The Prince of the Veil

by Hal Emerson

  The woman looked her over in a swift, critical fashion, and then shook her head. She glanced over Leah’s shoulder back inside, looked dismayed, then angry, then shook her head again and her face became the neutral mask of a physician.

  “If you can move, then we need your space,” she said abruptly. “Go – your weapons are in the next house over if they were salvaged –”

  “I’m a Spellblade,” she said. “I know exactly where my weapons are, and I don’t need your help in finding them; that is not the question I asked. Who is in charge of the armory?”

  The woman paused, brought up short by Leah’s direct manner and the ferocity with which she held her gaze. She didn’t look ready or able to speak, so Leah went to move past her, but the woman caught her by the arm. It shocked Leah a little – she wasn’t used to people touching her.

  “What?” she demanded, already contemplating ways to incapacitate the woman.

  “The command tent,” the woman said abruptly. “One of the Elders.”

  Leah nodded and pulled her arm from the woman’s grasp, turning toward the large tent in the center of the huge Inner City square. She could just make out a number of men there, all hunched over what appeared to be a table of some sort.

  I can’t be too late … I can’t be. What would happen if I were?

  Blue lines spidered across her vision, shining with an azure brilliance like the tail of a comet. Images coalesced, of her shouting at someone, of a man with one red eye and one gold eye, and two Wolves fighting, one in white and one in gray.

  The world came back to her in a rushing blaze of light that left her blinded. She staggered to one side, gasping and choking as if she’d just sprinted a dozen miles; her hand grasped a tent pole, and she held herself up by will and sheer, stupid determination.

  And then she remembered the final part of what had happened in the Cathedral, the final part of what it meant to have Geofred’s memories running through her mind.

  He didn’t just give me his memories – he gave me the Talisman of prophecy.

  Afterimages blinded her vision, but she waded her way through them, moving forward again, letting go of the tent pole and stumbling a few steps before regaining her stride. She had no time to sort out what it meant to have what was now, through the purifying magic of Raven’s Talisman and her own Valerium Anchor, the Aspect of Sight. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder –

  Will it be like that every time?

  Once again, vibrant blue lines, bright as flashes of lightning, spider-webbed across her vision and engulfed her. She saw herself in the middle of an army, fighting foes on all sides; then she was in a command tent; then she was standing beside a teenage boy in the armor of a man –

  “GO AWAY!”

  Immediately, the visions given her by the Aspect of Sight were gone. Her ironfisted will had clamped down, and she could feel her back teeth clenched so hard they were ready to crack against each other. Everyone in hearing range was staring at her, including the people at the table in front of her – a huge, wooden map table set up in the middle of the courtyard beneath the eaves of a side-less tent.

  “Spader!”

  The Lawful Elder took a frightened, instinctive step back as she said his name. All of them were looking at her as if she were a Daemon.

  “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “Where is Aemon’s Blade? You took it from him and stored it somewhere – where is it?”

  “What – how did you know –?”

  She reached out her hands toward the ruins of the distant Cathedral, and tugged with her mind. The accustomed Spellblade muscle that connected her to her daggers was slow to move, but after an instant’s pause clicked into place. Spader, Ishmael, and the two Generals turned and looked at where she was gesturing, and in unison jumped back with cries of alarm. Two wicked, curved daggers, each over a foot long, broke out of the debris and rubble, pushing aside mounds of stone and mortar, and shot, whistling, through the air into Leah’s waiting hand. The only one who didn’t move was Ishmael, the head of her order – he’d seen that trick before a hundred times, and it was he who tried to intervene.

  “Leah,” he rasped, “calm yourself.”

  “Where – is – the – Blade?”

  “The Blade is not yours,” Spader said, “it is Raven’s –”

  “Indeed, it is!” she roared, rounding on him. “And when he woke, did he have it with him? No!”

  “How do you know that – how does she know that?”

