Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  The Venerate studied him, then looked back to the lump of bread. “You should eat it now, so it doesn’t go to waste,” the Venerate suggested. “We can get you more food during Reflection if you are still hungry then.”

  Edan stared down at the mass of wet dough as it quickly soaked up water and mud that had been tracked into the Learning Hall. The poison made the bread nauseating enough, but the addition of mud and rainwater made the thought of consuming it absolutely disgusting. He hesitated for an instant, then in a single motion he reached down, forced the soggy dough into his mouth, and swallowed.

  “Good,” the Venerate said. “Now you may go.”

  “Thank you, Venerate,” Edan replied while trying not to gag. He hurried out of the Learning Hall and splashed through the standing water that covered the path back to the living quarters. Lanterns hanging over the path swayed in a cool breeze, but their movements only added to Edan’s dizziness. In the darkness between the shifting pools of light, he looked around to make sure there was no one nearby, then Edan turned away from the main path and sprinted towards a patch of brush just beyond the edge of the living quarters. Sickness overcame him just as he reached the small cluster of plants.

  When his stomach was finally finished emptying its contents, Edan stood in the darkness trying to catch his breath. The rain had stopped sometime during the Calling, although he hadn’t noticed that amid the disorienting panic that came from eating tainted food. Clouds still hung low overhead, but the storm seemed to have passed; the same could not be said for Edan’s thoughts, however. Fear of returning to a life of blind subservience assailed him, followed closely by the staggering realization that he may forget everything he’d witnessed during his few days of freedom. Being an Observer of the Silent History was a painful life, but at least it was a life of truth. Edan forced himself to focus simply on breathing, and forget about all of his concerns for now.

  As his thoughts cleared, Edan was suddenly aware that he didn’t have long until the chimes would sound for Last Calling. Whether he felt like wasting the effort or not, now he would have to run to avoid being late and drawing attention to himself. With a sigh, he coaxed his legs into motion and headed for the living quarters to retrieve his nightclothes. At least they’ll be dry, he thought, looking forward to being done with the soaked mining clothes that clung to his body and offered no comfort or warmth.

  After a quick run to his living quarters and an even faster run to the Hall, Edan entered the Last Calling chamber and immediately sought out Grefstan. The Tailing had been instrumental in Edan’s initial cleansing process, and he hoped the boy would be able to help again. Edan dodged between workers as he ran, looking frantically for Grefstan’s dark, tightly-woven sima at each pump station. At last, he found the boy near the middle of the chamber standing at a station to the right of Scur.

  Edan quickly stepped up to the next station in the row, then heard a small gasp from behind him. When he turned, he found a young boy from one of the other tasks backing slowly away from the pump station, eyes wide with surprise and fear. Edan suddenly realized that he must have come very close to knocking the boy down in his rush to claim the pump station. “Forgive me,” Edan apologized quietly.

  “It...it’s nothing, Depthcarver,” the boy stammered trying his best to keep from dropping a portion of his nightclothes as he edged farther away. “Peace and honor,” he said and then spun away, clearly overcome with embarrassment.

  Edan sighed at his own clumsiness. Some “hero of Kingdomturn” you are, Depthcarver, he thought bitterly as he watched the boy disappear through a crowd of workers. There was no time to apologize, though; Edan knew the chimes would sound any moment. “Grefstan, something’s happened,” Edan whispered.

  “What is it?” Grefstan asked, then his eyes grew wide as they studied Edan’s face. “You ate their food?” he hissed incredulously.

  “I didn’t have any choice—the Venerate forced me to eat a piece of bread before he would let me leave. I threw it back up as soon as I could,” Edan explained.

  Grefstan looked towards the Great River in thought, and Edan was confused by a strange reflection he saw for an instant in the boy’s eyes. There was a swirl of something blue and green that vanished before Edan had a chance to identify its source, but when he looked out at the river, nothing shined with the colors he had seen. “We can fix this,” Grefstan said, “but first we’ll need—” The chimes sounded, signaling the start of Last Calling, and Grefstan’s words were lost.

