Masters of the Veil (7 page)

“Where do the people live?”

“In the towers. Think of them as apartment buildings. They circle all the way around the center of Atlas Crown. Inside the walls, where we are standing now, are the giving-huts—like Fromson’s—the amphitheater, the clothing houses, the Arena, the library, and all sorts of wonderful things you will experience. You’re going to love the tinker-hut.” She pulled herself onto the wall and swung her legs back and forth like a young girl. “Outside the walls is where we grow our crops and teach our students.”

Sam didn’t know how to gracefully transition to the subject, but he needed to know. “So…why did you bring me here?”

“I thought that you would like to see the rinsefish for your—”

Sam shook his head. “I meant Atlas Crown.”

May hopped down, took his hands in hers, and peered deep into his eyes. “I brought you here so we can help you.”

“Help me what?”

“Learn to control and use the Veil correctly. Right now, you are a danger to yourself and others. You need to be around others like you, so you can learn how to deal with the power responsibly. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Sam’s mind flashed to the cornerback’s blood on the grass. He pulled his hands out of May’s and took a step back. “But all I did was grab his shoulder!”

“It’s not your fault.” May stepped up and ran a hand against his cheek. “No one is blaming you, Sam. You could not have controlled what happened to you. I’m just telling you what must happen. For now, you must stay with us.”

A pleasant tingle remained after her hand dropped from his cheek. “But when will you take me back?”

“Back?”

Sam plucked the collar of his jersey. “Yeah, I have to go home at some point.”

She nodded with the grace of someone much older than she seemed. “If you wish, but you just got here. How can you be so sure that you want to leave?”

“Because I have a life back home, I have my friends, school, football…” Okay, maybe he didn’t have football. “Why do you even care?”

“I care deeply, for more reasons than you would understand as of this moment. I will explain more soon, but it is not in your best interest to know everything right now. Something outside of your control has happened and it needs to be dealt with. It is safe for you here. You can learn here. I am truly sorry, but for now, that is all I can tell you.”

Sam scowled, but then took a deep breath to calm himself.

I’m tougher than this
.

“Fine. So what’s going to happen to me until it’s safe to go back?”

“Well.” She turned and folded both hands over the small of her back. “You are going to live with Bariv for the next few days, until the worst of it blows over. Then, after that, if you wish it, I will have a place in the north tower for you.”

“So what was that room yesterday?”

“A guest room, of sorts. I wanted you to be comfortable and well rested before you saw even a small portion of our community.”

“Can we at least talk about what happened at the game?”

She turned and gave Sam a look that was almost pity. “If you really want to.”

Sam thought about everyone freezing, which led to him thinking about everyone booing. The knot in his stomach started to re-form. “Not really.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. This should be an exciting time for you. The Veil and everything She has to offer can bring you limitless joy. It is up to you to let Her.”

Sam peeked over May’s shoulder and noticed a small gathering of people in a circle. Voices buzzed with anticipation.

“What’s going on over there?”

“Ah.” She gave a shrewd smile. “Veil pushing. Or as we call it, gumptius.”

“Gumptius?”

“It is a very old game. It is also one of our most popular, especially among the crowd too old for thimplist and too young for graws.”

“Uh huh.” Sam started toward the gathering.

He was slightly taller than most of the onlookers, but being on the outside of the circle, he couldn’t get a clear view of what was happening.

He caught a glimpse of a small wooden table in the center with two people sitting across from each other, their gloved hands locked together.

“Arm wrestling?”

“Not really…”

No one really paid Sam any attention. The challenger on the right looked like he could use a few more slider buns, as his arms were more bone than anything else. Sam pegged him to be the same age as him. The boy’s black robe had an even blacker X sewn into the chest. His oily hair hung limp to his shoulders, and his beady eyes stared, rat-like, at his opponent. His black glove had the sheen of tanned leather.

His opponent’s bald head gleamed in the sun. A brown goatee pointed down to his thick neck. The weird symbols tattooed on his broad arms flexed as the muscles tightened beneath them.

Sam looked at May with a frown. “The little guy’s going to get slaughtered.”

May motioned with her head that he should watch the match.

