Warriors of the Veil

by Jill Williamson

  “Enough fog,” Trevn yelled. “They know we’re here, so let’s see them.”

  The fog dissipated, and Trevn’s hope sank to the pit of his stomach as he took in the number of Puru surrounding them, holding swords. Trevn’s shard club suddenly felt inadequate.

  The Puru screamed and charged. Trevn watched Rone use the weapon and mimicked his actions. He crouched, waited as the Puru closed in, aimed for one who was running toward Charlon, and . . . now!

  He swung the club from side guard, keeping it even with the ground. The obsidian shards sliced through the man’s leather armor and into the flesh of his stomach. He doubled over, which made it impossible for Trevn to pull free his club. He kicked the man to the ground, and the moment the Puru dropped his sword, Trevn scooped up the familiar weapon. He instantly felt more at ease and forged on, cutting down compelled Puru one after another.

  A woman’s scream pulled his attention to the cabin keep. Green light shot out from cracks between logs, and the western wall exploded. Trevn threw himself to the ground and covered his head with his arms as splintered wood rained around him. When the noise died down, he glanced up. In the wreckage, two women faced one another. Chieftess Charlon and another Magosian—Roya, he guessed. Charlon held a glowing green orb in each hand.

  “You dare turn my people against me?” Charlon yelled. “Magosia wants no part in King Barthel’s war against Armania. I made that clear when he tried to force me into a treaty.”

  “Those who aid me do so without my urging,” Roya said.

  Trevn crept toward the cabin. A Puru rushed around from the back. Trevn engaged him with the sword and lost track of the Chieftess’s conversation.

  The compelled Puru fell quickly against the Magosians, the pirates, and one Armanian king. Trevn soon found himself with no enemy to fight. He turned in a circle, scanning the courtyard for pale faces, but all lay in the snow, dead or dying. Shame fell heavily at the fate of so many innocents, turned into tools by his enemy.

  “Shanek is a child!” Charlon yelled from the rubble. “He’s not ready to rule anything.”

  “He’s a powerful mantic,” Roya said. “He has taken Dominion over Dendron the Great.”

  “Shanek would never give Dominion to a shadir. Sabab bay êsh!” Two gowzals perched on the broken wall shot toward Roya, morphing into balls of fire as they flew.

  “Mahgayn!” Roya thrust out her hand, and the fire ricocheted off an invisible barrier. Charlon dove out of sight as one fireball struck the wall and the second hit the floor, sending great cracks as the fire broke through the wood.

  “Râbab teren Charlon,” came a small voice from the remains of the fort. And suddenly there were three of the Magosian Chieftess, rising up from the destruction.

  “As usual, you do not listen,” Roya said. “Shanek has Dominion. Not the other way around. The creatures are loyal to him. They are his keliys. They have no choice but to obey.”

  “Puroh!” the Charlons yelled.

  A bolt of fire sizzled out from the hands of all three Charlons. Roya leapt aside and yelled something indiscernible that caused shards of wood to shoot up from the depths of the debris and toward Charlon. The Chieftess screamed, and the two illusions vanished.

  The fight went on. Charlon continued to shoot fire at Roya, who in turn used her magic to pick up logs and debris and throw it at Charlon. A section of wall struck the Chieftess just as one of her firebolts seared through Roya’s chest. Both women screamed and fell.

  The pirates cheered and hooted. Was it over? Trevn scrambled into the rubble of the southern border house. “Give aid!” he yelled. “We must see to the Chieftess.” He found Roya’s dead body and pieces of gowzals, as if they’d been blown apart, but couldn’t find Charlon.

  “She’s here!” a man yelled.

  Trevn moved toward the voice, but before he could reach them, a familiar voice said, “Tell me that is not who I think it is.”

  Trevn winced as he came to face Randmuir Khal. “She is under my protection.”

  Randmuir’s face twisted. “This is my roost, royal.”

  “You are here at my command,” Trevn said. “Chieftess Charlon rescued me, and I will not see her harmed.”

  “Don’t watch, then. She killed my mother, and I owe her for that.”

  “I know you two have a past,” Trevn said. “And if you wish to seek your revenge once this war is over, I won’t stand in your way. But it will not happen today. Not here.”