  Edan felt a sudden surge of calm course through his body with the last three chimes, and his earlier worries instantly melted away. He disrobed, trying to remember what he had even been worried about, but his thoughts were cloudy and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. After depositing his clothes in the base of the pump station, Edan fumbled with the handle until the cleansing steam finally began to flow. I worked hard today, he realized proudly, then he silently thanked the Venerates for blessing him with such a productive day.

  “Rest now, workers of Aldhagen,” a Venerate’s voice echoed soothingly throughout the chamber. “Your efforts are finished for this day. May peace and honor guide you to the next Calling.” Edan nodded tiredly, but smiled as the three chimes of benediction sounded.

  “Depthcarver?” a voice said from the pump station on Edan’s left side. He peered through the steam until he found Grefstan’s face staring up at him worriedly.

  “Peace and honor, Grefstan. What’s troubling you?” Edan asked. The boy’s expression quickly changed from concern to horror, but in the next instant Grefstan appeared calm.

  “Would it be possible to speak with you during Reflection, Depthcarver?” the Tailing asked tentatively.

  “Can’t we talk now?” Edan countered, stretching as he spoke to try to ease the aches that lingered in many of his muscles. He felt strangely hungry, though the Third Calling meal had only occurred a few hours earlier. Perhaps I could request some extra food from the Venerates during Reflection….

  “I…I would prefer privacy,” Grefstan replied awkwardly.

  Edan frowned at him—something was clearly bothering the Tailing, but what problem could he possibly have that they couldn’t discuss openly? Edan sighed faintly as he abandoned the idea of eating again or going to bed as soon as Last Calling ended. “All right, Grefstan. Meet me at my quarters during Reflection,” Edan conceded.

  “Could we walk the walls while we talk?” Grefstan requested.

  “Yes. Fine. We’ll walk,” Edan replied with an irritated wave of his hand. He leaned over and shut off the flow of steam, then activated the drying vent with the other handle on the pump station. Edan closed his eyes and reveled in the peaceful rush of wind as it dried him. When he next looked around, Grefstan was still in the process of cleaning himself. Edan shut off his own station entirely, put on his nightclothes, and headed for the living quarters with his clean work clothes in hand.

  After waiting just inside the doorway of his quarters for several minutes, Edan began to wonder if Grefstan still needed to speak with him. Maybe he figured it out by himself, Edan thought, and he decided to prepare his bed for the night in the event Grefstan never showed up. Edan sat down and exhaled, completely exhausted from the day’s work. He shut his eyes and began to fall slowly backwards into the comfort of his blankets.

  “Depthcarver?” Grefstan said from the doorway. Edan caught himself just before his head reached the pillow and sat upright, trying to suppress his irritation. “Are you ready to walk?” the Tailing asked with a torch in his hand.

  “Of course,” Edan grunted as he lifted himself to his feet once again. He looked back at the bed longingly as he stepped through the doorway, then winced as the chilly night air struck his face. You’re a leader now, he reminded himself. This sort of thing is expected of you. “What did you need help with, Grefstan?” Edan asked as they passed between rows of living quarters.

  “I found something that you need to see,” the boy answered.
“This way.” Edan stammered in confusion, trying to seek a better explanation, but Grefstan hurried towards the wall before any questions could be posed. When they arrived at the base of the wall, the Tailing held the torch close to the ancient stones and leaned in as if looking for something.

  “Grefstan...?” Edan asked after the boy had examined several dozen stones, but Grefstan continued undeterred with whatever his strange task was. “Grefstan,” Edan said a bit louder as he stepped up to the wall beside the boy. The torch lingered over one of the stones and the Tailing stared at it for a moment longer, then he laughed once in victory.

  “Here, Depthcarver. See for yourself,” Grefstan said as he stepped to the side. Edan approached the wall with a skeptical frown, then knelt to examine the stone Grefstan had identified. It appeared like any of the other hundreds of thousands of stones adjacent to it, but then Edan noticed a mark carved into its surface. Now he was curious; maybe the Tailing had found something after all. Looking closer at the mark, something flashed into Edan’s memory from a dream he’d had a few nights earlier. It was a circle with three vertical lines that descended from its center until all three were past the lower edge of the circle.

