Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  “And you’re sure you need me?” Sam stepped back as the pieces fell to the ground.

  Vigtor placed a paternal hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Yes, Sam, we do. The whole world does. Imagine this. If everyone had access to the exact same resource, greed and jealousy and crime would disappear overnight. With all that energy, people could grow unlimited food, and world hunger would be sated. With one true power that everyone could agree on, a power that actually helped them, religious battles would no longer be necessary. People could clothe and shelter themselves. People could find love, peace, and harmony, because hatred and malice come from wanting what you don’t have. All the basic needs would be met. The world would be united under one power. Music would flourish, art would blossom, and people could spend their time at their leisure. And what do most people do in their leisure time?”

  Sam’s heart was racing. “What?”

  Vigtor bent down, picked up the football, and handed it to Sam. “Watch sports. Sam, you could help bring a world utopia. You could be its greatest champion. Everyone would know your name. And after you assist with setting the human race on the path to a golden age, you can play football, and everyone in the world will be watching.”

  Sam felt dizzy. “But why are the sorcerers in Atlas Crown against this?”

  Vigtor swung an arm through the air and created a tiny mirage of the pillars and walls of Atlas Crown. “The place itself, not just the people, screams elitism. Atlas Crown: the kings of the whole world. They sit high and mighty and let the rest of the world rot and bring about its own destruction. They don’t want everyone else to have what they have. They are selfish. They have grown fat on their own narcissism. They don’t even communicate with flathands. Did you not notice how everyone was frightened of you there? I bet that when you started to get angry, they draped you with a calming feeling. Am I correct?”

  Sam recalled the serene feeling that May, Bariv, and Fernando had placed over him. “How’d you know?”

  “They did the same to me. They took away your free will. They wouldn’t let you feel what you were meant to feel because they don’t want anyone ruining their precious way of life. They don’t think about others, only themselves.” Vigtor lowered his voice. “Do you understand?”

  Sam thought about it: the lies, the looks of panic at the mention of power magic, the isolation. Although he still didn’t feel like part of the group here, at least they treated him with respect. “I guess.”

  “They kept you prisoner.” Vigor seethed, a black anger shadowing his eyes. “You were lucky to get out of the king’s dungeon. They were scared you would escape and make everyone equals.” Vigtor held his hand over the tiny Atlas Crown. Bariv’s face appeared underneath, as if he were wearing the pillars as a crown. The face trembled with a cruel laugh, his eyes brimming with evil.

  “The king’s worst fear is for himself to become a subject, especially after neglecting those whom he was supposed to rule.” The crown broke apart and Bariv’s face faded away. “The people will rise and those of Atlas Crown will become just like everyone else.”

  Sam’s head throbbed. Could it be true? Could they really be conspiring to keep the rest of the world fighting, while they sit around and have reenactments and feasts all to themselves? “So you’re saying if I help you get through, we could really do all that? World peace and everything?”

  Vigtor opened his hands wide. “There is no limit to the joys the world will feel. Togetherness is the reason we are born, and it is the reason we live. The whole world will be united and true happiness will abound in everyone’s hearts. We can be the ones to do that. We just need to unleash the masterpiece that the Veil is hiding.”

  Sam stayed silent for a moment, rubbing his second-skin against his temple. “Can I think about it?”

  Vigtor gave a swift bow. “Absolutely. It’s a lot to take in. But think quickly, because we act early next morning, before dawn breaks.”

  Sam almost choked at the haste of it. “Why so soon?”

  Vigtor made the pieces of rock slide back into the ground, leaving the field pristine once again. “She is thinnest right after the full moon.”

  Saria stepped out onto the field. “Lemonade?”

  Vigtor looked into Sam’s eyes as he called out to Saria. “I think we could both use a refreshment.”

  Saria handed them both cold, frosted chalices. “How’s the practice going?”

  Vigtor winked at Sam. “I think he’ll be ready in no time at all.”