  The Magosian men lay the Chieftess on a plank of wood not far from where Trevn stood with Randmuir. The pirate leader stalked away, and Trevn approached Charlon.

  “Is she alive?” he asked the men.

  “What of Roya?” Charlon croaked.

  Trevn knelt at Charlon’s side and met her dark eyes. “She’s dead,” he said.

  Charlon smiled and closed her eyes. “I thank you, Your Highness.”

  “No, Chieftess Charlon. I thank you.” He stood and spoke to the nearest onlooker, a pirate. “Gather some wood and build a fire. And you,” he said to a Magosian man, “come with me to see if any part of the fortress is still standing. We must find shelter. The night is going to be a cold one.”

  The men were quick to obey. Barracks were discovered along the eastern palisade wall, untouched by the magical duel.

  “Build some pitfires in the barracks,” Trevn said. “We will sleep there tonight.”

  The men set to work, and Trevn went looking for Randmuir Khal. He needed to make peace—make sure the man understood. They all must put aside personal wars if they were to have a chance of winning the larger one still looming.

  Kalenek

  Kal took in the scene from his place at the end of the high table in the great hall. Shanek had appeared on the dais moments ago, just to the right of Lord Idez’s chair—Mielle’s regular seat. The king’s throne sat empty. Behind Shanek, dozens of soldiers dressed in red pushed past the curtain. Shanek must have carried them to the antechamber before appearing on the dais.

  Kal counted six burly serving men, who were Armanian soldiers in disguise. Not enough.

  “Has Oli Agoros returned to the castle?” Shanek asked Lord Idez.

  “Not that I am aware of, sir,” the earl replied.

  “Did you send my message?” Shanek glared down like an angry parent.

  Kal stood, eager to make himself known before the boy did something foolish. “Shanek, I’m glad you are here.”

  The boy’s dark eyes shifted, lit up when recognition set in. “Father.”

  Kal pulled out the chair on his left. “Come sit. Tell me what you’ve been doing lately.”

  Shanek took two steps, then his eyes hardened and he drew up his posture, shoulders back, chest out. Regal. “I am not here to visit, Father. Did not this man tell you I came before?” He gestured to Lord Idez.

  Shanek’s vast improvement in language and bearing puzzled Kal. “The earl mentioned you’re looking for Oli Agoros.”

  “He was supposed to be here by now,” Shanek said, glaring at the earl.

  “I’m sure he’ll be along soon,” Kal said.

  “Did you or did you not send someone to fetch him?” Shanek asked Lord Idez.

  “I saw no need,” the earl said. “I did not expect him to be gone this long.”

  “You lie!” Shanek circled the back of Lord Idez’s chair. “I am not a fool.”

  Lord Idez kept his gaze fixed on Shanek as long as he could, then quickly turned in his seat to catch sight of him on his other side. “I must say this is highly improper, young man,” he said. “It is bad manners to barge into a castle and make demands. If you would sit and eat and wait patiently, I’m sure the duke will come.”

  Shanek sneered down on Lord Idez. “You dare lecture your king? You have not taken me seriously, so you have none but yourself to blame for the consequences.”

  “No need to get angry, Shan.” Kal pulled out the king’s throne. “Sit and eat. I’ll find the Duke of Canden myself.”

&n
bsp; “It’s too late for that, Father.” Shanek extended his hand, and green light flamed up from his palm.

  “Shanek, no,” Kal said.

  But the boy tossed the flame like one might a pebble, and it engulfed Lord Idez in fire. The earl screamed, stood, and stumbled back, knocking over Mielle’s throne. Kal whipped off his cloak and wrapped it around the man, smothering most of the flames. A servant doused them both with a pitcher of cool water, and Kal helped the earl lie on the floor. By the time he drew back the charred cloak, what remained of Lord Idez was unrecognizable. At least he hadn’t suffered long.

  Kal shoved to his feet and rounded on Shanek. “Why did you do that? Lord Idez was a good man who meant you no harm.”

  “He lied to me.” Shanek said this in a bored tone, as if his reasoning was perfectly fair.

  “You can’t go around killing people who don’t do what you want, Shanek,” Kal said. “Besides, Oli Agoros was Lord Idez’s superior. The earl could not summon him at will. What you did was very wrong.”