“And push!” someone shouted from the sidelines.

Before Sam could even see what had happened, the brawny man’s arm was pinned to the table. The kid sneered and pulled his hand away.

Sam was dumbstruck. “How did he do that?”

“This is a game that is not won by strength.”

“Yeah, right.” He started pushing his way through the circle.

“Wait, Sam!”

He reached the table. “I want a go,” he told the kid in black.

The kid’s gaze darted from Sam’s face to his jersey. The flicker of fear in his eyes was quickly suppressed. Then the kid smirked and gestured toward the opposite seat, which Sam took.

“Nice clothes.” The kid curled his lip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at Sam’s hand. “Where’s your second-skin?”

“My glove? I haven’t had a chance to buy one yet.”

A hushed laughter escaped from the crowd.

“Buy one.” The boy shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

Sam slammed his elbow against the table and raised his right hand. This kid was starting to tick him off. No way he was stronger than Sam, especially now that Sam could do magic.

The other kid locked into Sam’s grip. The leather glove didn’t press against Sam’s hand, though. Instead, a small invisible barrier blocked their palms, like Sam was pressing against a pocket of air.

“And push!”

Sam forced all his strength into his forearm. Pushing as hard as he could, his muscles strained under the pressure. The vein in Sam’s bicep started pulsing, yet the kid’s hand would not budge. He couldn’t even get through the tiny cushion of air and touch the other kid’s hand.

Across the table, the boy glared at Sam coldly.

“How—”

As soon as the word escaped Sam’s lips, his hand slammed backwards onto the table. The force was stupendous; it felt like every one of Sam’s knuckles had broken.

The kid lifted his arm. Sam slipped his throbbing hand under the table, nursing it.

“Next!” the boy called, and a short, squat man stepped up next to the table.

“How did you—?”

“I said NEXT!” The kid didn’t look in Sam’s direction.

Sam got up and let the short man take over. Beads of blood welled up on his knuckles as he made his way back out of the circle, head down.

Someone patted him on the back as he squirmed through. Sam looked up to meet the gaze of a smiling guy about his own age with curly brown hair. He carried a beautiful, curved horn—long, tan, and embossed with gold writing—in one of his hands, both of which, Sam noticed, were ungloved.

Sam attempted a smile, but failed. As he squeezed out of the ring, he saw May waiting with a hand on her hip.

She gave a heavy sigh. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“But that kid was tiny! How did he do that?”

“That
kid’s
name is Petir LaVink, and he is one of the finest gumptius players we have.”

Sam rubbed the back of his injured hand. “But how was he so strong? His arms were like toothpicks.”

“I told you, it is not about strength. It is about ability.”

“Ability to do what?”

“Use the Veil, not your muscles, to push. Now, we have an appointment to keep. It would be very rude to show up late.”

His whole hand throbbed. “Where?”

“It’s not far.”

“With who?”

“Someone very important.”

Sam sucked his teeth.

“Fine.” She broke into a condescending smile. “Before you go bumbling around in things you don’t understand, you need to learn a few things.”

“Magic?”

“Yes, eventually.”

“Can’t you just take me home? I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, and I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about others, and you should be, too. It would be extraordinarily dangerous for you not to learn how to control this. Please, just trust that I want what’s best for you.”

Sam thought about the cornerback’s screams. He managed a glum nod.

May took Sam’s bruised hand and waved her diamond-like glove over it. Once again, the pain subsided as the skin healed.

“And if you go home, how will you ever best LaVink?” One side of her cheek curved into a crooked smile. “I mean, that
was
pretty humiliating. I think you need to train for a re-match to prove yourself.”

Sam gave a huff. “Fine. But if I’m going to hang around here for a little while, I think I’m going need a change of clothes… and where do I buy one of those fancy gloves? And, oh yeah, where am I going to get money? I have a feeling there’s no ATM around.”

“We do not use money here.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “No money?”

“No money.”

“How do you buy things?”

“We are a community.”

“Meaning?”

“If you work hard and don’t rub anyone the wrong way, you always get what you need, and usually what you want, too.”

“I want one of those.” He motioned to her hand. “What do they do, anyway?”