  “Surely he is just as capable with another sword,” Ishmael said, speaking quickly, but looking completely bewildered by her actions. “If he had wanted it, all he had to do was ask when he came to us, but he didn’t, he took a replacement–”

  “Did you offer it to him?”

  Spader shot a look at Ishmael before he could stop himself, and she had her answer. She moved forward and grabbed him by the front of his robes.

  “Where is it?”

  General Gates drew his sword, and Ishmael was suddenly at her side, a curved dagger of his own in his hand.

  “Leah, let him go,” he rasped, his black eyes trying to hold hers.

  “I have no time for this,” she said. “You need to trust me. Where is the Blade?”

  “Why –?”

  “Because if he doesn’t get it, we all die!”

  The words rang true, even though she couldn’t grasp the reasoning behind them any longer. They were based on Geofred’s memories, Geofred’s thoughts, and those impressions had already mostly faded from her mind. All that had been left behind was the terrible, dreaded certainty that Raven needed that Blade. It wasn’t just a sword, even though everyone treated it like it was.

  Spader was gaping at her, putting her in mind of a fresh-caught fish. He and Ishmael exchanged a look, and then Ishmael tapped a finger to the back of his hand. Spader’s eyes flicked to Leah, down to her hands, and widened. Leah looked down as well, and saw, peaking out just at edge of her long sleeves, the swirling blue lines of the Eagle Talisman Geofred had forced on her. Spader’s eyes flicked up and swept her hairline, then examined the rest of her, even though no other flesh was exposed, before his gaze zeroed in once more on her own. His mouth tightened into a hard line, and he nodded the barest amount. His hand lifted, pointed to the map table. Confused, she looked closer and saw nothing. She twisted his robes tighter and brought her face closer.

  “Do not lie to me.”

  “He is not,” came the rasping reply. Leah turned to see Ishmael dip to one knee and slash something on the underside of the table. A cable came loose, and with a ripping sound and a clatter of metal on stone, a shadowy bundle fell onto the paving stones.

  “We had no idea what the Seekers or Bloodmages or Dysuna herself had planned,” Ishmael rasped. “We couldn’t let it out of our sight – we were going to give it to him when he awoke, if he did at all, but when he came to us he didn’t even ask for it. And there was something wrong with him – something Spader and I both felt. You need to be careful if you’re going after him – he’s not himself. Are you hearing me, Leah?”

  She wasn’t hearing him; she already knew what she needed to know. She released Spader and went for the Blade, ignoring them all: as far as she was concerned, they had served their purpose, and for the time being had ceased to exist. The Aspect of Sight had infused a certainty in her that told her what she had to do, and none of it involved listening to the others. They didn’t see with the clarity she did; they barely saw anything at all. The Blade was wrapped so it could be safely handled – anyone but Raven would be sent flying a dozen feet through the air if they so much as ran their finger along the handle. It was too long to wear at her waist, and it would hinder her fighting there in any case. She swung it over her shoulder and pulled the edges of the wrapping sheet down and tied them across her chest, manipulating it so the knot rested just between and below the slightly convex chest of her armor. She took a single glance at the top map on the table, saw tha
t the Formaux Gate was the one that had been compromised, and left, sending Spader scampering out of her way.

  “Let her go!” Ishmael rasped out as waiting guards came forward. They looked back, confused, and she just walked right through them. Let them figure it out on their own.

  In a matter of minutes she was halfway through Banelyn city proper, on her way to the east side of the city. The heavy clouds above her broke open, and she was doused in a huge downpour of warm spring rain that had only lessened slightly by the time she turned a corner and saw scores of bodies littering the street before her. Long strips of paving stone were covered in mud made from the ash in the air and the blood on the ground, and now made even worse by the falling rain. Leah saw it all in a series of distracted, oddly jointed images – her mind was far overhead, piecing together a picture of the battle.

