Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  Sam gave a sigh of relief. “Nice.”

  It had been hours since he’d felt even the slightest trace of the Veil. The others, including Rona, carried on without bothering to check on him. Sam understood; he didn’t expect he’d accomplish anything, either. Peeling off the green skin and fitting it on his other hand didn’t attract the Veil any better.

  At this rate, I’ll never get home.

  Giving up for the time being, Sam sighed and flopped down on his back. After a few minutes of staring at the sky, he rolled over into a push-up, losing himself in the familiar rhythm of exercise. At least pushups were something he could do very well. It was on rep thirty that he glanced over and started laughing so hard he crumpled to the ground, knocking the wind from him. Next to him, Glissandro had joined in on the pushups, only

  he had both arms behind his back and was doing armless pushups. Every time he went down, he blew a small toot on the snail horn in his mouth, which pushed him back upwards.

  A louder note sent him flying to his feet. Sam was still laughing when he stood up beside him, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I need to learn how to do that. My friend Doug would think it was a riot.”

  Glissandro waved to an invisible crowd and took a bow.

  At the mention of Doug, Sam flashed back to the football field—the field where he could be again, if only he could focus.

  No—thinking like that wasn’t getting him anywhere. He forced himself back to where he was, and he blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind. “Why does Rona wear that crown? Is he the king or something?”

  “He was a king,” Glissandro played.

  Sam’s brows shot up. “Really?”

  “A tribal king in Africa.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. A long time ago.” Glissandro played a series of long, low notes. “He and his people lived in a territory where the tribal groups were always in battle. They were trained for constant combat.”

  “That explains his physique. He could probably put up well over three hundred.”

  Glissandro frowned. “Three hundred what?”

  “Never mind.” Sam inched forward, sinking most of his calves underwater. “Go on.”

  Glissandro played a trill. The note stopped, but the words kept showing up in Sam’s head. “He was originally the shaman for the tribe. He was able to heal all their injuries, even the serious ones. He used a special staff for healing—a staff made from a small tree that had come from the Veil. This meant that Rona’s tribe lost fewer soldiers in battle, which in turn meant that they had more men to fight in future encounters. All agreed that it was best if they made Rona king. Rona made an excellent leader; however, he refused to take the life of another man. This eventually led to his downfall.

  “Even though he refused to kill, he went into battle every single time, healing his fallen warriors right on the field with his staff. He was petrified of dying—not because he was afraid, but because he didn’t want to leave his young daughter alone—but still he went. His tribe won each fight and soon all surrounding tribes feared Rona’s. They grew larger and became extremely powerful.”

  Another trill, this time higher. “There was a man in his tribe who saw Rona’s mercy as weakness. This was a greedy man, a bad man. Now that the tribe was so powerful, the bad man wanted control. He came up with a plan. He snuck into the territory of a rival tribe, where he was captured and taken to the tribe’s leader. In exchange for his life, the man gave up the secret to Rona’s magic powers—his staff. The man was set free and he snuck back into his territory.

  “The next night, the rival tribe declared war against Rona’s. As always, Rona went into battle, but the bad man hid in the woods. The rival tribe had a plan. Instead of attacking the warriors, they all attacked Rona. Rona tried to fight them off, but there were just too many. They broke his staff and beat Rona nearly to death. They would have killed him, but Rona’s warriors were able to save him—just barely—and win the battle, defeating the rival tribe. Rona’s tribe lost an extraordinary number of warriors. Since there was no one to nurse Rona back to health, he went into shock and fever all through the night. Miraculously, he survived, but remained unconscious.

  “The bad man was able to take power and became the new king, since Rona remained in a coma for some time, powerless. Now that word had gotten out that Rona had lost his magic, the other tribes attacked. Rona’s tribe began to dwindle in number. They got desperate and began looking for someone to blame. Not wanting to have the tribe’s wrath focused on him, the bad man suggested they sacrifice Rona’s daughter to the gods in the hopes that they restore Rona to health and power. The members of the tribe were losing family—which meant they were losing their sanity. In the end, they decided that the bad man’s plan was the best course of action. In the middle of the night, they snuck into Rona’s dwelling and stole his daughter. All she could do was scream.

  “Since none of the tribe wanted to murder the child, they decided to let nature do it for them. Close by, lions hovered around the carcass of a recent kill. The tribe threw Rona’s daughter to them, and she was viciously mauled. She was near death when Rona showed up. His eyes blazed red and he actually flew through the air to come to his daughter’s aid.

  “The lions backed off at the sight. As Rona reached his daughter, he pulled her close to his body. The lions circled back toward them, preparing to attack, but Rona looked at his daughter’s broken body and let out a ferocious roar. In an instant, all of the lions and all of the warriors lay dead. Rona was left holding his daughter’s body, watching her die in his arms.”

  The words stopped coming.

  Sam threw his arms out. “What happened?”

  “Sorry.” Glissandro let out another trill. “Didn’t make that one long enough. What happened was that May found him. She healed his daughter, but when she was running her hand over the girl’s face, the girl asked her to leave one scar. Rona started crying. He assumed May was an angel. Rona thought she was there to take them to the other side, but instead, she brought them here.”

