When at last all of the workers were in place, Wyand heard the unmistakable cadence of the Venerates entering the chamber. Their footsteps were silent as always, but their staves struck the stone floor with a cold and relentless rhythm. As they marched from one end of the chamber to the other, the Venerates took up positions on either side of the river, though their numbers were much fewer than the ranks of the workers. The beat of their staves reached a frenzied pace and thundered throughout the cavern, drowning out even the sound of the enormous river. Then, with one unified final beat, the rhythm ended and the Venerates addressed the workers of Aldhagen.
“Tonight, the Venerates have met,” the voice of one Venerate boomed against the stone walls, “and found the Pathshaper called Hirst guilty of dissention against another task.”
Wyand’s eyes grew wide when he heard the name and crime of the accused—Pathshaper Hirst was the lead Woodsman over Silax the Feller. Did I cause this? Wyand thought in shock, thinking back over his conversation with the Venerate about Silax’ disrespectful comments. Wyand hadn’t named Silax at the time—he didn’t want any serious punishment to fall on the Feller, no matter how insulting his comments were. Wyand had hoped for a simple correction, where the Venerates would discuss the value of each of Aldhagen’s tasks with Hirst and all of his workers. Instead, the Venerates must have uncovered much deeper issues within the ranks of Hirst’s Woodsmen and found the Pathshaper himself to be the root cause. Wyand remained lost in shock as the Venerates continued with the pronouncement of their judgement.
“His actions placed discord and personal gain above peace and honor,” another Venerate shouted, “and because of this, he will be cast out of Aldhagen forever. May his name never again be spoken within these walls.” Wyand looked to the mouth of the chamber and saw what had to be Hirst, hands bound and mouth gagged, being led into the room by two Venerate escorts. They paused just before the edge of the first balcony, then began a slow march towards the Casting Platform. With every other step, the Venerates struck the floor with their staves in unison. This sound was a signal for each worker to turn his back upon the accused as he passed—symbolically showing Aldhagen’s unified rejection of the offender. Another step, another loud crack, and the next worker on the balcony would turn away.
Wyand watched the wave of movement ripple towards him with each punctuated step Hirst took on his way to Wracandyr. I didn’t cause this, Wyand reassured himself. This was Hirst’s doing, and the Venerates’ decision. A sickening feeling of guilt still grew inside Wyand as Hirst drew closer to the end of the chamber. At least this would be over soon.
Wyand spun away from the river when it was his turn to do so, then turned back after hearing the staff strike the floor again to watch Hirst take his final steps through the chamber as he ascended onto the Casting Platform. Although Wyand’s own thoughts were plagued by anxiety, he noticed with curiosity that Hirst appeared perfectly calm. Even as he surveyed the thundering darkness of the Exile Door, Hirst stood proudly and seemed to almost be smiling behind the gag that covered his mouth. The procession halted at the edge of the platform and the Venerates’ staves went abruptly silent.
“Your honor is forfeit,” a Venerate on the platform shouted. “We cast you out.” Wyand winced as the Venerates pushed Hirst, even though that was always the end result of a Casting. The dark, foaming waters swallowed the former Pathshaper, carrying him through Wracandyr and out of Aldhagen permanently. Wyand exhaled slowly now that the most difficult portion of the ceremony had passed. After the three benediction chimes sounded, the Venerates marched in unison out of the chamber. Once the Venerates were out of sight, the first ranks of workers left the balconies and began the wordless walk back to their beds.
Wyand stroked the stone from the Cavern of the Winds for comfort as he walked. I didn’t cause this, he repeated to himself over and over along the darkened path back to the living quarters.
---
Sleep found Wyand some time long after the Casting, but his restless mind refused to be ignored for long. Wyand awoke before first light and began planning out his actions for the day. He was surprised to find that exhaustion wasn’t clouding his thoughts, but then he felt the weight of the stone from the Cavern of the Winds. Scur! Wyand thought in a panic. Their plan had been for Scur to fall asleep using the stone, then for Wyand to do the same. They hadn’t thought of awakening for a Casting, though, so Wyand had no way of knowing what kind of pain Scur was being forced to endure right now.
