Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  It felt strange leaving the cart at such an awkward angle with only a single nysk fixed to it, but Keltin knew there was no other means of completing the task. They hurried back to the Eastern River cavern and found that many of the nysks were awake and agitated. Hisses, grunts, and bellows filled the cavern as massive limbs churned sand and water alike. The first animal they approached seemed eager to have the ropes attached to it and tried several times to pull Keltin and the Handler across the sand faster than they could run towards the cart.

  After the quick retrieval, the second nysk was in place and Keltin manned the other lowering chain. This time, the process was nearly identical to a normal cart fitting, so he and the Handler were able to move through the steps even faster. With a satisfying clatter, the second massive hook dropped away from the steering beam and the cart was free. Keltin leapt down from the platform and joined the Handler in the cart as they sped towards the Gates of Contrition.

  The situation in Dism Slyde had deteriorated rapidly since Keltin left for Tamer’s Canyon. Small fires dotted the floor of the valley near where the enormous ball of light had erupted earlier; Keltin shuddered when he remembered what some of the smoldering mounds represented. The battle still raged high in the mountains, that was apparent from the sudden flashes of light and the unending thunder wrought in metal and flesh. As the light directors of the cart swung across the far side of the valley, they revealed scores of workers carrying the limp forms of what Keltin knew were bodies of the fallen Protectors. Some of the workers sped towards the healing quarters with their burdens, while others walked with the somber determination that could only come from profound loss.

  There was no time to stop for the dead, though, because the living still fought on. The two emergency carts raced past, filled with Protectors and Handlers that were so desperately needed in Tamer’s Canyon. Another group of anxious Protectors waited at the entrance to the passages beside the Gates of Contrition. Before Keltin’s cart could slide to a complete stop, ten of them were already pulling themselves up onto the main platform and demanding to be taken to Tamer’s Canyon. The Handler complied, speeding away from the Gates as another loud burst of thunder shook dust from the stones.

  There was grim silence as the group sped across the sand. Keltin glanced at one of the Protectors, who met his eyes with a look of intense focus. “We need to go faster,” the Protector urged with a threatening frown.

  Before Keltin had a chance to speak, the Handler broke in. “The nysks are at their maximum speed already,” he said. “We’ll be there in less than a minute.”

  “Press them harder, Handler,” the Protector replied, seeming to ignore what he’d just heard. “The Cynmeren beasts just redoubled their numbers. We need to get carts out onto the desert now so we can cut off their lines of reinforcement and supply.”

  “How do you know their numbers have doubled?” Keltin asked with an equal measure of astonishment and terror. The man stared at him coldly, lost in the distance of recent memories.

  “Because on their last push they made it all the way to the Tasking Station,” the Protector said quietly, and that was when Keltin noticed the bandage hastily wrapped around the man’s left hand. More accurately, it was wrapped where his left hand should have been, because the bloody cloth stopped at a point on his wrist and there was nothing beyond it. Keltin looked away hastily for fear of insulting a man who had already suffered such a horrific injury. The Penitent Faithful were not faring well in this fight, that much was evident.

  When Keltin’s cart reached the stalls, the other group of Protectors and Handlers were already hard at work preparing more carts for the journey back to the Gates. Light directors set up in the center of the canyon to illuminate the stalls cast eerie shadows on the face of the cliff as workers moved about their tasks. Keltin leapt from the cart along with the mass of Protectors and sprinted beside the Handler back to the nysks by the river. They went about the same process as before, but this time they were joined by another team of Handlers to properly outfit the cart.

  Keltin helped ready five carts in the span of time it would normally take to prepare two. With the fifth cart finished, he began the sprint back to the river. “Wait!” the Handler shouted, and Keltin looked back in confusion. “They need us at the Gates, so we can bring more workers here,” the Handler said urgently. Keltin looked to the mouth of the canyon and realized that most of the Protectors he’d traveled with were already speeding back towards the fight. He climbed into the cart and nearly fell back from the speed with which the nysks set out for the Gates of Contrition.

