Through the Black Veil

by Steve Vera

  “Surely you jest, Sur Stavengre,” Caesar said loudly while standing and raising his hand for Gavin to stop talking. “The Olympics begin tomorrow, and I will not allow this fair city to be used as a staging ground to a threat that has yet to appear.” It was the deepest furrow yet between his eyes.

  “And what makes you so certain that an army is on its way, anyway?” Ironhand demanded. “The Pale Gate was destroyed, as well as half the mountain, and what remains of that barren, scarred land is guarded by none other than a chimera.”

  “You think a chimera would stop Asmodeous the Pale? You think the Lord of the Underworld couldn’t make another gate and kill the Chimera as he has killed all that have come before him? The lives of every Man, D’worf, Elf and surface-dwelling creature lie in the balance. The decisions made right now, at this juncture, will forever be your legacies for whatever happens.” Gavin could feel his heartbeat throbbing at the pulse point at the side of his forehead.

  “You overestimate your worth,” the Moor D’worf muttered.

  “We must at least send out a scouting party,” Senator Merevus said. “And alert the forces we already have activated within the city. The Sorcerer’s of the Parthenon must also be told of a possible threat from the outside.”

  “They will be informed immediately,” Caesar said and looked to the Ten-ring Sorcerers to his right and left who served as bodyguards. They nodded immediately. “It would be unwise to turn my back on such tidings, however bizarre they appear. It will be done.”

  Really?

  “And what of the defenses of the city?” Gavin asked.

  “What of it?”

  “It must be erected at once. Evacuations must begin immediately—”

  “On the eve of the Olympics?” Ironhand demanded.

  “Silence, Ironhand.” The Caesar thought a moment and then looked right at Gavin. “Of course you are right, Sur Stavengre.” His eyes turned sly. “Since you have performed so admirably, perhaps you could...ascertain the exact nature of the threat and report back to us so we can respond appropriately?” He smiled. “On your return, I will see to it personally that you are given a triumph fitting of your deeds, on the very day the medals are awarded from the Olympics—what a sight it will be!” He waved his hands for effect.

  “I would die before I ever allowed such an abomination to transpire,” the Wizard said, standing. His fellow knight followed suit. They glared at both Gavin and the Caesar before stalking out of the chamber in a swirl of red robes and jangling armor.

  Gavin just stared. He was too tired to be angry, too numb to be outraged. Twice he’d been outmaneuvered. How could I have not planned for this?

  “What of it, Shardyn?” the Caesar asked. “Will you accept this quest for Humanity and all the races of the world?”

  Even the nebula swirling above them seemed to dim in anticipation of his answer.

  “We will accept, of course, as we will accept the aid you surely must offer for the gravity our circumstance.”

  “Of course we offer aid. Senator Merevus,” Caesar said. “Your turmae has not been called up for the Olympics, has it?”

  “No, Caesar,” Merevus said in a crisp voice. His lips pursed.

  “Perhaps you would offer their services in aiding these gallant legends.” Caesar raised his eyebrows. “The need is dire.”

  Merevus swallowed. “Of course, Caesar.”

  “Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands twice. “Then it is settled. If we could now address the next order of business—”

  “One turmae will not be enough, Caesar,” Tarsidion said. He was breathing hard. His hands were fists.

  “I have spoken on the matter, plainsman,” Caesar said with a curl of his lip. “I will not endanger the lives of my citizens by depriving them of the protection I have promised them to chase after unproven rumors.”

  “Rumors?” Tarsidion choked.

  “You will take your leave, Sur Stavengre, or I will have you removed. The Caesar speaks once.”

  For just a moment, Gavin entertained the notion of taking over control of Nu’rome, starting with the incineration of everybody in the room. It took longer than it should have to come to his senses, but when he did, he simply turned on his heel and walked out the way he came. His brethren followed.

  * * *

  Amanda did everything in her power not to stare. She knew he didn’t like that.

  “Looks like you tore just about every one of these finger holes,” she observed while dabbing the blood that leaked from his wounds.

  “Not every one of them,” Donovan answered in a thick voice muffled by the angle of his mouth. He lay face down on his bed, shirtless and bleeding. She investigated closer and sure enough, two of the holes were merely angry and inflamed.

  “Right you are,” she said, wondering just what was about to happen. All she needed was Gavin to walk through the door. “I didn’t know you drank.”

  “I don’t,” he said, voice smothered by sheets. “And I’m always right.”

  “Then why today? Why now?”

  His body tensed beneath her fingers before he rolled to his side to look up at her. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kasey. I could have better. In case you haven’t noticed, magic has no effect on me—good against fireballs, not so good against healing. The Olympics start tomorrow. Get it?”

  She maintained eye contact, doing her damnedest not to stare at the metal buried in his chest, at his battlefield of scars—old and new—or the splendor of his body. “Not really,” she admitted.

  He rolled his eyes and turned back over. “It’s the salve I told you to grab, you idiot. When applied at twilight, when the moons first touch the sky and the fairies jump around on one foot, singing koombaya blah-tee-fucking blah, then its healing properties are, what did she say?” She heard him smack his lips. “Miraculous. She was telling the truth, too, or at least she thought she was. If she wasn’t...I’ll find her.”

