The Veils of Valoria

by Kirsty F McKay

  “One last thing that I ask of you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Stay out of the shadows.”

  His words shattered the dream and jolted her awake. “Charles?”

  “I’m here, it’s alright.”

  Sinking back against the pillow, Rowan closed her eyes, soothed by the touch of his hand as he tenderly stroked her hair. “Rest.”

  Chapter Three

  Guisborough, North East England

  Gently releasing his energy from her sleeping form, Charles moved quickly to the raven-haired young woman entering the room, her face full of concern.

  “What is it, Aliyah?”

  “Something has changed.”

  “I know I sensed the shift too.”

  She walked to the window and peered outside into the darkness. “The others have been calling out all night, Charles. They are anxious.”

  “They have cause to be. We have not experienced this before.”

  “Have you spoken to the Lightkeepers since?”

  “Briefly, they’ve instructed that we remain vigilant and report back with any concerns.”

  Aliyah glanced to Rowan, stirring in her sleep. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s not just these things that have gathered around the village. There’s something else happening here too. Rowan is right at the heart of it.”

  His eyes flicked across to his ward. “I can’t deny that they are connected.”

  “Did she see him again?”

  “Yes, and you’re right, Aliyah. There’s a power at play here that none of us understands, not even the Lightkeepers. Our only solace is that Rowan has given her heart to him, so there must be light within.”

  “You and I both know that humans are capable of loving those who are not deserving,” she reminded him gently.

  “I have not forgotten. But I know Rowan to be different. I trust in her judgement, and you must trust in mine.”

  “I hope you are right, for all our sakes. Have you been able to connect with him at all?”

  Charles shook his head. “The boy made contact through astral projection in the dreamscape. I do believe he has a physical presence, so there may yet be an opportunity.”

  “Do you know that for certain?”

  “No, and neither does Rowan.”

  “Well, whoever this boy is, and whatever he wants, we must ensure Rowan’s safety. Christine isn’t strong enough to cope with another loss after David’s transition.”

  Charles heaved a sigh. “I do understand what the consequences would be, Aliyah, the Lightkeepers have briefed me. Is the protection spell holding?”

  Aliyah’s gaze swept across to the window. “Yes, they are all safe here, hidden well within the light and away from the shadows.”

  Charles could not resist. “And how can you be so certain?”

  She smiled, not rising to his bait. “Not to brag, brother, but it is the oldest magic. They’re all under protection, I assure you.”

  “Even so, we need to remain on our guard. Rowan’s vision is warning enough. I assume Harry is with Jake?”

  “Yes, although he won’t hear you calling over the top of Jake’s snoring. How that boy manages to speak in the morning is a complete mystery.”

  Charles laughed. “Indeed, his stamina is to be admired.”

  Aliyah’s eyes creased in the corners and a smile touched her lips. “Whose Jake’s or Harry’s?”

  He didn’t reply. Distracted by Rowan’s soft groans, Charles hurried to her side. Laying a hand across her forehead, he soothed her brow, his senses alert to yet another shift of energy around her. “That’s not her father.”

  Aliyah crossed to his side. “David was only granted time with Christine. Do you sense a threat?”

  Charles shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

  “Then we’ll talk later. It seems that tonight isn’t quite finished with Rowan yet, and she may need you.”

  He nodded, staring down at the woman he had watched over since birth. “She’s entered the dreamscape.”

  •

  Curiosity followed disappointment as Rowan appraised the older woman who now stood in his place. She was dressed in black linen trousers and a soft cornflower sweater that emphasised the blue in her eyes. Her long silver hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders. When she smiled, it was with what seemed to Rowan as an honest affection. “I am sorry, dear, but I’m afraid it is just me now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I can see that, dear, but there isn’t much time for me to explain and I do need to speed things up a little.”

  She turned with a quick clap of her hands. Their surroundings instantly dissolved. Rowan levitated into a cyclone of light before she could so much as utter a complaint.

  “Hold on, dear, you’re nearly there.”

  “Nearly where?” Rowan called, unable to bring her vision into focus through the persistent merry go round of colours and shapes.

  “You must relax, dear, and let it come naturally.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one sat on a bloody waltzer.”

  “A waltzer?”

  “Oh, never mind.”

  “That’s just as well, as we have no time for ballroom dancing. You need to trust me, dear.”

  Squeezing her eyes closed, Rowan slowly counted to ten. “Okay, I agree to trust you. Now could you just make it stop?”

  “But it already has, see?”

  Rowan gaped around the quaint little kitchen, its sandstone walls festooned with a curious assortment of bottles and jars. A myriad of greenery decorated from the window to the floor. Large leafy tendrils swept out across the sparkling silver tops and warm oak cupboards. In the heart of the kitchen, a table covered in a simple white cloth and delicate blue china, set for two places. A jug of wildflowers adorned its centre, their fragrance divine.

  The older woman smiled. “They are quite beautiful, my favourites in the garden.”

  Rowan nodded and inhaled the sweet fragrance. “I would love to see your garden.”

  “And you will, my dear, very soon.”

