The Prince of the Veil

by Hal Emerson

  He looked at Tomaz and Leah, then Davydd and Lorna, before fixing his eyes straight again.

  “Symanta felt four of the other Children die, and three within days of each other. Whatever she did, my guess is that she did it then.”

  They absorbed this in silence and continued on, almost halfway to the palace now. The last of the mist refused to evaporate, but instead continued to glide down from the heights of the Elmist Mountains and pool about the ground of the Prince’s Square that lay at the end of the paved road.

  They reached the square, and, as they entered, their horses’ hooves echoed loudly in their ears; the earthy smells of waste and neglect grew stronger. Raven reached out again, and still felt nothing beyond their party. Not even rats.

  This is a city – there should be something. Where is the background noise? What is so different here that even the rodents and insects have fled?

  They crossed the courtyard, not knowing what else to do. There was nothing there – not even refuse. The city streets, aside from the broken homes, were spotless as if freshly cleaned, like someone had cared enough to wash up but not to lock the door. None of them motioned for a halt, nor did any of them feel it was necessary. As they continued on, the feeling that built up around them was not that they were being watched, but that they had entered a place that no one felt the need to ever watch again. It was the equivalent of walking through a hollowed out tree: towering, majestic even, but no longer growing, no longer organic. Something had been taken out of this city.

  The life. All of the life was just … taken.

  The wide, gilded doors of the palace, shining with gold leaf and emerald-eyed bas-relief statuettes, were open wide, one farther than the other. No guards stood at their posts, no locks or chains barred their way. A number of Rogues went first anyway, looking inside, spreading out, but came back once more empty handed. The rest of the party dismounted their horses, and ascended the long set of carved stone steps that would take them to the entrance.

  As soon as Raven’s boot connected with the first step, his vision winked out and the world spun around him. He crumpled, gasping in pain and clutching his head; it felt as though a needle had been shoved through his spine up into his brain.

  He came back to reality to see Tomaz holding him in his huge arms, Leah looking into his eyes, checking his pulse along his neck.

  “He’s fine,” she said, pulling back. She had her stone face on, but he could see the worry in her eyes, could see the fine lines that showed she was concerned.

  He pushed himself back up, and Tomaz let him go.

  “What happened?” the giant rumbled.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I saw … darkness. All around. And a haze, covering everything here … I don’t understand it. It was like looking at a scene through a veil. It made no sense.”

  He looked over at Leah.

  “Can you look into the future?” he asked. “Can you try to reach out?”

  “I’ve been trying since we got here,” she said, the edges of her mouth tightening ever so slightly in frustration. “I can’t get it. There are flashes –”

  Her eyes turned blue, and then immediately back to green.

  “But nothing more. And it’s … it’s like you just said. Everything I see is hazy – I can’t make anything out. It’s like trying to look through smoke. Like …”

  “Like there’s something covering the world,” he said without thinking. “Like a piece of thin fabric, pulled tight.”

  As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew they were true. They summed it up perfectly, and he saw the confirmation in Leah’s eyes as well. She nodded slowly, and the others looked as if they agreed as well: Tomaz and Davydd were both nodding without realizing it; Lorna was solemnly watching Raven, her agreement easy to read on her blunt face; and Autmaran had his hand on his sword, scanning the area as he would a potential battlefield.

  “And I for one am not leaving until I find out why.” The Commander moved past Raven and the others, and strode through the doorway, his hand still grasping the hilt of his sword, his shoulders stooped, ready for attack.

  The others followed quickly; after whatever had happened the first time, Raven was fine walking up the steps now, though he recoiled at the thought of reaching through the Raven Talisman again while he was here. Something told him that that was why he’d felt the shock and pain – something told him that this place wasn’t just empty of life, but full of something else, something that had taken its place.

  The antechamber was much the same as the outer side of the palace: majestic, with beautiful tapestries, gorgeous carvings, and not the smallest hint of a living, breathing soul.

  There was one change, however: it was darker here.

  They lit torches before continuing on, the Rogue Ashandel pulling them from their packs. The high windows let in only a paltry gray light that gave everything the half-seen quality of twilight even though it was only a few hours from midday. The flickering light of the flames cast strange shadows on the twisting, curved corridors they took through the palace; they passed large reception rooms that seemed alive with shadowy ghosts, and long halls lined with sitting rooms, studies, and lounges, each full of the lifelessness that coated the very walls.

  They came to a long, straight stairway and began to ascend.

  As they climbed the steps, they found themselves rising up through the center of an enormous audience chamber, with a throne carved into a sheer, unadorned rock wall at the far end. It was clear that this soaring cliffside, and the throne itself, were part of the living mountain, and looked to have been chiseled away from a gigantic sheet of granite half buried in earth. It was an astonishing feat of craftsmanship, and made even more impressive by the wan light of the torches and the shadows they cast. A row of double pillars lined the two far sides of the hall, running parallel to the group as they walked toward the rock wall, and the ceiling that started out low, rose exponentially into the sky, until it towered above them, soaring hundreds of feet and thinning out until it touched and merged with the sheet of granite. Their footsteps echoed in the silence of the chamber, and the shadows flickered and moved with them, as if the darkness and the haze that Raven and Leah had seen were coalescing around them.

