Broken Veil

by Jeff Wheeler

  She didn’t hear the kishion return, but she saw them appear from the black stairs above. Her heart was racing as she felt the inevitable approach of destruction and death.

  “It is done, my prince,” said one of the kishion to Jevin.

  He turned and looked down at Sera. “Your last chance, Miss Fitzempress. Release her. Or you will watch them burn.”

  She felt a hand touch her arm. It was Cettie, her eyes full of hope. Cettie, who’d told her to trust. To believe.

  Sera turned back to Jevin. “I will not unless the Mysteries command it of me.”

  “Blind faith. Unthinking blind faith,” Jevin muttered. “I must strip away your self deception, my dear. The universe wrenches everything into chaos. Watch as Cruix Abbey is consumed. Again.”

  Sera clasped her hands together, squeezing them tightly. In her heart, she issued a final plea.

  I will face this awful thing if it is your will. But if you would stop this atrocity through me, then let it be done. I would sacrifice myself for my people.

  Her thought went out, carried into the aether.

  Jevin gazed down at her with contempt.

  “Conflagrare,” he said spitefully, invoking a word of power.

  A feeling of peace came over Sera’s heart. And then a wind began to howl inside the cave, the noise of it shrieking through the enclosed space. The kishion all turned, many with worried looks. Jevin’s expression shifted to a frown of concern. The noise of the wind grew louder, louder, until it made it impossible to hear anything, and a gust of wind blew out the torches. Bits of rock began to crumble and patter to the floor, and then a jolt struck the mountain—a wrenching earthquake that shook the very rock they stood on. Sera fell forward, grateful her hands were unbound so she could catch herself on the rough floor. She smelled dust and smoke, felt the impact of rocks tumbling from the ceiling and smashing onto the cave floor. Cries of terror sounded.

  The blackness was absolute and terrifying, but Cettie finally reached her in the darkness. The two held each other as the room tilted and bucked. Cettie was sobbing. Sera felt a strange peacefulness despite the tumult.

  Then she felt something touch her head. She couldn’t see in the darkness, but she felt the reassuring bulk of a hand. Knowledge flooded her mind. Knowledge of Leerings and how to construct them from the elements themselves. Leerings that could make sky manors, and even an abbey, fly. Rocks slammed down all around her, pulverizing one another and spattering their debris all around. One of them smashed into Will Russell, killing him instantly. Another crushed a kishion’s legs, trapping him and making him moan in pain. But none touched her.

  Sera began an incantation in a language she’d never heard nor spoken before. The words came to her, borrowed from another mind. A mind she now recognized as that of Empress Maia.

  A thundering crack sounded from above. Groans of pain filled the air, only to be silenced by crushing rock. The building above them had lifted into the air, exposing the inner cave to the night sky. Starlight flooded in to relieve the darkness as the hulk of rock rose higher into the jewel-strewn sky. Sera’s heart melted with relief, and she could see the look of wonder on Cettie’s face as the abbey rose higher and higher.

  “There! There!” Cettie whispered in awe, pointing to the sky.

  Sera didn’t understand what she saw, but it was an unraveling of sorts—the opening of a flower bud, the unfurling of banners. A prism cloud had opened above them, one that seemed to fill the entire sky overhead from one end of the horizon to the other. Streams of orange and pink light came, like the sun did when piercing clouds. Its radiance was beyond any words. There were flying cities coming through the rose-tinted portal, cities larger and more majestic than Lockhaven. Then she heard it, the music that Cettie had described to her. A chorus of ten thousand sung in brilliant harmony, dousing her with a wave of emotion so powerful it wrenched tears from her eyes.

  She was gazing at a portal to Idumea. It made everything she ruled in the empire seem squalid, inferior, base. It reminded her of the vision she’d seen in the oceans of Kingfountain—her glimpse at the Deep Fathoms. But this wasn’t just a glimpse. The sky had opened wide.

  “I can’t . . . can’t believe,” Sera gasped, clutching Cettie harder.