  As the column of carts raced through the night, Keltin heard the shrill cry of one of the horns used by the Shroud Legion drift down from the high cliffs. There was an unusual silence as it faded until the horn sounded once again, much closer than before.

  “Cast me!” the Handler shouted. “They’re right above us! How did they get to this side of—” A streak of black slammed into the side of the Handler’s neck, replacing his voice with a bubbling gasp. Events seemed to slow as Keltin watched the man release the guiding posts and stumble backwards to the rear of the cart. Keltin recoiled as a stream of dark liquid sprayed towards him when the Handler passed, and he looked up an instant later to find the man falling away into the sand of the canyon floor as it rushed past, a Cynmeren arrow protruding from his neck.

  Keltin had no breath to scream, and no capacity for thoughts that could capture the fear, anger, and sadness that he now felt. Instead, he jumped into place at the guiding posts and suddenly froze. The same unthinkable event he’d just watched was happening to the Protectors and Handlers on the carts in front of him, their bodies toppling into the sand as the unguided nysks strayed from the main path toward the walls of the canyon. Without thought, Keltin spun the cart around as fast as it would turn.

  He scanned the sand for the fallen Handler, but the light directors revealed nothing. Then he spotted a long streak of blood just before the cart passed over it—that had to be the spot where the Handler had fallen. That doesn’t make any sense, Keltin thought. Where did he go? As if in answer to his question, a faint trace of the dreaded pale yellow light flickered on the wall of the canyon to Keltin’s right. He spun the light director just in time to see one of the Cynmeren creatures scuttling up the cliff using its rows of spindly legs. The beast emitted a chilling shriek of victory as it disappeared into the darkness above the radius of the light directors, and Keltin knew then that the Handler was lost. I didn’t even know his name, Keltin realized bitterly.

  Filled with remorse and frustration, Keltin steered quickly back towards the Gates, but immediately slowed when he saw small orbs of fire raining down from the clouds onto the path in front of him. As if guided by the magic of the Venerates themselves, each orb struck one of the carts and lit it ablaze. Any living occupants fled, some instantly falling victim to a second volley of fire arrows that soon dotted the canyon floor. The bellowing of nysks echoed with the same fear conveyed in the screams of men as both tried to evade the deadly fire.

  Keltin knew he had to move or he would suffer a similar fate as the other carts, so he slammed the guiding posts forward with all his might. The nysks charged past the patches of flame as Keltin tried not to focus on the scene around him. Ruined carts and people cluttered the valley, quickly being reduced to little more than piles of ash. Even when he closed his eyes, the silence of the dead was just as deafening as the screams of the living. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, he was past the layer of fire and alone again in the stifling darkness.

  After a few moments of relative calm, Keltin gathered his thoughts and realized that he had to get word of this attack back to the Tasking Station. On the path ahead, he spotted one of the Protectors that had survived the assault running back towards the Gates of Contrition. The man was clearly injured, delirious, or both, because he moved with a strange gait and was arching his back awkwardly. Keltin slowed the nysks and brought the cart as close as he could.

>   “Are you all right?” Keltin called, but the man did not answer; he just kept running. “Do you need me to take you for healing?” The Gates of Contrition were in view now, but the man still did not respond. Keltin then noticed other Protectors running in front of this man that all moved in the same unusual manner. He pushed the cart forward so he could get a better look at the odd Protector, and he knew then that something was terribly wrong. The black cloak of a Protector fluttered from this man’s shoulders atop the typical hooded robes, but when Keltin could finally see the front of the cowl, he could make no sense of what he saw. The man wore some sort of dark cloth beneath the hood that not only covered his head, but also his entire face.

  As Keltin brought the cart to a crawl, the Protector at last slowed his pace as well. He seemed to be staring at Keltin from behind the unsettling veil, and tilted his head as if deciding what he should do next. Then, in one smooth motion, the man flipped back his hood and removed the dark head wrap, revealing the bulbous yellow head of one of the Cynmeren. In a flash, there was an isen in its hand as the creature leapt up onto the back of the cart. Fear paralyzed Keltin as effectively as one of the beast’s arrows, and he felt himself letting go of the guiding posts.