  It was Davydd who reached the throne first, and as he did the left side of his body began to pulse with golden light. He didn’t seem to notice – he continued forward, about to reach out and run a hand along the massive granite throne, when he stumbled, tripping over his own feet in a way Raven had never seen the lithe, graceful Eshendai move; his hands went awry, trying to catch himself as he fell, and he landed before the throne, arms spread wide as if prostrating himself.

  Before any of them could react, golden light spread out from between his fingers, curling and weaving through the solid stone. It swirled and arched until it had outlined a space directly before the throne seven feet wide and seven feet long. Once the outline was complete, the light disappeared, there was a dull click, and then the ground began to move.

  “Whoa!”

  “Step back!”

  Davydd managed to retreat just as the section of stone floor fell inward; it slid away in one solid piece on cleverly concealed hinges and settled with a loud clunk that resounded throughout the chamber, echoing around them before fading into that vast, unnatural silence. Raven was the first to act: he stepped forward and thrust a torch into the gaping black maw that yawned before them. The flickering light revealed stone steps that led down into the darkness, descending beneath the throne.

  “I wouldn’t trust that with all of us,” said one of the Rogues. Raven glanced over and recognized the Rogue pair of Polim and Palum, Autmaran’s right and left hands. They were twins, both older with long silver hair, and both stalwart fighters. It was Polim, the Eshendai, who had spoken, and it was he who continued. “Let two of us go first to scout it – there may be traps.”

  “And you won’t be able to disarm them,” Raven said, not unkindly. “I�
��m not sending you down there to die – I go first.”

  He turned to the others.

  “All of us – everyone who bears a Talisman. Most Bloodmagic cannot touch us; we go first.”

  Both Polim and Palum immediately looked ready to argue, as did some of the others, but Autmaran held up a hand and they all stayed silent.

  “Polim and Palum, you come with us. But you stay at the back.”

  He glanced sideways at Raven, who nodded very slightly, and he continued.

  “When we reach the bottom, or wherever this leads, one of you will come back and bring the rest, and the other will stay with us. But this is uncharted territory – no one dies here from stupidity. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” they said as one, though more than one voice was grudging.

  They turned back to the open hole in the floor, and Raven’s mind suddenly clouded with all the tales he’d heard of Seeker’s lairs, and what he had experienced when he’d been trapped in one.

  Bloodmage enchantments … torture chambers … terror soaked into the very walls themselves.

  He moved forward before he could lose his nerve.

  The others followed quickly behind, though Tomaz had to go down leaning entirely backwards, almost on his back. The others all were forced to crouch, hunching their shoulders and ducking their heads; the passage had been designed to make them feel small, Raven was sure of it. It was part of the mind control the Empire exerted on the Seekers and any others who passed this way – they were but worms beneath the feet of the Children, and their only desire should be to serve.

  The stairway didn’t twist, didn’t turn. It just descended, down and down forever. The air was cold and stale, and as they went further and further it began to take on a strange metallic taste – a taste that mirrored the smell above in the city.

  Are we entering an armory?

  They continued down, and they began to sweat. More time passed and thoughts began to race through Raven’s mind: he began wishing he was elsewhere, anywhere but here. He heard Tomaz begin to breathe in increasingly short and erratic bursts, and Raven realized this was quite likely the first time the big man had been trapped somewhere his strength couldn’t save him. After all, even Tomaz couldn’t punch his way through solid rock. Davydd and Lorna were fairing the best, but even they were having difficulties – Raven glanced back and saw them both crouching down far further than was necessary.

  A few dozen yards farther down and Raven felt the same feeling come over him. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the staircase – the ceiling was too close, the floor rising to meet it. There was no room for them, no space – they had to get out of here – they were going to die, suffocated under the mountain –

  He began to trip and stumble down the stairs, trying to move faster on cramping legs. His panic was contagious; the others began to stumble as well, and the one time he looked back he saw Leah’s eyes had widened, showing white all the way around; Autmaran was behind her, sweating and even shaking as he looked from side to side, his hands outstretched as if to force the walls backward and away from him; Polim and Palum were clutching hands, alternating turns going first, as the shadows chased their footsteps to close in the group in a roving band of solitary light under the crushing weight of the mountain.

  Raven stepped on a stair that shifted beneath him, and a violent gust of wind blew up at them from below; the torchers flickered, wavered, and went out.

  Madness ensued. Someone shouted, two people screamed, and Raven felt himself pushed in the back, sending him sprawling down a dozen stairs. He shouted for the others to stop, but they didn’t hear him; Tomaz roared for them to go faster; Leah shouted for the others to leave her alone, to stop touching her.

  “SILENCE!”

  The crack of command came from the lips of Autmaran, and his was the only voice that seemed able to penetrate, abate, and hold off the terror that had descended on them.

  “Everyone stay where you are, and listen to the sound of my voice.”

  They all stood still, though Raven felt as though the air around him had gelled and now clutched him tight.

