“The offering chamber is below us, it seems,” Galbrun said just loud enough to be heard over the thunder of the carts. His eyes were large with surprise and he shrugged somewhat uncomfortably; they would all find out together where the Venerates were taking them. The Last Calling chamber passed by, and thankfully so did the entrance to Wracandyr. From the few times Edan had endured isolation, he was relieved when they were beyond the entrance to the isolation cells as well.
Deeper and deeper the procession descended, far beneath layers of the Hall that were strictly forbidden to Aldhagen’s workers. There were fewer light windows here than in the upper levels, and a constant droning hum that reverberated deep within Edan’s core. It made him uneasy to shift so quickly from the joy of the offering ceremony to this strange place where everything was unfamiliar, but then he remembered that all of the offering processions from other turnings must have followed this same route. So why does no one speak of this place? was the silent question that gnawed at Edan’s confidence as the journey continued.
Edan breathed a sigh of relief when the Venerates turned to leave the main hallway for an entrance that, to him, looked exactly the same as the multitude of other openings that had passed by. From the expressions he saw on the faces of the Tailings as they pushed their carts through this new archway, however, Edan could tell that something amazing waited inside.
In sharp contrast to the dim corridor, this room shone brilliantly with dozens of light windows in rows that stretched from the floor all the way to the distant pinnacle of the vaulted ceiling. The immaculate white walls of the enormous chamber reflected the light, intensifying it, until Edan was forced to shield his eyes. He blinked and found the Venerates standing at the far end of the room, their two columns now combined into a single line that faced the procession as it came to a stop. When the echoes of the carts at last diminished, the Venerates addressed the procession.
“This marks the completion of your journey to Kingdomturn,” their voices boomed, still speaking one after the other. “With this offering, the future of Aldhagen is secured. Whether the Old Kingdom responds this turning or not, know that your efforts have made a profound difference in the lives of all your fellow workers. You have served us well; continue to do so in the turnings to come and we will call upon the mines once again. Look upon your brethren called to us in turnings past who are gathered around you once more, and have faith that the same future awaits you all. Now, with true joy in your spirits, you may leave the carts where they are and go join the celebration above.” For a fleeting instant, Edan imagined Wyand and Losian gazing at him with pride from the edges of the enormous chamber, but in the next moment they were gone. Then the benediction chimes sounded and Galbrun motioned for Edan to spin back towards the entrance of the chamber.
“That’s it?” Edan whispered to Galbrun as they turned. There had to be something more to the ceremony, some hint of how the Venerates’ magic was tied to the strange crystal, or even just some small piece of wisdom they could impart.
“That’s ‘it’?” Galbrun replied incredulously as they began the march to the surface. “Yes, boy, that’s it, in all of its glory. We just witnessed the reward that awaits all of us after diligent service, so try to appreciate the significance of what you’ve seen today and be a little more thankful.”
I must have missed something, Edan realized as embarrassment crept into his mind. The Stonecaller would never respond so harshly unless he had good reason, and the only reason that made sense was that Edan had inadvertently overlooked some important part of the ceremony. He went back through the events that led to the delivery of the offering, but nothing particularly stood out as being “significant” or “glorious.” He would apologize to the Stonecaller later and try to discover what amazing things he had missed.
Just as they had been before entering the Hall, the cheering crowds were waiting for the miners to exit. Their shouts and applause quickly escalated to the earlier level of energy when Galbrun and Edan came into view at the front of the procession. With the offering now in place, the workers knew that it was time for the activation of the beacon. Edan and the rest of the miners dispersed into the crowd and fixed their eyes onto the top of the Hall.
Grey clouds hung low against Aldhagen, their wispy edges brushing across the beacon as they drifted past. Even though the sun was concealed from view, the diminishing light made it evident that night was fast approaching. A gust of cold wind brought the earlier memories of Wyand and Wracandyr back to Edan’s mind, but he pushed them away again as being nothing more than a strange and terrifying dream.
