Kingdomturn

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Kingdomturn Page 46

by Matthew Williams


  “There is no game,” Taerius replied, stepping closer to his retreating father. “Watch and wait.” The boy pointed to the nearest viewing window, his eyes never blinking, never releasing their hold on Grigg’s own. Grigg walked slowly to the window, still wholly captivated by Taerius’ gaze and terrified of whatever his son had become. When Grigg was in place, the boy blinked and the penetrating stare was suddenly gone. Satisfied with Grigg’s actions, Taerius smiled and moved to stand by his father’s side. Lissara crept over to them hesitantly, and the three stood watching the strange window together for the remainder of the day.

  At first, the workers below struggled and strategized, trying desperately to break through the gate that barred their entry into the Hall. They swung picks, pried with long bars, struck the walls, and even attempted to dig under the door with shovels, but none of their efforts achieved any progress. Although there was no sound, Grigg could see that many in the crowd were still shouting, undoubtedly demanding the return of their children or challenging the Venerates to leave the safety of the Hall.

  Over time, the fury of the workers gave way to exhaustion. A handful of the weary moved to the fringe of the crowd before disappearing into the living quarters. More and more workers succumbed to fatigue until by dusk only the most devoted remained. These few kept a constant vigil, occasionally testing a pick against a section of wall or the enormous metal barricade before returning to stand with their friends and families. As night arrived, a ring of torches revealed that the group of workers still stood watch, all determined to find a way to enter the Hall.

  After hours with no change, Lissara struggled to keep her eyes open. “Get some rest,” Grigg urged, and she nodded in agreement. As she curled up beside Taerius on the stone floor, Grigg smiled at how peaceful the two of them looked. For an instant, he forgot everything that had happened in recent days—Grigg was just glad to be with his family. Then the glow of the viewing windows caught his eye, and the harsh reality of the situation returned. We’re trapped at the top of the Hall without food or water, and there are dozens of angry Venerates sealed inside with us. Grigg shook his head worriedly, then turned his attention back to the small group of workers outside the Hall.

  The first traces of dawn stretched across the western horizon when Grigg’s eyes snapped open. Lissara and Taerius were still asleep on the floor beside him, but a deep rumbling had stirred Grigg from his unintentional rest. He saw movement in the viewing window and quickly sat upright to investigate. The workers standing vigil outside the Hall seemed agitated as they backed away from the spot where they had spent the night. At first, Grigg couldn’t understand their actions, but then he spotted the lower edge of the massive metal wall lifting off the ground. That explained why he could feel the Hall shaking.

  “Wake up!” Grigg said in a hoarse whisper. “We’re free!” Lissara’s eyes sprang open and she rushed over to the viewing window. Taerius, however, only grumbled in his sleep. “Son, it’s time to go,” Grigg said happily as he watched the slab of metal disappear above the Hall entrance.

  “Not yet,” Taerius muttered. “Keep watching.”

  “We don’t know how long that entrance is going to stay open,” Grigg fumed. “We need to leave while we can.”

  “Watch,” Taerius replied, then he rolled so that his back was towards his parents.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going to happen?” Grigg demanded loudly.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Taerius said bluntly without rolling back to face his father’s infuriated expression.

  “Grigg,” Lissara said as she gently touched his arm. He brushed her aside and prepared to reprimand Taerius for such brazen disrespect. “Grigg,” Lissara insisted, taking hold of his shoulder. “Look.”

  Grigg turned his attention back to the viewing window and he suddenly understood the urgency in his wife’s voice. From the Hall entrance, dozens of children stumbled out into the dim morning light—children the Venerates had taken for being ‘inferior,’ children with parents who thought they would never see them again. The small crowd of workers grew quickly as more and more people arrived to observe the miracle unfolding just outside the Hall.

  “Taerius, come and see!” Grigg smiled. “Your friends are back!”

  “They’re sick,” Taerius said sadly as he rose from the floor.