  “The song,” Cettie said. “Can you hear it now? Can you?”

  Sera did hear it, but she could hardly speak through the tears in her throat. She nodded, her bones shaking from the vibrations. The myriad of stars twinkled still. The veil within the universe had broken.

  But not even the lights and grandeur of Idumea could prepare her for the sensation of the Knowing touching her heart. She heard its voice. Not as a thundering command. Not as a wind or as the roar of a raging fire. Not as the deep rumble of the ocean during a storm crashing against the surf. It was a still voice, a mild voice, as if it had been a whisper. It pierced her to the deepest part of her soul and made her entire body tremble.

  Sera.

  And what startled her even more than her name being spoken was that she felt she recognized and knew the voice. Like a memory she’d only forgotten.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  JUDGMENT DAY

  Sera and Cettie clung to each other, gazing in wonderment as Cruix Abbey floated toward the broken veil. Sera trembled from head to foot as the power of the Mysteries coursed through her. In her heart, she’d feared the abbey would burn as it had centuries ago. Instead, it had ascended to another realm of existence—to Idumea itself. Radiance came down from beyond the veil, washing over the mountainside, making it seem as if it were kissed by dawn. She saw the rubble of the cave around them, strewn with the bodies of dead kishion. The Prison Leering was untouched, but a kind of steam radiated from it. Fragments of boulders were all around, but none were near where she and Cettie knelt.

  There were no words to describe how she felt. Her entire being was suffused with such love, tenderness, compassion—yet those words were insufficient. Language wasn’t suitable for what she had experienced. Not even the greatest poet in the realm could have articulated it. It left her breathless, heaving quiet sobs as her emotions swelled to the point of bursting and beyond.

  Cruix Abbey entered the rift. Cettie dug her fingers into Sera’s arms as the power built to a crescendo of sorts. Then the fold closed in on itself, the petals closing, and the vision came to an end.

  “No, no!” Sera wept, not wanting it to be over already.

  The fold closed to a single point of light, a star that shone brighter than any other. It was so white hot it made her wince, yet she could not tear her eyes from it. That single point, blazing through the expanse, sent down a shaft of light that struck the ruined ground where they knelt. Both Sera and Cettie lifted their arms to cover their heads, their joy replaced by a jolt of sudden terror. Then the star was gone.

  And they were no longer alone.

  Sera saw three personages standing a few paces from them. The one in front was a middle-aged man with a heavy paunch and waistcoat, breeches, and a gnarled staff with a golden knob at the top. Behind him stood a man with silver hair and a sword and scabbard belted to his tunic. Next to that man stood a radiant woman whose eyes glimmered like the stars above. Her gown was of a different time.

  “Well done, little sisters,” said the foremost man, coming forward at a quick pace. The other two, flanking him, did the same. “Well done indeed. Let me introduce myself, Your Majesty. That would be proper given the circumstances. My name is Maderos. I’m sometimes called Myrddin as well. This was not the first time the false priest of Toussan and his instrument have needed to be thwarted. When he was learning to be a sexton at a sanctuary, he discovered a hidden book that quickly corrupted him.” He looked at Cettie and bowed his head. “Well met again, my friend.”

  “I know the two men,” Cettie murmured softly. “They serve the Mysteries.”

  The woman spoke next. “My name is Sinia,” she said in a beautiful voice.

  Sera gaped. “Lady Sinia? Of Brythonica?”
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  The stately woman smiled and bowed her head slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “I am Owen Kiskaddon,” said the silver-haired man.

  “He’s the one who saved me,” Cettie whispered. She bowed her head to all three and made a gesture of reverence.

  “Tusk,” said Maderos. “We are your fellow servants. Please . . . stand. There is much you need to know and little time in which to tell it. The mirror gates between the worlds will break asunder soon. You must be warned.”

  Sera wanted to rise, but she only had the strength of a newborn kitten. Holding on to Cettie, she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t allow it.