  “Perhaps you don’t remember why I’m here, Father. I am King of Armania now. A king makes the laws of his land and therefore is never wrong. So I will do what I want. Anyone who does not obey me”—he gestured to the body of Lord Idez—“will suffer the consequences.”

  What had Rogedoth done to the boy Kal had raised? “You would kill any who disobey you? Is that the kind of man you wish to be?”

  “I am no ordinary man. I am king of all Armania. There is none more powerful than me.”

  “Who told you this, Shan? Was it Barthel Rogedoth?”

  “I don’t answer to you! If you want to live, bring me the Duke of Canden. Now.”

  Kal sighed deeply. “I don’t know where he is, and it’s growing late.”

  “Find him or you shall end up like this one.” Shanek stepped over Lord Idez’s body and sat down on the king’s throne. “You have until morning, Father. You there!” He pointed to one of the soldiers dressed as a servant. “Bring me some food. I’m hungry.”

  Kal ran along the dais to the steps and down to the floor of the great hall. He would not find Oli Agoros because Shanek would kill the man or carry him away, but he could look like he was trying, which should buy them all a little more time. He hoped Onika found Grayson and brought him here before any more were killed.

  Onika

  Onika found Grayson lying on his back on a table inside a hut in the Jiir-Yeke village. Two giants were there, sorting ceramic bowls and wooden utensils. Her first instinct had been to storm their souls to the Veil, but that would only alert the other giants that someone sought to rescue Grayson. Until Onika could free him, there was no point setting the giants on guard.

  Rogedoth’s people had fed Grayson âleh, just as they had Queen Mielle, but since his very nature enabled him to see into the Veil, Onika could speak to him, and he could answer aloud.

  “What happened, Grayson?” she asked.

  “Rogedoth realized I wasn’t going to join him and had Shanek carry me here. Lady Zenobia said he traded me to the giants so they’d help him with the war. Did Shanek go back to the castle?”

  “Namgum!” one of the giants said to Grayson. Both glared at him, likely wondering who he was talking to.

  “Yes,” Onika said, hoping to hurry her conversation before the giants got too angry. “Sir Kalenek is trying to stall him, but he’s growing impatient.”

  “Shanek is the Deceiver,” Grayson said. “He has a huge swarm of shadir. And he thinks Master Rogedoth is going to put him on the throne, but it’s a lie. He’s using Shanek to help him. Shanek is being led astray by friends, just like in the prophecy.”

  One of the giants shook Grayson’s shoulder. “Khuu, namgum!”

  Miss Onika took a deep breath. “There is no time to waste. I must go for help. Stay strong, Grayson. Trust in Arman. I will come back as soon as I can.”

  As Onika returned to the mind-speak classroom, she begged Arman to spare Grayson—felt near certain he would. Grayson was the Deliverer, after all. He must fight the Deceiver. He couldn’t die in a barbaric sacrifice. He simply couldn’t.

  The Duke of Canden was still working at the table. Of those in Armanguard, all mind-speak magic had returned except for the duke and Kempe. The others were out looking for the rest of Tace Edekk’s army. He had divided his men and giants into thirds. Danek had found a group of ninety in the foothills of the Uul-Yeke mountains. Hrettah had spotted a second group moving parallel along the southern side of the road from Armanguard to Sarikar, but there was still one group unaccounted for. Hinckdan Faluk had been warned, and was doing his best to prepare his army to fight.

  Onika didn’t want to waste time going back into her body to update Duke Canden. “Sir Cadoc,” she voiced. “Will you speak to the duke for me?”

  “Certainly,” the man said.

  Onika relayed all she had learned regarding Grayson, Rogedoth’s deal with the Jiir-Yeke, and Shanek.

  “Can your Veil warriors look for Jiir-Yeke troops as well as Edekk’s?” Oli asked after Sir Cadoc had passed on the message.

  “I could divide them,” Onika said through Cadoc, wondering if Brelenah would prefer to work with Hrettah or have the girl go with Danek.

  “Warn Princess Saria to be on her guard,” Oli said. “And keep watch over Master Grayson.”