  Sam chugged his drink and handed the glass back. At the entrance of the cave, Crom stood, arms crossed, staring at them. He was the only one of the Tembrath Elite who had remained aloof during Sam’s time with them.

  “How about a few buttonhooks?” Sam handed the empty chalice back to Saria.

  Vigtor took the last sip of his lemonade. “Work on your own for a while. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Sam nodded at Saria, thanked her for the drink, and then ran off to the other side of the field.

  What Vigtor had said made sense, but something still nagged at him. He would have to think it over that night. It’s not like me helping will get anyone hurt. It is called the Veil. That means it’s hiding something beautiful, right?

  Could he really help save the world from itself? Vigtor had been honest with him so far; Sam couldn’t see a reason not to trust him now. And everyone in Atlas Crown did seem a little bit elitist. Could it all be true? Was he really the key to everyone’s happiness?

  He’d sleep on it, but for now, he had training to do.

  ***

  Vigtor watched as Sam physically exhausted himself. It was good—the endorphins would make everything easier. When the time came, he was confident Sam would do his part.

  Saria’s hand went tight around Sam’s chalice. “Did you do it?”

  Vigtor held his cup upside-down, letting the last drop trickle out. “Yes.”

  “And will he be the last?” Saria asked eagerly. “Will he be the one to finally break through?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am quite a convincing storyteller.”

  Saria smirked. “You always were.”

  Vigtor flexed his fingers. The armor-belly skin was still coarse and dark. Bariv’s snake had refused to give him its skin, but it didn’t matter. Perhaps second-skins would no longer be necessary after they broke through.

  “Tomorrow,” Vigtor grabbed the Veil, delicately smiling as She ran across his palm, “we will meet the real power, and when we do, the true kings will emerge.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Glissandro stomped through the woods. It’s hopeless.

  Bariv and May had been holed up inside the cave for over a week now, trying to figure out a way to stop what was to come.

  Fear had paralyzed the town after May had spoken. Sam is with them now. Everyone knew the Tembrath Elite’s plan. May had the other magical communities around the world on high alert, but Glissandro knew it wouldn’t do much good. If the Tembrath Elite could hide from the minds of Atlas Crown, then chances were they’d remain hidden.

  People skittered through their daily activities, hurrying home when they were done. No dancing, festivals… or music. People were scared, and Glissandro didn’t think them wrong to be.

  People should be celebrating the Veil. If this is the end, then we should at least go out with honor and courage.

  It was raining, and he was off to find the symflowers for one final session. He had psyched himself up and made a promise to at least try and be happy for a little while. He headed in the direction of his favorite patch of symflowers.

  It was funny: for the last few days, whenever Glissandro had played, the tone of his music had been different: richer, deeper, more vibrant... And it wasn’t just the tone. His words felt more mature, more important. They were more potent, too. He had to be careful so as not to vibrate too much of Her, as the results could be unpredictable. It was like learning to play for the first time
. Now, every time he played, he again felt the first shock and spiritual wonderment of magic. During the day, he scoured the fields for closed flower petals, and gently coaxed them open with music.

  Not everything beautiful in Atlas Crown needed to hide.

  At night, he traded his time between meditation and going to watch the greeter-owls as they scratched pictures into tree trunks. He waited until after they had finished decorating a tree and tried to figure out what they were drawing. Lately, they seemed to be trying to draw circles, or maybe spirals?

  What will happen when the Tembrath Elite get through the Veil? No one knew for sure, but Glissandro had an idea.

  The Veil would cease to be.

  One crack, one flaw, and the power behind Her would take over. The animals would disappear, the plants would die, and he would be mute once again.

  If only he’d done things differently.

