Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  Edan thought to call out to the boy and end this game, but he also wanted to see what Scur was doing out here alone. Curiosity triumphed over frustration, so Edan remained silent as he studied Scur from a distance. Obscured from view behind a sizeable Spineleaf, Edan watched the Tailing dart from one tree to the next, scanning each trunk for something before moving on. He changed direction frequently, searching either completely at random or by some pattern that Edan couldn’t discern. Then, at last, Scur stood still.

  Edan saw nothing unique about this particular tree, but Scur’s eyes lit up with excitement that was easy to see even from dozens of strides away. The Tailing cast one more worried glance around the forest, then approached the trunk. Scur hunched over and his arms moved hurriedly as he went about some task, but the tree itself blocked Edan’s sight of what the boy actually did for the next few minutes. Then, just as suddenly as the unusual behavior began, Scur stepped back from the Spineleaf and returned to Edan’s view.

  The strangeness of this event was far from over though, because now the Tailing appeared to be chewing something. Is he eating the tree? Edan wondered incredulously. As Edan watched, Scur finished chewing, swallowed, and scrubbed a sleeve across his mouth. He’s eating the tree, Edan answered himself. It was time to stop this foolishness. Before he could start towards Scur, however, the Tailing spun away and sprinted back toward the Hall. Edan called after him, but if Scur heard the shouts the only effect they had was to accelerate his pace. With the woods now empty, Edan decided to investigate Scur’s “special tree.”

  Edan winced as he moved around to the far side of the tree, expecting to find bite marks from Scur’s recent meal. To his surprise and relief, however, the bark of the Spineleaf was unscathed. This finding added another layer to the questions in Edan’s mind as he scanned the tree trunk for any explanation of Scur’s actions. Then Edan noticed something out of place: a knot from a long-removed limb protruding unnaturally over the edge of a fist-sized knothole. A small mark had been carefully carved in its center, but Edan did not recognize the symbol. It consisted of a circle with three vertical lines—one that extended downward from its center, and a shorter one on either side of it. The three lines crossed the lower rim of the circle and continued outward for another half of their length.

  This mark must have been what Scur was searching for, though Edan had no idea of its significance. Edan pushed lightly on the top of the knot and it rotated out of the opening into his hand. He moved closer and peered cautiously into the darkness of the tree, not knowing what to expect. It was impossible to see anything in the cavity, so the only option remaining was to reach inside. Edan reluctantly put his hand into the knothole and felt around. Something soft and smooth brushed against his fingers, and in a swift motion he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in fabric. The cloth was made of linwyrt, but it was woven more roughly than anything Edan had ever seen. Not only that, but it was discolored and frayed around the edges. Surely something like this had not been made by the Venerates.

  Edan unfolded the cloth and immediately dropped it when he saw what it contained. A half-eaten lump of whiteroot rolled off of the cloth and into the layer of Spineleaf needles that blanketed the forest floor. Whiteroot was one of the most common food plants in Aldhagen, but it was strictly forbidden to eat it or any other food directly from the fields without first having it blessed by the Venerates. The dirt on this chunk of whiteroot meant it was straight out of the ground—unblessed and unclean.

  The thought of eating unclean food made Edan’s stomach turn, so he quickly stuffed the empty cloth back into the tree and replaced the knot. As he composed himself, he realized he had to find Scur immediately and get him to the Venerates for cleansing. Why in the Kingdom would he pick today, of all days, to do something so foolish! Edan thought with amazed irritation. He stared blankly at the ground as he walked back towards the Hall, oblivious to the fact that Grefstan watched him from the base of a tree just two strides away.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that yet,” Grefstan said as Edan walked past. Edan’s eyes opened wide as he turned to stare at the Tailing—it was the closest thing Grefstan had ever seen to a surprised expression on the Depthcarver’s face. The boy suppressed a faint grin while Edan fumed.

  “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Edan said through clenched teeth. If he laughs at me right now I’ll drag him down to the isolation cells myself!

