Beneath the Veil by Martin Kearns

Author:Martin Kearns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Horror, paranormal, urban fantasy, contemporary fantasy, speculative fiction
Publisher: Martin Kearns
Published: 2021-10-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

A Warrior

Droves of people poured back inside the great hall as David approached. He became overwhelmed with the same eerie feeling he had experienced twelve years ago on his first day of middle school. Everyone appeared to be traveling in groups, their camaraderie evident with slaps on shoulders punctuated by howls of laughter. Nobody noticed David existed. This worked in his favor, to an extent. Being invisible made it easy for him to walk right up to the hall, but it also froze him out of the groups.

Through people-watching, David observed that some groups heading inside counted women amongst them, though far fewer were female than male, and they were all clad in clothes spanning multiple eras in history. One mongrel group ahead was made up of two squat men from the bronze age: a Persian, tall by comparison to his counterparts, and a woman adorned in warpaint and worn leathers who may have hailed from the tribes who birthed the Celts. A man in gray fatigues and a helmet seeming to indicate the era of World War One walked by, and there were a handful of men clad in leather armor and animal furs, brandishing brutish-looking swords and axes close behind.

They fraternized with no communication issues, and David himself couldn’t discern a difference in languages at all. Everyone seemed to be speaking the same tongue here, despite their clear cultural differences, and he also understood it. David began to wonder if the language was English at all when he was bumped from behind by a fast-moving man in khakis and a tan chambray shirt. He hustled past, not stopping to discuss the incident, which was a relief.

“Don’t mind him, he always rushes inside. Not sure why, with there always being enough food and drink for everyone and all,” a female soldier in digital desert fatigues said to David. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“You could say that,” David said.

“It’s a little weird at first, but you’ll get used to it. You might even learn to like it,” she said. “I’m Mina Gallagher. Was a staff sergeant in Afghanistan. You American?” She removed her helmet to reveal black hair of modest length.

“Um, yeah, I am,” he said. “David Dolan.”

“Where did you punch your ticket to get here, kid?” she asked.

“It’s an interesting story. Maybe I can explain better when we get inside,” David responded. He still wasn’t sure how any of them would handle learning he wasn’t a warrior like they were.

“That’s a good idea. You can sup with us.” She gestured to two others who walked behind her, discussing the day’s events. One wore a kimono with a katana affixed above a smaller sword at the waist, his white shirt so saturated in crimson gore that it was hard to believe he was behaving in a casual manner. The person he spoke with was a more modern soldier, maybe from the Korean War or World War Two, although it was tough for David to tell based on the scant black and white footage he’d seen growing up.

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