Eyes shut tight from pain, Ryna forced herself to crawl blindly towards the distant sound of a familiar voice—Halwen, maybe? She still couldn’t tell. With her other senses dulled, touch became Ryna’s primary means of navigating her surroundings. The ground here was soaking wet and covered in jagged rocks that scraped sharply across her exposed skin. This must be the realm beyond life after all, Ryna thought. Where else would every one of my senses be assaulted simultaneously?
“Ryna!” the voice shouted again, much closer than before. It was clearly Halwen, though her voice was nearly unrecognizable from the terror that filled it. The ringing and the dizziness at last stopped, and Ryna discovered that her eyes could focus again. With a brief, unexpected jolt of shame, she brushed back the now-loose strands of her hair and saw that Halwen stood less than five strides away, fixated on something on the wet ground. Ryna looked to where Halwen pointed and immediately understood why she sounded so hysterical. Facedown in the mud lay the motionless form of one of the Wrights. Ryna didn’t have to see the sima to know the dark black hair belonged to Kiorla. The woman’s neck was at an unnatural angle and badly bruised. As the initial shock set in, Ryna couldn’t comprehend what was happening at first. Then she noticed…things…crawling through the mud toward Kiorla, and suddenly the entire scene snapped into focus.
Celina, the other Wright that had carried Stora from the burning forge, stood protectively over Kiorla. Any time the mudcrawlers came too close to Kiorla, Celina would scream and kick at them furiously. With each kick, a steady stream of blood ran down Celina’s exposed leg from a sizeable wound on her shin. Behind Celina, Mainwright Stora lay atop a large boulder, still unconscious and utterly helpless. Ryna frowned as she tried to understand the events before her. It didn’t make sense—Celina and Kiorla had taken Stora to the Fyrnraed for healing, so how did they all come to be here, outside Locboran? And what was happening to Kiorla? Each time one of the mudcrawlers reached the fallen Wright, it would flip upside-down and latch onto her. What were they doing?
Ryna rose to her feet and stumbled closer in a daze, watching one of the creatures as it writhed atop Kiorla’s arm. Then a sudden swift kick from Celina ripped the creature off of Kiorla and exposed a gaping hole in her skin that had not been there moments earlier. Ryna was nearly sick, but she now understood the reality of the situation—the mudcrawlers were consuming Kiorla, tearing her apart bit by bit.
Stunned denial and uncontrollable anger guided Ryna’s movements from that point on. Hair billowing behind her, she rushed past Halwen who stood frozen in fear. Ryna had no idea what she was going to do next, but it felt right to be angry and let her every action reflect that. As her pace quickened, Ryna remained focused on Kiorla and flinched with rage any time one of the mudcrawlers reached its goal. Without slowing, Ryna seized a stout, white tree branch that protruded from the mud and gripped it low in her right hand. In a single motion, she arrived at Kiorla’s side, swung with all her fury, and sent three of the mudcrawlers spiraling through the air. Violence suddenly did not feel as evil and unnatural as Ryna had always believed it would be. It left a quiet, lingering pleasure that fueled her onslaught as more of the creatures attempted to latch onto her friend.
Sometime during the fight, Ryna noticed that Celina and even Halwen had joined in swinging branches of their own. It became clear in little time, however, that their combined efforts were still not enough to keep back the relentless mudcrawlers. The things were easy to swat aside, but they were incredibly persistent and their numbers had grown to the point of being staggering.
“Kiorla!” Ryna shouted desperately with another swing, praying for the Wright to get up and flee. The amount of mudcrawlers increased with every one that was knocked away, until Ryna, Halwen, and Celina were at last forced back from Kiorla. With a sound like rushing water, a surge of the creatures washed over the area, the tops of their strange bodies fanning open as they initially found sustenance from their own fallen that littered the mud around the Wright. Then the mass of living things reached Kiorla, and in an instant she was simply gone.
