The Prince of the Veil

by Hal Emerson

  “You have the Lion Talisman now,” Raven said. “You can Command the Kindred – anything you tell them to do, they will do. Send word with me, or with Tym, and we’ll tell everyone to gather where you need them. Somehow we can make this work, I know you can figure something out –”

  “Is General Dunhold still alive?”

  “General Dunhold?”

  “Yes,” Tym said. “He is, Commander Autmaran.”

  “Good – Tym,” Autmaran said, turning away from Raven, “find General Dunhold and tell him to get all the troops we can into the Elmist Mountains – the site we talked about as a point of retreat. If there’s anyone on the Imperial Road, get them off it and into the Mountains.”

  “The Mountains, but that –”

  “Rangers and Rogues,” Autmaran continued, ignoring Raven, “all that are left, spread out in full ambush. Keep the archers along that upper ridge as long as possible – until they’re out of arrows, or we find a better place for them, whichever comes first. They’re our first line of defense.”

  Tym nodded and left, running as fast as he could down the steep incline.

  “Defense?” Raven asked, stepping in front of the man to draw his attention. “We need to attack – we need to get to Lucien!”

  “We’re not getting across those Plains,” Autmaran said, his voice unconsciously taking on some of the tone of Command that Raven had heard so often from Rikard. His eyes began to fade from deep brown to a sharp, cutting white. “If you want to help, get everyone into the trees and away from the road. We can’t face them in the open field – we’ve lost that battle.”

  He strode past Raven, rushing to meet a number of runners frantically searching for him. One of them offered Autmaran his horse, and the Commander took it, shouting orders that sent the runners dashing off once more. He pulled off his split armor and handed it off; another man shrugged out of his own and lent it to the Commander.

  “Autmaran!” Raven called out, still unable to understand what was going on. “Are we regrouping for another attack? How are we going to get to Lucien? We must face Her!”

  Autmaran spun his new horse around and raced up the hill, stopping just short of Raven before throwing himself off the gray mare and stepping right up into his friend’s face.

  “We will be lucky to survive the rest of this day,” he hissed to Raven. “We have done all we can; I don’t know what happened when I was … dead … but we have no way to win now. We can only survive – we can only do what the Kindred have done for a thousand years, and run, killing as many of them as we can before we flee again. We have the Mountains – that will buy us time. But we cannot stand against that army, not against soldiers, Daemons, and Bloodmages, with only a beaten and broken force and seven men and women with Aspects we can’t fully control. If we survive this day – if we survive this night –”

  “All we have is a night,” Raven hissed back, glaring at his friend. “We have until dawn – and then you’re right, there is no hope for us. If the Empress lives by morning, then we are all dead!”

  Autmaran ran both hands over his bald head and paced away a step before turning back to him.

  “I will not send my men and women out onto that field to die without a plan,” he said flatly, all emotion gone as he turned back to Raven. “I will not sacrifice them on the chance something might break in our favor. You can either help me save them, or you can try to cross that field yourself. It is up to you.”

  He left, mounting his horse again as Raven stared after him, open-mouthed. He looked back only once, and though Raven saw him grimace as if what he’d just done pained him, he kept going.

  Raven found himself alone on the ridgeline, looking out over the Plains from the same spot where only hours ago it had seemed possible, just possible, that they could win.

  Without really thinking about what he was doing, he found himself walking away from the battlefield, staggering. As his grip on his mind slipped, some of the last remaining memories came back to him from the lives he’d drawn into him through the Raven Talisman. Most were what he had seen countless times before – stories of wives and children, families, ordinary lives lived without distinction until the Empress had decreed an army was needed, and Rikard had come through, inspiring them with his voice alone.

  But there were other memories that were somehow sharper and hazier at the same time. He focused on them as best he could, trying to understand what they were, and realized some of them contained memories of him, struggling to learn his first economics lesson at the age of six.

  Marthinack.