  “What is it?” Edan wondered quietly.

  “You recognize it, don’t you, Depthcarver?” Grefstan asked, smiling eagerly in the torchlight.

  “I…vaguely, yes. But it was nothing, a memory of a dream. What does it mean?” Edan demanded, turning away from the wall to look sternly at the boy. Grefstan said nothing, instead continuing to smile mysteriously as he removed something from his pocket. Suddenly, the sound of the final chimes of a Calling filled the air and Edan felt his tired mind succumb to their comfort.

  ---

  Edan stared at the half-eaten lump of whiteroot in his hand, wondering how it got there. Then he tasted its familiar flavor still lingering in his mouth from a recent bite. Edan’s eyes found one of Aldhagen’s enormous walls immediately beside him, then they followed its stones down until a small recess came into view. A stone was dislodged and lying on the ground at his feet—a stone marked with the symbol known only to the Observers that signified a place to find untainted food.

  “How do you feel, Depthcarver?” Grefstan asked, startling Edan simply by being present.

  “I don’t really know,” Edan said. “Why are we by the walls and what are you doing here?”

  “Helping you remember,” the Tailing explained. “You were forced to eat unclean food from the Hall during Third Calling, and by Last Calling your mind was already wiped clean of all memories of the Silent History. I’m just glad you’re back.” Edan felt the cloudiness of his thoughts receding, then took another bite of the whiteroot.

  “They made me forget,” he whispered, terrified of the Venerates’ power. “Days of memories, gone without any effort at all.”

  “But you remember now, right?” Grefstan encouraged him. Edan nodded, still starting at the ground in disbelief. He quickly devoured the rest of the whiteroot, suddenly aware of his hunger and desperate to cleanse whatever remained of the Venerates’ poison from his system. Grefstan smiled approvingly as he watched Edan eat.

  “I don’t know how long I can continue living like this, Grefstan,” Edan admitted after swallowing the final bite. “I feel like I never know what’s real and what’s a lie.” The torchlight reflected in the Tailing’s eyes, causing the illusion of eerie swirls of color and shadow to appear within his gaze.

  “We can’t give up, Depthcarver. If we choose to forget, then those who have fallen are lost forever,” Grefstan reminded him. “I believe Depthcarver Wyand deserves to be remembered.”

  Edan looked down at his hands, frustrated by the dangers that filled the life of an Observer but ashamed of his own weakness for wanting to abandon that life so quickly. “Yes, he does,” Edan agreed, reaffirming his vow to guard the memory of his friend along with the rest of the Silent History of Aldhagen. He and Grefstan didn’t speak as they returned to the living quarters, but they both knew tomorrow would be filled with the same trials they had faced today. This was the cost of continued freedom.

  21

  “What would you have us do, Leomar? Pretend that this never happened?” Fadian demanded as he paced the floor in front of the Elder Council. The eight Council members sat in a semicircle, regarding Fadian with looks that ranged from total agreement to anger. Wyand and Eyrie stood just behind him, neither daring to speak or move given the heated debate that was underway.

  “No,” the Council Guide sighed, leaning back in his seat directly in front of the Woven Wall. “Although I am tempted to swear you all to secrecy before anyone else learns what has occurred here today.” As he spoke, Leomar stared at the small table in the center of the semicircle upon which rested the Thoughtcaster and the stone from the Cavern of the Winds. Every member of the Council had witnessed the Interface and its information about the past; now they struggled to reach consensus on what should be done next.

  “This is a truth that is meant to be shared. It is our people’s history, and they deserve to know of it,” the elderly Songsister argued with a voice that, although filled with indignation, still held a musical quality.

  “While I agree with you, Cleowen, we cannot grant everyone direct access to the Thoughtcaster. It is too dangerous a thing,” Leomar replied.

  “It is a source of historical knowledge,” Cleowen snapped. “As such—at a minimum—all members of the Order of Song should be allowed to experience the Thoughtcaster.”

  “Too dangerous,” Leomar said again.