Quickly tying back his sima, Wyand ventured into the cool air of pre-dawn. The sky gave only the faintest hint of daylight’s arrival, but Wyand knew he still didn’t have very long before First Calling would sound. No other workers moved through Aldhagen at this hour—this was meant to be a time for rest before another day of honorable work. Wyand needed answers before he could hope to truly rest again, and unfortunately it seemed his list of questions continued to expand with every passing moment. He knew fatigue would overtake him eventually, but until it did Wyand resolved to find a way to reveal the truth about the Venerates to his fellow workers.
When Wyand arrived at Scur’s living quarters, he pressed his ear against the door but found that there was no indication of unusual activity inside. Not satisfied with audible proof alone, Wyand eased the door open noiselessly and peered into the dim room. To his surprise, Scur was sleeping peacefully without the aid of the stone. Wyand backed out of the room as quietly as he had entered and shut the door behind him. This was an interesting turn of events indeed, and Wyand leaned against the wall of the living quarters to consider what this implied. Maybe we don’t need the stone anymore… he mused hopefully. As Wyand stared towards the distance in thought, sunlight spilled over the stone walls and crept through Aldhagen. The bells announcing the approach of First Calling sounded, reminding Wyand that the Hall—and the Venerates—now waited for him.
First Calling progressed through its typical routine—the Venerates spoke of peace and honor, of the wonders to come with Kingdomturn, and of the importance of every worker’s dedication. In days past, this message would have lifted Wyand’s spirit from any depth, but today all he heard were hollow words offered by skillful liars. Wyand itched from wanting so desperately to shout the truth about Haemlan’s death and the Venerates’ treachery. Patience… he reminded himself. Though a direct confrontation would be courageous, Wyand had to be tactful if he hoped to succeed with a task as delicate as accusing the Venerates of murder.
He was relieved when the benediction chimes finally signaled the end of First Calling and the morning meal was served. Wyand was glad to find that at least food remained simple; food did not require tact. For some reason, though, his appetite inexplicably vanished after just a few bites. Not wanting to waste any more time on nibbling or conversation, Wyand left the Calling Room to begin the walk to the mine.
Edan finally caught up to Wyand long after they were past the last ring of living quarters. Wyand felt guilty for not waiting to walk with Edan, but the risk of discussing Haemlan’s death with Edan outweighed all other concerns.
“Slag, Wyand! I’ve been calling to you for fifty strides at least,” Edan said between breaths after reaching Wyand’s side.
“Forgive me, Edan,” Wyand said, trying to sound more remorseful than he actually felt. Although Edan waited for further explanation, Wyand said nothing else and they walked in awkward silence. Wyand’s knowledge of the Venerates’ secret begged to escape his mouth at every possible opportunity, so not speaking seemed like his safest option for now. It was going to be an uncomfortable day.
“So…do you want to talk about the Casting at all?” Edan asked. It was forbidden to discuss the accused by name, but discussing the ceremony itself was allowed, if done quietly.
“What is there to say?” Wyand replied with a shrug. “The man disrespected another task and was cast out for it.”
Edan stopped abruptly and waited for Wyand to do the same. Wyand turned back reluctantly. “You’re still
not feeling well, are you Wyand?” Edan asked. It pained Wyand to see genuine concern in his friend’s eyes, but he could not reveal the truth to Edan without fear of complications arising.
“I feel fine,” Wyand said tiredly. “I just wish Kingdomturn was here already. I’m exhausted.”
“That’s just it, Wyand,” Edan said, walking closer. “We’ve always been exhausted just before the Kingdomturn celebration. It’s like Last Calling: arriving with any unspent energy means that more work could have been done. Now that the mining task—and our mine, no less—has been chosen to provide the offering, we’re supposed to dedicate every bit of our energy to that purpose and smile with pride while doing so. This tiredness of yours, along with the dizzy spells, is what lets me know that you are not ‘fine,’ as you keep saying. So, out with it.”