  “Forgive me, Depthcarver,” Grefstan said with an apologetic bowing of his head. “I know this is very confusing. Thankfully, you will remember none of this.”

  “Won’t remember?” Edan shouted. “I won’t remember finding a cache of unholy food? Or discovering one of my Tailings—maybe two—consuming it?”

  “That’s correct, Depthcarver,” Grefstan said with burdened certainty. The hint of regret in the boy’s eyes made Edan lose focus on being angry for an instant. In that same instant, he watched Grefstan raise a small metallic box in one hand and shake it three times. The sound of the final three chimes of a Calling rushed into Edan’s ears with comforting familiarity. The air shimmered and Grefstan spoke slowly.

  “You will feel ill any time you see or smell food from the Hall,” Grefstan said. “You stepped away after the first Trial because you thought you were going to be sick.” Edan nodded in understanding. “When you finally grow unbearably hungry, you will not go to the Venerates for aid. Instead, you will be drawn to this forest for reasons you do not understand. This conversation never happened, and you have not seen Scur or Grefstan today.” The chimes sounded again, and Edan closed his eyes to revel in the feeling of total peace.

  ---

  The sound of the crowd felt muted and distant as Edan waited for another wave of nausea to pass. He opened his eyes to see if everything had stopped spinning, and it blessedly had. He took a deep breath and prayed that was the last of the sickness for now. Whatever had caused his stomach to become so agitated, Edan hoped it would completely subside in time for the offering ceremony.

  “Depthcarver!” Adlig shouted over the crowd as he approached. “I found them!” Edan looked away from the competitors as they prepared for the second Trial to find Adlig walking behind the two missing Tailings. Scur and Grefstan’s faces spoke of considerable remorse, so Edan could only imagine where Adlig must have found them.

  “All right,” Edan demanded. “What have you done?” Adlig broke in before either of the guilty parties could reply.

  “They were in the mine, Depthcarver!” Adlig said in a hushed whisper. “No one else was there.” Scur cast a look of stunned betrayal at Adlig, who seemed to ignore it completely.

  “Is this true?” Edan asked Scur quietly.

  “Yes, Depthcarver,” Scur responded. “We just wanted to add more to the offering.”

  “Using the picks was my idea, Depthcarver,” Grefstan said as he stepped forward. This one piece of new information changed the situation drastically.

  “You were mining…as Tailings…with absolutely no supervision?” Edan asked with a darkened stare. All three boys looked away uncomfortably as Edan waited for one of them to answer.

  “Yes, Depthcarver,” Grefstan said at last. “Forgive us.” Edan looked away in exasperation. By the rules that Stonecaller Galbrun expected every miner to follow, Grefstan and Scur should be handed over to the Venerates for judgement. It would certainly lead to isolation for at least a day, and it would begin immediately, which meant the boys would miss taking part in the offering ceremony entirely. Edan looked back to the Hall for guidance, and he tried to envision what Wyand would do in this situation. After a few tense moments of contemplation, he nodded in silent thanks to his friend when the answer finally presented itself.

  “What you did, no matter how innocent your intentions may have been, was unsafe and ignored Stonecaller Galbrun’s guidance. You will be punished,” Edan said sternly. Scur and Grefstan tucked their chins low against their chests as the reprimand continued. “But it will not be today. This is our time, o
ur turning, to provide the offering and I won’t deny you that honor. Now go and either watch the next Trial or prepare for the ceremony. Whatever you do, just stay out of further trouble.” Scur and Grefstan looked at one another with uncertainty, then dashed away before their elated smiles could be noticed.

  Edan sighed and turned his attention back to the Trial that was about to begin. Then he realized Adlig had not run off with the other two Tailings. When Edan glanced over his shoulder, Adlig was still staring at him, waiting eagerly to be addressed.

  “You did well, Adlig,” Edan commended him. “Which is why, when the offering ceremony begins, I want you to be the one to push the lead cart into the Hall. You deserve that honor for assisting me.” Adlig shook from excitement, his eyes wide in surprise but sparkling with delight.

