Masters of the Veil (18 page)

“They are divvy trees.” Zawadi gestured, and a leaf flew down and landed on her second-skin. She touched it with a gentle breath and it flew away. “But they are not what we came here for.”

Sam stared up at the trees; the air above him was a chaotic mess of green. When his eyes relaxed, the scene shifted, making it seem as if the leaves were actually dancing. “What did we come for?”

Zawadi pointed to Sam’s left.

About twenty feet away from him was a devious-looking plant. It had more thorn, spike, and needle than anything green. The height of a medium-sized dog, the main body was black and pulsed with a sappy discharge, and Sam could feel its radiating anger. Two pods protruded from the trunk like mutated eyes.

Sam peered closer at it. “Doesn’t look very useful to me.”

“We found it yesterday,” Cassiella said. “It’s new to the world, or at least, it’s new to Atlas Crown.”

Sam scratched the back of his neck. “So I guess now we have to figure out what it does.”

“You catch on so quick.” Petir’s voice pitched higher with sarcasm.

Sam ignored him, turning back to Zawadi. “So, what do you know so far?”

“Not much, but we do know it does not like us.”

“How do you know?”

Zawadi approached the plant, stopping at a line of stones on the grass about ten feet from it. The plant’s eye-like extensions whizzed in her direction and some unknown orifice made a hissing sound, like water trapped in a burning log. When Zawadi moved closer, the plant’s spikes extended.

Sam joined her behind the stones. “You’re right. It doesn’t seem to like you.”

“No,” Zawadi agreed. “We haven’t tried getting closer than that, in case its spines can be projected.”

“I still say we lift it out of the ground and examine it that way.” Petir tossed a stone up and down in his second-skin.

“And I still say that if we do, it might die,” Daphne answered. “You know how delicate these plants can be.”

“Doesn’t look too delicate to me,” Sam immediately regretted saying it, as he realized he was making Petir’s point.

“Actually,” Zawadi gently removed a divvy leaf from her hair, releasing it into the air with a kiss, “some of the Veil’s most fragile plants have the toughest exteriors.”

“Makes sense.” Sam licked his lips. “I know a few girls like that. Have you tried to use the Veil?”

“Yes,” Zawadi flourished her second-skin—the same tiger’s-eye color as Rona’s. “However, anytime we try to use Her, the plant knows. The more we grip, the angrier it gets.”

“We haven’t come across anything like this before,” Cassiella said in a hushed voice.

“We’d like to get some spines, or a sample of the sap, but we need to figure out how.” Daphne kept her voice empty of inflection.

The others stood around looking pensive, all except Glissandro, who had a little smile on his face.

“So,” Sam nudged one of the stones with his foot, “the closer we get physically, or through the Veil, the more defensive it becomes.”

Zawadi confirmed with a nod.

Sam thought for a moment, and then turned toward the group. “It’s like a lineman.”

They stared at him, not understanding.

“Pardon my ignorance,” Zawadi said. “But what’s a lineman?”

“It’s a position in
football
.” He stressed the last word for Daphne’s benefit. “To get to the quarterback, the spines or sap, you have to first get through the linemen, the big scary shield.”

More blank stares.

“Well, usually the linemen look impenetrable,” Sam puffed out his chest to comic proportions. “That’s why you have to throw them off their guard.”

“And what do you propose?” Petir taunted. “You don’t know anything about our world.”

Sam smiled and tapped a finger against his head. “But I do know strategy.”

“What do you suggest?” Zawadi asked.

Sam surveyed his surroundings and came up with a plan.

“One person can’t get to a quarterback. You have to work as a team.” Sam sized up their opponent. “I think we have to go at it from different fronts.”

Cassiella was almost jumping up and down. “So, go at it from different sides?”

Sam bobbed his head from side to side. “In a way.”

Though the plant had no visible ears, Sam still thought it was best to get into a huddle to discuss the strategy. They gathered round, and Sam spoke in a hushed tone.

Petir hovered a few feet outside of the circle with his arms folded over his chest. “That won’t work.”

Sam wondered if he’d even heard the plan at all. “Well,” Sam flipped his palms up, “from what Daphne said, your plan would kill it. So why don’t we just give it a shot?”

“It sounds like a great plan!” Cassiella looked at Sam with wide eyes. “You’re so brave!”