The cheers of the crowd were absent now, replaced by sparse, quiet discussions as all of Aldhagen waited for the beacon to send its signal to the Old Kingdom. Even though it had been more than three hundred turnings with no response, the event still inspired a relentless sort of hope among the workers of Aldhagen. No matter how many times they’d been disappointed by the beacon, none of them dared to miss its activation in case history came to remember this as the turning that the Old Kingdom finally responded.
The hushed conversations stopped instantly when a faint red glow began emanating from the top of the Hall. Edan thought of the new power source with pride as he watched the light blossom in pulsating waves of energy. We made that possible. With a final surge, it erupted into a blazing red beam that sliced through the clouds overhead and continued into the sky beyond. Edan’s eyes reflected the light, but he was suddenly blinded by his own thoughts. Thinking about the crystal from the Cavern of the Winds brought a series of disturbing images into the forefront of his mind, pulling him away from the beacon and the Kingdomturn celebration itself.
Edan watched the ceiling above the crystal alcove break apart as slabs of stone pummeled the ground on all sides. He saw Wyand slide towards a widening abyss as the floor fell away. The feeling of running through a rain of small stones. The ear-crushing sound of the Cavern of the Winds collapsing. Pain.
Edan lurched forward, but caught himself just before falling face first onto the ground. The remembered sensation of intense pain was so real, so staggering, it defied the boundaries of any dream he had ever known. But dreams were the only explanation he had, which made the strange images and feelings that much more frustrating. As he stood upright, the beam of light disappeared from the top of the Hall and the red of the beacon faded into darkness. The message to the Old Kingdom had been sent for the turning; now Aldhagen would wait for an answer.
Feeling his earlier nausea return with full force, Edan staggered away from the Hall and rushed through the crowd. The Venerates couldn’t be bothered with a trivial ailment like this, and Edan didn’t want to disturb any of the workers during Kingdomturn either, so his only option was to face this sickness alone. If he stayed, there would be congratulations from everyone, words of thanks, questions about securing the crystal; all of that would have to wait until this horrible illness passed. Thankfully, everyone was so enthralled with the beacon that they barely took note of his departure.
By the time he reached the middle rows of living quarters, the dizziness finally forced Edan to the ground. There was no one else this far away from the Hall with the Kingdomturn celebration still ongoing, so he crawled to the side of the path before finally allowing himself to be sick. At least no one will see this, he thought with bitter optimism as he spat his mouth clean. It had been so long since his last meal that Edan’s body convulsed painfully as it searched for more to expel after it lost what little water he had consumed throughout the day. When the spasms were done, he stood slowly and returned to the main path.
There were no sounds of surprise and excitement from the direction of the Hall as Edan continued to move farther away from the living quarters. Eventually, he heard the chimes signaling the start of extended Reflection, which confirmed that there had been no answer from the Old Kingdom this turning. A part of Edan was glad the beacon had once again failed in its purpose—at least that meant he wasn’t missing anything by e
scaping the festivities.
Surges of hunger and nausea tormented Edan’s exhausted body the farther he walked out of Aldhagen until all he wanted was to collapse, yet he still pressed on in spite of the discomfort. The path felt too hard, the lights too bright, so he quickly found himself walking through the forest instead. Strangely, the nausea began to subside as soon as Edan passed the first line of Spineleaf trees, so he chose to make his way deeper into the woodlands. A feeling of wonder drove him onward, and even in the darkness from the overcast night, Edan felt as though he knew the way to wherever he was going.
He arrived at a small clearing and suddenly stopped. This feels right, he thought as he surveyed the area. No loud celebrations, no blinding lights, and only a soft bed of Spineleaf needles underfoot. It was the most relaxing place Edan had been all day. With his nausea gone, now the only discomfort remaining to be addressed was the hunger that tugged at his core. Then he realized what had brought him to this clearing in the first place, as he detected the scent of something delicious nearby.
The smell taunted him—it was familiar, yet out of place in these woods; it filled the air around him, yet he could not locate its source; Edan knew the aroma, but the name of the food eluded him. His hunger drove him from one Spineleaf to the next, yearning to find relief, until he spotted something he had seen before. It was a symbol carved into the knot of a long-removed limb: a circle with three lines extending downward from its center.