  “I need…I need to go prepare,” Adlig stammered, nodding to himself as his gaze at last broke away from Edan and shifted to the Hall in the distance. “Peace and honor, Depthcarver,” Adlig said with a stunned grin.

  “Peace and honor, Adlig,” Edan responded. With that, the Tailing stood and shuffled slowly towards the living quarters. Clarity seemed to be setting in with each step, because his dazed walk quickly evolved into a determined stride that was soon replaced by a gleeful sprint. Edan smiled when he thought back to how much it meant when he was a Tailing for one of the Carvers to commend his work. For Adlig, though, he knew the honor of having a special role in the offering ceremony would carry ten times the weight of Edan’s own memories of praise.

  Satisfied that he had dealt with the Tailings as fairly as he could, Edan exhaled and focused again on the Trials. Another sudden surge of nausea struck when the scent of food from one of the nearby tables drifted past Edan’s face. He closed his eyes just as the chimes signaled the beginning of the second Trial. Not today, he prayed as his head continued to spin. This can’t happen today. Edan wasn’t sure if he was pleading with the Venerates or asking a favor of Wyand; either way, at this point he would take help wherever it was offered to make it through the few remaining hours before the offering ceremony.

  12

  In the short time since awakening, Dism Slyde had already proven to be a stranger place than Keltin could ever have imagined. He expected to witness Dism Slyde’s version of the Kingdomturn celebration; instead, he had learned quickly that this was a day like any other for the Penitent Faithful. There were no crowds of excited people, no Trials, no offering. Before the chimes sounded the approach of First Calling, two Protectors dressed in black cloaks much shorter than the Draeden’s had rushed into Keltin’s room and silently pulled him from bed. He didn’t even have time to protest as they shoved his arms into a set of coarse robes that matched those worn by the people the Draeden had referred to as “Servants.”

  Keltin brushed the sleep from his eyes as these Protectors ushered him through the hallway that was carved directly into the wall of the valley surrounding the Holy Spire. “Remain silent and think on your sins,” was their only whispered instruction as they walked, and even in the dim light Keltin had seen the fervor in each man’s eyes. For a moment after giving the order, though, they had slowed and seemed to silently dare Keltin to contradict the instruction, as if they longed for conflict. Keltin ignored their stares, but nonetheless had complied with the demand. He was in no condition to argue or pose questions.

  Now, as Keltin walked between these two Protectors, he occupied his mind by studying the plain outside each time it came into view. It was difficult to be certain with the layer of fog suspended overhead, but judging by the hints of grey speckling the valley, Keltin determined it would be at least another hour until sunrise. Too early for First Calling, he thought. So where are they taking me? The long hallway from the healing quarters joined with another passage from somewhere deeper inside the valley wall, and the intersection they formed led to a steep staircase that descended inside the face of the stone to a point too far below to distinguish from the top. Periodic openings lined the right side of the staircase, just as they did in the hallway, and offered enough light to show Keltin he had a long journey ahead of him. And down is the easy direction, he realized with worry, considering the eventual task of climbing back up these thousands of stairs.

  After the first few dozen steps, Keltin spotted a cluster of six Servants making their way down the staircase ahead. They moved quickly, though not nearly at the pace Keltin was being forced to keep. As he neared the group, they turned back with looks of concern and even slight annoyance to see who was approaching so quickly. When they saw the two Protectors on either side of Keltin, though, the Servants’ expressions changed immediately to fear as they leapt to the sides of the staircase. They pulled the cowls of their robes tight against their faces, though Keltin was certain he detected a look of sympathy in at least one set of the eyes that tried so hard to avoid looking in his direction.

  There was no sympathy to be found in the Protectors’ eyes, though, as they stared intently ahead. Their brows were furrowed with concern, yet the edges of their mouths were twisted up slightly into faint smiles every time Keltin dared to look their direction. The mixture of expressions was unfamiliar to Keltin, but seemed disturbingly similar to how he imagined the face of true madness would appear. There was a hunger in that gaze, a striving for something just out of reach, that drove each man forward with relentless focus.