  “They look fine to me,” Lissara replied, watching one joyous reunion after another. Then she noticed one boy standing alone. “That looks like Ferran,” she said with a concerned frown. “I don’t see Ranfeir or Diolna though.”

  “You won’t see them,” Grigg said softly. “They’re gone.”

  Lissara closed her eyes. “When we leave here, we must look after Ferran for them,” she said with a pained but determined frown.

  “Your mother is right, Taerius. Don’t you want to see Ferran too?” Grigg asked.

  “Ferran is gone, just like his parents,” Taerius said sadly.

  “Don’t say that. He’s right there!” Lissara exclaimed.

  “He’s gone,” Taerius insisted. Just then, the low rumbling began again that shook the entire Hall. Grigg watched with panic as the massive wall of metal slowly slid back across the entrance.

  “No, no, no!” Grigg yelled, but it was already too late. The Hall was sealed just as it had been before. “Look at what your hesitation has cost us!” Grigg shouted. “Now we’re trapped in here again.”

  “We’re not trapped in here,” Taerius countered. “They’re trapped out there. Soon, they’ll all be gone like Ferran and his parents.”

  “Son, when I said ‘gone’ I meant that his parents are dead!” Grigg replied angrily. Lissara grabbed his arm to stop him, but Grigg ignored her.

  “I know,” Taerius said, with a brief and glowing stare cast in his father’s direction. He said it with such certainty, such conviction, that Grigg knew his son was telling the truth. It wasn’t possible, though; Ferran’s parents had been killed just before Grigg ran to the Hall, so there was no way for Taerius to know about their deaths. Then Grigg suddenly arrived at the chilling realization that the concept of death had never been explained to his young son.

  “How?” Grigg whispered.

  “The dream,” Taerius replied. “I’ve seen all of this before, but I can’t remember everything at once, just pieces. One of those pieces is that everyone in Aldhagen but us will be dead soon.”

  There was a stunned silence in the small room at the top of the Hall. “That’s awful,” Lissara said quietly, but it was clear from the look of shock on her face that she believed what Taerius had said.

  “It will be,” Taerius replied, taking hold of his mother’s arm and pressing his head against it lovingly. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. “You don’t have to go,” he pleaded.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Lissara said soothingly as she pulled his head close again, but she looked away then with a frown that spoke of both fear and hopelessness.

  “Son, we can’t stay here forever,” Grigg interjected in an effort to change the subject. “We all need to go at some point. There’s no food here, no water. Why are we still here?”

  “We have to see,” Taerius mumbled with his face still buried in his mother’s robes.

  “See what?” Grigg demanded.

  “We have to see!” Taerius shouted after uncovering his face. “We can’t go until we see!”

  “What does that mean?” Grigg asked, striving to keep the frustration from seeping into his voice again.

  “Watch and wait,” Taerius said with a distant stare before wandering away from his mother. Grigg sighed before turning back to the viewing window. His stomach rumbled in protest of the decision to stay in a place with no food, but Grigg had seen enough now that he was starting to believe the things Taerius said whether he wanted to or not.

  With the Hall shut once again, the workers below quickly dispersed—their children were back, there was no reason to try to break through the metal wall anymore. A
s the families made their way back to the living quarters, Grigg noticed that several of the children were walking strangely; then again, he had no idea what the Venerates might have done to them during their captivity. One of the returned boys suddenly broke away from his parents and ran in the direction of the Great River. Grigg searched the walls of the small room for a viewing window that showed the Great River at a point before it flowed beneath the Hall of the Venerates. When he found the right window, Grigg watched as the boy arrived at the bank and immediately dropped to his knees.

  “What is he doing?” Lissara asked from Grigg’s side.

  “It looks like he’s drinking water,” Grigg said curiously. “Maybe they weren’t allowed any water while they were with the Venerates.” The boy drank from his hands at first, but he quickly abandoned that method and instead thrust his head directly into the water. His parents rushed over and pulled him back onto the bank, but the child flailed, knocked their hands away, and rushed back to the water’s edge. When the boy put his face into the river again, his parents leaned forward to pull him away, but he spun towards them and shouted something. They both recoiled and stayed back several strides while the boy drank more water than he could possibly handle. At last, he lifted his dripping chin out of the river and returned to his parents. They embraced him uncertainly before turning to walk him back to the living quarters.