“Your second-skin is a conduit.”

Sam rubbed his forehead. “I’ll understand later, right?”

“You did ask.” She turned her palm upwards.

He exhaled. “So, to the meeting.”

“To Bariv.”

CHAPTER 9

“
D
on’t tell me this is the Veil?”

May choked back a laugh. “No Sam, this is not the Veil.”

“There is no way I’m going through there.” Sam snatched his finger away from the wall of gunk.

May had brought him to an uninhabited part of Atlas Crown. They were nowhere near the towers and away from any sign of people—a high contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the marketplace.

They were now face to face with a slimy, purple partition between two stone wolves, each one carved directly into the rock face. When Sam brought his finger away from the slick surface, a small amount of the purple goop came with it, which he wiped on the front of his jersey. He couldn’t see anything beyond the purple, which bothered him, because May had just informed him he would have to step through.

Sam took a step backward. “I’ll follow you.”

“I am not needed inside. This is for you; it is a very special time. You will remember it for the rest of your life.”

Sam pinched his thumb and forefinger together. He pulled them apart slowly; the remaining goop reminded him of rubber cement. “So what’s behind this junk?”

“Well, once you get through—”

Suddenly, Sam was tossed through the barrier. May hadn’t even budged.

He fell through the purple goo—which coated him thoroughly—and landed in a cave. It was very dark, with bare, rough walls. A small, illuminated platform caught his attention.

Thankfully, the gloppy material didn’t rise with him when he stood. As the long strands peeled off his body, they crawled back to the wall like an army of inchworms, leaving his clothes crisp and clean.

Sam’s footfalls echoed around him as he approached the light. He made out the shape of a young boy sitting on the raised stone platform. Candles cast dancing shadows on the wall behind him.

Sam edged a little closer. The boy couldn’t have been more than ten years old. His thin, short mohawk stood up like a fin, and two tattoos graced his cheeks—a spiral on each, curling in opposite directions.

“Sit.” The boy didn’t open his eyes. His voice was stronger and deeper than that of any ten-year-old Sam knew.

“Bariv?”

The boy nodded.

“Really?”

“Sit.”

Sam shrugged and sat down.

“When the world was a little younger, no one knew about the Veil,” Bariv kept his eyes shut. “It was not empty. All the colors existed, yet there were no painters.”

“Gimme a brea—”

Before Sam could finish, his mouth snapped shut. He tried to open it, but he couldn’t.

“No one knew that the first artist was going to be a little girl.”

Again Sam tried to move his lips, but they felt glued together.

“She was walking in a meadow, searching for berries, when she came upon a sunflower. It was a small sunflower, so she sang to it.” Sam could feel Bariv’s voice through the platform. “A simple, sweet song. She wished, deep down in her heart, for it to grow and then share its nourishment with her tribe. They were hungry, you see. The lyrics of the song have long been forgotten, but that is not the important part of the story. The important part is that for some reason, the flower grew,” he paused, “right before her eyes.”

Bariv opened his eyes for the first time, and Sam’s jaw dropped. Bariv’s eyes glowed an intense, bright red, blazing even brighter than the candles and tinting the whole cave. Sam could barely look at them without his own eyes getting glossy.

“The flower grew to an enormous height. The girl shook the stalk and many seeds fell to the ground, which she put into her basket. There were so many seeds that she could take only a small portion of all that fell. A single petal fell from the flower, which she picked up. From that day onward, she carried that petal around with her everywhere. She found that when it was in her hands, wonderful things happened. When streams got too thin and drought threatened, she dipped the petal in the water, and it started flowing again. When the cattle got too sick and plague threatened, she touched each one and the meat grew thick. Wonderful things happened the more she used the petal.”

Sam realized his mouth was no longer sealed shut. “So what happened to the girl?”

“First, let us find out what has happened to you.”

From behind him, Sam heard voices that were oddly familiar. He turned around and saw the wall light up, like at a movie theatre. Instead of a movie, though, Sam saw one very particular memory.

“This your first football, boy?” the worker at the Sports Emporium asked from high above the countertop.

“Yessir!” young Sam said. “I’m going to be the best football player the world has ever seen!”

