “What do you want?”

  “Have you heard of the Ludland?”

  Slaíne was silent at first. Aidan was afraid she was falling back asleep or had no intention of answering when she said, “It’s a manmade mountain. Well, I should say wizard-made. The elves mentioned it several times throughout the years, usually when they wanted ter scare me into obeying them.”

  Aidan frowned. This was not promising. “What about it frightened you?”

  She laughed darkly. “’Twas said to be haunted by the ghost of a madman. Well, that and it was cursed.”

  “Wonderful,” Aidan groaned. “What was the curse?”

  It was Slaíne’s turn to show dismay. “That’s where we’re headed, innit?” When he did not respond, she swore, jumped to her feet, and took to pacing. “Ludland comes from a northern tongue and it means ‘movin’ fire’. Some myths say the place moves every morning at sunrise, so no poor fool stumbles on it by accident.” She stomped her foot. “That’s why we ain’t been traveling the same direction e’ry day, innit?” She groaned.

  “In the Beyond,” Aidan began carefully, “Treevain said that I should follow the Pull of magical blood, that it will lead me to the Ludland. If I am following the correct Pull, it must be moving. I’d thought I was imagining it.”

  Slaíne scoffed but stopped pacing and threw herself back down onto her makeshift bed. “Treevain again. An’ we trust her now all o’ a sudden?” She spat onto the ground. “Brilliant.”

  In the dark of the night, Aidan could only just make out the narrow slits that were her eyes. He shuddered. “I don’t care for it any more than you do, but the truth is that I had need of outside counsel.”

  “Coulda asked me,” she said.

  Aidan raised his hands in truce. “What has passed has passed. Let’s dwell instead on what is to be. Are we still seeking the Questing Goblet?”

  “’Course.”

  It was difficult to tell if she was speaking her mind on the matter or not, so he prodded. “The last time I spoke of it, you seemed uncertain if we should seek it or not.” He was prepared to wait for her to mull the issue over, but the girl answered at once:

  “If it’s what takes down Meraude, I’m all for it. ’Sides, I reckon we don’t want her findin’ it first.”

  With that settled, Aidan lay back down, turning as well to face her. Still sensing the creature out there, he Summoned the silver sword and laid it between them. “I think one of us should keep watch.” Why the creature would choose the night to strike above any other time was beyond Aidan, but he trusted Slaíne – as much as he dared to – with the weapon. He had seen her with the sword, and it was obvious that it was no stranger to her.

  “You want me ter take first watch?” Slaíne laughed. “What sort of gentleman do that make ya?”

  “I never said I was a gentleman.”

  Her laughter stopped. For a moment she was still, but then her Pull moved nearer. In one swift movement, she possessed the sword, and Aidan mused that he was not afraid, not as she swung it at him, bringing the blade half an inch from his face in one long slashing movement. She swore in surprise. “You trust me, then?”

  Aidan swatted the blunt edge of the blade away with his hand as if he were ridding himself of a yellow fly or some similar nuisance. “If you don’t want first watch, then say so. No need to launch one of your attacks on me.”

  “If I’d been attacking ya, sir, you would now be dead.” She lowered the blade and walked away. “What time should I wake ya?”

  “I don’t much care.” He shrugged. “Whenever you’re too tired to carry on.” It was perhaps a dangerous move, trusting her so. But he needed to trust someone, and this was as good a test as any. Slaíne had never made a move against him at either of the inns, or when they’d slept tangled in each other’s arms to keep warm in the wild. The sword added a new element, however, an unknown.

  For someone who had been sleeping just ten minutes prior, Slaíne seemed to have a lot of energy. She paced to and fro, swinging the sword, the wind cracking around it every time she pulled off a quick-enough swing. “You rest, sir. No harm’ll come ter us.”

  He fought off a grin and then a grimace, before turning his back to her and allowing himself to sleep. “Good night, Sla
íne.”

  * * *

  In the hours following, Aidan slept lightly. Every little sound in the wilderness roused him, and made him wonder if they were under attack. The night grew dark as the moon disappeared behind clouds, and he could scarce make out his hand in front of his face, but he sensed Slaíne’s Pull nearby every time he woke, and that gave him some measure of comfort. At last, when several hours had passed and it was fast approaching sunrise, Aidan fell into a deep sleep. He dreamt of cackling elves, of hags and wizards, and creatures with strange Pulls moving about in the dark.

