Masters of the Veil (29 page)

CHAPTER 23

G
lissandro 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.”

Sam felt oddly proud. He really did feel a connection with these people. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he was about to be part of something bigger, something that was going to happen very soon.

“Let’s do it.” Sam pounded a fist into his palm.

The cave erupted in cheers, lights, and music. Everyone gathered around Sam—except Crom, who slunk back to the shadows.

“Give us a minute.” Vigtor tipped his chin at Sam. “We’ll meet you up there.”

They waved as each took a turn disappearing without a sound.

Vigtor picked up the football and tossed it to him. “You made the right decision.”

“It feels right.” Sam tossed it back underhanded.

“I’m sorry that Bariv and everyone else skewed your mind before you met us. It must have made the choice more difficult.”

“I’m not going to lie; I was pretty confused for a while.”

Vigtor tossed the ball back; Sam returned it.

“You must do what comes naturally.” Vigtor waved the ball toward the ceiling. “You must not fight against yourself. Make a decision and then stick to it, whatever comes your way.”

Sam nodded. “I’m used to that.”

“Good, because you will need to remember that when it happens, especially because you will be going last.”

Sam caught the ball, tucking it under his arm. “Yeah, what does that mean?”

“Because none of us are actually strong enough to break through ourselves, we must build off one another’s work, like toppling a building. Pulling one support won’t bring it down, especially if the structure can quickly rebuild itself, but if you get them all…”

Sam’s stomach tightened. “So how do we do it?”

“We get into a line. Before we start, our essences will be linked. Erimos takes care of that.”

Sam frowned at the name. Erimos made him uneasy. His eyes were red like Bariv’s, but Erimos looked far older. He’d been pleasant enough to Sam, though, going out of his way to give him some pointers when he’d been training with Vigtor.

Sam put the football on the mattress. “So what do I have to do, exactly?”

“When the rest of the line has done their duty, you will finish the job. Get the last support. Since we will be linked, you will know exactly where to reach. You must use all your strength. She is strong, but together we are stronger.”

The knot in Sam’s stomach wrung tighter. “This doesn’t seem at all wrong to you?”

Vigtor snapped his fingers and the fire in the corner dwindled. “This is what you have to fight against.” As the last of the flames flickered, Sam could see the intensity in Vigtor’s eyes. “You must not battle yourself. You need all of your concentration on your one task.”