Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “Never mind all that,” Draeden Ansund broke in. “Did Silax eat anything yet? Or at least drink?”

  It was strange for the Draeden himself to be so concerned about one newcomer’s nourishment. “No, Draeden, he hasn’t taken any food or water since arriving,” Keltin said with a small, confused frown.

  Ansund and Nihmadien exchanged surprised expressions, then the Draeden sighed. “I’ll go speak with him,” he said, then he brushed past Keltin without another word as he left the Tasking Station. Keltin looked to Nihmadien, but the man shook his head.

  “It’s not your concern,” Nihmadien said sternly, then he walked over to the tasking board and shifted several names, including his own. When he turned back around, his expression had returned to its usual look of mild boredom. “To be honest, you didn’t cause me any real delay, so there’s no need to keep apologizing,” Nihmadien said. “You haven’t missed anything significant yet either. I do have something unique in mind for you tonight, though. How would you like to visit some of the lookout points?”

  Keltin’s eyes grew wide; the lookout points were one of his main curiosities since arriving in Dism Slyde. The Protectors always seemed to have ample warning before anyone arrived at the Gates of Contrition, but he had no idea how far towards the Plateau Desert their lookout points extended or how they communicated so quickly from one point to the next. So far, his time with the Protectors had been spent filling water containers and polishing isen, so this was a tantalizing change of pace. “I would like that very much,” Keltin replied excitedly, his earlier confusion subsiding.

  Nihmadien smiled. “We’ll be on the Western Walk tonight—that covers the lookout points on this side of the canyon. We’ll walk from here to the Far Lookout and back several times throughout the night, so you’ll want this.” He handed Keltin a small bag filled with water containers, but Keltin looked puzzled.

  Nihmadien laughed. “I forget this is the first time you’ve ever skipped Last Calling and worked through the night,” he said. “Don’t worry, though—we’ll sleep after First Calling tomorrow. Now, are you ready to go?” Keltin slung the bag onto his back and nodded.

  As they came to the same intersection that led to the arch directly in front of them and the healing quarters to the left, a sudden surge of excitement coursed through Keltin’s body when they turned right. I’m outside Dism Slyde, he realized with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension as he looked down at the valley below. Whereas the other corridors were filled with people carrying torches in the fading twilight, the cramped path he now walked was completely devoid of any source of light. Few Protectors walked with Keltin and Nihmadien on their trek towards the first lookout point, and fewer still returned from the points farther away from the Gates.

  When they arrived at the first lookout point, Nihmadien motioned for Keltin to come see something near one of the three small windows. It was a narrow tube of fired clay that extended from the floor and ran up the wall between the first two windows. It bent over at a height near Keltin’s neck and its diameter expanded into a short cone. “What is that?” Keltin asked quietly. The Protector on duty looked at Keltin skeptically for an instant before laughing once under his breath and shifting his focus back to the canyon.

  “This is a talking tunnel,” Nihmadien whispered. “There’s one of these in each lookout point and several back in the Tasking Station. We use them to communicate with the other Protectors quickly. Here, try it. Say ‘Post 1, tunnel check.’ Don’t say it too loudly, though; the sound carries incredibly well.”

  Keltin hesitated as he looked at the strange cone, then he leaned in closer. “Post 1, tunnel check,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. An instant later, someone else’s voice responded, “Post 1, Tasking Station. Tunnel clear.” Keltin backed away from the cone as if it was on fire. Nihmadien and the other Protector shook with silent laughter after seeing Keltin’s reaction.

  “How is that possible?” Keltin demanded in a hoarse whisper a moment later.

  “The design is a gift from the Venerates, conveyed to Dism Slyde through the High Conduit many turnings ago,” Nihmadien replied. “Now, come take a look at this.” Keltin maintained a safe distance away from the talking tunnel as he followed Nihmadien to the opposite side of the lookout point. The other Protector’s laughter continued when he noted Keltin’s behavior around the talking tunnel, but Keltin ignored him.

  Nihmadien stood beside another tube, much to Keltin’s discomfort. This one tapered drastically from its width at the floor to an opening slightly smaller than a person’s mouth. “This is a raid horn,” Nihmadien explained. “There is one of these in each lookout point, just like the talking tunnels. We sound these when an intruder is spotted or an attack on the Gates is imminent. Do not touch it unless I tell you to. Understood?”

