Under a Veil of Gods

by R. Anthony Giamusso

  Montague knew Demitri was referring to Burton. Demitri always resented both Burton and Montague himself for keeping watch over his practices. Even in his exile, Burton had enforced restrictions on the minister’s research. And Demitri never liked restrictions.

  But it had been too long now since Montague last saw Burton Lang. He thought about every scenario, trying to theorize what could have happened to his sensei. Daily, Montague read through incoming letters and visitor logs for Burton’s alternate names, wondering if he would ever write, or better yet, return suddenly after three months. Perhaps the new queen would hear Burton’s case, Montague thought. Especially since Montague was her personal healer. She trusted him and knew that he would never put her in danger. It was a new kingdom with a new council enforcing new rule. Montague never accepted that Burton was dead. An apprentice never gave up on his teacher.

  Something didn’t feel right. Even though Montague had beheaded the suspected host of the Nekrums, the air still felt unsettled to him.

  “We are on the brink of new discoveries that will change our world forever.” Demitri raised his glass to the crowd. “Here is to our future: to science, to medicine…” He hesitated. “…and to Gabriel!”

  At the second wave of applause, Montague sat before the rest. Four glasses of wine were taking effect; the blood spots on the palm of Demitri’s bandage looked as blue as a jaybird. No, he thought, my eyes must be playing tricks on me. For a moment, Montague blamed the illusion on the wine. I’m drunk, he said to himself. But just as he was about to disregard the sight, Demitri glanced down at him as if acknowledging Montague’s discovery. Demitri closed his fist, hiding his bloodstained palm.

  People cheered and whistled goodnight. Castle maids began sweeping peanut shells and mopping the ale from the marble dance floor.

  As the room emptied, a rush of fear surged within Montague, wiping away the fog of his intoxicated mind. What he’d seen suddenly became clear to him and wanted to investigate immediately. Never had he read about men with blue blood, but he remembered Burton telling him about how the Nekrums could possess multiple bodies by crossing blood, spreading their biotechnology across several minds, thus controlling them. Those in the hive mind could influence others as well. It would support his suspicion toward Demitri’s strange behavior. Maybe, Montague thought, the headmaster was being influenced, experimented on, bribed, or blackmailed in some way. If he were to find answers anywhere, it would be in Gabriel’s Diary. He hurried off to the library.

  Since the day Burton Lang was exiled, Montague had been the sole guardian of the diary and, on most occasions, kept it with him. Now, living in the basement of the Ikarus library, he was safe to leave it in his heavily guarded chamber. It contained thousands of pages written in several languages, some of which were unknown to him. Most of the diary was not yet interpreted. But the message between the words had been written by angels. And Montague had spent his entire life learning from Burton Lang how to read the language of light and translate angelic symbols. Not only had he interpreted the beginning of Gabriel’s version of history, he’d made copies of his translations to share the information with the rest of the dwindling numbers of members of the Resistance, now no more than a handful.

  At the end of the study hall, he descended the spiral staircase to his quarters in the basement where the sacred book was kept. Gabriel’s Diary sat atop a waist-high ivory pedestal. It was surrounded by a brilliant pearl-white glow. The room was filled with the aroma of mint and sage. When Montague placed his hand over the metal emblem of intertwined circles embossed on the diary’s cover, he felt an intense vibration under his palm.

  Montague opened the diary, written by the man who had brought Men to this planet. He leaned in closer to read the small print with his aging eyes and for hours he skimmed through hundreds of brittle pages for any information that might give him more clues about the supernatural threat.

  On the floor of his new study, Montague crouched at the center of piles of papers, sipping on jasmine tea and picking at a bowl of nuts to settle his growing hunger through the long hours of his research. For a while he puffed on bogweed and pondered the past. Montague was certain he had made a clean strike through the farmer’s neck. He replayed the scene in his head over and over again. And farmer Paddett, who Montague believed was the host, was now dead—headless. But the colonies of exiles were clearly still following orders. But whose? Maybe the mages were given the Nekrums’ plan in advance, in the event of the host’s death, Montague thought. Or maybe the host wasn’t gone at all. The rogue moon was still orbiting the planet. The Nekrums were still here.

  Burton had told him that the host would befriend the community by helping to develop its future. The traitor would then turn on his people, taking advantage of a trusting society, while the innocent were still blind to his objective. This traitor could deceive even the most clear-sighted of leaders. His goal was to harness the colony’s most intelligent mind. Aside from Burton, who possessed divine knowledge, Demitri Von Cobb was always known as the most brilliant mind in the land.

  Montague finished translating a passage in Gabriel’s Diary and its relevance to what he had just witnessed in the ballroom shocked him. Gabriel wrote that the host will have blue blood. The microorganic intelligence required additional copper in the bloodstream so the electromagnetic conductor would enable swift communication between the host and Nekrums. It strangled the nervous system into submission and shut off conscious awareness and free will in the brain, thus controlling the body. When mixed with red blood cells, the copper-rich blood turned blue.

  The possession also allowed the host to harness and use the limited technology of the gods. Although not as powerful as an incarnated angel in his prime, his dying avatar wouldn’t stand a chance in battle against the Nekrums’ host.