  That was why the memories were fractured and mechanical – they came from the mind of the Visigony. He was glad they were that way – Marthinack had been alive, if one could call it that, nearly as long as the Empress, and if Raven had absorbed all of that, he wouldn’t still be standing. No, the memories were strange and disjointed, almost as if there were parts deliberately cut out, like a series of pictures with the middle, joining prints conspicuously absent.

  But there was one, the last the machine-man had focused on in depth, which came across bright and clear.

  The image was of another cavern, like the one in Lerne, painted with the enchantments from Bloodmage rituals, with three enormous crystals set in the center of an empty pool, pulsing with hungry inner light. It was the same memory he had pulled from Rikard, but much more recent. So recent … it even seemed like it was from that same morning.

  Three of them.

  Two of the crystals glowed with a blood red light that washed the faces of the waiting Bloodmages in terrible scarlet. But the third, the largest by far, sat ready and waiting … lying dormant. And in Marthinark’s mind, amidst the sound of creaking leather and hissing, laughing steam, the words “Lerne,” and “Tibour,” came to him, clear as day.

  All this time they only needed three. She knew we would stop some of them – but we couldn’t stop them all.

  One from Dysuna’s city of Tibour, one from Symanta in Lerne … and the third, the largest, from Lucien itself.

  “What about the one from Tyne?” asked Sylva.

  – creaking, jumping, the vision split and then came together once more –

  “It will help,” Vynap gargled through his facemask, “but it is a security, nothing more. Three are needed – and with the arrival of the crystal from Lerne, we can forgo the others. After we perform the final ritual tonight and create the third, we have enough. Between the three Soul Catchers and the Talismans She already has, the Return is assured. We will all go home – provided the prophecy is fulfilled in its entirety.”

  “Well then,” Marthinack said, “let’s make it happen.”

  Raven stumbled back farther and turned around into the forest, grabbing Melyngale and mounting once again. He felt as though he was moving in a dream, and his actions seemed to make no sense. He heeled the horse’s sides and shot through the trees, pushing forward deeper into the Elmist Mountains, galloping at breakneck speed for no reason, wanting to be as far away as possible. He started thinking about running again, something he hadn’t contemplated since being elected Prince. Who cared now? They had no way to get to Lucien. They would hide out in these mountains until the Empress herself came from the city and crushed them all, searching for him.

  And maybe if I run fast enough I can escape her. Maybe if I go now –

  The thoughts cut off as he emerged in a clearing that was strangely familiar. There was a tall tree, and a ravine off to one side. Why did this – ?

  And then they came to him, memories of his own rolling back across the inside of his eyes. He remembered seeing stars as he lay here, and feeling the rough fabric of a sack scrap against his cheek as he … lay dying.

  This is the spot. This is where She brought me to die. I’ve come full circle.

  There was movement and sound from behind him, and he turned to see Leah emerge from the treeline. Her eyes were blue, but as she crossed to him they faded back to their vivid green, and it was clear to
him that she had managed, somehow, to track him with her Aspect. She was becoming skilled with it indeed.

  “Raven,” she said, sounding half relieved and half confused, obviously wondering what he was doing here. “We need to go – Autmaran has formed us up to repel the attacking force. Davydd is well enough to fight now too, the Healers patched him up and his Spellblade talent sped his healing. With all of us together –”

  “This is where I almost died.”

  His words cut through hers like heavy rocks crashing into water. Ripples crossed her face, emotions swirling through confusion and astonishment and everything in between. Slowly, she came forward, and in the silence of the glen he could hear her feet crushing the soft grass beneath her boots even as the distant shouts of the soldiers came to them through the clear, thin air.

  “Raven,” she said, “we need to go. We can still do this, we have a chance.”

  “No we don’t,” he said with a small smile.

  “Raven –”

  “Autmaran said it himself.” Raven shrugged. “It’s over. I’ll … I’ll just wait for her here. It has a nice symmetry, doesn’t it? Forcing her to come here and do herself what she was too afraid to do the first time. Hell, maybe I can even hold her off until the sun rises and then the whole prophecy will be for naught, right?”

