Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “We will likely stop the Penitent Faithful from expanding farther into the desert,” Leomar reasoned, “but it will require a heavy loss of blood on both sides. You confuse me, Myrten. I want to find peace, but the options I see available lead only to fighting and death.”

  “There is a way to defeat the forces of Dism Slyde without fighting them,” the Voice of Peace said mysteriously.

  “How?” It was clear in his voice that Leomar was growing frustrated.

  “Steal them.”

  “What?”

  “Steal them. Convert the forces of Dism Slyde wherever we find them; don’t bother bringing them all the way back here first,” Myrten explained. “Take the stone and the Thoughtcaster out amongst the Distant Watch camps. Strategically raid the Penitent Faithful, just as we’ve always done. Use the stone to cleanse the captives instantly, then use the Thoughtcaster to make them understand why believing in the Cultivators is a lie. Their forces become our forces, and the bloodshed is minimized. No matter how imposing the threat of the Penitent Faithful may seem right now, we have one thing that they never will, and that is the divine power of the truth. You see? The solution comes back to the stone, the Thoughtcaster, and Wyand.” Stunned silence filled the Council Chamber as each person analyzed the plan laid out by the Voice of Peace.

  “A mass cleansing,” Tilia said slowly. “Brilliant, old man. Absolutely brilliant.” She nodded approvingly to Myrten, who bowed his head in gratitude. “One thing still troubles me, though,” Tilia added. “I understand using the stone and the Thoughtcaster to bring the truth to the Penitent Faithful, but how is Bloodbrother Wyand a part of this solution?”

  “The stone is his, so the task is his,” Haemlan said quietly. A murmur of understanding and agreement rippled through the Council.

  “Then it is settled,” Leomar declared. “Bloodbrother Wyand, you will spread the Thoughtcaster’s truth to the people of Cynmere and then to those we rescue from Dism Slyde. Eyrie, I want Wyand trained as quickly as possible before he begins his efforts with the Distant Watch. Tilia, prepare the Hunting Watches to support our brethren in the desert. Everyone else, help me keep Cynmere functional while so many of our people are away.” The members of the Elder Council bowed their heads in acknowledgment of Leomar’s orders, then they departed the chamber to go prepare their people and spread word about the Thoughtcaster.

  Wyand stood motionless beside Eyrie, uncertain what he should do or how he should feel. “Very significant,” she said with a smile, then she followed Tilia out of the Council Chamber. Wyand started to follow her, but a hand caught his shoulder. He turned to find Haemlan, who then abruptly let go of the two men holding him up and pulled Wyand into a firm embrace.

  “We have much to discuss, my friend!” Haemlan laughed. He pushed Wyand back to arm’s length. “Look at you! You’ve worked hard in the turnings since I left. Here, help me back to the Order of Hands. We can talk along the way.”

  “I need a word with him first, Haemlan,” Leomar interjected. Though he was smiling as he spoke, Wyand could see a sternness in the Council Guide’s eyes that spoke of deep concern within. Haemlan nodded in understanding and resumed his position between the two men that were helping him walk. After everyone else had cleared the Council Chamber, Wyand and Leomar stood alone in the pools of focused torchlight.

  “Your presence here terrifies me,” Leomar admitted. “I support what you must do, but I do not like it. Spread the truth to the people of Cynmere and to those we capture, show them that the old stories are true, but do not ever mention this stone’s other dark power. It is a dangerous thing, a source of untold chaos; a part of me wants to destroy it right now, even if that means never accessing the Thoughtcaster again. But, in order to save my people, I can’t deny them access to the truth, and so I am forced to trust you. Don’t prove my decision a mistake.” Without another word, Leomar left the chamber and Wyand was alone. He stared numbly at the stone and the Thoughtcaster, a part of him wanting to flee as his burdens called to him, yet Wyand knew he could never turn away again.

  22

  Lost in the swirling smoke, Keltin closed his eyes and forced himself to suppress the panic that threatened to overcome him with each heartbeat. It felt completely unnatural; he wanted to run, to scream, but he knew that would only lead to failure and pain. So instead, he was motionless and focused on finding his own order amid the chaos. Where? It was the only question that mattered, the only question that his mind could feel inside the smoke.

  Without his eyes to distract him, Keltin let his other senses search the smoke for answers. The sound of shouts and clashing metal assailed his ears, but he had learned quickly to ignore those noises and search for subtle changes instead. Where? his mind asked again. He sought out the sound of fluttering fabric, of sand grinding beneath a boot, but no clues presented themselves. Then he felt it: a faint shift in the air sent a ripple across the skin on the back of his right hand, and Keltin suddenly had the answer to his mind’s only question.

  Keltin’s eyes sprang open as he swung his right arm out in a wide arc. The smoke parted in the wake of his blade until it struck against an isen that belonged to one of the other members of the Shroud Legion. Surprise made the man’s eyes grow wide in the instant before his face and body vanished once again within the smoke. A delighted laugh followed the sound of clashing metal, but it was the only sign remaining that the man had ever been there.

