A Veil of Secrets (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

I crept through the edge of the forest, keeping an eye on the harbingers in the field. Any minute now, Lleu and the others would leave the safety of the copse to cover Pascale while she tried to take down the remaining harbingers. All she needed was a bit of time to dip a few arrowheads and let them dry.

While they were waiting, I searched for the other two harbingers. For all we knew, they had returned to the veil, but I doubted it. They would fear Idra’s wrath if they failed.

Either they were fighting this battle for their own reasons, or they hadn’t realized she was dead. Why else continue a campaign when the queen who ordered it no longer controlled them? Even I felt her absence, and we had long since parted. These must have felt her end as keenly as Edan had.

What could drive them now except perhaps spite?

The likelihood of me finding the two absent harbingers was slight. From the looks Lleu and Pascale exchanged, they had an unspoken agreement I should be given a task to keep me occupied. I could have argued, but it wouldn’t have changed their minds. It was clear they wished Asher or Edan had come instead. But here I stood, and I would make myself useful. I would find some way to help.

Movement at the far edge of the tree line caught my eye. Two slender shadows wrestled with the bundle hung between them. As I watched, their cargo swung itself until they let it fall then kicked it.

Muffled grunts rose from the ground where whoever they had captured weathered their blows.

I had no choice but to intervene. I couldn’t let the poor male suffer.

Creeping through the underbrush, I was several yards away when they hefted the bundle and carried it toward the field where the Salticidae had gathered. They stopped several feet from the edge of the tilled soil, and the one on the right pointed to Old Father, gesturing for him to step closer. I stood to get a better look. The harbingers buzzing overhead dipped over the other two, inspecting their prize. With triumph written on their faces, the tallest of the group slashed a tear down the side of the bundle. Wishövi rolled onto the ground. His face was bloodied and discolored.

Keen as my hearing was, I missed the subtleties of what the harbinger said to Old Father.

The steady chanting faded to a few murmurs. Old Father hung his head.

They wanted a trade. Or they wanted whatever blessing protecting the clan removed.

From the quiet settling across the field, he must have been deliberating.

One life given to preserve the many seemed like the better deal, but if that one had been Edan or Asher, I would have cast them all into the fire with us as Old Father appeared to be considering now.

Two of the harbingers took to the air, resuming their positions over his head. The third yanked Wishövi up by his hair and put a sickly yellow claw at his throat. The threat was clear. Do as she had demanded, or she would infect the boy. But if Old Father did as she commanded, she could infect them all or kill them outright. Sparing Wishövi’s life meant condemning untold other people to a hard death.

It was petty of me to be relieved I was not the one who had to make the decision.

Commotion from the opposite side of the field made the third harbinger tighten her grip.

Lleu and the others jogged from the copse whooping and making shrill whistling sounds.

The third harbinger shoved Wishövi into the arms of the two I had been sent to find. She shot in the air to get a better look at what was causing the disturbance. The two tasked with supporting Wishövi let him fall. He was too battered to stand. There was no point restraining him when he couldn’t walk.

I murmured a quick prayer that wherever Edan and Asher were, they were safe.

Then I drew my short sword and ran toward the grounded harbingers, using my wings to propel me.

I twisted left and threw all my strength into swinging the blade in a high arc. Metal met skin, and her head fell to the dirt. The female on the right stumbled back in shock, but I fisted her wing to hold her still. She raised her hands to cover her neck, making it easy for me to slide the blade under her heart. Surprise locked her mouth open as she crumpled. Wishövi stared up at me, waiting for another blow to fall.

“It’s me.” Either his vision was damaged or the sight of my wings spooked him. “It’s Marne.”

It must have been the sight of the knife in my hand. When I stepped toward him, his eyes rolled back in his head. I knelt beside him, checking his pulse. Weak but steady. Wishövi would survive.