  He grinned and realized it was more of a sneer than anything else.

  “Raven,” she insisted, her voice low as if speaking to a spooked horse, “there is still a chance left –”

  “No,” Raven hissed at her, snarling in her face. “There is nothing left. NOTHING!”

  The word rang out unnaturally loud in the wood, far too harsh and guttural. It was the sound of a wounded, harrowed creature, backed into a corner and forced to watch it’s death approach, forced to watch the trap snap shut, knowing that all it had left was its anger and its hate, and some small ability to hurt those who could not save it.

  “This war means nothing now,” he continued, walking forward, forcing her back. The expression on her face was one of shock and horror, her beautiful eyes stretched wide, uncomprehending. He hated it. And he hated himself for causing it, for pulling such ugly things out of such a beautiful person, but he was past reasoning now, past all thoughts of remorse.

  “We’re living on borrowed time,” he continued, savagely. “Do you want to know how the rest of this plays out? I can tell you – you don’t need to even use the Eagle Talisman. We run, and we hide, as Mother comes down on us as I always said she would. The scattered remnants of our force fly like the torn pieces of a manifesto, fighting where we can, only to be pinned down and destroyed by the advance of the Bloodmages.”

  “The Children are dead,” she hissed at him, burning her shock in a wave anger. “All of them! We beat them, we defeated what we once thought invincible!”

  “And then the Visigony came,” Raven sneered at her, “and broke our backs. They didn’t even need the Empress! We wondered where Symanta’s army went; now we know. They were in the city the whole time, just waiting for the right moment to strike. We’ve been out-thought every step of the way. Who cares what we’ve done, all that matters is that we have no way forward! Look, if you doubt me. Look through the Aspect of Sight, comb the future, and tell me what you see.”

  Her eyes flashed momentarily blue as she reached out, but they turned back to green almost immediately, and her face went slack.

  “There, what did you see?”

  “I … I couldn’t see anything. It stopped; it just cut off and all I saw was black, and all there was around me was silence –”

  “BECAUSE YOU DIE! BECAUSE WE ALL DIE!”

  For a moment he thought he’d broken her, he thought he’d made her see the darkness that awaited them, and immediately he wanted to take it back. But her eyes hardened; her brows furrowed; and she stepped forward and struck him.

  He recoiled in shock, and before he could make a move, she caught the front of his armor and pushed him back, making him stumble. Shocked, he could only try to keep his feet, but after they’d gone a dozen paces she threw him bodily into the gnarled roots of the huge tree standing at the top of the sloped clearing. She crouched down and grabbed a handful of his torn and bloodied tunic and held him in place.

  “Fine,” she snarled at him, “then if you want to die, let’s get it over with. Right now.”

  She unsheathed one of her daggers and held it to his neck.

  “If you want to die, then I’ll help you. And I’ll be glad to do it – glad to end the life of a coward, and the man who just called my father’s death, and more importantly his life, worthless!”

  Her eyes were boring into his, drilling at him like green spears of light.

  “Just tell me to do it, and I will. Give me the word and I will open your veins and leave you here to water the ground, a much more fitting destiny for the craven imposter you turned out to be. I can’t believe we named you Prince!”

  He tried to push back against her and rise again, but she choked back a sob and forced him back to the ground among the roots. Time stretched out between them, and Raven knew what he wanted from her.

  “Do it with me,” he said.

  The words sank in, and she recoiled, almost as if touching him was somehow dirtying her. But he didn’t take it back.

  “Do it with me,” he repeated.