“It sounds like a dangerous plan,” Daphne said, although Sam thought she sounded a little impressed.

“Only dangerous for me.” Sam shrugged. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

“And if you get hurt? What about your football?” Daphne spit the word.

“If I get hurt, then May can heal me. She’s done it before.”

“Actually, I can heal you.” Zawadi gave Sam a coy smile. “I’m getting quite good at it. I plan to become an Allu Shaman one day. They’re the healers who deal with the worst injuries and ailments. Rona started teaching me how to heal when I was young, even though we’re not
technically
supposed to know how until after Omani.”

“I don’t know if this is the best idea.” Daphne turned to Zawadi. “I know you’re getting better, but if he got really hurt, then—”

“It’s perfect!” Sam clapped his hands together, eliciting a loud hiss from the demon-plant behind them. “How ‘bout we do this thing?”

All eyes turned to Daphne.

“Fine.” She huffed a sigh. “But if anyone gets seriously hurt—”

Sam cut her off. “You all just keep your distance and we’ll be fine. Besides, I bet Zawadi can handle anything that comes our way.”

Daphne sighed again, and then shrugged.

“Thank you for your confidence, Sam.” Zawadi gave a slight bow. “Let us begin.”

Cassiella ran back the way they’d come as the group took their positions. After a few minutes, she returned, looking petrified.

Glissandro was in charge of their first point of attack. He whipped out his horn and started playing as loud as physically possible. Sam had no idea so much noise could come from such a little instrument. He clapped his hands over his ears and moved into position.

Just like he’d asked him to, Sam could feel Glissandro attempting to speak to the plant. Words cluttered the air like divvy leaves. Sam couldn’t make them out, but he could feel them rushing all around. It was like he heard the words, then instantly forgot what they were. The plant swiveled its spines toward Glissandro and opened its eye-pouches as wide as they could go. The crisscrossed bristles on the pods looked uncannily like eyelashes, while the center of each pod held a blood-red circle glossed over by a syrupy substance.

A foul stench smacked Sam’s nostrils, making it necessary to take a hand off one of his ears to plug his nose.

Ugh! Compared to this, the pouch Bariv gave me was like potpourri.

The others also pinched their noses. Sam hoped they’d still be able to perform one-handed.

Cassiella and Zawadi were next.

With a look of great relief, Cassiella took out two silver fruit from her pocket, and Sam heard his coach screaming about pansies. Sam’s original plan had been for them to levitate some dirt or rocks into the plant’s pods, but Glissandro had suggested they use the annoying fruit instead. His thought was that, sometimes, other plants would bend toward a symflower while it played. He hoped that the opposite might also be true.

Sam thought it was worth a shot.

The silver fruit whirred past and landed in each pod. Bristles snapped together, and then opened wide, trying to heave the fruit out. Just as Sam had hoped, the fruit stuck to the sticky substance inside. The plant thrashed about, but couldn’t get the fruit off. Any sympathy Sam might’ve felt for the demon-plant died when another wave of the nasty stench hit him.

Next was Daphne. When Sam had suggested her task, he wasn’t sure if it was possible. But he figured if she was able to call that bird to help her search for the amorberry—which he wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t found—maybe she could do something similar again.

Sam was now in position and looking up. Above him the flock of flying leaves blocked his view of the sky. All of a sudden the leaves changed course, bombarding downward. They swarmed Sam like bees around their queen, gravitating toward his body.

Daphne was actually pulling it off.

The leaves closed in around him, forming a tight cyclone of flashing green. Then they started landing on his body. Sam waited until he had an entire outfit made of green camouflage, and then started inching toward the demon-plant. The leaves didn’t have any weight behind them, but they still felt funny—like he was less aerodynamic—and he moved slowly so as not to shake any of them off.

The rest of the leaf armada swirled about, creating chaos. Hissing and flailing, tortured by the silver fruit, the thorny plant didn’t see Sam come up from behind. Sam reached out his emerald arm. With his second-skin, he gripped one of the large thorns and plucked it out with a firm pull.

Instead of ejecting the barbs deep into Sam’s abdomen or whipping him with its tentacles, the plant shriveled up and folded in on itself. As it slipped under the earth, the hissing grew in pitch, like a teakettle getting too hot, and eventually sizzled out when the plant disappeared.