  “What are you afraid of, Leomar?” the Voice of War asked quietly from the chair on Leomar’s left. “The boy brings us hope, now we must let him spread it to others.” Her eyes shone with eagerness any time she glanced at the stone on the table; it was clear she had her own plans for it as well as for the Thoughtcaster.

  “Fadian’s Vision spoke of incredible pain that accompanies the use of the stone. I don’t want to bring about needless suffering,” Leomar replied. He closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose in frustration.

  “The Vision also showed unimaginable growth, Stormbrother,” Fadian added. “What if the pain you speak of comes from trying to keep both of these objects secret?”

  Aloric, the towering Council member from the Order of Stone, stood abruptly from his chair on the left end of the row. “All of you, think for a moment,” his voice boomed, and everyone else fell silent. “As soon as we share this newfound knowledge with the rest of Cynmere, we expose a point of weakness that would be exploited the first time any of our people are captured.”

  “How can you possibly view this as a weakness?” Axebrother Ordlam laughed gruffly. “With the stone and the Thoughtcaster, we can cleanse anyone of the Murk and show them the truth instantly.”

  “True,” Aloric replied. “And in so doing, we reveal the existence of an amazingly powerful object that the Cultivators will view as a threat. They would undoubtedly increase their efforts to find and eliminate it along with the rest of Cynmere.”

  Several members of the Council openly rejected Aloric’s claim, and after their collective outburst the arguing continued with renewed vigor. Wyand was lost within his own thoughts, though, barely listening to each position as it was voiced. He watched as the most revered members of Cynmere’s society fought with each other, and he realized it was his fault. No matter what he did, it seemed to Wyand that chaos followed him like a second shadow. As ironic as it was now that he was finally free from the lies of the Venerates, Wyand realized that all he wanted was peace and a quiet life of honorable work.

  Wyand’s eyes searched the Council Chamber for some sort of answer, a means of returning to a “normal” existence, but all he found were more questions. He glanced at Eyrie, and he suddenly noticed that she was staring at him as well. She smiled, then nodded towards the entrance to the chamber. Wyand’s brow furrowed in confusion until Eyrie at last strode over to him. “Come on,” she whispered. “They won’t even n
otice we’re gone.”

  Wyand hesitated, fixating on the stone for an instant, then turned back to Eyrie with an uncertain nod. I’ve done my part, he thought, trying to convince himself that leaving the Chamber was justified. What they choose to do with the stone is their responsibility now. They’re the ones with wisdom, not me. As he walked with Eyrie, though, the sound of intense arguing behind him made Wyand question whether wisdom would even play a role in the Council’s final decision.

  Eyrie closed the door quietly behind them as they exited the chamber, then turned to Wyand with a smirk. “Like I told you, they didn’t even notice. And they won’t for hours yet, I’m sure,” she laughed.

  “Is it always like that?” Wyand asked. “The Council, I mean, do they always argue with that much…energy…during an assessment?”

  “Not nearly!” Eyrie exclaimed with a delighted smile. “I haven’t seen them riled up like that in ages. And, let’s be honest, that was far from a standard assessment. You have an important task ahead of you.”

  Wyand raised his hands in denial. “I just found a rock and brought it here,” he said. “The Council can share it with whoever they choose. If they choose anyone, that is. Leomar was adamant that no one else access the Thoughtcaster.”

  “It may be as you say, Wyand,” Eyrie nodded. “But I have seen the Guided change their minds before, including the Council Guide himself. Regardless of what they decide, I believe in Fadian’s vision that you are meant for something significant.” Wyand had no reply beyond shaking his head in denial and frustration. Rain trickled down in hundreds of streams from the massive fronds overhead as he and Eyrie entered the clearing beneath the Scarwood tree.

  When they passed through the opening into the main part of the Council House, Eyrie hastily unbraided the majority of her hair and shook off the cold rain in a spray of glistening droplets. Wyand stared at her in amazement, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “So, where are we going?” she asked with an intrigued raise of her eyebrow when she noticed his awestruck expression. Wyand quickly looked away as she retied her braid, though a suppressed laugh from Eyrie confirmed that she had caught him watching her.