  A sudden movement from the fire hearth drew Rowan’s attention as a rather excited small black Scottie dog leapt from its wicker basket and sprang in the direction of her legs.

  “Now, Biscuit, where are your manners today?”

  The little dog skidded to a stop, wagging his tail enthusiastically despite the scolding.

  “I’m sorry, dear, it’s just that we don’t get many visitors.”

  Biscuit barked a response and the older woman stooped down to address him. “Well, yes. That’s very true. But we must have patience. This is her first visit.”

  Rowan stared from woman to dog as they carried on their conversation. “I’ve completely and utterly lost the plot now.” She rubbed her forehead.

  The older woman rose, her expression serious. “I very much doubt that, dear. But you do look a little pale. Perhaps some tea will help.”

  “Sure, tea, why didn’t I think of that?” Rowan muttered. Her words were met with a soft chuckle.

  “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour. You’re going to need it, my dear.”

  Rowan heaved a huge sigh. “Okay, so if I am not completely insane, could you at least tell me who you are?”

  “I’m Bessie, and you, of course, are Rowan.”

  “How is it you know my name?”

  Bessie moved to switch on the kettle. “I just know, dear.”

  “Are you real?”

  “As real as you are.”

  The little dog nudged Rowan’s leg, and she bent to stroke him. “And, Biscuit, he’s real too?”

  “Yes, and my apologies, Biscuit, for the lack of introduction.”

  Biscuit rolled over to offer his tummy for Rowan to rub.

  Smiling, Bessie turned towards the table, kettle in hand. She lifted the lid of the teapot and emptied the water inside. “He trusts you, dear, that’s an excellent sign. I’m so very pleased
.”

  Rowan rose to meet the older woman’s gaze. “A good sign of what?”

  “Of things to come. We must prepare.” Returning the kettle, Bessie signalled for Rowan to join her at the table. “Please sit.”

  Biscuit curled around her feet as she accepted the tea offered. “Can I drink this?”

  “Of course, it is your dream, after all,” Bessie replied.

  Rowan placed the teacup down and slumped into her chair. Disappointment had quenched her thirst. “So, none of this is real, then?”

  “On the contrary, my dear, Biscuit, and I are very real.”

  “Then how is any of this possible?”

  “It just is. We cannot question that, but instead must trust.”

  Rowan shook her head slowly. For the second time that night she’d been told to trust. Not easy to accomplish when logic and reasoning demanded an explanation.

  “I know that you’re not quite ready yet, but you will need to be very soon. Time grows short. You must come and find Biscuit and me. He will show you the way.”

  There it was again, another reference to time, and also to him.

  “He?” Rowan asked innocently, although deep down she knew to whom Bessie referred.

  “You know very well who,” Bessie said.

  “Yes, I do, but what I want to know is, how do you?”

  “All will become clear. For now, he will find you and then together you must find your amulet.”

  “What amulet?”

  “Your talisman, dear. You will need it for the journey ahead.”

  Rowan’s frustration grew. “I really don’t understand any of this.”

  “I know it has been rather an eventful night for you. All will become clear soon,” Bessie reassured.

  Biscuit barked from beneath the table.

  “What did he say?”

  Glancing to the silver carriage clock on the mantel, Bessie nodded. “You’re right, of course, there is no time. Dawn approaches and Rowan has a hectic day ahead of her. My dear, I shall send for you tonight and we will talk some more.”

  “What do you mean? I have a hectic day ahead?”

  “Off you go now. Say goodbye, Biscuit.”

  “No, wait…” Rowan cried.

  •

  Charles considered the exchange from a safe distance, his presence undetected. Another piece of the puzzle. However, unlike the other energy that had congregated around the village, he sensed no threat from the woman. She had in part spoken the truth. Both she and the dog held a physical presence in this world, although he found it somewhat odd that she had no guide with her. Charles waited until Rowan’s energy released itself from the dreamscape, before returning to her bedside.

  Rowan groaned and spun over, kicking a leg free from the duvet.

  Soothing her brow with his hand. He settled her back into slumber, and called to Aliyah.

  She shimmered into view and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Can you keep watch? I must speak with the Lightkeepers.”

  “Is it the boy?”

  “Not the boy. There is another who has contacted Rowan in the dreamscape. I sense she too has a part to play.”

  Aliyah nodded. “Then you must go.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be back before she wakes.”

  With a final glance towards Rowan, Charles vanished from the room.

  Chapter Four

  North York Moors, North East England

  Kane crossed his arms and leaned casually against the stump of the tree. It was indeed a calculated move, exuding an air of confidence that admittedly he didn’t feel. The arch of the Master’s brows was a positive sign as he continued to appraise him through the depths of the fire. Kane’s eyes were resolute and unyielding, despite the coil of doubt that churned. He masked it well, having learned from the mistakes of others, as he’d watched them crumble under the Master’s scrutiny and seal their fates.

  It was a relief to note that his apparent arrogance had earned Kane some respect. The Master had relinquished his gaze and settled back into the flames.

  Encouraged, Kane broke the silence. “I take it my news was to your satisfaction?”

  The Master’s lips curled into something closely resembling a smile. “Valoria will soon be mine.”