  Aidan was torn out of a particularly upsetting dream about a sentient wreath of fire when Slaíne cried out. He sat upright, and was alarmed to find that the creature that had been following them had returned, and its Pull was accompanied by another.

  Metal clashed on metal, and Aidan rolled out of the way as the silver sword went sliding toward him. Not waiting to see what had transpired, Aidan snatched the sword from where it had landed and scrambled to his feet. He spun around and saw the creature, whose shape he could make out in the dimness of the early morning. Slaíne had soared out of its reach.

  The man or creature was standing below Slaíne. In his hand was a bronze blade, which he swung out in a great arc, taking part of the hem of her dress. Aidan charged at him, hoping the soft metal of his own blade could take on the force of something so sturdy. The man turned and extended his blade, effectively stopping Aidan’s long sword with his own broad one, forcing Aidan to retreat. If he hadn’t possessed the power of Summoning and Calling, the blade might have dropped.

  The man came at Aidan again, slashing.

  Aidan blocked the blow and tried to remember his training from when he was nine. That had been twenty-some years ago, and he knew he was too out of practice to fight this brute off. He would have to use his gifts. Aidan retreated well away from his assailant’s reach, Dismissed the silver sword, and Summoned it, hoping to bring it back from Nothingness and into the man’s chest.

  The other seemed to know what Aidan was doing, for he stepped out of the way at just the right moment, and the silver sword clanged harmlessly onto the ground. The assailant went to retrieve it, but Aidan Called it to himself before the other could even touch the grip.

  Slaíne chose that moment to drop from the heavens and wrap her arms around the man’s neck, squeezing. It was now the dawning, and as the light hit their faces, Aidan blinked and was startled to find himself looking into his own eyes.

  It took him a moment to recover, and in that time, his look-alike managed to throw Slaíne off from around his neck. She sailed backward into a tree, and Aidan thought he heard bones cracking.

  But the man wasn’t coming for Slaíne. Again he raised his blade and again he charged at Aidan.

  Aidan became aware of the second Pull he had sensed moments before. It was making a straight line for them. “Wonderful,” he gritted out, blade locked with the other’s. If he could hold the shape-shifter off long enough, maybe he could Summon one of his daggers into the fellow’s belly. But the look-alike was strong, and it took all of his concentration not to be run through. Aidan was forced back. There was no movement from Slaíne.

  “Nelead cunwiladaff,” the man growled.

  It was strange hearing such ugly, rough words come out of seemingly his own mouth. “What do you want?” Aidan Summoned his dagger, but it fell short of where he had intended it to land.

  “Leave the witch,” his rival snarled. He pushed his blade nearer to Aidan.

  The second Pull had arrived in the clearing, and though Aidan could not see the woman, he knew who it was. “You picked an interesting time to reappear,” said he.

  “Oi, brute. I don’t think this was what your master intended,” said Larkin the seer.

  Something hard thudded against the shifter’s back, and the creature turned, giving Aidan the perfect opportunity to Summon his dagger, which he did, and drove it through the other’s throat.

  Sputtering blood, the creature collapsed upon Aidan and vanished, leaving behind the bronze sword. All was still for a moment.

  Aidan drew in large gulps of air as he pushed away the sword and staggered to his feet. “Is she all right?” he asked Larkin, who was bent over Slaíne.

  The seer muttered something and then straightened. “She’s all right. Might’ve broken the tree and perhaps some of her pride, but….”

  “Broken the tree?” What the devil? He looked beyond where Slaíne lay unconscious, and sure enough, there was a great crack running down the middle of the trunk where she had hit it. If she had hit it that hard, surely she was dead and the seer was mistaken. Aidan hurried to her, dropping the silver sword.

  “She’s fine, milord, just had the wind knocked out of her.” Her eyes would not quite meet his for a moment, and Aidan wondered if the seer was hiding something. But then the moment passed, and she approached him. “Strange times have come upon you, methinks.”

  Aidan laughed without humor. “You might say that.” He knelt next to Slaíne. The warmth of her breath tickled his hand, so he knew she was alive, as the seer had said. “Are you all right?”