  This street was invaded – the way the corpses fell – the pattern of fighting –

  Several things came to her at once in the kind of sourceless, intuitive way her insights always did. She realized first that the battle had two fronts: the Kindred were fighting at the gate and had also been attacked from inside the Wall; the second attack had likely come over the secret passage the Kindred themselves had used to infiltrate the city. And what was more, that second force had been made of both Imperials and Kindred.

  Traitors – Henri Perci.

  She continued on, rushing toward the Black Wall itself, following the tide of battle back to its source. She realized a reserve force had come to meet the invaders, and whoever led it had been brutally efficient, cutting straight through the force.

  She pulled up short. Her breathing was suddenly ragged, her heart beating rapidly. A beautiful white stallion lay before her, resting beside a headless corpse in the trappings of an Exiled Kindred General.

  I know that armor.

  But she wasn’t worried for the man lying here dead; she was worried for the man who’d done the killing. Knowing what she’d find, she came forward and scanned the torn, gory patch of street that was the battlefield, until the lifeless, staring eyes of Henri Perci found her, his face pulled back in a final expression of all-encompassing hatred. Whoever had killed him … it had been personal.

  Raven.

  She left the grisly sight of Henri Perci’s resting place and made her way to the Formaux Gate, her nerves on fire as the sounds of battle swelled before her. As she approached, she braced herself for what she would find. If the Kindred were fighting inside the Wall, then this would be a very short siege. If they had managed to hold them so far … they had a chance.

  She rounded the final corner and through a haze of falling rain saw a huge group of Kindred formed up before the gate – and another force, one in the tan and gray of Dysuna, attacking them from the flank. Her mind flashed back to Henri Perci’s force, and realized she was missing something. Where was Raven? Where was the reserve force he’d led?

  Why would Raven kill Henri Perci and then just disappear? Where did he go, why didn’t he continue the attack and join the others at the gate?

  She scanned the battle, and then gave up trying to understand it. Men and women were fighting on the battlements – most were Kindred, but for every three of them, one Imperial was laying about with a broadsword. Somehow, they had managed to mount the Black Wall from the other side, and the siege of the city had begun in earnest.

  A loud bellow rang out over the field, the bull cry of a giant man.

  Tomaz.

  She turned and scanned the upper battlements once more, this time looking for – there! A huge man, fighting in a sea of Imperial uniforms in front of what looked to be a hastily constructed siege engine of some kind. The giant was laying about himself with a sword taller than a full-grown man. An Imperial soldier attacked him from behind – and without hesitating, Leah pulled back and flung a dagger that flew impossibly straight through the air, whirling end over end to sink into the soldier’s throat. Tomaz saw the man go down, and even though he didn’t turn back to see her face, the sudden smile that split his beard told her he knew she had arrived. She pulled the dagger with her mind, and it left the man and came flying back to her. She rushed for the closest inner stairway that led to the top of the ramparts, just as a number of fighting Imperials and Kindred swung in from the top. She rushed up to meet them, and her blades flashed and caught the light of the oil lamps and burning torches – she danced through them all, slipping in-between and sideways, like it had all been choreographed, saving two Exiles as she did.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw another man running to attack Tomaz’s back, and she and threw a dagger once again to protect her partner. The man fell, and Tomaz’s laughter roared out over the battle. But then two attackers, both of whom were very skilled, confronted her, and she was left with just her single dagger. She didn’t have time to pull the other – she bent and twisted, dodging and retreating, but she couldn’t gain time, couldn’t gain distance. A sword whistled over her head – she struck out – repulsed. Switch directions – countered. Her only hope would be to –

  A broadsword, thrown with all force and no artistry, flew out of nowhere and smacked the first man in the head, knocking him over, unconscious. Leah and the second man both stared at him for long moment, completely surprised, before she spun and sunk a dagger through his throat. He fell atop the other man, and she took the moment to pull her second Spellblade dagger back to her, just as the huge form of the giant was making her way toward her. As soon as he was within shouting range, she began to berate him.