  “Understood, Protector,” Keltin nodded. As he thought back to his arrival at the Gates of Contrition, Keltin realized the raid horns were the source of the blaring tones that had followed his cart through the valley. Thinking of how many sets of unseen eyes had watched him that day sent a chill across Keltin’s skin.

  “And this is the last tool in each lookout,” Nihmadien whispered as he moved away from the raid horn. He took something from the shadowy corner of the lookout point and held it up so Keltin could see it in the dim light spilling in from the canyon. It was a curved stick, roughly a stride long and fitted with a taut length of cord. He handed it to Keltin.

  “Bow,” Nihmadien said, before passing Keltin a handful of smaller sticks. “And these are arrows.” Keltin recognized the smaller sticks instantly—these were the same as the Cynmeren weapon that had paralyzed Tir. Keltin quickly located the sharp stone tip of each arrow and held them well away from his body for fear of suffering a similar fate.

  “You’re wise to be cautious,” Nihmadien whispered. “Those arrows can cause incredible damage when used by the right person. That’s why we keep them in the lookouts—if the Cynmeren ever try to push for the Gates, they’ll find hundreds of these speeding towards their heads.” Keltin examined the weapons for a moment more before gladly handing them back to Nihmadien.

  “Ready to move on to the next lookout point?” Nihmadien asked, and Keltin nodded eagerly. Nihmadien placed his hand on the other Protector’s shoulder as they departed. “Always watching,” he said.

  “Always ready,” the Protector replied with a faint smile.

  Darkness blanketed the valley beneath the ever-present layer of fog as Nihmadien led Keltin from one lookout point to the next. The points were between one hundred and two hundred strides apart, so a great deal of time was spent in the dim confines of the passageway. Each lookout was the same as the last, so much so that Keltin lost count of how many he’d visited after the first few hours of walking. It felt unnatural to be awake so late into the night, but Keltin’s eagerness to see what lay ahead kept him energized.

  After returning to the narrow corridor once again, Keltin felt the floor slope upwards sharply. He and Nihmadien began a steady uphill climb that lasted for more than four hundred strides until the passage finally leveled out again. Amid the blackness, Keltin spotted a haze of light against the wall ahead and his mind raced with wonder. When he reached the opening, he stopped abruptly; his eyes were completely unprepared for the incredible scene offered by the land beyond.

  Sometime during the grueling climb, the passage had ascended above the constant cloud bank that hung over the valley leading to Dism Slyde. In its place, a sky ablaze with the gentle light of stars stretched from the mountains in the east to the far edge of the Plateau Desert to the south. On the tense journey to reach Dism Slyde, Keltin had been too focused and afraid to take notice of the sky’s beauty. Now he realized that he had seen many of these same stars before, usually through bleary eyes while walking to a Casting, but it was clear that the towering walls of Aldhagen had limited the true splendor of the night sky.

  Though this window offered an incredible view, it was still too re
strictive and left Keltin longing to see more. As he moved away from the opening, he thought he saw a glimmer of light far below the stars from somewhere in the Plateau Desert, but when he glanced back it was gone. Nihmadien motioned for him to follow, and they continued farther down the corridor.

  “We’ve arrived at the Far Lookout,” Nihmadien whispered as the passageway opened into a final lookout point that was slightly larger than the others. Keltin shook his head in awe as he moved from one opening to the next, completely lost in the beauty of the star-filled sky.

  “Forgive his fascination,” Nihmadien said to the Protector standing guard. “This is Keltin’s first visit to the lookouts.” The Protector said nothing in reply, instead remaining focused on the desert with his back to them. “Do you see something?” Nihmadien asked more loudly as he stepped closer to the Protector. The man was still completely motionless as he leaned against the rim of one of the openings. Nihmadien shook the Protector’s shoulder, but still there was no response. “Are you asleep?” Nihmadien growled, giving a sharp push to the other man’s back. Keltin turned away from the stars just in time to witness the Protector fall rigidly against the floor, eyes frozen in unimaginable fear. Then Keltin saw the Cynmeren arrow protruding from his chest.