Ryna stared in silent terror as she backed farther and farther away. With the last remaining traces of flesh vanishing from Kiorla, Ryna at last understood the source of the pale white stones and branches scattered across this horrific landscape, including the one in her own hand. She immediately thought to drop it, but the idea of being here without some form of defense was more alarming than the threats themselves. Unwoven or not, Ryna resolved to do whatever was required to avoid becoming a victim of this place.
The notion of wanting to survive came as a surprise to Ryna, considering the shame that weighed heavily upon her. She had always assumed that an Unwoven’s passage through the Exile Door brought with it an instant end of life—clean and final. Yet life persisted for her, which offered only one logical conclusion: to live was to be her punishment. Instead of easily escaping her shame through a quick death, Ryna would serve her true penance by being forced to endure life as Unwoven. With the Fyrnraed’s purpose for her continued existence clarified, she looked back to the shoreline to figure out what she needed to do next.
There were so many dead by the lake, their remains forgotten far below the safety of Locboran’s walls, and now Kiorla was among their number. Ryna would not forget her friend, but in order to survive it was time to leave what was left of Kiorla behind. It was a wretchedly logical thought, worse than anything Ryna could have ever imagined, but she only felt a cold, distant sadness. The shame of being cast out, now mixed with the horrors that waited below Locboran, was more than Ryna’s gentler emotions could handle. She pushed them deep, focusing instead on the controlled anger and reason that would be required to keep herself, Halwen, Celina, and Stora alive. Ryna saw no mudcrawlers in the direction of the nearby cliff wall, so she decided that had to be a safer option than staying close to the water.
Moving numbly towards the Mainwright, Ryna paused when she stepped onto an old robe, half submerged in the mud. Since losing her clothing in the fire at the bannuc forge, she only had that man Keltin’s shirt to cover herself. Another dull twinge of anger formed in the pit of Ryna’s stomach when she thought about Keltin. He may have saved my life, she thought, but at the cost of my honor. She took hold of the shirt, ripped it off over her head, and flung it as far as she could back towards the mudcrawlers. Without hesitation, Ryna pried the tattered robe from the mud to claim as her own. The remains of its former owner fell out in a clattering pile. You don’t need this anymore, she thought as she looked at the old bones, and for an instant she was envious of the quiet solace they had found.
The mudcrawlers were all still occupied with Kiorla and the area surrounding her, so escape away from the lake was easy. After helping a dazed Halwen lift the Mainwright by her robes, Ryna led the long march towards the cliff wall. Though Stora was a small woman, the burden was still considerable for only two people’s shoulders to bear. Celina had wanted to help too, but her wounded leg prevented her from being able to assist with carrying Stora. As it was, Celina was forced to lean on Halwen’s free shoulder in order to simply walk.
“We have to wait for Aemetta,” Halwen whimpered quietly behind Ryna as they walked. Ryna missed a step when she realized they had not seen Aemetta or that wretched man Keltin since the Casting.
“We cannot stay here,” Ryna said reluctantly over her shoulder. “I don’t know where we’re going yet, but waiting is not an option.” Halwen sniffed sadly to herself but her pace did not slow. In spite of her kindhearted nature, Halwen’s desire to be away from this place was stronger than her concern for Aemetta. Ryna glanced back and noticed that a steady drip of blood from Mainwright Stora’s robes had marked a clear path all the way back to the water’s edge.
“Perhaps Aemetta will find us instead. Look,” Ryna said, pointing with the bone back towards the blood trail. “Celina, are these injuries new or did the Fyrnraed offer no healing to the Mainwright when she was brought before them?”
“W
e thought he was leading us to the Last Calling chamber to perform the healing,” Celina said absently. “But the Fyrnraed took us to the Casting Platform. He asked where we had been, what we had seen, then without a word he pushed the three of us into the water. I could hear Kiorla screaming in the darkness, but by the time I found her floating in the lake….” Celina’s voice faltered as she stifled a sob.
“It makes no sense,” Ryna admitted, trying to forget her last images of Kiorla. “For now, we need to get the Mainwright somewhere safe so we can try to stop the bleeding.” Ryna had lived with small injuries for as long as she could remember—working in a forge brought more pain with it than most tasks—but she had never seen anything close to the amount of blood that had soaked Stora’s robes. She hoped the same techniques that applied to small cuts and burns would be enough to begin the healing process for the Mainwright.