  He played loud, anything and everything he could, beautiful and raw. His lips got puffy and sore, but he continued playing. He stirred up every creature he could find and played each one a personal song. He turned rain into ice and back to water. He played a hymn for the griffin-bugs as they chopped up plants to bring back to their silk-dens. He lifted boulders high above the canopy and brought them gently back to earth. He uncapped the Geyser of the Ancestors and called the winds from deep below, creating sullen wails as the air escaped. Many of his actions held no reason; he just wanted to feel alive. He wanted to interact with the world before it was too late.

  The rain only made his music grander. His hair was so saturated that it was almost straight. His robe was more water than cloth, and struggling against the extra weight strained his muscles, but it didn’t bother him. His feet sank into the mud, and tiny, rough stones scraped his toes.

  To his right, a pride of lion-frogs hopped in and out of a large puddle, their manes inflating once they reached the surface and keeping them afloat. Releasing a gust of air, one soared a few inches off the surface, propelled by its own breath.

  Glissandro played a low note, and they all puffed up completely. He stepped into the puddle with them, wanting to share in the joy they felt. He had a quota of happiness to fill.

  Everything’s changing. It would all change. Yes, he’d had his brief stint in the outside world, but this was home. This was what he knew and loved. It had been glorious, but it was going to end.

  He couldn’t blame Sam. He wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault. Sam had been marked an outcast the second he was chosen by the Veil. He could use Her, but he would ultimately be used against Her.

  Glissandro thought back to the rainy night with the symflowers when he’d first spoken with Sam. Even through the heavy rain and music, Glissandro had heard him approaching—as Sam had all the stealth of a grotlon around jelly bees. Though unaware, Sam had been part of the music that night.

  Glissandro remembered the goofy smile on Sam’s face as he listened to them play. A smile like that didn’t happen upon someone with hate in his heart; it was a smile of pure love and simple joy: beautiful things that the spiteful could never embrace.

  If only I could go back to the night on the mountain and explain myself better, maybe Sam wouldn’t have left.

  A rustle came from somewhere behind the bushes, flinging droplets of water. Glissandro got into a crouch, and his knees dipped into the puddle, the water freezing his skin. The lion-frogs had stopped croaking and seemed to be waiting for something to happen. A dark body moved in the shadows just a few paces away, big and bulky.

  Then, just inches above the brush, a few tiny black swirls hovered in the air, and then moved gracefully back down out of sight.

  They triggered a memory. He’d seen that shape before, but on a much larger scale. Up on the mountain, before they reached the Mystics, the echo flies had made that symbol.

  A flash of black appeared in the corner of his eye, and he heard a low growl behind him. Like a cat, Glissandro twisted gracefully. More floating swirls drifted through the air, the rain doing nothing to alter their path.

  A dark figure lurked behind a boulder. Before he could react, it stepped out and revealed itself. Something went off inside of Glissandro’s head. He knew exactly what he had to do—knew the instant he locked eyes with the creature.

  It wasn’t over yet. He’d seen those eyes before.

  Glissandro howled through his horn, shooting a massive message into the sky.

  GET MAY NOW!

  ***

  Something was glowing under Sam’s bed.

  He looked around. No one else was awake, or if they were, they were doing the same thing as Sam: preparing for the big event. At some point earlier in the night—he didn’t know when, as he had yet to see a clock—the gravity of the situation had finally struck him. He could really make a difference in the world. He was going to help them break through the Veil.

  It actually wasn’t all that hard of a decision to make. When Vigtor was teaching him to take the Veil and use it as he wished—which made a lot more sense than what Bariv had tried to teach him—Sam could feel something more, something massive lurking just around the corner, waiting to come into the light.

  On the football field, he used his mind, but mostly he followed his gut. Intuition had always been his closest teammate. He never really thought about the path to the end zone, it just unfolded, like it was always there. Right now, he was headed down a path, but this time he could do more than put numbers up on a scoreboard.

  Bluish light trickled through the mattress. After staring up at the ceiling the whole night thinking, he’d gotten up to use the bathroom and had seen the tiny light leaking out. He crouched down and lifted the corner of the comforter.