  After at last reaching the lowest step and turning abruptly right, it was clear where the Protectors were leading Keltin. The Holy Spire loomed in the distance, dominating the landscape and filling the center of Keltin’s vision. From his overlook the previous day, it had been difficult for Keltin to judge the true size of the Spire. Now that he was within a few hundred strides, it was increasingly clear just how immense this structure was. Arched supports merged seamlessly into the outer layer of a stout base that stretched at least fifty strides in all directions. Even from this far away, the outlines of some of the largest stones used were clearly visible and served as a testament to the incredible strength of the builders. The tower’s width tapered slowly inward from this base as it soared ever-upward, until it was only a few dozen strides wide by the time it vanished into the layer of fog. Keltin didn’t have the chance to study more details of the area, though, before one of the Protectors gripped the back of his head and pushed it forward sharply.

  “Cast your eyes down and pray for cleansing,” the Protector on the left hissed, then flung the cowl of Keltin’s robe up into place. Keltin again did as instructed to avoid further conflict, but he was growing increasingly curious what sin he had committed that needed “cleansing” so urgently. Hundreds of flat stones that made up the path to the Spire passed beneath his feet, and with each step Keltin could feel the structure drawing closer. He wanted desperately to look again at the Spire or at least the vast plain surrounding it, but he knew that would be met with harsh words—if not actions—from his escorts.

  The sound of other sets of footsteps began to join with those belonging to Keltin and the two Protectors. As they crossed a low bridge that spanned the nearer of the two massive rivers in the valley, Keltin risked another glance towards the Spire from beneath his eyebrows. Droves of people dressed in the grey robes of Servants flowed through a great arch into the base of the enormous structure that stood before him, all silent and all with heads bowed as though every moment was part of an imminent Casting that never arrived. He noticed with curiosity that no one was dressed for field work or any of the other common tasks in Aldhagen, but he could not find any real significance in the observation.

  “Eyes down, sinner!” someone shouted from the far end of the bridge, and Keltin unwittingly searched for the speaker instead of instantly complying. A short, stocky man with a black cloak similar to the Protectors’ rushed forward, clearly agitated by the disobedience. As soon as Keltin realized his mistake he snapped his head downward, but it was too late.

  “This one needs special attention I think,” the stout man said as he approached. Keltin felt hi
s two escorts release their grip before pushing him towards this angry new Protector. The man crept beneath Keltin’s bowed head and stared up at him menacingly. “Do you not know what ‘eyes down’ means, sinner?”

  Keltin faltered, but decided to answer truthfully. “I know what it means,” he said with sincerity. “And I am looking down at you right now, Protector.” Keltin smiled in an attempt to show peace, but the man’s face turned a deep shade of red in reply.

  “I am not just a Protector,” the man said through clenched teeth as he gestured sharply towards three red stripes on his right shoulder, “Do you see these bands of color? Look at them. Remember them. They mark me as a Chant Leader, which means you belong to me every morning until I decide your testing is complete. And since you seem to consider yourself amusing, I think I’ll be keeping you around for a long time.” The Chant Leader smiled now, his dark eyes proclaiming victory. “Yes. A very long time, indeed.”

  Keltin said nothing as he stared at the Chant Leader and waited for further instructions. The man once again grew red-faced before looking away in disgust. “Newcomers,” he mumbled loudly, shaking his head.

  How did I insult him this time? Keltin wondered. Whether in Aldhagen, Locboran, or now Dism Slyde, it seemed that no matter where Keltin went he could not avoid negative attention from those in authority.

  “Follow me, but keep your head bowed,” the Chant Leader said disgustedly over his shoulder. Keltin rushed after the man, who somehow moved deceptively quickly for having such short legs. As they passed through the vaulted arch that marked the entry to the Spire, Keltin discreetly took note once again of the enormous stones that comprised this structure. Each block stood several heads taller than his own, and they all interlocked so perfectly that he was certain not even a blade of grass could slide between them. Keltin knew nothing of stone work, but from his experiences plowing stubborn fields he knew that a stone even a tenth the size of these would be impossible for one man to lift.