The sun poured its heat through a cloudless sky and directly onto the sand underfoot. At first Ryna accepted the stinging pain as part of her punishment, but then she realized it was beginning to slow her pace and thus impede her ability to move Stora to safety quickly. It is my task here to suffer, not anyone else’s, Ryna reminded herself, especially not the Mainwright. The women paused in the shade cast by a large grouping of boulders—the canyon wall was close, but still much too far to walk barefoot on the blistering sand. Ryna tore off two strips from the bottom of the old robe she had acquired and wrapped one strip around each foot as many times as the length would allow. It wasn’t a replacement for shoes, but it would suffice for now. The group continued on.
When the shadow of the canyon wall at last blocked the sunlight from view, the drop in temperature was a sudden and welcome relief. Now that Ryna could see the face of the red cliff, she scanned it carefully to try to find a way out of the area and, hopefully, onward to someplace safer.
“What is it, Ryna?” Celina asked as Ryna continued her search.
“That name is lost to me,” Ryna said. “I am Unwoven, now and for the rest of my days.”
“I didn’t...oh. Forgive me,” Celina stammered, not knowing how to address her friend and former Tasksister.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Ryna replied frankly. “You couldn’t have known of my shame because, at the time of my Unweaving, you were dutifully carrying the Mainwright to the Hall. Anyway, don’t worry about that. I am looking for a path to the top of the wall ahead.” There was a long silence as Celina studied the cliff as well.
“I don’t see a path up the wall,” Celina said, “but there is small opening, over there.” Ryna stopped the group and turned to see where Celina was pointing. There’s no path there, Ryna thought after a few seconds of finding nothing, but then she spotted a narrow seam running up the entire face of stone.
“Sharp eye, Celina,” Ryna said with equal parts astonishment and approval. “That’s where we’ll go then.”
“We need to tend to Stora soon,” Halwen added worriedly, staring at the ground below the Mainwright. Ryna noted that the steady droplets of blood had already formed a dark pool in the sand. The group set out for the fissure, their pace quickening with each urgent step.
When the opening of the smaller canyon finally came into full view, Ryna spotted a ledge near its entrance that they could reach without great difficulty. Although they hadn’t seen any mudcrawlers since the wet ground had transitioned to arid sand, Ryna did not want to risk the creatures finding the group an easy target on the ground while they dressed the Mainwright’s wounds. Even if they follow us this far, hopefully the vile little beasts can’t climb, Ryna prayed.
Once Stora was in place, Ryna and Halwen began the delicate task of peeling the blood-soaked robes off of the Mainwright’s skin. This world was without Fyrnraed, so there was no threat of Stora’s lack of clothing offending anyone. There were many areas of her skin with significant burns which clung to the robes and added further difficulty to the removal process. As wounds were exposed, Halwen and Ryna took turns tearing off sections from the bottom of their robes to serve as bandages. It would have been easier to use Stora’s robes, but those were already too wet with blood to cover any injury. Tight for cuts, loose for burns, Ryna reminded herself each time a new bandage was applied. The saying guided her actions, but it also kept her from fixating on the severity of the Mainwright’s injuries. Ryna flinched several times when a particularly large cut or burn came into view, but she was amazed to see Halwen’s focus never waver throughout the entire process.
“I never knew you were so comfortable around blood,” Ryna said as they began working on one the Mainwright’s arms. Halwen smiled for the first time since the Casting.
“Thank you, Ry—” Halwen caught herself before she used the old name, “—thank you. We should be finished here soon.” Ryna hadn’t noticed the speed of their progress, but this arm held the last few of the Mainwright’s untreated injuries. She suddenly remembered that Celina had been bleeding as well.
“How is your leg?” Ryna called over to her friend. Celina sat a short distance away, leaning against the canyon wall with distant eyes. She didn’t answer at first, then she blinked and looked at Ryna.
“Better,” Celina panted. “But I need…water.”