  Sam felt his chest constrict. “How did she find them?”

  “Bariv,” Glissandro played. “He realized something was wrong when Rona stopped using the Veil. He sent May to see what had happened.”

  Sam looked over at Rona, sitting peacefully on his rock. “How are they both still so young?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rona and Zawadi. They’re still so young—and where’s Zawadi’s scar?”

  Glissandro’s long, slow notes sounded like a lullaby. “The Veil gives certain people prolonged life, like Rona. Zawadi is our age. Rona calls Zawadi his daughter because he leads the Rono clan. He calls all of the Rono girls his daughters.”

  “But why does Rona have prolonged life?”

  “Necessity,” Glissandro played.

  Sam turned back to the river, and let his eyes drift over the water for a little while. He looked over at Rona meditating on the rock and wondered if the man sitting there with a calm smile was really the same man who had gone through all of that.

  After a few silent minutes, Sam stood up and pounded his fist into his palm.

  Rona’s a genuine hero—not just a football hero, a real hero.

  If it took Sam all afternoon, he would get that water into the chalices.

  He settled into the stance and concentrated on the smallest of the three cups. If Rona could survive all that he had gone through, surely Sam could do this small task. He’d frozen all movement in the football stadium; he could definitely make a little water jump. Bariv had shown Sam that he could use the Veil. Maybe he was just trying too hard. In the cave, the Veil had come naturally, like they were a team.

  He thrust his palm over the bank of the river.

  Sam thought about what May had told him earlier.

  The Veil values courage.

  A small charge jolted underneath his fingers. Sam opened his eyes and watched the water. He thought about Glissandro’s ability
to talk through music.

  The Veil values cleverness.

  He thought about Fromson of the Bellamy clan’s pastry.

  The Veil values creativity.

  His hand began to shake. Sam thought about May draping his cleats and how she told him it was like doing a puzzle with something distracting you.

  The Veil values focus.

  He thought about the echo flies creating an image more in-depth than a mirror ever could.

  The Veil values something… what was it?

  The air around him felt warm.

  The Veil values something extraordinary!

  Sam watched as three drops of water arced from the river and landed in each of the chalices. In his mind, he had envisioned all three filling to the brim at once. He stared mournfully at the inside of the chalices.

  He took a deep breath and tried to bury his frustration. Holding out his palm again, he tried to focus on the Veil. Nothing came. He was never going to get home at this rate.

  He felt like kicking the smallest chalice into the river.

  “It just takes time,” Glissandro played. “You’ll get it.”

  “You don’t get it.” Sam clenched his fists. “I need to be good at this.”

  Glissandro looked at the river. “Why?”

  “Because I have to get home! This isn’t what my life is supposed to be!”

  Glissandro carved another notch into his shell. “It just takes time.”

  “Just because you can do it doesn’t mean I can. I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with this stuff!” Sam rubbed a hand across his face.

  Glissandro shook his head, still staring out at the water. “It’s not wasting. The Veil will always be with you now. You have to learn to embrace Her possibilities or cope with Her burden. I hope you choose the first, but either way, it just takes time.”

  Sam’s heart sank. “Just leave me alone! You don’t know what it’s like to keep failing.”

  “The truth is, you don’t know what it’s like to really fail.”

  Sam scowled. “Just go away.”

  Glissandro shrugged and followed the current away from Sam. As he played a long note, a stone popped out of the water and into the bell of his shell. Glissandro shook it out, examined it, nodded, and tossed it back in.

  Sam knew it wasn’t Glissandro’s fault, but he was in no mood to apologize.

  Why can’t I do this? It doesn’t make sense. May said I’m supposed to be great.

  He looked over at Rona, still and silent on the rock.

  What would Coach DeGrella say if he saw Sam failing like this?

  Again.

  He stepped up to the chalices and cracked his knuckles. He thought about the Veil. She was surrounding him, an entity that provided life and power.

  Rona’s words reverberated in his mind. She is not your enemy.

  He thought about working with the energy, about Bariv’s snake and the tiny sun, and about how he’d felt while his head was in the dome.

  He felt it—a strong rush under his fingers.

  Here we go.

  The water needed to fill the chalices. His desire took over, and he stared hard at the river, willing the water to jump. The energy pulsed through him.

  Again, three drops of water rose and fell into the cups.

  That’s it? Sam felt like screaming,

  The energy hadn’t left. It was still there, teasing him. Burdening him with a potential he didn’t want. Insulting him. Mocking him.

  His head started to pound, and he focused all of his anger and frustration as he thrust his hand deep into the energy. Desire seethed through his heart, and he ripped out what he wanted. She would not control him. He grabbed more. The energy struggled to get away, but he held firm. He dominated the power; it was his.

  He willed the water to move, and he felt the energy join with the river. So much power. With one huge pull, he tore the energy away.

  And with it, the river jolted.

  The roaring current halted. Huge whitecaps formed along the surface. The water rumbled. As quick as a breath, the river overflowed the banks, rushing past Sam’s knees, almost knocking him over before he felt the energy dissipate.