Wyand had rarely heard Edan speak so many words at once. Despite his best efforts, Wyand now realized that he had failed to fully suppress the signs of his inner turmoil. He still couldn’t reveal the full truth to Edan, not yet, so Wyand turned to an option he had never considered viable before: deception.
“I…I can’t stop thinking that the Casting last night was my fault,” Wyand began, only partially lying. “Since the encounter with Silax and talking with the Venerates, I’ve questioned whether what I did was right or not.”
“Of course it was right!” Edan jumped in. “Wyand, they were disrespecting another task, never mind that it was our task. It was your responsibility to let the Venerates know about such a concern. Don’t believe for a second that you did something wrong.”
Wyand felt the conviction in Edan’s words and was relieved that his friend had believed the half-truth. He was then immediately disgusted with himself for taking joy in such a shameful action. Forgive me, Edan, Wyand thought. I’ll explain everything when I can. There was quiet for a few strides as they resumed walking to the mine, but it wouldn’t last.
“That’s not the only thing bothering you, Wyand,” Edan said knowingly. Wyand searched his mind for another believable excuse, but none would come. “You’re worried about Keltin, aren’t you?” Edan asked. Wyand seized the opportunity—Keltin’s absence was a perfect explanation for any strange behavior.
“Nine days is a long time,” Wyand said with concern. “I can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now, and here we are marching triumphantly towards Kingdomturn. I know it’s shameful, I just can’t enjoy this fully until I know that Keltin is all right."
“He’s fine, you know that,” Edan replied reassuringly. “And he would want you to embrace the honor of the Kingdomturn offering as well as your new role in the mine.”
“You’re right,” Wyand said. “As usual, you’re right. Forgive me for letting my foolish concerns cloud the truth of our situation. We are blessed, and I’ll do my best from here on to work joyfully as I know I should.” Wyand forced an energetic smile onto his face and saw Edan nod in approval. The ruse had worked—there would be no further questions from Edan for a while. The sick feeling in Wyand’s stomach tightened with each lie, but he would endure this for the sake of all Aldhagen’s workers. His job now was to spread the truth about the Venerates, no matter what pain accompanied it.
As they approached the mine, Wyand and Edan received morning greetings from every worker they passed. “Peace and honor, Depthcarvers!” some would say, “Two days until Kingdomturn!” said others. Smile, wave, offer encouraging words—it was an automatic response pattern Wyand embraced so he didn’t have to actually think about what he was doing. This continued as Wyand walked through the mine and began the descent into the Lower Depths. Since he had rushed through the First Calling meal, there were thankfully very few workers for him to encounter in the mine so early in the day. Wyand parted with Edan in the cage chamber and returned to the area he’d been working in the day before. It didn’t take long for his restless thoughts to be muted by the rhythmic sound of pick striking stone.
“Depthcarver,” a voice whispered loudly as Wyand felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned to find Grefstan staring at him with a frantic expression.
“What is it, Grefstan?” Wyand asked as he lowered the pick.
“Scur…he needs your help,” was all Grefstan would say.
Without another word, they dashed through the winding corridors to a dark intersection near the cage chamber. Wyand spotted Scur sitting in the shadows, eyes rolled back and his mouth hanging slack. The stench of the boy’s vomit forced Wyand to lift the collar of his shirt in order to move any closer. Before he knelt down, Wyand had the stone out and ready to hand off.
“Scur,” Wyand said softly. “Forgive me; I should have known you needed the stone after the Casting.” Scur offered no reply, he just continued to take slow, labored breaths. “Can you hear me?” Wyand asked as he edged closer. Scur’s hand suddenly shot out and ripped the stone from Wyand’s grasp. Wyand stumbled backward from the speed and force of Scur’s movement, though he still saw no sign of consciousness on the Tailing’s face. Scur dragged the stone to his side, then up onto his chest. Within seconds, waves of muscle spasms seized control of Scur’s body. His arms flailed, sending the stone flying past Wyand’s head and into the darkened corridor. Then, just as suddenly as they had begun, the spasms subsided leaving Scur slumped motionless against the passage wall. Wyand knelt close to Scur once more and waited anxiously for the boy to move. Unlike the rest of Aldhagen’s workers, Wyand had seen death before and knew that Scur currently exhibited many of its characteristics. Scur’s head at last rolled forward off of the wall and he breathed in and out deeply.