  “That was…odd,” Lissara remarked.

  “So is that,” Grigg nodded towards Taerius, who had taken a sudden interest once again in the blank wall section between viewing windows. The boy extended his hands as high as he could before jumping repeatedly as he tried to reach something. Grigg walked over, but even as he drew closer he still saw nothing of note on the wall. “What are you doing son?” he asked.

  “It’s time. You need to find the truth before we leave,” Taerius said as he concentrated on trying to jump even higher than he had in all previous attempts.

  “I don’t understand,” Grigg replied, straining as he studied the blank wall.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t,” Taerius declared. Grigg ignored his son’s reveling, choosing instead to focus on sliding his hand along the smooth surface of the wall; he paused when he felt a small seam. Grigg pressed lightly and the wall suddenly split in half.

  “That’s it!” Taerius shouted as he continued jumping excitedly. Grigg peered into the shallow recess that had just been revealed and saw something glitter in the daylight. There was an object inside—a small, grey disc of some kind—suspended by a thin chain hanging on the wall behind the split panel. The surface of the disc was etched with a circle and three vertical lines that extended down from its center in a pattern Grigg didn’t recognize. Wyand recognized it instantly, however, as the Thoughtcaster he wore around his neck in the physical realm.

  “You knew this was here,” Grigg said quietly, staring at his son in amazement. Taerius nodded proudly.

  “Put it around your neck,” the boy urged. Grigg frowned at him in confusion before reaching out reluctantly and pulling the object off of the wall. The weight of the small disc was surprising, and Grigg studied its strange etchings as he slid the chain around his neck.

  “What now?” Grigg asked, but as he spoke all of the light windows in the room flickered at once. Everything seemed to slow, then darkness overtook Grigg’s vision.

  ---

  Wyand felt himself drift away from Grigg’s mind briefly. Do you wish to see the thoughts I exchanged with Grigg during our primary linkage? the Monitor asked from somewhere near Wyand’s mind. These are the thoughts he labeled as “the truth about the Venerates,” the Monitor added.

  Yes, show me, Wyand answered eagerly. Please.

  Very well. I must caution you, though, just as I cautioned Grigg—this information is partially corrupted. There will be gaps.

  I don’t care, Wyand replied. Anything I can learn about the Venerates is more than I know now, gaps or not. Wyand felt the rush of wind, then a sprawling panorama of stars suddenly burst into existence all around him. Amid the stars, a lone moon spun in the vastness. Not a moon, Wyand understood instantly. A planet.

  The birthplace of humanity, the Monitor commented. Its location is lost to me as a result of the corruption, but I can tell you this world is called Provenance.

  Provenance, Wyand thought in wonder as he watched the world slowly rotate through its day and night cycle. The Old Kingdom. Vast oceans of blue covered most of the planet’s surface, but where they ended, lush green landmasses emerged with jagged peaks that extended high into the clouds above. Can I go any closer? Wyand asked, fascinated by the idea of this planet. There was another rush of wind, but this time the sound of its fury increased and was accompanied only by darkness. Wyand felt a pressure on all sides, as though the surrounding shadows sought to crush him. Several flashes of grey revealed an infinite bank of black clouds that appeared to boil and flow into one another as a constant, low rumble began to quickly overpower the sound of the wind. When the pressure increased sharply, Wyand screamed from fear as much as pain, and he was suddenly back in the Interface.

  “I warned you about the gaps,” the Monitor chided.

  “What…was that?” Wyand breathed.

  “That is what attempting to access lost information feels like,” the Monitor replied. “If you sense it happening again, just return to the last memory and continue to a different thought.”

  “What if I can’t?” Wyand asked.