“I dreamed of this place,” Edan whispered. He knew the symbol, but felt almost certain he had never truly seen it before. He stepped forward to study the mark and suddenly had the urge to press his hand against it. With little effort, the knot popped loose, revealing a dark opening into the base of the tree. The smell of fresh food poured out of the knothole, and without any hesitation Edan thrust his hand into the tree. He pulled out a small, poorly-made linwyrt cloth, and wrapped in it he at last found what he sought.
Whiteroot was normally viewed as a lesser food, and being somewhat bland it was almost always mixed with more savory items. To Edan, however, it tasted perfect in its simplicity; the earthy hints felt clean and fresh, and there were no harsh flavors that might agitate his now-dormant nausea. In the span of just a few seconds, he consumed the four pieces of whiteroot, leaving only an empty cloth in his hand.
Edan rested his back against the mysterious tree while he savored the feeling of his hunger fading away. He stared at the cloth in his hand, and the reality of the situation became suddenly clear to him. “What have I done?” he whispered. “Slag! What have I done?” Edan dropped the cloth and looked around the forest in a panic. That food wasn’t clean!
“There’s a reason it tasted good, Depthcarver,” Grefstan said from the shadows. Edan jumped away from the tree in surprise.
“Grefstan! By the Call, what are you doing out here?” Edan demanded.
“Watching you finally eat something,” the Tailing replied with a smirk. “And as I said, there’s a reason it tasted good.”
Edan’s mind raced. “I didn’t eat anything. What could I find to eat way out here?”
“You don’t need to lie about this, Depthcarver, and you shouldn’t worry about it either. We all eat from the tree.”
“We?” Edan asked, just as Scur appeared from behind another Spineleaf. Another memory flashed into Edan’s thoughts as soon as he saw the boy’s face. “Scur! I saw you eating here before…no. No! That was a dream! Why are you here?”
“There was no dream, Depthcarver,” Scur explained carefully, sensing that Edan was close to losing control. “There is a lot for us to talk about.” Edan nodded in stunned agreement and waited for the boys to clarify the current situation.
“Most of the things you remember as dreams—” Scur began.
“We need to test him first,” Grefstan interrupted quietly. “Just to be certain he’s ready.” A low growl formed in Edan’s throat, but Grefstan ignored him. The boy reached into his waist pocket and produced a small metallic box which he then shook. The sound of the final three Calling chimes emitted from the box, then both Grefstan and Scur stared at Edan in the darkness.
“Well?” Edan asked, beyond the point of exasperation. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“He’s ready,” Grefstan whispered to Scur.
“Answers,” Edan commanded. “Now.” Scur was quick to respond, just as before.
“Most of the things you remember as dreams were not dreams at all,” Scur said hurriedly. “We have all been here before, and if you try thinking about it again, you’ll realize when it was and what happened.”
“I don’t know what game you Tailings are playing, but it ends now,” Edan stared at the boys angrily, waiting for the apologies to start, until another series of memories suddenly rushed into his thoughts. Edan saw Scur eating something from the very same tree where they now stood. It was unblessed food, directly pulled from the fields and never touched by Venerate hands. Then Grefstan had appeared with the metallic box.
“You!” Edan pointed to Grefstan accusingly. “You poisoned my mind with that…thing you’re holding. We were here—this same place—earlier today, but you made me forget all that and somehow sent me back to the Trials.”
Grefstan shook his head. “I didn’t poison you, Depthcarver,” he insisted. “This box is actually a tool to cleanse your mind of the lies that have been put there.”
“And, according to you, who is it that’s been lying to me?”
“The Venerates.”
Edan was staggered by the bluntness of Grefstan’s answer. This was total blasphemy, and yet the Tailing said it as plainly as someone commenting on the weather. No concern, no remorse. At the mention of the Venerates, visions of the Cavern of the Winds rushed into Edan’s thoughts again unexpectedly. Before he could chastise Grefstan, Edan’s legs buckled from the memory of pain, and he gripped them as he toppled into the Spineleaf needles below.
