Seeking the Veil, Part 1

Beckenburg

Waves crashed around his ankles, cold and frothy, as Hestea pulled his legs from the water and scrambled up the rocky shore - boots sinking in the pebbles with each stride. The sailor with a bandanna tied around his hair and a nasty set of pockmarks grinned at Hestea, waved with a quick hand and grabbed the oars. The small tender jerked backward through wind and spray, waves cresting around, the larger ship rocking in the distance.

"Do you think I'll fit in?" Hestea called over the crash of the surf, watching the rower navigate rocks, pushing against the morning tide.

Gunter Krause, Master Magi and graduate of the Academy, turned his blue eyes to Hestea's own and looked at Hestea's blond hair, slicked with mist and spray. Gunter's brown hair was pulled back in a long, rough braid and he had sprouted a short dark beard on the voyage. "You'll look like a native."

"And what about-"

"Your speech?" The magus waved his hand. "Say your pa and his brothers were sailors and spoke so much other gibberish you picked up some other accents. Really doesn't matter, Hestea. We go in, find a mercenary group to join. Hammer and magic for hire. They won't ask many questions."

Hestea nodded, glancing up at the tall banded cliffs that rose before them, locking them on the small pebbly beach. The white rock that rose above bands of gray and red was stained and fractured, roots sprouting near the top. He breathed in through his nose, smelling the salt, the cold and the mist. Beckenburg. He was half a world away from home and the enemy was somewhere near. Finally. He tilted higher, watching the mists roll over the cliffs.

Somewhere up there, the enemy lurked. Hiding, fighting, spreading like some black, festering disease. Throttling the Beckens like they had done to so many others. And he was here, he could do something. Hestea smiled and exhaled slowly through his lips.

Gunter made a noise and Hestea looked to see him eyeing the haft of his war hammer, sticking up over Hestea's shoulder. "You sure you can swing that thing?"

Hestea reached back, hilt cool to the touch, running a finger along the roughened grip. Not a spot of rust, hardly a blemish at all. Hestea wondered, and not for the first time, how old the weapon was. "You never came to one of our matches?"

Gunter chuckled. "Truly? No, Hestea, I did not."

"Ulyn commended me on my speed."

"And Blacksmith Ulyn is qualified in weapon play? Did your father give you over to Master Ulyn to learn to fight? No, child. He's lived all his life on an island without weapon practice outside of a book or two. I'm all one for books, but to learn to fight from the page seems as unlikely as learning the heat of the sun, or finding the pleasure from your first kiss. No, a book can give you ideas - fill your mind with perspectives, new and strange. But to teach you how to fight..."

Hestea frowned, dropping his hand from the hammer. "They let me come." Just like you said, Ulyn. Just like you said. Hestea stared around the small rocky shore, remembering when he had left. Remembering the words that he had said to his father. And he wasn't sorry for one single word.

"Yes, the council did at that." Gunter looked away, watching a seagull land with a flapping of wings, splashing the water as it grabbed some small fish.

"What?"

The magus tilted his head, tracing a finger upon his dark beard. "I suppose I should just say it. We may spend some time together. Truth be told, I'm surprised."

"Why? I passed the test."

"Yes, that is the oddest thing of all. You realize you are the only non-magi to do so."