  “Then you risk losing parts of your mind to the corruption that plagues this Interface,” the Monitor said grimly. “I would recommend avoiding that. Are you ready to resume?” Wyand closed his eyes and considered the risks of staying, then he realized that he had just glimpsed the Old Kingdom itself. Curiosity triumphed over fear; Wyand exhaled and nodded. The wind returned and he once again stared at Provenance as it spun gracefully through space. A narrow bar of white light extended from the planet and grew longer as he watched, then more joined it from points all over the surface.

  What are those? Wyand wondered, and in an instant his view shifted until he was beside one of the beams of light. In front of it, a small vessel traveled through the emptiness at an incredible pace. He suddenly knew that it was called a ship, and that it served the same purpose in space that a boat served on water—moving people and things from one place to another. Somehow, the beam of light behind it was what pushed the ship forward to the stars, but when Wyand tried to examine the beam further, he unfortunately felt the sudden surge of pressure and darkness that indicated lost information. He quickly went back to thinking about the ship itself until the painful gloom receded.

  Good, the Monitor commended him.

  What were these ships for? Wyand asked, still trying to shake away the sensation of being surrounded by the swirling clouds of nothingness.

  They were symbols of hope for the people of Provenance, the Monitor explained. These vessels were flung into the vastness of space with a singular purpose—to find worlds similar to Provenance where humanity could take root and flourish. More images flooded into Wyand’s mind, this time of the interior of one of the ships. It was strangely dark and silent inside, no windows, no lights, no sound.

  Where are the people? he wondered. His vision shifted to a large metallic cylinder in the corner of one of the rooms, but it was far too small to conceal anyone.

  There are no people here, the Monitor replied. Instead, the basic components required to “grow” them are stored on each ship until a suitable planet can be found. This can take hundreds, sometimes thousands of turnings, and is also why these vessels are commonly called “seed ships.”

  What happens once a world is found? Wyand asked, ravenous for more answers. An image appeared, showing one of the ships approaching a clearing in a place that looked very much like Aldhagen. When it landed, a group of Venerates stepped out and immediately began constructing a perimeter, then buildings. Time accelerated and Wyand watched crops spring up from seeds that were in turn selectively harv
ested to provide the strongest strain for the next growing season.

  I thought you said there were no people on the seed ships, Wyand said, confused by the sudden appearance of the Venerates.

  The Cultivators are not people, the Monitor said simply. Just as I am not human, neither are they. We were built by the inhabitants of Provenance to support and counsel humanity wherever it spread. The Cultivators prepare a new world before they “grow” the first generation of people who will live there.

  Machines, Wyand felt the word and its meaning form in his mind. Parts, pieces, things assembled according to plans devised by people. Intricate and beautiful, but ultimately not alive. Wyand’s mind leapt from one realization to the next until he arrived at the central truth of everything he’d just learned. The Venerates aren’t gods, they’re machines.

  Yes, the Monitor agreed. It was too much for Wyand to try to comprehend at once; he shifted himself back to the Interface for a brief rest.

  “Grigg reacted in much the same way,” the Monitor said as Wyand returned to the isolated platform.

  “I imagine anyone would when faced with that kind of information,” Wyand replied breathlessly. “But tell me this: if the Cultivators are meant to serve people, then why do they attack us, cast us out, lie to us?”

  “Just as this Interface is flawed, so too are the ones you call Venerates,” answered the Monitor. “They share the same corruption, although its effects manifest in them very differently than in the simple damage you see all around us here. Their brokenness is complex; their flaws cause them to behave much more like humans than when they were whole as machines.”

  “They’re broken….” Wyand said in amazement.

  “Very much so,” the Monitor agreed. “And based on what I have seen in the experiences of Grigg and now yourself, the degradation in the routines of the Cultivators actually makes them quite dangerous to the people they were built to serve.”

  An idea suddenly jumped into the forefront of Wyand’s thoughts. “Can the Cultivators be cleansed somehow? Can we remove the corruption?” he asked.

 

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