I started at a thump in the dirt beside me. One of the remaining harbingers had been taken down by Pascale’s arrow. The other two darted to and fro, caught between fleeing and fighting. Too late. A second body plummeted from the sky. Though I was several yards from where they were circling, when an arrow pierced them, the harbinger dropped, bounced off an invisible boundary and slid to the blackened earth. I might have questioned the how of it more if I hadn’t visited the crossroads first.

After that journey, nothing the second world had to offer would much surprise me.

The final harbinger, the one who had freed Wishövi from the fabric, darted toward me.

Clever female, she was using the protective barrier to shield herself from Pascale’s deadly aim.

She cocked her head at the bodies then at me. “Did Idra send you?”

“Idra is dead.” I lifted the knife and advanced on her. “If you leave now, I will let you live.”

Her laughter rattled my nerves. “You sided with them. Are you insane? They will kill you. If not today, then they will end you tomorrow or the day after. They won’t suffer you to live among them.”

Her words struck home. Edan and I had been displaced before. Now…who would accept us?

“All I can do is what I think is right.” I steeled myself against those fears. “I won’t let you harm these people. You may be right. They might turn against me. Or you could be wrong. They might see that, despite what Idra has done to me, I am still every bit as much a person as they are.”

“I would kill you,” she said thoughtfully, “but you won’t survive long out here.”

“I might surprise you.” I shrugged. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

Her wings spread. “Mercy is for the weak.”

Yet she accepted my offer and lunged for the cover of the trees.

As soon as she was out of sight, a female ran from the safety of the dayflower field to tend to the unconscious Wishövi. Old Father began his slow approach while others crowded around the youth. I eased back out of their way to give them room to tend him. I had no idea where they would take him.

So much of the city was lost.

Pascale sidled up to me. “That was a mistake.”

“Their queen is dead. They know now that we can cross into their world. This proves we can kill them in numbers.” I watched the harbinger until she became a speck in the sky. “Let her return home alone, defeated. Let her spread her tale to her sisters. Let them realize Araneaeans are not as weak as Idra led them to believe. We are not food. We are not to be preyed upon or infected. Let them build their numbers if they choose. We will call for reinforcements and be prepared to meet them. If they want a war, we will give it to them.”

“Marne’s right.” Lleu inspected the corpses at my feet. “We needed to send a message, and they should have no trouble reading ours. We should spread the word too. The cure can’t help many yet.” He winked at Pascale. “That poison, though. It knocked them on their arses. We circulate the recipe and warn other clans to post archers on their borders. It won’t save everyone, but it may save a few.”

“I can do that.” Pascale jabbed me with her finger. “What about you?”

“What about me?” I rubbed the spot.

“Where will you go now?” She stared off into the distance. “Where will any of us go?”

A good question. If only I had an equally good answer for us all.

“Go home,” I counseled her. “Your family would understand why you couldn’t stay here.”

“I’m not ready yet,” she said softly. “I wonder if I ever will be.”

“Might I speak with you?” Old Father’s voice was rough from his chanting. He held his arm out to me, and I took it. “Walk with me. We have much to discuss, and I do not want to slow the others’ progress. Wishövi needs drink and rest. There are younger legs that can fetch for him.”

The elder leaned heavily against me. The toll of protecting his clan showed in the paleness of his face. His chest rattled while we walked, and I wished he wouldn’t speak for fear of him collapsing.

“We can talk later,” I said to fill the silence.

“Later is too far away for someone as old as I am.” He chuckled. “Pascale told me why you left. You should have come to me and voiced your concerns.” When I tensed, he sighed. “I understand why you chose to run. If I had suffered at the hands of others as you have, I would have done the same.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. Confiding in Old Father had never crossed my mind. I had assumed he would side with his maven or paladin, but I was learning among the Salticidae, his rank was higher.

“Our city must be rebuilt. Our clan lives closer to the veil than any other clan dares.” He paused. “Today the two gods saved that which will secure our clan’s future, but the cost was great. Lives and homes were lost. Possessions that cannot be replaced have been reduced to ashes for the sacrifice.”