  “No,” she said, his lips curled in contempt and disgust.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not all I have left,” she hissed at him. “I’m a warrior, not some dewy-eyed maiden. And if you decide to give up, if you decide to leave me here and take the easy road, then I won’t follow you. Every day I live is a day the Empire hasn’t won. Every day I live is a day I live free, by my rules. And if that burden is too much for you, if you’re too cowardly to step up and go on living, then you’re not worth dying for, even if you are a Prince. If you would really do that, then you are much less than that title implies, much less than that man who stood before the Kindred and told them the story of a dream. You and he do not live in the same world, so I’d be glad to kill you, hoping maybe that by sending you out of it, I’d somehow be bringing him back. A Prince who would wear a Kindred crown, and fight ‘till the last drop of blood fell from the smallest of his veins – that’s the man I followed here. If you’re not him anymore, then tell me so.”

  His whole body seized up as everything fell into place. He knew he was staring at her blankly now, knew that he should say something, but the shock of it was too much. Why had he thought of it only now? Why had he come up with the solution after they’d already lost?

  A Kindred crown.

  “SAY IT!” Leah was roaring in his face. “SAY THE WORDS AND I’LL DO IT!”

  And even then, even after he’d put the pieces together, he almost asked for death. It would be so easy to slip into the night that waited for him … so easy to leave everything here, to finally have a chance to rest, finally have a chance at peace. The darkness that waited in the wings of his mind, always waiting, calling to him, was only inches away from wrapping him up, warm and tight.

  But Leah would still be here. She would still be fighting. And as I lay dying I would remember that, and regret it.

  “WELL, WHAT IS IT?!” She pulled back her other fist and buried her second dagger in the ground, sinking it through the moist turf almost up to the hilt. And then she grabbed him by the throat, starting to choke off his air, her eyes blazing at him, with pain and anger and also, deeper, almost hidden, terror that he would in fact leave her.

  “No,” he said with what breath remained.

  “Why?” she demanded of him.

  “Because I won’t leave you.”

  “No!” she shouted down at him, shifting the knife so the edge of it was right up against where his neck met his chin. He could barely breathe without feeling the razor-sharp metal nick his skin. He knew he must be bleeding from several cuts now.

  If we keep this going long enough, I might just die of ac
cidental blood loss.

  “No,” she repeated, softer, more intensely. Her chin was jutting forward, her face lit from the side, making her cheekbones and brow stand out in a gaunt silhouette. “Living for me isn’t good enough. Living for Tomaz isn’t good enough. Living for anyone but yourself isn’t good enough!”

  Raven watched her with a mind suddenly blank. That last primal part of him that loved his Mother – no, stop the pretext. You do not love her – you fear her. That is what this has always been about, all your life – could not let him do what she was asking.

  “I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Why not?” she hissed.

  “How can you live in a world where you do not know the answers?”

  “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “If She is not all powerful, if She is not all-knowing, then how do we go on living? What is the point, if there is nothing to give us purpose? How do we know what is right and wrong when there is no one to tell us, no one who knows? How do we live when there are too many choices to pick from? When there is no absolute answer that must be right, when there are only shades of gray? I thought I could be the one to decide – I thought we could, the seven of us with the Aspects, but even that is impossible, and now I see it, and I know it, and I can’t get it out of my mind!”

  His voice, quiet and hoarse as he forced it around the blade at his throat, drifted off and faded away, like the insubstantial rush of air it was. What did words matter? He was insignificant, a tiny, single person in a world that held nothing but terrifying, huge possibilities. But as he felt himself spiraling down once more and drifting away, her gaze caught his, and drew him out. She was watching with understanding now, fierce and proud as she was, and the dagger slowly drew away. A shade of memory crossed her face, covering the brilliant light of her stare for the barest hint of time, something that had nothing to do with him, only with her.

  “Every day I wake up and I fight it,” he continued. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore; the words were just spilling out of him, as if something had come unstuck and a wellspring was suddenly flowing up out of the stony ground. “Every day, I wake up and I try not to acknowledge the darkness I see, the dark that calls me with every breath I take. I have the power to destroy the world, and all I want to do is destroy myself. I want to sleep. It … it’s so hard to be awake, it’s so hard to feel, and I can’t … I just …”