  Lady Sinia approached them both and gently placed her hands on their heads. “Anthisstemi exulpo,” she said, and strength filled Sera once again, allowing her to rise on her own. Cettie rose as well, and the two huddled close to each other.

  “Thank you,” Sera said. She stared at the otherworldly beings. Maderos, Sinia, Owen—these were legends from the past. She’d heard about them from Trevon during their time together. Stories from a bygone age of kings and vassals and epic battles.

  “If you would, Lady Sinia,” Maderos said, gesturing for her. “She may hear it better coming from you.”

  Sera noticed that Sinia wore an old, pitted key on a strap attached to her girdle. She had long blond hair, smooth and flawless, and a kindness that radiated from the depths of her person.

  “You are the Lady Sinia from the stories?” Sera said, shaking her head in wonderment. “The Duchess of Brythonica?”

  “I am,” Sinia replied. “I came to this abbey many centuries ago and left a prophecy for you.”

  “I was the one you spoke of, then?”

  Sinia smiled. “Yes. In my former life, I was a harbinger. One who is blessed with visions of the future. Or the past. Like your friend,” she added, nodding to Cettie. “I saw that the day would come when Ereshkigal would need to be released from her prison.”

  The words caused Sera’s heart to flutter with dread. The entire mountaintop had been wrenched loose, but the Leering was still there, steaming, roiling, seeming about to burst.

  “Was I supposed to release her, then?” Sera asked in confusion.

  Sinia caressed her cheek. “Not then. Now.”

  “Help me understand,” Sera said, shaking her head.

  “You did your duty well, daughter of Maia. When Ereshkigal was bound, it was for a fixed time. The first empress knew that the day would come when she would be released from her prison. When she would seek revenge on the empress’s family and persecute believers. You are the one foreseen to come, Sera. Your time to rule was chosen a thousand years before you were born.”

  “A thousand years?” Sera gasped.

  “That was the duration of her confinement. What was foretold by harbingers since the days of the first noble kings. A vision seen by the First Father himself.”

  “But why release her?” Sera asked, staring at the Leering with growing horror. “Why not destroy her?”

  Sinia gave her a knowing smile. “She will be destroyed, Sera. But not yet.” She put her hand on Sera’s shoulder. That simple comforting gesture was more than her own mother had ever given her. “Someone else will face her . . . and destroy her. I’ve seen it. If you do not free her now, she’ll return stronger, after the one who is meant to dispatch her is already dead. I know what is being asked of you, Sera, but these travails you have endured—and endured so well—will give you the strength to become the empress you were meant to be.”

  “But if I release her, she will do unspeakable evil now, among us,” Sera said. “I don’t understand, Lady Sinia. Why must I allow it? And not just allow it, cause it.”

  “There is no harm in asking questions,” Sinia said. “I, too, have had to face choices that I knew would cause pain to others . . . and to myself. You’ve had a glimpse of Idumea, Sera. It, too, was once a fallen world. A world where the innocent suffered and wicked men and women ruled. But Idumea was redeemed at last. Paid for with a price.” She held out a hand and gestured to Maderos and Owen. “We were chosen, from our times, because of our service to the Knowing. Each of us has suffered heartache like you have. We have seen the innocent betrayed. The Knowing sent us to help you. To prevent Ereshkigal from overpowering you. I tell you, Sera, she only has as much power as we give her. With your determination to remain faithful, you have blocked her power over you. This you must teach to your people. Too much knowledge has been kept from the masses in your world. It has been cloaked in the Mysteries. It is time that everyone understood it.”

  Sera’s heart felt like a fire burning inside her chest. All her life she’d believed it was wrong to live in the clouds while the people below suffered. Now, she understood, better than ever, that fixing this wrong was to be her purpose.

  Sinia stroked her hair. “Do you understand now why you were chosen? Why the Knowing allowed you to be taken into the depths of the Fells? So that you might learn for yourself what is happening in your realm. So the scales might be removed from your eyes. The soul of each child is precious to the Knowing, no matter their birth. No matter their station.” She gazed then on Cettie with a look of love and acceptance.