  “You could have got me you know!”

  “I should say the same to you!”

  They shared a small, grim smile and turned back to realize that the battle around them had died down. The archers on the Wall were firing down into the Imperial troops, but many had thrown up shields to protect themselves while they hoisted new ladders, readying for a fresh assault. Leah looked over her shoulder into the city, and felt a sense of incongruity.

  Why didn’t they continue sending men over that hidden stair? They could have surrounded us and caught us in a vice …

  And then all the pieces clicked into place, and she realized exactly what had happened. Raven hadn’t followed the Kindred back to the gate – he’d followed the Imperials back to the hidden stair. He must be there now, fighting to keep them from invading the city from that weak point.

  Before she even realized she’d made the decision, she was in mid-stride to retrace her steps and find her way back to the Seeker’s Path, when Tomaz held out an arm to stop her. There was shouting from over the side of the Wall, and with a series of thuds the second wave of siege ladders attached themselves to the battlements, and the Imperials began to climb.

  “Leah – there are more coming! Where are you going?”

  “I can’t! I need to get to Raven!”

  “Raven? But no one’s seen him in hours. We’ve been trying to find him – he’s gone! And he’ll stay that way if he wants to, you know that!”

  “But this can’t wait!”

  “We must hold the Wall or all is lost!”

  Leah growled and cursed under her breath, and realized she didn’t know what to do. She had to make a decision, fast. What would happen if –?

  Blue lines – blurring vision – sword – red light – screams – silence.

  Tomaz would die. She knew it with a sharp, cutting certainly that severed all thought of discussion. If she left now, he would not survive this assault.

  I need to get to Raven – but Tomaz – I need to –

  Men poured over the lip of the Wall – Imperial heavy infantry. Even as Kindred surrounded Tomaz in a tight group, the Imperial soldiers began throwing spears that killed them in droves. Once the spears were gone, they advanced, unsheathing thick, stabbing short swords and hefting long, curved shields that hid them almost perfectly from attack. They broke through the front line of the Kindred group, and stepped up to engage Tomaz.

  “No! Stop – I’m coming!”


  Even as she shouted, she threw her daggers. They spun through the ash-choked air, twirling and twinkling in the flickering light of the oil lamps down below – only to glance ineffectively off the soldiers’ hidden neck brace.

  Fear coursed through her, shooting to the tips of her fingers, and she pulled the daggers back as the two soldiers saw her. They turned to meet her, but their movement was half a beat too slow. She turned the first sword aside, slid a dagger through the armor-less area under the arm, and felt the first man go limp in her arms. She turned and kicked the second man off-balance, and as he swung his arms wildly, tripped over a fallen comrade, and slid on the slick rain-wet stone, before disappearing back over the edge of the Wall.

  Leah continued forward, slashing and cutting at every opening that presented itself, all the while moving toward Tomaz, who had been engulfed in a swirling tide of Imperials. She cleared the last men, fought her way to his side, and threw herself between her friend and the sword she had seen taking him in the back.

  She was just in time. The blade, glowing a strange enchanted red as if touched by a Bloodmage’s Soul Catcher, glanced off her daggers and away from Tomaz’s unguarded back. She stepped forward, opened the man’s neck, and kicked the blade over the Wall.

  “Good to see you,” Tomaz gasped at her, turning just in time to see her dispatch the man.

  “The same to you,” she said, breathless.

  Together they turned and looked over the edge of the Wall and saw more troops climbing the siege ladders, shields over their heads, ready to mount the Wall.

  “We just have to hold them a bit longer!” she called out over the fray.

  “How much longer is a bit?” Tomaz roared back. “And how in the seven hells do you know how much longer we’ll have to hold?”

  Blue visions flashed across her eyes once more, and then disappeared.

  “Something’s about to happen.”

  “What?”

  “Something is about to happen!”

  “Shadows and light, what does that mean?”

  Horns sounded – Kindred horns.