  “I remember you,” the Cynmeren remarked in an unnatural, bubbling growl of a voice as it stepped closer. Keltin’s mouth hung slack as the rest of his body shook uncontrollably; to hear one of the creatures laugh was bad enough, but hearing one speak ripped away what little courage Keltin had left. The Cynmeren loomed over him, the stolen isen shining in its hand, then in the next instant its head toppled to the floor of the cart with a hollow thud. Keltin stared in stunned silence, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or scream as the head rolled off the back of the cart. As the lifeless body dressed in Protector’s robes collapsed into a heap, Keltin found a person standing behind it with a triumphant smile.

  “Silax?” he shouted in disbelief. “What…what just happened?”

  “We killed one, that’s what happened,” Silax grinned, the creature’s blood dripping from his isen. “And we’re going to do it some more.” He pointed the isen to the line of Protectors running awkwardly towards the opening beside the Gates. Keltin panicked when he suddenly understood that these other Protectors were actually Cynmeren too.

  “We have to stop them!” Keltin yelled. “They’ll sneak right into the Tasking Station if we don’t.”

  “Agreed. Let’s get moving,” Silax nodded as he swung his legs over the side of the cart. He balanced on the right steering beam with his left hand still gripping the rim of the main platform. “As we go, line them up in front of me,” Silax said, pointing to the row of Cynmeren. “This will be fun.” Keltin started the nysks forward, uncertain what Silax was planning.

  When the first of the Cynmeren saw its shadow from the beams of the light directors, it tried to shift out of the speeding cart’s path. Keltin anticipated the evasion, however, and positioned the creature directly in front of the right steering beam. With a laugh, Silax swung the isen and once again removed one of the hideous glowing heads. Keltin moved on to the next Cynmeren, but before the cart could reach it, a blazing arrow struck the shell of the nysk attached to the left steering beam. The animal bellowed, and the cart lurched sharply left.

  With no time to react, Keltin watched helplessly as the wounded nysk flailed beneath the steering beam until one of its massive appendages shattered the wood into splinters. Free from the burning beam, the nysk burrowed into the sand to extinguish the fire that now coated its shell. The cart spun to a stop, sending Silax hurtling across the sand towards the Gates. In a daze, Keltin heard shouts from somewhere nearby and searched for the source. Suddenly, a beam of blinding light shone down from the Gates and illuminated the column of disguised Cynmeren. In seconds, each one of the creatures fell to the sand, bristling with arrows fired by the Protectors.

  Keltin cheered as he stepped down from the ruined cart to go find Silax, but his elation was cut short by another volley of flaming arrows that erupted against the Gates of Contrition. The beam from the light director vanished, leaving in its place the dim glow of small fires building in the passages where the arrows had landed. Keltin knew there was nothing he could do for those men now, so he refocused on finding Silax and getting them both to safety.

  The darkness felt heavy in the absence of the light directors, as if every step taken led towards the waiting jaws of some unspeakable creature hiding just out of sight. Keltin moved forward, in spite of the fear. “Silax!” he shouted. “Silax!”

  “Here,” Silax called, just a few strides to Keltin’s left. “Your steering could use some work,” he said with a laugh as Keltin approached. “I think we—” he stopped suddenly. There was a sound of something shuffling in the sand.

  “Silax?” Keltin called hesitantly, then the dreaded yellow glow appeared once more. In the dim light, Keltin saw Silax struggling to free himself from the hold of one of the Cynmeren, a strip of cloth across his mouth and the dark veil in his hand that he had ripped from the creature’s head. Keltin ran forward, isen in hand, and screamed as he struck at the Cynmeren’s neck. The first blow was enough to make it loose its hold on Silax, the next brought the beast to the ground. Silax joined in quickly and together they finished the task of severing the glowing head.