“I’m sure we’ll find some soon,” Ryna said reassuringly. “In fact, once we’ve finished with the Mainwright, the very next thing we will do is go look for water.” Celina nodded tiredly and rolled her head back against the red wall.
“She’s as grey as ash,” Ryna whispered to Halwen.
“You should tend to her leg next,” Halwen replied. “Then we can see about water.”
With Stora’s last bandage in place, Ryna walked over to Celina and knelt to inspect her leg. Celina had applied a dressing since they arrived at the ledge, but Ryna saw that it was already beginning to soak through. The moment she lifted the edge, Celina’s eyes shot open and her hand seized Ryna’s wrist.
“Leave it,” Celina hissed. “Please.” Ryna pulled her hand free and backed away.
“You need to re-wrap it, then,” Ryna said, still recovering from Celina’s strange reaction. Celina offered no reply, but she did begin tearing another bandage. That’s a start, at least, Ryna thought. Then she suddenly understood Celina’s outburst.
“It’s because I’m Unwoven, isn’t it?” Ryna asked sadly. “You don’t want my touch to make you unclean.” Celina lifted her head sharply. Even with her eyelids half-open, the welling tears were clearly visible.
“You’re not like…” Celina began, then stopped herself as she collected her thoughts and labored through another breath. “You can never go back.” Tears threatened to fall with each word she spoke.
“And you believe you can?” Ryna asked skeptically. “Look around, Celina. We are cast out—all of us, even the Mainwright. You are right to view me different from the others, but it doesn’t change the fact that we are here together for now. Nor does it mean that I won’t help you in any way I can, if you’ll let me.” Celina looked away, clearly ashamed, but said nothing further. Her opinion of the Unwoven was rigid, as it was with most workers in Locboran. Once the sima was undone, the person you knew was gone with it. Celina and Ryna had worked side by side in the bannuc forge for nearly seven turnings, though, so Ryna could understand why it was so hard for her friend to let go, especially after just losing Kiorla in such a horrible way.
They all sat in silence for a brief rest as they waited for the Mainwright’s robes to dry out, until Celina began coughing and complained for water again. With only a shared nod of agreement, Ryna and Halwen rose to their feet and carefully placed Stora’s robe back onto her. It was still damp, but not dripping with blood as it had been. After Stora was hoisted into place, Celina leaned against Halwen’s open shoulder once again and the group continued deeper into the passage through the cliff. The sheer side walls maintained their same unbroken watch over the path, but a growing number of large boulders and outcrops appeared the farther the women walked. What had started as a fairly s
traight route now shifted from side to side, meandering around curves in the stone and sometimes changing height rapidly. There was nothing visible to serve as a reference, but Ryna was certain they were steadily gaining elevation.
After one particularly steep climb, the path veered sharply to the left. Within two strides, Ryna was surprised to find herself standing on an overlook of a deep valley. Bizarrely shaped columns and sheer faces of living stone lined the far wall of the valley, all of which shone in the sunlight with beautiful striations of red and tan. The valley ran perpendicular to their current path and disappeared around a bend many strides to the right of the overlook. Ryna gasped as she took in the sight before her.
“Why did we stop?” Halwen asked from behind. Without speaking, Ryna motioned to put Stora down. With the Mainwright off her shoulder, Halwen stepped forward with Celina and joined Ryna on the ledge.
“Incredible,” Halwen breathed as she, too, surveyed the sprawling expanse. Nothing in Locboran could compare to this. Celina panted from the climb, but her expression made it clear that she was just as amazed by what lay in front of them as Halwen was.
“Look there!” Halwen exclaimed after turning her gaze to the right side of the valley. Just before the lower path turned to continue out of sight, there was a small depression along the far wall. From that depression, tall green poles extended high up the face of the canyon and swayed in a faint breeze.
“Could those be plants?” Halwen asked excitedly.
“I think so,” Ryna replied, though they looked like no plant ever seen inside the walls of Locboran.
“We…have to go there,” Celina said between breaths. She pushed off of Halwen’s shoulder and hobbled closer to the edge of the overlook.
Kingdomturn Page 16
