Masters of the Veil (30 page)

“So, I just rip as hard as I can?”

“Essentially.” He paused. “You know, you are the best student I’ve ever had.”

This eased Sam’s anxiety a bit. “Yeah?”

The fire was on its last flickers, and shadow was cast upon Vigtor’s face. “I have instructed most of the Tembrath Elite, and you’ve embraced power magic faster than any of them.”

Sam was flattered, but he had to ask. “It’s funny that the people in Atlas Crown are the elitists, but you guys call yourself the Tembrath
Elite
.”

The final flame died, casting the cave into darkness. “I thought the irony was appropriate.”

Sam paused and bit his lip. Were they really about to do the right thing? “I guess it is.”

“Now.” Vigtor held his voice steady. “We mustn’t be late.”

Sam swallowed hard. “But I don’t really know what to do yet.”

“Instincts, Sam. They will be your greatest ally. Now hold your breath; it will make it easier.”

***

It was easier, in fact: this time passing through the Veil only left him with a ringing in his ears and a numbness in his feet. “Where are we?”

“We have emerged from our place of hiding under the mountain.” Vigtor filled his lungs with a deep breath through his nose. “We now stand upon it—the peak of Dami Damascus.”

The first thing Sam noticed was the smell—dry, earthy, and dusty, like he’d wandered into the middle of a western. The mountaintop was barren, the entire peak a cracking, grey plateau. Wind whipped off the edge, taking particles of dirt and dust with it. It sounded like the mountain was trying to whistle, but couldn’t quite get the technique right.

Air raced past his body in a furious hurry, tugging him toward the edge with invisible fingers. The full moon hung at the horizon, looking closer and brighter than Sam had ever seen, and bathed the mountaintop in a soft glow.

Erimos hunched over, waving his second-skin over the land. The rock faded to a lighter shade of grey, and Sam felt gravity increase, like he was wearing weighted clothing… or had an anchor tied to his feet.

Vigtor pointed toward the sky. Waves of red energy emanated from his second-skin, pulsing outward and pushing the wind with them. The waves went right through Sam, but as they passed, the wind stopped stinging his face and everything became calm.

Vigtor kept his hand held high. “Let us not waste any time. Start the formation. Sam, you’re at the end.”

The rest of the Tembrath Elite queued up behind Vigtor, perfectly straight and spaced a few feet apart from each other. Crom snarled at Sam as he swept by. As the group got in line, their demeanors began to change. The pleasant, cheerful faces they’d been wearing for the last few weeks melted away, revealing a deep, primal longing in their eyes. They watched the moon like animals about to rip the meat off a fresh carcass.

Doubt twinged in Sam’s gut. “Don’t fight it,” he said to himself. “They want the best for everyone. It’s all worth it in the end.”

The Tembrath Elite stood in silence as they watched the moon dip toward the horizon, their eyes going more feral with each passing heartbeat.

What did I get myself into? I don’t even know them. What am I doing?

The last of the moon disappeared, and darkness surrounded them.

From the place where Sam had last seen
Erimos, a pulse of power whipped around him, and Sam felt his body being taken over.

It was awful.

The only way to describe it was that his essence had been stolen and mixed together forcefully with the others’. Who he’d been no longer existed; now only his mind existed… and the rest of the Tembrath Elite.

Hate. Greed. Lust. Sam now knew what they meant to do—what
he
was going to do. They’d misled him. They wanted the power to come forth, but they were going to use it to take over. He could feel the hundreds—no, thousands—of years of yearning. They wanted power. Not just over Atlas Crown… over everyone.

It was vile. Sam felt like his mouth was full of metal. He wanted to scream, but his voice was no longer his; it was theirs, together. He was lost in the ether, somewhere in his body, but he couldn’t do anything.

He still saw out of his eyes, still felt the scraping of the wind against his body as it returned, but he was part of Vigtor now, part of the Elite.

He tried to cry out as his body moved to the back of the line, but nothing happened. He could feel their thoughts, their giddy malice, their desire to take the Veil and break Her.

It was so
wrong
.

No wonder May had tried to keep him from this.