  Silax ripped the piece of cloth from his mouth and spat at the Cynmeren as it died. “The thing tried to take me,” he whispered in disgust. Along the far wall of the valley, a shrieking cry filled the air as pale yellow lights materialized from the darkness and rushed onto the sand towards Keltin and Silax.

  “Come on!” Keltin shouted as he pulled Silax away from the line of Cynmeren, and together they sprinted to the passage entrance beside the Gates of Contrition. Just as they neared the opening, a force of Protectors streamed out of it to face the new Cynmeren threat. A light director reappeared from the Gates, and suddenly the full size of the Cynmeren assault was clear. Dozens of the beasts faltered in the sudden brightness, and in that instant the Protectors struck.

  Amazed by the fight, Keltin barely noticed when Silax pulled away from him. Silax stepped directly in front of him then, blocking the battle from view, and took hold of Keltin’s shoulder. “I’m going to help them,” was all that he said, then Silax turned to join the Protectors. Keltin stepped forward to follow, then hesitated for reasons that he couldn’t explain. He looked down briefly at the blood as it dripped from the isen in his hand; it was strange, whatever fluid coursed through the Cynmeren’s bodies looked frighteningly similar to the blood that had soaked through his own bandages sometime earlier in the night. Keltin quickly dismissed the thoughts as just a nuisance and ran after Silax.

  The Protectors were grossly outnumbered, Keltin knew that even before he reached the fray. Arrows rained down from the Gates, but more and more of the Protectors fell beneath jagged Cynmeren blades with each minute that passed. Keltin retrieved a second isen and found Silax hopping between two of the creatures as he dodged their strikes. Running as silently as he could, Keltin snuck up behind one of the two Cynmeren and pulled both isen across its throat. The creature dropped to the sand with a gurgling shout, and its partner momentarily stopped fighting when it heard the sound. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Silax laughed fearlessly as he swung at the second Cynmeren until it, too, was removed from the fight.

  As Keltin readied himself for the next group of enemies, he made a discovery that was only possible with the help of the light directors. Where before he had thought many of the Cynmeren themselves were massive creatures with multitudes of legs, now he realized the Cynmeren fighters rode atop some sort of large animal in the same way that the Protectors used the nysks for transport. The enormous Cynmeren beasts darted amongst the ranks of the Protectors, slicing mercilessly into whatever stood before them with long, powerful tusks before retreating out of the fight again.

  A barrage of arrows from the Gates caught the rider of one of these monsters, but the rider’s death seemed to only
make the animal attack more ferociously. Just as another of the Protectors was about to fall prey to the tusks, he slid beneath the creature and dragged his isen along its underbelly as it passed overhead. The creature shrieked, then collapsed to the sand in a swirling cloud of dust; its legs still twitched, but it was otherwise motionless. A triumphant shout drifted down from the Protectors at the Gates.

  The fleeting victory was overshadowed by the glow of more Cynmeren as they flowed down the face of the cliff. “Fall back to the Tasking Station!” a voice shouted over the chaos. As Keltin helped Silax dispatch another Cynmeren, he spotted a group of transport carts passing through the now-open Gates of Contrition. Arrows poured from Protectors’ bows in each cart as they rushed past, and the enemies dropped in waves. Each of the carts spun around after reaching the edge of the Cynmeren advance, then made an equally deadly return trip to the Gates. Keltin and Silax joined the mass of surviving Protectors as they backed slowly towards the Tasking Station, still fighting the Cynmeren with each step.

  Eight carts filled with Protectors swept back and forth though the valley and quickly eliminated the Cynmeren force that stood before Keltin and Silax. The carts did not escape unscathed, however, as the advancing group of Cynmeren from the cliffs sank many arrows of their own into the flesh of man and nysk alike. Keltin watched from the relative safety of the passage entrance as one of the carts was completely emptied of its occupants, including the man guiding it. The bewildered nysks drifted to a stop less than twenty strides from the entryway where Keltin stood, and he suddenly knew what he had to do.