  The night grew late; the candles had burned out.

  Montague left in a hurry. He needed to speak to Olivia about what he had found and it didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night. If she was asleep, he would wake her. When he pulled the library door closed, he felt an eerie presence, but continued to turn the key to lock it.

  “By Gabriel! You scared me.” Montague’s heart skipped. Demitri was standing nearly underneath him, quietly, with his arms folded behind his back. Montague felt nervous, carefully watching Demitri’s every tick.

  “I wanted to make sure you made it back all right. You were stumbling a bit on the way out of the party and your staircase isn’t the easiest to climb, especially at our age. Too much wine?” Demitri asked.

  “Maybe not enough. Thank you for your concern. That’s very kind of you.” Montague needed to remain calm and act natural. He said what he probably would have said on any normal occasion. If Demitri noticed Montague sneaking out of the ballroom, he was obviously watching him. There were a million questions streaming through Montague’s mind: Why is Demitri really here? Does he know I suspect him? Montague couldn’t help it and glanced down at Demitri’s bandage and noticed that it was freshly wrapped. “Is there something I can help you with, headmaster?”

  “The council awaits your presence,” Demitri said.

  “A council meeting? At such an hour?” Montague thought it might be a trick. The council never met this late.

  “An emergency session. There was a man arrested.”

  “The dungeons have plenty of room. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Montague asked. The new kingdom had set new rules for law breakers—without banishment. The kingdom leaders felt that by exiling criminals, they were simply creating soldiers for the enemy. The builders of Ikarus constructed a secure confinement to temporarily house offenders, depending on the crime. Death was now the price one paid for committing murder.

  “The accused may be the one responsible for the recently missing children. The queen is on her way, Mr. Speaker.” Demitri bowed.

  Even though Demitri, the new headmaster of science, was also expected to attend all kinds of council meetings, Montague refused
to walk with him but rather dashed ahead, as Demitri stepped aside.

  Outside, the air was crisp and the clouds reflected purple light reaching across the horizon like fingers yearning for another’s touch. A group of night watchmen, wearing chainmail suits and black undercoats, nodded to Montague as he approached.

  “Where did they catch the offender?”

  “In the southern village near the gates, my lord,” the guard said.

  Montague was still not inured to being addressed as ‘lord’. It felt surreal.

  A dark mist scurrying from the southern plains began to breathe. Flocks of birds frantically raced northward as fast as they could, not once looking back to the place from which they’d come. They were fleeing from something, fighting with the wind to get ahead of each other.

  He looked off into the distance. From the height of Ikarus Mountain, he had a stereoscopic visual of the land. Even the islands off the southern coast a hundred miles away were visible. But they looked back with eyes of flame and smoke: one bright light blinking from the western border and another from the east. At first Montague didn’t know what he was seeing until the watchtower at the tip of the plateau suddenly lit up.

  A watchman barked, “Fires! On the islands! Fires!” he shouted. “Faux Tower is lit!” Night guards took out their horns of hollowed antler and joined the alarm.

  “Alert your men! Search and secure the entire kingdom!” Montague commanded. He glanced one last time at the flames raging across the islands of Grale and Mern. It reminded him of the fire that he had walked through at Illyrium.

  When Montague arrived at the council room, it was empty, damp, and the candles fought a heavy draft. The long, bowing table curved down the room on both sides, and the ruler of Men would sit in the middle, at its peak. Montague was the first to arrive. Even though he was slow to climb the steps, he was the closest to the room.

  Queen Olivia Volpi appeared at the tip of Montague’s shadow with Lord Alexandal Duncan, her betrothed and general of the armed forces, escorting her.

  The queen had fallen in love only a month after settling in Ikarus, and married on her twenty-fourth birthday. Although Alexandal had gained significant power, his authority was still much less than that of a king. He didn’t have Volpi blood and was still considered merely a lord. If he and the queen had a son, then the boy would become the next king of Men.

  Moments later, the representatives of Mern and Grale arrived and scurried to their seats, eager to discuss the urgent matter. Not only was a captive man awaiting judgment, they were dealing with another attack on the civilized community. The people of Ikarus, Grale, and Mern were all emigrants of Illyrium and were considered one human family. If one were attacked, the other two would intervene.

  The door behind the seated council creaked as it opened. A young scribe entered, holding a much anticipated letter. The present council members were starving for an update.

  Montague read the first few lines to himself, and then stood up to address the anxious council. “This message is from the Fins of Mern. Both Grale and Mern are being attacked.” There, he paused. “Count Arland Cole is dead.”

  “What of our maiden?” An ambassador of Mern frantically interrupted.

  “It says nothing of the royals’ wellbeing,” Montague said. He swallowed hard and continued. “Women and men in black gowns are taking children and setting fires everywhere.” Montague hesitated. There was one last sentence on the backside of the letter, written in different, anxious writing; he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He didn’t want to believe it, but everything he had learned this evening made it hard to deny. A member of the Resistance obviously wrote it, most likely Arland Cole, the Graleon count, before he was killed. It was addressed directly to Montague. He read it again, silently: These people are using magic. It seems as though the one you claim is dead, is not.