  “Raven – can you use your Talisman?”

  He closed his eyes, reached out, and light blossomed inside his mind. Pure, unadulterated relief filled him, and he felt himself go weak in the knees as his lungs relaxed and he was able to take a full breath. They were all with him; he could see them in his mind.

  But even as he held the Talisman, a dull ache began to build in the back of his head, at the base when his spine met his skull. He remembered the sharp pain he’d felt when he’d put his foot on the palace steps, and he knew this was somehow related. It was a kind of primal sense that he couldn’t understand or place, but that he knew was trying to drive him away.

  If I was smarter, I’d listen.

  “Yes, I’ve got it,” was what he said out loud. “I can feel you all; everyone’s here; we’re all fine.”

  “Good – Tomaz, Davydd, reach through yours.”

  They did, and a low light of red and gold spread through the chamber, just enough to let them see. The walls hadn’t encroached on them after all. They were all there still, Tomaz braced against both walls with his huge arms and legs, Lorna kneeling on the ground, Davydd and Leah both pushed up against the stone walls, their hands grasping at cracks.

  “Good,” Autmaran said, his own panic held at bay now that he had a task to do and organize. “Now move forward slowly. Raven leading.”

  They did as told, and began to descend once more.

  “Where did that wind come from?” Lorna rasped.

  “It was a trap,” Raven said. “A hidden catch in one of the steps – not a Bloodmage enchantment, just something to induce terror in whomever passed this way. It wasn’t meant for us – it was meant for the Seekers, to remind them that the only light comes from the Path.”

  “Leah,” Autmaran said immediately, “can you reach ahead with the Eagle and see if there’s any more?”

  “I can’t – something’s blocking me. I can only see darkness – and a … what looks like a sea or something. I have no idea why.”

  “Very well – Raven, do your best to watch your step.”

  They all fell silent, and Raven regretted it; when they were talking, it was easier to forget where they were. Panic and terror were still waiting in the wings of his mind, hidden just out of sight and fighting to get in, but by holding the Raven Talisman he was better able to withstand it.

  They descended for more time, and now with every step the sharp tang of salt filled the air, mixed with the same metallic smell from before.

  And what was more, something strange was building inside Raven’s mind. It was like a strange ringing sound accompanied by a building sense of a headache behind his temples. It almost felt as if he should be seeing something, but something was preventing him.

  “HOLD!”

  Everyone froze, and Raven stood with his arms held wide, looking directly above him. A flowing, scrolling piece of script wrapped around an outcropping of rock that jutted down from the ceiling above them. It was in Bloodmage runes, he knew that immediately, but the inky blackness of them was indecipherable. He slowly crossed forward, knowing the Raven Talisman should protect him from any kind of interference, and reached out to touch the red blood-drop insignia next to it, the sign of Bloodmage work.

  As soon as the pads of his fingers touched the rough wall of stone, the script stopped, shivered, and faded away. Raven waited for a second, and then realized the trap had been deactivated.

  “What was it meant to do?” Davydd asked from behind.

  “Collapse the tunnel,” Raven said grimly. “That rock must be a keystone for something – likely the enchantment would have moved it if someone not of the Seekers or High Blood had passed beneath.”

  The tension mounted, but they continued on, deeper and deeper into the all-encompassing dark, until they found their way blocked by a solid wall of stone. Raven had to fight the terror again, had
to keep it at bay as best he could. There had to be a way through this – there had to be.

  He examined the stone; on it was an image of the Diamond crown and the Imperial triliope: the single golden flower, the seven blades of grass, and the long black ribbon that bound it. The carving was wider than Raven’s torso and nearly as long, and below it was a writing etched in white fire:

  Here lies the true sanctum of Our Goddess, the Diamond Empress of Lucia, Heir of Theron Isdiel, may She live and reign forever. Only those of purity and holy heart may enter here; all else must perish and hope for cleansing in the righteous fires of heaven.

  Glory to the Empress! Glory to the Diamond Throne on which She sits! Glory to the legacy of Her Empire and Her Will!

  “What does it mean?” rumbled Tomaz, from farther up. He looked calmer now too, holding his Talisman, but he was still forced to practically slide down the steps on his back. The fact he had made it so far spoke volumes about his mental fortitude.

  “It means we need to speak the Path,” Raven said. “Simple really … I don’t understand why there weren’t more traps. Why would Symanta leave all of this unguarded?”

  “Why would she leave her entire city unguarded?” Leah asked.

  “Good point. I don’t understand it.”

  “My guess is the answer is on the other side of that door,” Davydd said, impatiently. “So open it and let’s get this over with.”

  Raven turned and spoke the words of the Seeker’s Path:

  “I seek the one who seeks the light, and I mean to seek Her by following the path myself. I seek the Path so that my eyes may be opened to the Light.”

  There was a large cracking noise, and the outline of a door appeared along the outer edges of the wall. The words etched in white fire disappeared as a single line of pure white split the wall in twain, right down the center of the crown and triliope; the two sides began to slowly revolve outwards, leaving a space barely wide enough to fit between them.