  The peaceful stillness of the night shattered into panic in the moments that followed. Terror gripped Keltin as his mind was sent back to his first encounter with the Cynmeren and their arrows. Nihmadien knelt by the Protector’s side for a few seconds, watching his eyes and chest. “He’s alive,” Nihmadien said in a relieved whisper, then he turned to Keltin. “Scan the desert for signs of the attackers.” Keltin was too stunned to reply, instead nodding and following the order. Nothing moved on the dark sand of the Plateau Desert; the Cynmeren that did this was nowhere to be found.

  Nihmadien rushed to the raid horn and inhaled deeply as he prepared to alert the rest of the Protectors. The instant before he could sound the horn, a shrill, wailing tone echoed down into the valley from somewhere high in the cloud-covered mountains. Nihmadien’s mouth fell away from the raid horn and he raced to the opening closest to the valley, listening intently and scanning the eastern mountains.

  “That horn means the Shroud Legion has found them,” Nihmadien said quietly, though no longer in a whisper. “If a Hunting Watch was foolish enough to enter the mist, the Legion will rip them apart in seconds. None of the beasts has ever—” He stopped when the high-pitched horn sounded again, this time much closer. “They’re on this side of the valley, somewhere in the mountains above us,” Nihmadien gasped. “And that second horn…that was the Shroud Legion calling for reinforcements. They’ve never done that….”

  As Nihmadien trailed off in a daze, a voice suddenly erupted from the talking tunnel. “Protectors assigned to a lookout point must remain in place,” the voice commanded. “All other Protectors: report to the Tasking Station immediately for emergency reassignment.”

  Keltin stared at Nihmadien, bewildered by the situation. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked with considerable panic.

  “Go,” Nihmadien said bluntly. “Get to the Tasking Station and find out where you can help the most. I have to stay here, and you certainly can’t carry him back to Dism Slyde on your own,” he nodded towards the Protector, who still lay rigid against the floor. “I’ll call and ask for Servants from the healing quarters to come retrieve him—I’m afraid to move him without their approval anyway.” Keltin backed away slowly, still fixated on the fallen Protector’s eyes. “Go!” Nihmadien urged him again, and Keltin at last forced his body to turn and run.

  A frigid wind carried the sounds of the fight down into the valley sporadically, leaving long periods of stifling silence between gusts. As Keltin ran through the corridor, moments filled with the clash of metal against metal, shouts, and screams, were immediately followed by nothingness whenever the wind shifted. More unsettling, though, was the sudden inexplicable thunder that punctuated the other sounds at random. His pulse quickened when he realized it was getting louder as he moved closer to the Tasking Station; without thought, he drew the isen and prepared himself to face the Cynmeren that could be lurking around each bend in the narrow hallway.

  When he reached the main intersection at the Gates of Contrition, there were no Cynmeren to be found, thankfully. Instead, Keltin had to weave his way towards the Tasking Station through the masses of Protectors scrambling in all directions. Black cloaks trailed like shadows in the night behind groups of bleary-eyed men as they ran through the passages that continued deeper into the mountain and toward the sounds of conflict. Keltin found his way into a line that led to a man shouting orders inside the Tasking Station. When Keltin stood before the man, there was a moment of awkwardness as they both recognized each other.

  “Chant Leader Belgram,” Keltin said with a bow of his head towards the shorter man. “I await your orders.”

  “Why are you here?” Belgram demanded, eyes bulging out of his round face from indignation, then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not a Protector, so you don’t belong in this fight.”

  “I only want to help, Chant Leader,” Keltin insisted. The line of Protectors behind him began to grumble impatiently—they knew if the threat to Cynmere was serious enough to warrant the Shroud Legion asking for help, then every second spent waiting meant more lives lost.

  Chant Leader Belgram looked away in frustration, then suddenly remembered one of the support tasks he’d been putting off. “You spent some time with the Handlers, right?” Belgram asked.

  “I did.”

  “Go to Tamer’s Canyon and bring every cart they have to the Gates,” Belgram commanded. “If they dare ask who authorized a task of that magnitude, tell them it was the High Conduit himself. That should help them understand the severity of our current situation.”