“You remember the collapse!” Scur whispered excitedly as he knelt beside Edan. “That’s good…isn’t it?” he asked Grefstan hesitantly.
“Very,” Grefstan replied. Edan shut his eyes, trying to force out the agonizing sensation of several brutal injuries that were now mysteriously absent. His thoughts burned between surges of pain—there was something terribly wrong with the two Tailings, and he had no idea how to handle it.
“Depthcarver,” Scur said softly, “when I reached you after the collapse, your legs were crushed. Your arm too. And you were bleeding so badly…. I was glad when the Venerates took you for healing.”
“‘And the wicked will show kindness, if it serves to further their own dark plots,’” Grefstan said, as though quoting a passage from some twisted book of sacrilege. Edan barely heard him through the pain, though.
“I was there, Depthcarver,” Scur continued. “I helped pull both you and Depthcarver Wyand free from the rubble in the Cavern of the Winds. And I was there when the Venerates said that Losian was dead and should be forgotten.” Another series of images showed Edan the events that happened in the crystal alcove just prior to the collapse. He saw Losian vanish as the floor fell away and felt the strain in his shoulders as he pulled Wyand back from the chasm that formed where the crystal had been.
“None of this is right!” Edan shouted, gripping the sides of his head as he writhed on the ground. “We secured that crystal—Wyand, Losian, and I, then we brought it up to the surface.” Even as he said it, Edan realized he couldn’t remember any details of the events he’d just described.
“That’s what they told you to remember,” Grefstan nodded. “It’s not true. So much has been hidden from us, from all the workers.”
“You will stop this irreverence at once, Grefstan!” Edan spat, still shaking from the pain. “What proof do you have that any of what you’re saying is real? If you’ve already altered my thoughts once today, why couldn’t you just be doing the same thing again right now? Planting these false memories into my mind?”
“That’s just it, D
epthcarver,” Scur interjected. “The proof isn’t in the memories you’re starting to regain, it’s in the events that haven’t happened yet.
When you, Grefstan, and I remember those events differently than everyone else, you’ll be convinced just like I was. For now, you have to wait.”
Scur telling Edan to wait was like a river telling its bank to slow down. “This is some kind of madness,” Edan said, “and as soon as I can stand, I am taking all of us to the Venerates for healing.”
“The others won’t allow that,” Grefstan said quietly, glancing around the forest with uncertainty. “They will watch you from now on, and they will stop you if they have to.”
“Won’t allow?” Edan laughed incredulously. “Wait, there are more workers suffering this same affliction?”
“Our numbers grow every day,” Grefstan said with pride. Edan fumed at the Tailing’s arrogance, but he was also deeply concerned by the idea that there were even more people in these woods right now that he couldn’t see.
“Then I will cast myself out,” Edan said in exasperation, not finding any other options. “Will they let me do that?”
“Of course, though I know you won’t really go through with it,” Grefstan replied. “I know you, Depthcarver; we share a lot of the same traits. Your fear of change makes you want to reject any ideas as radical as the ones we are trying to share with you. I understand that. These concepts are confusing and seem to go against your beliefs, but they are the truth. Whether you choose to believe that immediately or not doesn’t matter. Ask yourself this: is it more frightening to remain here and potentially question your opinions of the Venerates, or to flee through Wracandyr into the absolute unknown with no way to return?”
Edan was trapped, and he was ashamed to admit that it was by the manipulations of two Tailings. Grefstan was right: no matter how strange things became in Aldhagen, at least it was still Aldhagen. If Edan chose to cast himself out, it could potentially lead to a situation even worse than the sacrilege the Tailings now preached. Whatever was happening, it was stronger and more dangerous than madness could ever be. These bizarre thoughts had order, focus, and details that shook Edan’s resolve like nothing ever had before. What scared him most of all was that a small part of his mind believed what Grefstan was saying could be possible, no matter how profane it might seem.
Kingdomturn Page 26