Vigtor began. Sam could
feel
him, as they were a team in the fullest sense of the word. Vigtor controlled the others like they were extensions of him, extensions of his power.

Sam could feel Vigtor grasping the Veil and defiling Her. They were ripping out Her soul, and Sam was one of the murderers.

He wanted to throw up, he wanted to bend over and rid himself of everything they had fed him, everything they had taught him. He wanted to purge it all.

He felt Vigtor fall to the ground; the first blow had been dealt.

The wind picked up, aching to flay their skin and end Her suffering. Sam wanted Her to succeed. He wanted to get tossed off the mountain.

One by one, they fell. Each time, Sam felt the Veil cry out in pain. It brought tears to his eyes. He was helpless against it. He kept trying to scream, trying to shout out, but nothing came. He could only watch as everything beautiful was destroyed.

Erimos, Sage, Saria—they were all down, each one taking a little more of Her. They stole Her beauty and tossed it to the ground.

Sam wanted to die.

Only three Tembrath Elite were left: Dralis, Crom… and himself.

He included himself in that number, and despised everything he was. The Veil called out to them, She pled, She begged, She threw everything She had at them, but they kept going.

Dralis was now the commander. She threw lightning bolts at him, threw monstrous, hurricane winds, but the Tembrath Elite were one now.

She was no match for them.

Dralis decimated Her. They were getting so close now. She was torn apart and bleeding rain. She dripped from the sky in terrible, thick sheets.

Dralis fell.

Only Crom and Sam were left.

Sam needed to get away. He needed to be rid of all of this. He needed May, needed Bariv, needed
anyone.
The fallen Tembrath watched him; he felt their eyes on him, but he also felt them staring out from his own eyes. Their power was exponentially greater as one. They slithered around his soul, binding his will to theirs.

He would do anything if he could just get out. He could see Her true beauty now. As they tore Her apart, he could see Her perfection being stripped away.

He tried to bury his mind away, hide his soul so he wouldn’t be part of this, but yet he was there, his fist being guided.

Crom roared.

Great lashes of fire stretched from the sky, trying to burn Crom to ash. Sam could feel Crom’s fury, his all-consuming lust for power. It was easy for Crom: he thrust his arm, slashed at Her, and came away victorious.

Crom fell.

Sam was alone. He was standing, unable to control himself, when it happened.

Everything died down. A hushed silence coated everything, like She had given up fighting.

Around him, the wind had ceased—no fire, no lightning, just calm.

With all his might, Sam summoned up everything he had, and broke the hold. “I won’t do it!”

Vigtor stood up. He pulled out a second-skin from his robe. It was a scaly, black one, like Sam’s without the stars. None of the Tembrath Elite had the second-skins they had been wearing. They were all broken, tossed along the mountaintop.

“Don’t fight it,” Vigtor snarled. “Think about all of the people we can help.”

“You’re a liar!” Sam’s eyes burned. “You don’t want to help anyone. You want to rule everyone.”

Vigtor’s mouth contorted into a vile smirk. “It’s the best way to help everyone. People are weak. They need to follow.”

“It’s wrong!” Sam stumbled backward. “The Veil needs to be there.”

The rest of the Tembrath Elite glared at him as they pulled out new second-skins.

“You’re all weak.” Sam backed toward the cliff. “I felt it. You don’t have it in you.”

Vigtor’s eyes burned. “The Veil will be broken, and you will do it.”

Sam took another step back, now only a few feet from the ledge. “I’ll die first.”

“You have no choice, boy. We’ve been waiting for thousands of years. You really think we would let you have any choice in the matter?” Vigtor pointed at Sam. “No, this is too important to be left up to chance.”

Vigtor’s face contorted as he and the rest of the Tembrath Elite gripped into the Veil and took over Sam’s body.

Sam tried to fight against it. They clawed at his insides, creeping up his spine and into his brain. He tried to push back, but they were too many. He lost himself.

He couldn’t speak, only watch as his hand thrust deep into the Veil. His muscles ached as he tried to pull back, but the force of the Tembrath was too much.

Just like that, it was over. It had only taken an instant.

He had broken through the Veil. He felt the other side, and it was hot, like sticking his hand into an open flame. He pulled back.