  Bright! He shut his eyes and let the fabric cover it again. Behind his eyelids, an imprint of color remained, like he’d looked directly into the sun. A face. A beautiful, delicate face smiled at him: sharp cheeks, lustrous hair, and piercing eyes. The image remained for a few moments before fading.

  When he picked up the comforter to get another look, the light was gone, but he saw the fruit he’d stored there on the first day. Thinking back, he didn’t know why he’d hidden it instead of throwing it away, but it’d felt like something he had to keep, even if only for sentimental reasons. He reached under and pulled out the gift the snake had given him.

  Sam had tried not to think too much about Atlas Crown since he had been with the Tembrath Elite, but when he did, it was mostly about the mayhem and disturbance he had caused. Maybe he hadn’t fit in because he was meant to de-throne them all. He was an enemy. He was meant to bring out the power that would save the world, and Atlas Crown just stood in the way. If he wasn’t meant to do this, why would the Veil have even come to him in the first place?

  Atlas Crown wasn’t all bad, though. If not for his fate, he probably could have been good friends with Glissandro and would have eventually won Daphne’s affection. And he definitely would have beaten Petir at gumptius. Heck, it could still happen. After they got used to everyone being able to use the real magic, why couldn’t all that still happen? Things wouldn’t change for them all that much, besides becoming intertwined with the rest of the world. And wasn’t that the point of existing, to make connections? May had

  said something like that.

  Without the strange light, the fruit looked kind of normal, like something he could pluck off a tree back in Stanton. Of course, it wasn’t normal. He remembered the voice that had penetrated his head… no, not penetrated. It had already been there, lying dormant.

  When the time comes, you will have to choose.

  He’d wanted an answer, but had gotten none. This was the choice he had to make, and it would be one he could not turn back from.

  It took some time, but the decision was made.

  He put the fruit in his pocket.

  “You’re awake.”

  Sam popped up. Crom hovered menacingly above his bed.

  Sam smoothed out his jersey. “Finally speaking to me, huh?�
��

  The big man grinned and showed his teeth. Discolored, they all came to tiny points. The man was so large Sam didn’t even come up to his chest. “You’re young.” Crom’s voice had a hint of an accent. Russian, maybe?

  “So?”

  Crom pointed to his chest with a broad thumb. “I’m much older.”

  “… And?”

  Crom’s grin fell dangerously close to a sneer. “You should respect me.”

  Sam frowned at his tone. “I don’t even know you. This is the first time you’ve even acknowledged my existence.”

  “They think you’re so great, but you’re still nothing.” Some spit flew from his mouth and speckled Sam’s forehead. His breath smelled like rancid meat and stale beer.

  Sam wiped the arm of his jersey across his forehead. “What’s your problem? What did I do to you?”

  Crom bent further over the bed, his face just inches away from Sam’s. “It should be me. It’s always me.”

  Sam refused to back away. “What’s always you?”

  “The last one. It should be me that breaks through, not you. You don’t even know—”

  “The time has come,” Vigtor interrupted. Sam hadn’t seen him sneak up.

  Sam shot Crom the dirtiest look he could dig up. “Now?”

  “She will be weakest very soon.” Vigtor cleared his throat. “We must strike.”

  Crom backed away, but his eyes remained locked on Sam’s.

  The Tembrath Elite convened in the main room. Vigtor pointed his second-skin at the large hearth in the corner, and a roaring fire came to life.

  Sage and Saria came over to Sam, and each laid a hand on his arm.

  “Are you ready?” they asked in unison. One of their voices was slightly higher, but Sam couldn’t tell whose it was.

  “Yes.” Sam nodded. “But how’d you know—”

  “It’s your destiny, Sam.” Vigtor’s smile was like a beacon of light. “Of course, the choice is yours, but we all knew the minute we met you that you were meant to do this. You are fated to be one of us.”