  Shifting his position, Kane leaned closer to the fire, his stomach somersaulting in anticipation. “Tell me.”

  “Jarrow is dead.”

  Kane sneered. “The fools, they sent their best warrior into battle.”

  “Yes. Your recommendation to strike tonight is most pleasing. However, don’t be so quick to celebrate. We have not gone unscathed. My army was diminished, more than we anticipated. Jarrow proved to be a worthy adversary.”

  “Understood. And what of my premonition, and the scorpion’s tail?”

  The Master sneered. “It has fallen.”

  “Mercadia does not suspect?”

  “No, or she would not have risked sending Jarrow into battle.”

  “Then the game has changed, Master. Your army will rebuild. Led by a worthy ally. How long do we have until the uprising?”

  “The sun moves into position in four days.”

  “The twelfth sacrifice?”

  The Master nodded, his pleasure evident. “Their blood has been spilt. The Waters of Samsara are turning.”

  “Then I shall return to complete the ritual.”

  “No, Aaron will complete the ritual.”

  Kane bit back his disappointment. “Do you trust him?”

  “For now. He has proven himself to be loyal to me. You do not?”

  Something about the sudden appearance of such a gifted mage filled Kane with suspicion. “Like you, I’ve had no call to question him. But I would urge you to remain cautious where he is concerned.”

  “Aaron is under close supervision. He serves me well enough. As for you, Kane, you will serve me by finding out why Mercadia took such a risk. Capture this girl and bring her to me, alive and unharmed.”

  “What of the Tracker?”

  “He could be of use to us. After all he was the one to find the Silver Stag and obtain the first key. Not an easy feat for a man of his means. He may well be the one to find the others. Persuade him to join us.”

  “If I can’t?”

  “Then kill him. Speaking of which, where is that First Officer of yours? He wasn’t with the others.”

  Kane stood and turned to the trees. The Fallen shrank back from sight, but were too late in their retreat. The Master’s gaze had already locked onto the one he sought, the creature howling, as it was forced away from its brethren. Its claws scratched noisily into bark, a futile attempt Kane considered to brace itself against the sheer might of the Master’s will. Despite the creature’s bulk it hurtled effortlessly through the night air and landed with a loud thud in front of the flames, its leathery black skin slick with sweat as it scrambled onto all fours.

  “You have failed me tonight, Irian,” the Master said.

  “Not I,” the creature hissed, saliva dripping from its elongated snout.

  “Then who?” the Master demanded.

  Kane resisted the urge to snap its neck, as Irian’s cold-blooded amber eyes met his.

  “You dare to accuse your Commander? Miserable piece of filth, I shall kill you now,” Kane said, his voice shaking with anger.

  The Master shook his head in warning. Kane swallowed his temper and complied with the silent order to leave the matter with him.

  The slits of Irian’s eyes widened with renewed hope. He continued with his betrayal. “On the Commander’s orders did we fail you. Please do not punish us further. We shall do better. I shall do better. He must do better,” Irian announced.

  Kane seethed, his hands twitching by his sides.

  The Master smirked and met Irian’s gaze. “You know that I expect complete loyalty.”

  “Yes,” Irian hissed.

  “Then where is yours?” the Master asked and raised his hand.
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  The creature dropped to the ground, writhing and clawing at its throat, unable to respond. The Master’s vice-like grip continued to choke the life out of it. Kane stared without pity into its bulging eyes, no longer defiant, as blood continued to ooze from every orifice of the creature. A satisfying gurgling echoed through the forest. Kane sneered.

  Irian, gasped for air one last time, before his flesh exploded, scattering pieces across the campsite.

  “Let this be a lesson to all and don’t fail me again.”

  Kane kicked a dismembered limb off his boot. “Understood.”

  The fire extinguished, signalling the Master’s departure.

  Sensing movement, Kane spun to face the six Fallen that had now approached. Only one stepped forward. The others kept their distance.

  “Any sign of him?” said Kane.

  “No, Commander. We lost him after the storm.”

  Kane scowled. “And you are?”

  “Barrock.”

  “Congratulations, Barrock, you’re promoted to First Officer. Clean that up.”

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  With no appetite to watch, Kane strode purposefully in the opposite direction and away from the camp. The remaining Fallen moved quickly past him with eyes downcast, as they joined their brethren. Kane’s lip twitched with pleasure, and he basked in their subservience.

  Particular members had enjoyed the taste of their newfound freedom a little too much. They were unaware that Kane had heard their whispers during the night, as they retreated to their cocoons to plan ways in which to kill him. Kane knew of their desire to remain in this strange world with its plentiful supply of flesh and bone. They thought he had been sleeping and therefore oblivious to any attempts made to overthrow him. Such fools!

  Alone in the forest, Kane laughed out loud at Irian’s mistake. The obliteration of the first scout team had soon put an end to their plan for mutiny, their ringleader now scattered in several pieces across the camp, the main course for his brethren.

  Although aggrieved that he had not been the one to end Irian’s life, the night had concluded well for Kane, his favour with the Master redeemed after highlighting the tactical advantage the Council had inadvertently given the Master, and which happened to deflect from his own recent failure.