Sam felt his body become his again, and immediately was hit with the greatest wave of nausea he had ever felt.

He hunched over and grabbed his stomach. His throat felt dry and raw. He tried to say something, but his voice was missing.

Vigtor slapped a hand on Sam’s back, laughing wildly with vile enthusiasm.

Cheers fired all around him. Not like the cheers he had heard in the cave, but
real
cheers. This was the sound of a murderer who had finally squeezed the life out of his victim.

Suddenly, a furious push from underneath shoved Sam into an explosion of light.

He looked around, confused. He wasn’t on the mountaintop anymore; he floated in a sea of white. It was pure, the most wholesome and unsullied place Sam had ever been. Sam couldn’t hear any sound, but it wasn’t frightening. It was home. The pain was gone, and he felt whole once more.

“Where am I?”

“They do not know what has been done,” a voice spoke. Sam had never heard a more perfect sound. Every word massaged his very core. “It must not be allowed to happen.”

“Who are you?”

“Exactly who you think I am.”

Sam didn’t need any clarification. He let his head fall. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The voice was surprisingly calm despite the circumstance. “I have seen your heart: they left you no choice.”

He searched around, but saw only white. The voice seemed to be coming from everything and nothing at the same time. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is. If I break, our world will fall. The power I hold back does not want to work with our world. It wants to destroy it and bring new life, terrible life.”

Sam tried to take a deep breath, but then realized he didn’t need to. “What do I do?”

“Things are already happening. You need to help May.”

The corners of the perfect white started to stain red. Something was trying to get in.

“May? How?”

“One of my children has already presented you with the tool. Give her the fruit.”

Sam put a hand against his pocket. “I will, but—”

“There is no time, Samuel. If you succeed, we will meet again.”

Sam straightened. “I won’t let you down.”

The voice laughed, and the sound made all of Sam’s insecurities disappear. It made him a man. “I know you won’t.”

Tears pricked Sam’s eyes. He never wanted to part from Her, but he already felt himself sliding back into his body, back to the chaos.

Sam stayed hunched over, his head dizzy, as the ground started to take on a red tinge. Taking a deep breath, he stood up.

The sky was splitting apart in hundreds of places. Dark red oozed from behind the cracks. The air rumbled with electricity.

The Tembrath Elite watched in awe as a new power emerged.

The rumble got louder. The sky kept splitting, like cracks in ice, spidering their way further across the horizon. More red light oozed out of the cracks.

Sam knew just by looking at it that it was an abomination—this light was tainted; this light wanted everything gone, wanted to bathe the world in a new order.

The Tembrath Elite were still shouting when the sound was stolen. All of it. Vigtor tried to call out, but nothing came.

The red light burned Sam’s skin like a heat lamp. A furious itching attacked his whole body.

Joy dribbled off the faces of the Tembrath Elite, replaced by worry as they grabbed their throats. They tried to talk to one another, tried to do grips, but nothing happened.

From the red cracks in the sky, swarms of ominous creatures emerged. Their wings were riddled with veins, and their skin had a slimy sheen. Other figures dropped out of the cracks closer to the earth—large hulks, teeming with muscle, black and bulky.

Sam’s heart sank.
Where is May?

The Tembrath Elite huddled together, wide-eyed.

Sam didn’t have to know exactly how, but he knew that the natural world was about to be destroyed. There would be nothing left; everything he loved would be wiped out.

Then, just as he was going to surrender all hope, he saw the swirls.

Little black beacons of hope hovered near one of the larger breaks in the rock. Sam knew they must be there for a reason. They floated to him, surrounding him, and their presence gave him comfort. He just wished he knew what they meant.

Then Sam saw her rush past in a blur.
May!
She’d found him.

He watched her aim the diamond second-skin toward the cracking sky and brace herself.

He tried to call out to her, but he knew it was useless. The red light grew hotter.

More people ran toward him. Behind Glissandro were Bariv, Daphne, Rona, Cassiella, Zawadi, Petir, and a few older people he did not recognize. Panic filled their eyes as they stared at the red cracks.

Sam turned back to where May attempted to grip into the Veil. Her face tightened with despair.