I let him talk, unsure where he meant for me to comment.

“Pascale told me about your adventure, as much as she knows. I hope you fill in the rest.” His breathing grew harder. “You walk between worlds as I do. That skill is a gift. One you must use with discretion. Though the spiritlands and the crossroads are different, I believe we are kindred. We have a lot to learn from one another—and your world—if you are still willing to become my pupil.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What do you know about the crossroads?”

“Only what the old stories say, that the damned walk its streets and feast on Araneaean flesh.”

I shuddered to recall the vendors and their carts of meat. “The old stories got those parts right.”

“It is said the two gods created the crossroads as an intersection between the Above, the second world and the Below. Those who the gods banished there were trapped forever between worlds. The roads stretched forever, and they were doomed to wander them. At first, the two gods sent only their enemies, lesser gods, to the crossroads. But soon after, they created First World and populated it with creatures from their imaginations. Not all their creations were good. The gods separated the bad from the rest and banished them. Their intervention came too late, and the first world was destroyed.”

“By fire,” I finished. “It seems their tastes haven’t changed.”

“Those the gods banished are old. The old do not change.” He shrugged. “They adapt to survive, but in their hearts, they are the same. They want the same things now they did then. They hunger.”

“Do you think the Necrita are First People?” Idra claimed she had seen the second world born.

“If they are not First People, then they are children of First People.” He slowed until I stopped to let him catch his breath. “When the gods created Araneaeans, they were imperfect also. But since the gods molded males and females in their own images, they are more lenient with the Second People.”

“My circumstances have changed since I was last in Beltania.” It was hard to believe how much was different. “My brother was taken by Idra, as Pascale told you, but when I found him, he had been changed.” It stunned me how much it hurt to admit that. “He is what I am. The bargain we made then isn’t enough to keep me and my brother alive. Idra mentioned an alternative, but I doubt her word.”

One sigil, if it delivered the venom to my system properly, would cut our needs in half. I wasn’t ready to face life with a sigil, so I dismissed the possibility in favor of the certainty.

“Is his mind clear?” Old Father lurched into motion.

“He has gaps in his memory, as do I. He will suffer through withdrawal for several weeks. He’s sick now, feverish. The next few days will be the worst. He will only survive if he gets treatment.”

He nodded. “You believe he will recover and function as you do?”

“I have no reason to believe he won’t.” I would force him to recover if I had to.

“Good.” He picked up his pace until the ruined city came into view. “We could use him too.”

Because I was starting to feel hopeful, I dared ask him, “What are you offering us exactly?”

“I will teach you how to distill the antivenin yourselves. I will provide for you to start, but I will expect you to devote part of your day to tending the dayflowers if you expect to continue to reap the benefits from them.” He sighed as he took in the charred husks of buildings. “We will provide a clan, a home, for you both. In return, we ask for your allegiance. We ask you to help protect us from this.”

“Will your people be as accepting as you are?” Already I was drawing looks.

“Today they saw you fight your own kind to save them.” His cloudy gaze held mine. “They saw what you risked to protect them, saw you save Wishövi from those who would have killed him. They might not accept you as they did before, but they will respect you. They owe you and the others their lives. I am but one old male. I could not have held a prayer vigil much longer, and they know that.”

“You have made us a generous offer.” I kissed his cheek. “I must speak with Edan first.”

“Of course.” He gestured ahead. “Would you walk me to my chair?”

I followed where his walking stick pointed and saw that of all the houses reduced to mud brick and ashes, his home still stood. The rugs in the door and windows were blackened with soot. The tree in his yard was the one spot of green left. His chair waited under its crooked limbs, and I led him there.

“How is it this place is untouched?” I asked. “Did you perform the blessing on your home?”

He grunted while getting comfortable. “What sort of
povosqa
would I be if I protected my home and let the others burn? No. I did not bless this building. My duty was to our people. Possessions we can replace. Those we can’t we must lift high as sacrifices to the two gods for sparing our lives.”