  The river… was flowing backwards.

  The water that had escaped returned to the river, sweeping the chalices away and joining the rest of the current in the opposite direction. Sam stared with wide eyes.

  Rona grabbed his wrist. “Not like that.” Rona’s eyes burned with a mixture of fear and disdain. The calm smile was gone. “Never like that.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Sorry,” Sam said. “I just—”

  “Never like that.”

  Rona let him go, and Sam pulled his arm back.

  “Okay,” Sam tried his best to sound apologetic. He was a bit taller than Rona, but his teacher’s gaze made him feel like a small child. “But, what did I do wrong?”

  Rona took a deep breath and the intensity melted from his face. “She is not your enemy.” Rona sounded like he was pleading. “You must work together.”

  “I will.”

  Rona leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You may be strong enough to do what you have done, but it hurts Her. I promise, She will come to you. You don’t need to force Her. It will only lead to limitations. There is a right way and a wrong way. The wrong way might bring quicker results, but it is not real. That is the wrong type of control. Your emotions can affect everything, and you must control yourself, not Her.”

  “Rona!” Petir called. “What happened?”

  Petir and the others ran toward Rona and Sam.

  Rona brought his face close to Sam’s and lowered his voice. “You did not do this—I did. Understand?”

  “But—”

  Rona grabbed Sam’s shoulders, fear outlining his dark features. “I did this to the river. Not you.”

  Sam swallowed hard. “I understand.”

  Rona broke away from Sam, turning toward the others. “Master Rona, Petir!”

  The rest of the group stared at the now-backward river. It flowed gently now, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Rona reached out, curled his fingers, and the three chalices rose from the river and set themselves at his feet.

  “I was just showing Sam the power that can be found in natural magics.” Rona gestured toward the water. “No need for alarm.”

  Glissandro’s eyes went to Sam’s practice skin. Sam looked down; the green skin had several tears across it. He was able to tuck it into the pocket of his robe without anyone else seeing.

  Zawadi nodded. “It’s true, Sam. Natural magics can do the most extraordinary things. There is one natural sorcerer in the Gobo Highlands who can stop volcanoes from erupting.”

  Petir gave a drawn-out sigh. “I still think that’s a rumor.”

  “It’s true. I heard it from a reliable source.”

  Petir shook his head. “He could just go to a regular mountain, cause the earth to shake, and claim that he stopped the volcano. Who can prove him wrong?”

  Zawadi shrugged. “I believe it.”

  “While we’re all here,” Rona said, “how about a meal?”

  Petir ripped off his practice skin, stole a quick glance at Sam, and then pulled on his leathery second-skin. “It’s about time.”

  Rona picked up the chalices—now filled with water—and led the group to a spot near his meditation rock. Pulling out a basket, he laid out a varied assortment of fruits—including the glowing neon melon—as well as vegetables, bread, and pastries—but no meat.

  Sam ate his food in silence. He rolled the different fruits and breads around in his mouth without tasting them at all. All he could think about was the river.

  How did I do that?

  Rona gave the group some post-project pointers while they ate, but Sam didn’t get most of it. “—feel as free as a grassglider and persevere like the legendary Viking sorcerer, Framholsven the Tenacious.”

  Sam shook his head and took another bite of fruit, and then sw
allowed hard when he realized Rona was talking to him. “This group does not only learn how to use the Veil; it is also responsible for learning what has come from the Veil. We train in the mornings, but each afternoon we search the areas surrounding Atlas Crown for new gifts from the Veil.”

  Sam gave a perplexed frown.

  “As May has probably told you,” Rona began, “in areas close to where the Veil is used often, unique plants and animals occasionally sprout up. As this new life is ever-changing, we need young sorcerers from the most advanced groups to document what comes out of Her and what of it we can use.”

  Sam shook the thought of the river from his mind. “Shouldn’t it all be usable?”

  “She gives us what we need, and often what we want, but don’t be deluded. The world does not revolve around us alone.”

  Cassiella jumped in. “We start at the area beyond the tri-pronged pillar and do a reconnaissance around a third of Atlas Crown. It’ll take us about sixty days to completely investigate the locale—and that’s a fast pace.”

  Sam wasn’t planning on staying that long.

  “This is not the only group that documents these gifts from the Veil. But,” Rona nodded, “since I teach the best students, I expect more thorough results from this group than from the other two. My students always have the most new discoveries at the presentation ceremonies.”

  Sam could see that, although Rona didn’t outright say it, he would not be satisfied if this bragging right was taken from him. Sam admired that about him.

  They set off, skirting the mountain on the left, bringing Sam toward the spot where they’d stopped the day before.

  Glissandro walked next to Sam. “—and that’s a quillflower.” He pointed to something that looked like a sea urchin on a stick. “We don’t find new life every day, but we try to.”

  When his friend wasn’t looking, Sam ditched the tattered practice skin behind a bush and pulled his snakeskin on.

  They passed through a field of blue grass where Sam could clearly smell the ocean—the salt even stung his eyes. He looked around for water.