  She might be able to do all those things had she more than five Veil warriors at present. Onika sent Brelenah and Hrettah to Sarikar in search of Jiir-Yeke warriors and bade Zeroah and Danek to keep looking for Edekk’s army. Then she spoke with Princess Saria and returned to Rogedoth’s camp to check on Queen Mielle, who was still under several spells but had been moved to a bigger tent. She now lay on a pallet covered in thick furs.

  Onika then went to Grayson. She found him in the same place, though this time he was alone. She told him all she’d been doing, and asked how he fared.

  “They didn’t give me the black drink I saw them give Sosovik’s sister,” Grayson said. “Likely because Lady Zenobia put a spell on me to keep me from moving.”

  “I’m glad about that,” Onika said. “It might have been a permanent—”

  The giants returned with two others, the latter bigger and scarier than the first pair. The newcomers each took one of Grayson’s arms and dragged him off the table.

  “They’re taking me in!” Grayson yelled.

  “Duke Canden?” Onika voiced, hoping that this time he might answer.

  Nothing.

  Onika watched in dismay as the giants dragged Grayson out of the hut and across the walkway that led to the temple. She called repeatedly to the duke and prayed Arman would let him hear her. Inside, hundreds of giants filled the rows of steps leading down to the altar. The giants paused at the top of the stairs and waited while a man below chanted in a foreign tongue.

  “Miss Onika?”

  The duke’s voice. Onika nearly wept with relief. “Your Grace! I hear you!”

  “I thought I heard someone calling my name from the hallway, but no one was—”

  “You must come at once, Your Grace. They have taken Grayson into the temple.”

  “Call your Veil warriors to join us there,” the duke said. “And pray that Sir Kalenek can stall Shanek DanSâr.”

  Onika broke her connection with Duke Canden, then called out to her warriors. “All who are able, travel through the Veil to Grayson at once. We need your help to rescue him.”

  By the time her Veil warriors had arrived, Grayson had been taken to the shallow pool on the altar and laid next to a giant’s shrouded body. Duke Canden was kneeling inside the pool, at Grayson’s side. Both Kempe and Hrettah were here now too.

  Onika hovered over Grayson. “Duke Canden is here,” she said.

  “I see him,” Grayson said. “Tell him to hurry.”

  The giant shrouded in a black-feathered robe and headdress circled the altar. He carried a bone stick with bead tassels on the end. Two giants approached Grayson, knives in hand.

  “Dane
k, storm the dark-haired one,” Onika said. “I’ll take the other. The rest of you, pray.”

  Onika flew at the giant, focused on his mind, and pushed his soul from his body. As it soared away, crying out for help, his body crumpled.

  The crowd exclaimed. Moments later Danek’s giant collapsed as well. Several giants leaped out of the stands and ran to assist the guards. The crowd began to stir.

  Onika flashed to Duke Canden’s side. “How are you doing, Your Grace?”

  “Grayson has shown me the memory,” he said, “but it takes time.”

  Zeroah appeared beside them. “Do not fear, Grayson, for Arman is with you.”

  An older giant barked orders at some guards, who approached the altar tentatively. Danek and Onika stormed them one by one. The crowd began to flee toward the exits.

  The black-clad priest approached the side of the altar, opposite where Duke Canden knelt. He shook his bone stick, making the beads rattle. “Avakh beleg tsusny!” he yelled. He drew a dagger, reached for the guard Danek had felled, and sliced the blade over the man’s wrist.

  Onika recoiled. The man shook his stick again. A bird swooped down from the ceiling and circled over the altar. Surprisingly not a gowzal, but a raven.

  It suddenly grew very cold. A shadow shimmered in the Veil. A thick darkness that exuded fear. Onika somehow knew it was an incarnation of evil from the Lowerworld—an evil she had never seen before. The shadow slithered into the priest, whose demeanor changed to something more sinister than that of an old man. He stood and circled the altar, his steps suddenly more sure than they had been before. Onika wanted to storm him, but the sinister shadow held her back.

  “I’ve done it!” Duke Canden yelled.

  Onika turned her attention to Grayson in time to see him pop away. Praise you, Arman!

  The possessed priest yelled, “Saikhan amraarai!” and struck Duke Canden in the back of the head with his staff.

  To Onika’s shock, the duke disappeared.

  “Your Grace!” she yelled.

  The priest cackled, the sound seeming to come from the darkness within him.