  Keltin’s eyes betrayed his shock but he answered quickly before Belgram could chastise his hesitation. “As the Venerates will, let it be so,” Keltin said with a quick nod before sprinting past the line of Protectors and returning to the crowded passage. When he passed through the entrance to the main valley, a strange flash made Keltin’s shadow appear for an instant on the sand in front of him. He spun around and watched in horror as a brilliant ball of orange light shone down through the layer of cloud from the canyon rim far above. Seconds later, the ominous thunder followed with enough force to send a surge through Keltin’s body.

  Dark chunks of stone plummeted through the fog beneath the fading ball of light and slammed against the valley floor between the Gates of Contrition and the entrance to the healing quarters. Then Keltin heard one of the dark shapes scream before it hit the ground, and he suddenly knew there was more falling from the cliff than just rocks. Those are people! his mind reeled. Keltin looked away, body heaving as he fought the nausea that came from such a discovery.

  Blind terror pushed Keltin into a pace he’d never come close to achieving even on his most energetic nights running to Last Calling. Two nysk carts sped past him, but he could see even from the mouth of Tamer’s Canyon that there were dozens more carts suspended in the stalls. “Handlers!” he shouted as he ran. “Handlers!”

  “What’s happening?” a male Handler called from the entrance to the Eastern River cavern. He ran from the ornate columns to meet Keltin in the middle of the canyon.

  “The Cynmeren are attacking,” Keltin said between breaths. “The Shroud Legion needs assistance.”

  The Handler took hold of Keltin’s shoulder. “You’re certain about that? The Legion, I mean?” he asked with a note of disbelief in his voice.

  Keltin nodded. “The High Conduit himself ordered all carts brought to the Gates of Contrition. That’s why I’m here,” he panted.

  “Cast me!” the Handler exclaimed. “We’re not manned to support that kind of effort in the middle of the night. I just sent the two emergency carts to the Gates, so you and I are the only ones here right now.”

  “We have to do something!” Keltin exclaim
ed as he searched for an answer. Then, in his desperation, an odd idea occurred to him. “Could…could the two of us outfit a cart without another team?” Keltin asked.

  “I don’t see how,” the Handler said doubtfully. “But I think that’s the only option we have. Come on, let’s go prepare the first nysk.” They rushed to the edge of the Eastern River and roused the nysk burrowed closest to the entrance of the cavern. The creature was reluctant to abandon the comfort of sleep and it grumbled loudly as the ropes began pulling against its guiding pin. It must have sensed the urgency shared by Keltin and the other Handler, though, because the animal quickly began to cooperate.

  When they reached the cart stall, the Handler looked at him expectantly. “Now what?” the man asked. The nysk’s limbs swished impatiently in the sand as Keltin thought through the process of outfitting a cart.

  “It will take both of us to lower the cart, so we need to tether the animal to the stall,” Keltin said finally.

  “That’s not how this works! What if it panics? Who will keep it from breaking free?” the Handler demanded.

  “If we secure the ropes tightly, the nysk will feel pressure when it tries to move. That should keep it in place,” Keltin replied as he began tying of his guide rope to the stall.

  “Should is a dangerous word when it comes to nysks,” the Handler said before shaking his head and reluctantly looping his rope around one of the stall supports. With the nysk in place, Keltin and the Handler climbed up onto the two platforms and took hold of the thin chains that controlled the lowering of the cart. “Down!” the Handler called, and the cart descended. They pulled the chains furiously, the sweat and blood quickly beginning to soak through Keltin’s bandages. “Hold!” the Handler shouted, then he secured his chain and hopped down to inspect the location of the nysk’s guiding pin relative to the cart’s steering beam.

  “Try lowering just this side,” he shouted up to Keltin, who complied instantly. “Hold!” the Handler shouted before inspecting again. They repeated this process several times, until the wooden steering beams began to groan from the unusual strain of not being lowered in unison. At last, Keltin felt the cart make contact with the guiding pin. The Handler seated the pin with two sharp strikes of the wooden mallet, then he removed the guide ropes and stepped back. “It looks ridiculous,” he said bluntly, “but I think it’s going to work. Let’s go retrieve the second nysk.”