  In response, Slaíne let out a tiny groan. “Give me a moment.”

  “The lass is made of sterner stuff than you think,” said Larkin. “Come, tell me all that has transpired since you left me stranded in Abbington.” There was a coolness in her words, and Aidan knew he was not forgiven for leaving with Slaíne in the dead of the night some weeks ago.

  He grimaced, but rose and faced the woman. “I did not trust you, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  The seer smirked and folded her hands in front of her. “Well?”

  “I did not realize the town would turn against our kind. Rather, I was certain you would betray us to Dewhurst or someone in authority if we did not set off on our own. I realize now I was wrong, and I ask for your forgiveness.”

  Larkin nodded. “That’s fair enough. Tell me what has transpired since then.”

  Aidan drew a deep breath then launched into an explanation of what had happened between that night and now. He told her of the town turning on them for using magic to protect themselves, of trying to take Dewhurst by surprise and being captured. Aidan left out the bits about his communicating with the magical dead in the Beyond, though he guessed she suspected something. He also made no mention of the man, Salem, taking over his body from time to time. Since his last visit to the Beyond where he talked alone with Treevain, Aidan had not been aware of any strange presence in the back of his mind. Perhaps that was gone for good.

  When he got to the part about finding his parents’ corpses in Dewhurst’s stables, the seer became visibly upset, but he pressed on, and recounted his journey up until before he had woken to find his camp under attack.

  The seer was silent for a moment, perhaps sorting through all that she had been told. When she spoke again, the woman merely said, “I need to sit down.” And with that, she lowered herself to the ground and shook her head.

  “What happened after we left you that night?” Aidan asked.

  She looked up at him, and her face and person, he noted, seemed to have aged since they had last crossed paths. “Oh, I left that night too.” Larkin tapped her right temple, as if to remind him of her gift of Foresight. “Luck was surely with me that night, for you are a slippery fellow, Lord Ingledark, and you surely churned the waters in that backward town.” Her eyes narrowed. “As thou knowest, there is a price for being a Blest, and I have paid that price time and time again these past several weeks.”

  Aidan simply nodded.

  The seer continued. “Seeing has taking its toll on this old woman.” She patted her hip. “Fits and seizures are my nightly companions. That is what I get for using a gift I never asked for.”

  Slaíne began to stir. “Where is the body?” she said, her voice as rough as a cat’s tongue.

  “Al
l magic folk go to the Beyond when they die, dear,” said Larkin.

  Aidan shuddered. He hoped he would never come across the shape-shifter if his soul ever visited that place again. It had been disorienting to fight himself…to say the least. Aloud he said, “What are you going to do, now that you’ve found us?” It might be useful having a seer on their side if they were to find the Questing Goblet and emerge from the cursed place unharmed.

  Larkin was shaking her head. “It’s the strangest thing, but every time I try to look too far into any future with you, everything goes dark. I am not accustomed to this strange occurrence, and I fear its meaning. Surely there have never been holes in the veil, not in my lifetime.”

  “Holes? What could it mean?” Slaíne asked. “What ’bout my future?”

  “Oh, Slaíne, surely you see how closely both of your fates entwine?” She gestured between her and Aidan, rocking slightly. “Yours, I fear, goes dark as well at some point.”

  Aidan was not going to give up so easily. “What happens before our futures disappear? Maybe if you told us, we could avoid what is to come, whatever that might be.”

  The seer turned her piercing gaze on Aidan and, sliding the water bladder’s strap over her head, she offered him a drink. When he refused, she took a long pull from it and came up panting for air.

  “There are many paths, milord, that lead to where you’ll eventually and hopefully end up. But if I tip you in one direction, all of those paths could so easily diverge into different ones.” She wiped her mouth clean with the hem of her cloak sleeve. “The future is far from set, and I do not want to upset things any more than they have been, apparently.” She turned the bladder upside down over her mouth, and only three tiny droplets fell onto her waiting tongue.

  “I’ll fill that for you,” Aidan offered.

  She held the vessel out to him. “That would be very kind of you. I fear I’ve traveled lightly since my narrow escape. Fortunate am I for some clear streams running through the land.”