“Ain’t he a little bull,” the clerk said to Sam’s mother, who stood beside the little version of Sam. It felt strange, seeing himself as a child.

“My little boy knows what he wants.”

“I’m going to be like the Missile!”

The clerk laughed. “Your boy knows who Bob Flywood is?”

Sam’s mother shrugged, fishing through her purse for a few tens.

“One day you’re going to have to come back to my shop and sign a football for me, little man. Maybe even that one you’re holding now.”

“I will, mister!”

The image on the wall faded, and another one took its place.

“Four catches for TD.” His father flipped a big, juicy steak on the grill. “Heck of a game, boy.”

It was the memory of a barbecue his parents had thrown at their house. Alongside his father were most of his teammates’ dads.

“Giving you a run for your money, Pete, huh?”

“My boy is going pro.” Sam’s father dug into the steak with a thermometer. “Just you wait…”

Again the image faded. Next on the wall, Sam saw himself and Jenn Sardina against one of the lockers.

Jenn refused to meet his eyes as she fiddled with the necklace in her hands. “You knew it was going to happen, Sam.”

The memory version of Sam turned red.

“Sean?” he scoffed. “Really?”

“Maybe you should have spent more time thinking about me, and less time thinking about that stupid game.”

“But Sean is just some art dweeb.”

“That may be, but he puts me into his artwork. He thinks about me. He dreams about me. All you dream about is the scoreboard.”

“STOP THAT!” Sam yelled at Bariv.

“I did not choose these memories. I just provided the void; you decided how to fill it.”

“Well, close it!” Sam snarled through clenched teeth.

The images continued on the wall. Jenn hurled the necklace at his chest.

Sam’s fists clenched and he tried to rise, but he was lifted off the ground and pinned in midair.

“I AM THE VOICE!” Bariv’s words echoed through the cave. “I was chosen to be the eyes of the Veil and I am here to make you finally see!”

Sam was lowered to the ground. Anger seethed within him.

“Those are memories that define you.” Bariv’s tone was quiet, yet still powerful. “But things have changed.
You
have changed.” He paused. “Let me tell you another story. Or rather, show you one.”

Sam’s muscles seemed to melt as he was forced to relax. It was just like the whammy May had put on him yesterday when he had first realized he wasn’t dreaming. He allowed himself to give in to the sensation, and again, he felt much more open to listening.

“I am very old. If I had to put a number on it, it would have to be…” Bariv started counting off silently with his fingers.

“You don’t have a glove.”

“A second-skin. No. Nor do I need one.”

“So how do you do magic?”

Bariv traced the swirl on his right cheek. “I am a special case. Anyway, take a look at this.”

Above Sam, the ceiling lit up the same way the wall had. Bariv allowed Sam to lie back to gaze upwards. At first, all he could see was an image of stars, almost as clear as if he were back on his porch on a cloudless night.

The stars began to move.

They swirled and grew and eventually took shapes and colors and forms, like celestial echo flies. Sam was left looking at another Bariv. Almost exactly the same, but the young boy was missing the spirals on his cheeks, and his eyes were bright blue. Sam watched the image of Bariv play with a small wooden carving of a wolf, making the creature gallop across the hard dirt floor of a hut. The young boy smiled as he sang a little tune that matched the prancing of the toy. A pile of grey furs sprawled along one wall. Bones carved into spears and harpoons lined the walls, while crude nets and smoked fish hung from the ceiling.

All of a sudden, a faint cry came from somewhere outside, and Sam frowned as he realized that there didn’t seem to be a door in the hut. The cry startled the young boy, but after a few moments of quiet, he went back to playing. After a moment, there came another cry, this time much closer and piercing. Then a cacophony of screams—like a wild animal being torn apart—came through the walls. The young boy threw aside his carving and raced for a small mat of fur on the ground. He tossed it aside, revealing a tunnel underneath.

Bariv called into the tunnel, and two large beasts burst out. They looked like giant versions of the wolf Bariv had been playing with just moments before. He rubbed one of the dogs on the snout, and then bolted outside through the tunnel.