Glissandro stopped playing the ear-shattering noise, and thankfully the smell left with the plant. Daphne stopped influencing the leaves and they all fluttered back up into the trees.

“I got it!” Sam shouted as the leaves drifted away. His heart thumped hard in his chest and he felt that old comforting feeling of victory. It was the first time in Atlas Crown that he had truly felt at ease.

Having the large thorn in his hand made him nearly burst with pride. The plan,
his
plan, had worked.

But just like at the game, the shouts and cheers weren’t forthcoming.

He looked at the others’ mournful faces.

“Look!” Sam waved the thorn. “I got it!”

“Yeah,” Petir scoffed, “but now we have to search the whole forest.”

“But I got it! Right here!”

“Good job, Sam.” Zawadi smiled, though her tone was a tad dampened.

Sam felt the bubble of pride deflate. “Is there something that I’m not getting here? The plan worked. You all were great!”

“Thank you, Sam, it was a fine plan.” Zawadi bit her lip. “You were great as well.”

“It was a great plan!” Cassiella interjected, though it looked like her smile was forced.

Sam arched his eyebrows. “Then what’s the problem?”

Daphne sighed. “The problem is, one thorn isn’t enough to study.”

“It’s a start.” Cassiella forced her smile even wider.

Sam examined the thorn. “So, let’s go find the plant again.”

“You don’t know anything,” Petir huffed. “It’s going to take days to find it again. And even then, we know
you
can’t touch it or you’ll send it away. Why don’t you leave the plans to us, flathand?”

Zawadi’s mouth hung open in shock. “Petir!”

Daphne was about to say something, but Sam cut her off. “Fine. You all can do it yourselves.” He threw the thorn into the ground, where it stuck like a flagpole. “I’m out of here.”

He looked around but couldn’t see any of the pillars past the dense brush. Glissandro motioned with his head to the right, and he and Sam stormed off toward the city.

***

The Tembrath Elite stood just feet outside of the borders of Atlas Crown.

Jintin reached out a finger, which crumpled on itself as it touched the invisible barrier.

“This thing cannot hold us.” Jintin prodded the air again. “We should just break through and ransack the place. I’ve been working on this new drape where—”

Vigtor silenced him with a wave. “Did you forget about the Mystics?”

“They probably wouldn’t notice,” Jintin retorted. “They’re so isolated up there that they wouldn’t even feel it.”

Vigtor clenched his teeth. “But Bariv would.”

Jintin thought for a moment. “Bariv is one bird in an otherwise deserted sky.”

Vigtor smirked. “When did you get so elegant in your speech?”

Jintin’s proud expression showed that he hadn’t caught the subtle insult.

“Besides,” Vigtor ran a finger against the barrier, “I wouldn’t call this place deserted. Even the clearest sky could just mean that the bigger birds are waiting on the ground. You know what the Mystics can do.”

Jintin’s expression darkened. “Let them try.”

Vigtor looked straight into Jintin’s eyes. “You are a fool.”

Sage pounded her fist against the barrier. “I can’t believe we are actually stooping to this.”

Saria took her sister’s hand. “We all started as beginners, too.”

“Yeah, but him?”

Erimos put a hand on each of their shoulders. “He has done something that hasn’t been done in a very long time.”

Sage’s eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t mean that he’s qualified to join us.”

“We need him.” Erimos stared her down. “So yes, it does.”

“Everyone move aside and let me begin,” Vigtor said. “I’m going to need space and silence.”

“How do we know they won’t detect this?” Crom’s tone was skeptical, as usual.

“When I was here,” Vigtor pushed them back further, “I came across one. No one realized it was there except me. I studied it for months, and eventually I was able to re-create it.”

Sage took a moment to step back. “Will it work?”

Vigtor placed his second-skin against the invisible barrier. “It might take some time, but yes.”

“But who will stay with it?”

Vigtor didn’t hesitate. “Jintin.”

“Me?” A nervous look crossed Jintin’s face. “Why?”

“Because it seems that you are unafraid of the Mystics, and if
this
plan doesn’t work in time, then we do your plan.”

Jintin immediately regained his composure. “If it doesn’t work, I’ve been planning this grip where—”