  Then what do you need me here for? she thought.

  “I need you, Amanda Kasey, because in order for it to work, I must be asleep.”

  Ohhhhhhhhh.

  “Does that compute? Hence the wine. I’ll be asleep in ten minutes. When the first moon hits, apply. When the second moon hits, apply again. When you’re done...you may leave. Understood?”

  “Yes, Donovan.”

  “Good. Even you shouldn’t screw that up too bad. Until then...massage me.”

  She had no choice but to obey. Outside came the crash of waves and the call of gulls.

  Chapter 39

  When Amanda eased through the door, Gavin was waiting. In front of him was the parchment paper she’d scrawled her note on.

  “Hi, baby,” she said. “Uh, how did everything go?”

  “About as bad as it could go,” he said in a hollow voice. His eyes had that faraway, unfocused sadness becoming more common to his face.

  “That bad?”

  “Yep. That bad.”

  She took a seat beside him. “What happened?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and then crinkled his nose. “You smell like ointment or something. Where have you been?”

  She swallowed. Even though she’d done nothing wrong she felt a knot of guilt tighten in her stomach. It was Gavin’s back her hands should have been on, not Donovan’s. “It seems Donovan joined the Olympics,” she said to his question. That was the truth.

  “What?” His eyes came back into focus. “Offlander slot?”

  “Yes, that’s what he called it. Evidently, he had to fight a bunch of people to get in.”

  “I know what it means.” His eyebrows were drawn together. “What did he need you for?”

  Amanda gave as nonchalant a shrug as she could. “Medical stuff. Whoever he went against today sure did a number on him. Y
ou should see his face, and he tore all his wounds from Almitra.”

  “Did he now?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeah,” Amanda said, unable to hold his gaze. Instead she took his hand and clasped it with her own, finding comfort in the familiarity of his touch. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t hold her back either. When she glanced back up she couldn’t quite read his expression.

  “But enough about me, what happened at the counsel? What are they going to do? What’s the plan for...the world?”

  Her question jarred him back to whatever thoughts he’d been churning when she entered because his shoulders dropped and he shook his head. He put his face in his hands, rubbed his eyes in hard, slow circles and then answered with bleary eyes. “You know, nothing and everything has changed.”

  There was a knock at the door but before either of them could ask who it was, Tarsidion barged in. “There are shadows without bodies across the street,” he said tensely.

  Gavin closed his eyes. “I know—two by the apple grove, another across the street and there is a raven with red eyes perched where there should be gulls. They’re staking us out.”

  “Who are?” Amanda asked.

  “The Wizards of course. Damn Red-cloths are the same as they ever were.”

  “You knew this?” Tarsidion asked.

  “It was the next logical step. They can’t attack us in the city, but they can keep tabs on us, and the moment we leave...”

  “Which is tomorrow at dawn,” Tarsidion said.

  “What?”

  Tarsidion raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t told her yet?”

  “I was just about to, but now that you’re here—”

  “Where are you going?” Amanda asked. “It hasn’t even been five minutes.”

  “I know,” he answered and strapped on his sleeping Quaranai. “I won’t be long.”

  “Right now?” Tarsidion said. “There are Red-cloths everywhere.”

  “Let them try something.” When he opened the door, the cries of seagulls filled the room before quickly disappearing behind the slam of the door.

  “Do you know where he’s going?” she asked, following him from the window.

  “No idea,” Tarsidion said, joining her by the window.

  Not thirty feet away from them on a usurped nest of seaweed, twigs and fronds sat a big black crow with red eyes that even Amanda the Clueless could see were not natural.

  She jerked her head away with a yelp.

  “I would stay away from the windows if I were you.”

  Her heart ricocheted inside her chest. It had seen her, she’d seen it see her, and it had looked right into her. After a dozen rises and falls of her chest she screwed up her nerve and looked again.

  It was still there.

  Watching.

  She looked at the paradise around her and sighed. “What’s this about you leaving tomorrow?”

  * * *

  Somebody was knocking at his door. Normally Donovan would have heard the steps far before they got so close, but he’d been out. In deep trance.

  He shook his head and noticed the vibrating tingling under his skin. It was working. There was another pounding at the door.

  “Who the fuck is it?” he demanded, suddenly annoyed. Now that he was awake, he could feel the tingles lessening, dissipating.

  His door swung open and there in his doorway was Gavin. No, Stavengre. And he was armed.

  “How would you like to keep the Mitsutada?” Gavin asked from the doorway.

  “I’m listening,” Donovan said and rubbed the crust from his eyes. Judging by the somber maroon and yellow permeating Gavin’s outer bands, Donovan could see it had not been a good day.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow at dawn. The Pale Gate is our destination.”

  “Have fun.”

  “I thought you never got hit.”

  “I won. That’s all that matters. Make your offer.” He didn’t need his Othersight to guess his next words.