  Montague put the letter down, refusing to finish reading it aloud.

  Lord Alexandal stood and shouted. Rage shaped his words. “It’s the same thing they did to us at Illyrium. They are burning us out of our lives and homes. These wild people are insane. They never stop at the chance to taste blood.”

  Montague stared blankly, pondering the situation transpiring around him as the rest discussed their concerns. He looked to the empty seat where Demitri Von Cobb usually sat.

  “Send as many soldiers as we can spare to aid both Grale and Mern,” Olivia Volpi said to the Ikarus general, “but keep enough men here to protect our own home. We are just as vulnerable to an attack. It is critical that our army secure the safety of the royal families. If they are alive, do whatever you need to do to protect them. Extend our hospitality to those in need.”

  Alexandal briefed his men and sent them off.

  The council doors banged open, the thud of the prisoner’s body against the hard oak, echoing throughout the room. It startled everyone. Because of the sudden island fires, members of the council, in their panic, had almost forgotten about the arrested suspect.

  Rows of granite pillars with fire-lit sconces lined the path to the judgment table. Ikarus watchmen escorted the man to the council desk to be tried. He was large and grizzly and thrashing about. The night guard captain handled him with a tired step.

  Montague La-Rose recognized his dreadful face: big teeth and large ‘gums’. Except he no longer wore that old, Illyrium-forged armor like he did at the gates of Illyrium when he’d sent Montague away, days before the Great Flood. It was best, Montague thought, not to mention his previous encounter with Gums to the queen, not yet; not until he knew more about what was happening. He couldn’t present theories. He needed proof.

  Olivia leaned and whispered to Montague, “Where is Demitri?”

  “I’m not sure,” Montague said. “I just ran into him as I was leaving the library. He should have been here by now.”

  The night guard captain addressed the council. “Forgive me, your majesty, my lords and ladies. We caught this man attempting to flee the kingdom with five children tied in the back of a carriage. He also tried to set fire to a hay barrel covered in oil. We sent the little ones back to their families.”

  Gums now wore a draping, gray gown that was covered in blood and smelled of horse manure. His hands were like mittens and his fingers like plump sausages; the perfect glove to silence any outcry from a small mouth.

  “Who are you? Do you have a name? Where do you come from?” Olivia demanded. But the man’s lips remained firmly closed. “Where were you taking the children?”

  Still not a word.

  “Time is not something we are willing to waste,” Olivia said. She waited a moment for an answer, but again, there was only silence.

  Olivia clutched her throne’s armrest. “Take his tongue!” she said. “He obviously doesn’t need it. I see that you had a parchment and pen with you. You can write out your response.” She looked to Montague for confirmation.

  Montague nodded, appreciating her dependence on him for guidance and healing. The queen was still young and new to politics. Leading the world of Men required knowledge and truth. That was why Montague had begun to brief Olivia on his sensei’s alternate theory of creation. Although disheartened, knowing that she was equivalent to cattle in the eyes of this dark enemy from above, she had taken the news about magic and the existence of four other realms well. Olivia was bright and open-minded. But it wasn’t until Montague showed her the letters of light lifting from the pages in Gabriel’s Diary that her belief became absolute.

  Lord Alexandal stomped down the council stairs. He pulled out a long knife then kicked the abductor of children behind the knees, knocking him to the floor. With a firm grip, Alexandal locked the man’s head around his right arm then gripped the prisoner’s lower jaw to expose his tongue. Before the lord’s dagger touched his lips, Gums jerked away.

  “I am a man of the Eire Mountains! I live near the coast of the southern sea,” he cried.

  “So you can speak. Forget the tongue. Take his hands if he refuses to
cooperate again,” Olivia ordered.

  The guards forced the prisoner’s hands over the edge of a table, awaiting the order to take them off.

  Alexandal continued the interrogation. “Where were you taking the children, man of the southern sea?”

  The man Montague knew as ‘Gums’ spoke facing his feet. “My name is Bolo. I was taking them to the caves where I reside; not to be harmed, but to be studied,” he said.

  “You clearly don’t look like someone who studies anything. Are you sure that someone didn’t pay you?” Olivia pressed.

  “On the contrary, I am a man of literature and forever a student of words,” Bolo said.

  “I have a hard time believing that you were the mastermind behind this attempted sabotage,” Alexandal said. “Who hired you?”

  Bolo looked away. He was silent once again.

  “You took children against their will. The price is your hands so that you won’t be able to hold anyone against their will ever again,” Olivia said. “But I will be glad to take more than that if you don’t cooperate.”

  Without an answer, Olivia gave the order. “Take his hands!”

  The guard’s axe came hammering down fast, slicing straight through Bolo’s wrists. His throat strained through a long scream. Blood gushed from his arms and sprayed across the floor, his thick hands falling to the red puddle below. While another guard held out his torch, Alexandal forced Bolo’s wrists into the flame to cauterize the wounds. The fetid smell of the sizzling flesh spoiled the room.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. Like the queen said, there are many other body parts we can take until you talk, and trust me you will talk,” Alexandal threatened. “So you’d better start. Who hired you?”