  When Cettie started to weep, Sinia enfolded her in her arms. “Your parents chose murder and destruction, but their choices did not make you any less precious. The worth of a soul is its capacity to become something greater.” She kissed Cettie’s hair. “Your true father, your loving father, pleaded that my husband, Lord Owen, might be sent to ransom you.” She turned her head to face her husband, the silver-haired man, who nodded in agreement.

  “I was pleased to do it,” he said.

  “He still lives?” Cettie asked, her voice choking.

  “Death is not the end,” Sinia said. “It is only another birth. He was faithful to his oaths. He has received his reward. Now he waits for the rest of his family to join him. You will meet again, Cettie. A wise Aldermaston—an Aldermaston from Muirwood—once said, it will be no greater miracle that brings us into another world to live forever with our dearest friends than that which has brought us into this one to live a lifetime with them.” Sinia gazed up at the sky with a far-off look in her eyes. “It is not the Knowing that destroys and murders. There is always a choice, and humanity is constantly seeking to destroy itself. Hate, above all, is the greatest scourge. The Knowing permits hate to endure and even prosper for a season. Then the season ends. I have witnessed these patterns through the many lifetimes I have served. Autumn is ending. Winter begins. She must be loosed, Sera, but just for a season. Then spring, I promise, will return again.”

  Sera’s heart understood that what Sinia told her was true. She did not understand it by reason alone. Logic would have told her that she should never release Ereshkigal, but a gentle whisper ensured that the woman’s words were true. She had felt the Knowing herself. And everything she’d experienced had been affirmed in the words of Sinia. She needed to trust what she could not see.

  “Is that why the mirror gates will close?” Sera asked, thinking of Trevon. He was a prisoner still in Kingfountain. Would she ever see him again? “Because I must free her?”

  Lady Sinia shook her head no, her expression becoming graver. “For too long your worlds have violated the covenants between them. Like two siblings who hate each other and are determined to fight. You’ve both plundered other worlds to enrich yourselves. The Knowing is longsuffering. Warnings were given but not heeded. Too many have suffered because of the violence between your realms. Because of the poverty inflicted on others. We have been commanded to close the portals between the worlds, save a few, which allow us, the Unwearying Ones, to travel between the realms. You have seven days to bring your people safely home, Sera, and return to Kingfountain those who wish to depart. The worlds will be shut up then. Only those given permission will be able to cross.”

  Sera’s heart was pained at the punishment. She and Trevon had dreamed of uniting the realms under their leadership. Th
eir union had only brought more bloodshed. She winced at the punishment, but she could not deny it was just.

  “My husband,” Sera stammered, feeling her throat tighten.

  “Has been found,” Sinia said, lowering her voice. “If the mirror gates were to remain open, Sera, your posterity would someday rebel and destroy both worlds.” She shook her head. “The Knowing intervenes to prevent annihilation. Not to cause it.” She cupped her hand against Sera’s cheek. “It is not blindness to follow and trust a harbinger who can see the future. Who knows what would happen otherwise. If you do this, it will prevent the extinction of your world. Like Idumea, your world, too, may be redeemed. For a price.”

  Sera mustered her courage. She looked at Cettie, and her friend reached out to take her hand.

  “It is time,” Maderos said, his eyes crinkling. “Prison has not softened her fury.”

  “No,” Sinia agreed, gazing at the Leering. “There is no water that can quench that fire. Only a gate to shut it in.”

  “Little sister. Before you release her, a word of warning to your friend.” He gazed at Cettie. “Your enemy still lives. He used the Tay al-Ard to flee while his brethren died. He must be destroyed before the seven days are through. You have this charge. If you do not stop him, he will raise another wicked root.”

  Cettie nodded. “How will I catch him when he has the ability to flee in an instant?” she asked.