Bariv struggled to wade through the knee-deep snow toward the ominous patches of red. A crimson track threaded its way off into the distance, and the boy’s eyes shot open in fear. He crawled on all fours, through thick powder and ice, as the red trail thickened. Finally, Bariv stood up, and the young boy’s whole body began to shake.

Then came a shriek.

It was unlike anything Sam had ever heard. The noise lowered to a
boom
and resonated violently, flooding the cave. The white snow brightened until the whole image was blinding. Sam brought his arm up and covered his eyes.

As the light faded, Sam looked back up. A large white bear whimpered as it fled. Bariv knelt with his face buried in his hands, rocking gently. All around the boy, for miles it seemed, the snow had melted, leaving steam lifting off bare earth. The Bariv on the ceiling slowly took his hands away from his eyes and the red pupils glowed down at the two figures lying motionless on the brown earth.

Then the image faded.

“Were those your parents?” Sam almost felt guilty for breaking the silence.

Bariv nodded.

“But if that was so long ago, how are you still so young?”

“A few hours later, I was found. I was still lying outside, unable to speak or move. But the snow around had melted and the ground remained warm. Otherwise, I surely would have died. I was brought here. It was a much different Atlas Crown back then—not nearly as many clans—but it still had the same charm. I was given food, shelter, and a new life.”

Sam looked at Bariv curiously. “So what makes you a special case?”

“I fill a niche.”

“What niche?”

“Something you won’t be able to grasp just yet. Before now, you were like a frog.”

Sam’s expression turned glib. “A lion frog?”

Bariv shook his head. “Just a frog.”

“Why?”

“Because a frog surrounded by dead flies will go hungry.”

“Wow… you’re better at being cryptic than May.”

“My apologies. I spend so much time alone I often forget how the outside world communicates.” He raised both palms. “A frog has a specialized brain. It is able to snatch a fly out of the air like lightning. It filters out everything else. It is the fly and the tongue. The problem is that without motion, the frog is helpless.”

“So I’m helpless?”

“No, you just weren’t able to see all those dead flies around you, and trust me when I tell you they’re everywhere. You are now one of the frog elite.”

“Does that have anything to do with the Tembrath Elite?”

Bariv looked impressed, but also wary. “Yes, it was Vigtor being clever. Tembrath Pond is where the lion frogs congregate. I told the same story to him when he was standing here before me.”

“So, can I finally know who those guys are?”

“They are fools.” Bariv flicked his wrist, which glowed blue for an instant and crackled with an electric flair.

“Why?”

“You need to know a few things before you can know that.”

“Still?”

Bariv snapped and more candles flicked to life around the room. At that moment, his eyes lost their red glow and became bright blue. Despite Bariv’s young appearance, something ancient lurked behind his gaze—something that made Sam feel small, but at the same time, connected.

“Let’s start you off simply.” Bariv rested the backs of his hands on his knees. “What have you been told about the Veil?”

Sam hesitated a moment. “That it’s all around and you grip it.”

“Very good.” Bariv positioned his hands in front of him, and a thin bolt of electricity jumped from one hand to the other with a sharp zap. “Now, I assume you have been told about second-skins?”

Sam put his hands in front of his chest like Bariv had done, but nothing happened.

“The gloves?”

“If you want to put it so crudely, yes, the gloves—although calling them such is like calling the sun a big light bulb.”

“So, what do they do?”

“They are items of magical importance, made from materials that have sprouted from the Veil, making it easier for sorcerers to use Her. Without the second-skin, gripping is much harder, almost impossible. When you try to grip a wet piece of ice, it will almost always slip through your fingers. The second-skin allows focused gripping and utilization of the wondrous Veil.”

Bariv made a twirling motion with his hand and a chunk of ice appeared. “It helps you make as much friction as you need to hold onto the ice.”

Sam imitated the movement, but again, nothing happened. “When do I get one of these second-skins?”

Bariv twitched his pointer finger, and a piercing light erupted behind Sam. He turned to see a pedestal, about four feet off the ground, with three gloves upon it. On the left, a leafy green glove had thick vines branching along it. The center held a glove made of five thimbles connected by a thin chain to a central bracelet. The one on the right was made from skin with short brown fur.