  “I need to know that Amanda will be safe while I’m gone. Now that Vambrace is aware of us, they’ll be coming. If it weren’t for the Drynn, they’d be the worst.”

  “I’m the worst.”

  “Maybe you are, maybe you’re not, but the only thing important to me is her safety. My offer is this—keep her and Skip safe, and I’ll give you my katana.”

  Donovan poured himself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher on the nightstand beside his bed and drank deeply. “What about the Druid?” he asked when he was done. “Why not just ask him?”

  “Do you want the sword or not? He’ll look after her because he is honorable.” Stavengre sucked his teeth, a gesture Donovan had never seen him do before. “But I prefer to hedge my bets.”

  “If Walkins is part of the equation then that’ll cost you another blade. I’ll take the katana and the wakizashi.”

  A band of maroon broke off and turned crimson. “Fine. Take the wakizashi too. Just keep a low profile, and though I’m sure it’s irrelevant, the Wizards will try and unnerve you, stalk you, instill fear in you. Keep an eye out for strange birds or anything else out of the ordinary. Shadows without bodies, that sort of thing. They mean you harm.”

  “Noted,” Donovan said. “But when you come back, if you come back, the blades remain mine, as does Amanda’s servitude to me.”

  A deep, molten, crimson red boiled out of Gavin’s core. It spread until his entire aura was a burning red sun. It was matched by the metal in his eyes. Donovan waited.

  “Agreed,” Gavin finally said.

  Donovan picked up a red pear that was indigenous to this area from the fruit bowl beside the water pitcher and sunk his teeth into its soft flesh, savoring its sweetness as it rolled down his chin. “Agreed,” he said while chewing. “Shake on it?”

  Gavin shook his head. “No. You’ll keep your word.” A couple of seconds passed. “I heard you’re competing in the games, that you are the Offlander.”

  “You heard right.” Another bite.

  “What event?”

  “Pankration.”

  Gavin laughed and it wasn’t forced. The crimson in his soul subsided but did not disappear. “I should have known.”

  “After I take the gold in Pankration I will qualify and compete in the Gladiatorial Games as well.”

  “And then what?”

  Donovan allowed himself a small smile. “Is there a quicker way to become a god?”

  Gavin stood there a moment. “Just be glad you’re fighting now and not a hundred and thirty-seven years ago.”

  “And why is that, Stavengre?” Donovan was getting bored with this conversation. And he was almost done with his pear.

  “Because the reigning champion back then was a dark elf who’d been taking heads for seventy years—three times longer than you’ve even been alive. That’s why. And just for your information, you won’t be able to use that blade you took from Almitra. It’s magic and there isn’t any magic allowed in the Games. That Mitsutada is going to come in very handy.”

  “I know.” Donovan licked his fingers and tossed the core of the pear onto the table. “Was there something else?”

  Gavin stared at him for a second, darting his eyes to each of the injuries adorning Donovan’s body. “We could use your help, you know.”

  “Of course you could.”

  “But you have more important things to do, is that it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why? I don’t get it.”

  Donovan debated whether he wanted to answer. He didn’t. “You’ll see. Now go away.”

  Gavin shrugged and made for the door but before stepping out he turned around. “Do you by chance know who the current reigning Platinum champion is?” he asked.

  “Of course,”
Donovan asked.

  “I’m curious. Who is it?”

  “What’s it matter? He’s a walking corpse, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Calls himself Ladom’er the Merciless.”

  Gavin froze as threads of cobalt fractured his outer bands. “You might want to re-think chasing after godhood,” Gavin said from the doorway. “Ladom’er’s the Dark Elf.”

  * * *

  Gavin didn’t go right home. He needed to think, to air out his brain. In a habit he’d acquired living in West Hartford, where it was safe to go out at night, he went for a walk, just daring a Wizard to take shot at him. None did. He stared up at the shattered fragments of the pale moon and for the fifty-seventh time wondered if he should take the risk. There had to be other Magi out there, hiding somewhere, waiting to make their appearance at just the right time—Well, if ever there were a time, guys...

  “I hope you’re not thinking of doing what it looks like you’re going to do,” Cirena said, placing her cool hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard her approach. Which was inexcusable. He turned and was surprised at the softness in her face. The combination of the crimson and pale light of the moons made her look ethereal.

  “I was thinking about it,” Gavin admitted though he probably wouldn’t have done it. They’d had a hard enough time projecting with all four of them in on it. Doing it on his own was suicide.

  “Without help?” she asked.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Really, Stavengre?”

  Gavin tried to smile but failed miserably. Instead he looked back up at the sky.

  Cirena offered her arm to him. “Walk with me,” she said. “Let’s talk.” She even said it in English. Gavin nodded and slid his arm through hers and together, they walked the streets of Nu’rome, inhaling the perfumes of night flowers, baking bread and horse dung. They didn’t say anything. There was no need. They knew what tomorrow was.

  They passed sleeping homes, silent markets and armed patrols. And shadows without bodies. He saw one in particular slink across the street and disappear behind a carriage. “How many have you counted so far?” Gavin asked.