“Scur,” Wyand whispered hesitantly, then said more loudly, “Scur! Are you all right?” The Tailing’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Wyand with dazed uncertainty.
“Peace and honor, Depthcarver,” Scur said weakly. “It feels like I just ran head-first into the side of a mine cart. It’s getting better now, though. Thank you.”
“Peace and honor. And there’s no need to thank me,” Wyand replied with a sigh of relief. “I’m the reason the sickness took hold of you as badly as it did. If I’d passed you the stone earlier, we could have avoided this entirely.”
Scur’s eyes grew wide with panic as he studied his hands. “Depthcarver, where is the stone?” he asked.
“You accidentally threw it down the corridor,” Wyand said as he turned to look for it. “It should be—” his words stopped when he saw Grefstan holding the stone near where it had clattered to rest. Wyand stood, giving a reassuring nod to Scur before stepping towards Grefstan.
“What is this, Depthcarver?” Grefstan asked, holding out the stone as Wyand approached.
“I don’t see anything but a rock,” Wyand replied with a laugh. Grefstan’s eyes studied Wyand carefully. He doesn’t believe me, Wyand thought as he desperately searched for a way to convince Grefstan that the stone was meaningless.
“Scur was extremely ill until this stone touched him,” Grefstan said pointedly. “What is this illness and how does this stone cure it?”
Wyand knew there was no point in lying to Grefstan about the stone any longer. “I honestly don’t know,” Wyand sighed. “Forgive me, Grefstan, I wasn’t trying to mislead you. I just didn’t want to cause a panic over this sickness or the strange stone that acts as its cure. Now that you have seen the power of the stone, I trust that you will guard this information as well.”
Grefstan nodded slowly and looked back at the stone again. “Do the Venerates know about all of this?” he asked. Wyand felt a cold spike of fear drive into the pit of his stomach when he realized where the conversation was headed next.
“They don’t, do they?” Grefstan said after seeing Wyand’s fearful expression.
“No, they don’t,” Wyand admitted. Even growing up with someone as perceptive as Edan couldn’t have prepared Wyand for being questioned by Grefstan. It felt like the Tailing could see the thoughts in Wyand’s mind before there was time to speak them.
“It is our duty to reveal this objec
t to the Venerates,” Grefstan said with a resolute nod.
I wish I could still view situations with that kind of clarity, Wyand thought. Since the collapse, every decision had become much too complicated for his liking. “While I agree with you, Grefstan, I am not ready to speak to the Venerates yet about the stone,” Wyand said. He needed more time, and more importantly he needed Keltin back from isolation to help devise a plan.
“Depthcarver, there is a sickness spreading and this stone is its only cure,” Grefstan said bluntly. There was a sudden note of disappointment that accompanied the way Grefstan spoke, as though Wyand’s uncharacteristic reluctance had placed a heavy burden on the Tailing’s conscience. “If you will not tell the Venerates about this, then I will.”
Wyand stood in shocked silence as he tried to collect his thoughts. It seemed his desire to consult with Keltin would go unfulfilled—this task belonged to Wyand alone.
“There’s no need for that, Grefstan,” Wyand said through clenched teeth. “I will speak with the Venerates during Reflection tonight. For now, though, the most important thing is for me to help Scur and for us all to return to work. Peace and honor.” Wyand passed the stone back to Scur with an apologetic shake of his head and began the walk back to his pick. Whatever the outcome, at least they wouldn’t have to keep this stone a secret any longer. Wyand would confront the Venerates tonight.
Kingdomturn Page 10