  Disappointed but determined, Keltin immediately refocused, seeking a pattern in the movements of the other six members of the Shroud Legion that he knew were within two strides of him. A small opening in the smoke to his left revealed a brief glimpse of grey fabric, and Keltin instinctively struck out with the isen in his left hand. Eyes appeared where the fabric had been, and Keltin awkwardly attempted to slow his attack. To his relief—and embarrassment—an isen struck against his own and prevented any permanent damage from being done to the face above the veil. Keltin felt a powerful arm press against his back until he stood less than a hand-length from the other fighter.

  “Control your attack and don’t aim for anything vital,” the Legionnaire cautioned him, his voice a muffled whisper through the grey veil. “…at least, not during training,” the man added, then he used the handle of his isen to strike Keltin on top of the head before disappearing once again into the smoke. Bewildered and humiliated, Keltin stumbled through the smoke for only a few seconds more before he heard the blessed sound of the Calling chimes.

  “Weapons down!” several voices shouted, then Keltin heard the massive metal lids being dropped into place over the thuribles that filled the area with smoke. In moments, a light breeze carried the last wisps of smoke away, and the members of the Shroud Legion formed a tight ring to discuss the latest training session. Lowered hoods and veils of grey revealed exhilarated smiles on the faces of the rest of the Legion, but not Keltin’s. He panted, still shaken from the blow to the head and annoyed with himself for making so many mistakes in the last two days.

  “Newcomers, step forward for inspection,” one of the male Legionnaires ordered. Keltin knew the bald man’s name was Craed; he also knew to heed his commands quickly or swift punishment would follow. Besides Keltin, six other candidates moved to the center of the ring, including Silax to his immediate right. Craed began his examination with one of the men who had been a Protector before being summoned to test his skills with the Shroud Legion. “Four hits, two bleeding,” Craed announced as he held up the man’s arms for the rest of the Legion to see. “You can do better, Locar.” The young Protector nodded humbly, then stepped back into the main circle.

  Craed moved to Silax next. “Three hits, three bleeding,” Craed said flatly.

  “Are you sure he’s the one who saved the Draeden?” one of the other Legionnaires taunted, and raucous laughter erupted around the circle. Silax had endured similar criticism for the past four days, but so far, the Shroud Legion had not sent him away. Craed released Silax’ arms and stood beside Keltin n
ext. There were several tense seconds as he waited for the laughter to diminish, then Craed sighed. He seized Keltin’s arms and spun him in a slow arc so each person could see the face of failure.

  “Five hits, four bleeding,” Craed declared angrily.

  “Never mind, the other one definitely saved the Draeden,” another member of the Legion shouted. More laughter followed, but Keltin shut out the sound and focused on staring straight ahead at nothing. Craed suddenly stepped into his vision.

  “It is only by the High Conduit’s blessing that you are still here,” Craed said quietly. “If we hadn’t lost so many of the Legion during the attack, I wouldn’t be willing to let you keep trying. As things stand, though, we desperately need new fighters. Supposedly, you proved yourself adept in combat once—you need to do it again very soon. Try. Harder. Even with our numbers low, our standards cannot be.”

  “Yes, Craed,” Keltin replied, doing his best to sound exhausted instead of indignant. Craed hadn’t been there when the Draeden was nearly taken, he hadn’t witnessed the horrors of the Cynmeren attack at the Gates of Contrition. Then again, you didn’t witness what he saw in the mountains, either, Keltin reminded himself. Perhaps it had all been chance, a strange joke of fate designed by the Venerates that Keltin survived the fight at all. Anger still boiled deep in his core, though; Keltin knew he could become a skilled fighter.

  When Keltin next looked up, Craed had already reviewed two more of the newcomers, which left only one to be examined. “And, last, Aemetta,” Craed said with a smile. Aemetta lifted her arms, her face calm and her dark eyes staring into the distance. “No hits again!” Craed exclaimed. “This marks the third day without anyone even coming close to her!” he added. Cheers of approval from the other Legionnaires surrounded Aemetta, but her face remained expressionless and calm. “You are made for this task,” Craed said to her with a laugh. “Session complete. Let’s eat!” he shouted, and the Shroud Legion rapidly dispersed for the Spire.

  Keltin walked over to Aemetta to congratulate her, but two of the Legionnaires were already with her for that same purpose. The man and woman scowled at Keltin as he approached, but they moved away from Aemetta quickly while offering parting words of praise. “I’m glad to see at least you’re doing well here,” Keltin laughed tiredly once they were gone. Aemetta’s cold expression suddenly melted into a look of sympathy and understanding as they walked towards the Holy Spire.

  “The first few days were difficult for me too,” she said reassuringly. “It does get easier, I promise. Besides, there’s no need to worry—you and I both already know you’re capable in combat. You forget that I watched most of the fight for the Gates of Contrition, and I know you played a significant role in holding the Cynmeren there instead of allowing them to press deeper into Dism Slyde.”

  “I wasn’t alone then,” Keltin replied sullenly, then shivered. “It’s different in the smoke; I feel isolated, anxious. That shouldn’t make any difference, I know that, but it still does. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You’re angry at the Cynmeren,” Aemetta said simply. “More than that, though, you’re also angry at yourself for feeling incapable of serving with the Shroud Legion. Your eagerness to prove yourself is slowing you down.”

  “We should all be eager to eliminate the Cynmeren,” Silax called with a smile as he joined them in the walk to the Spire.

  “You, of all people, know that I hate the Cynmeren as much as you do, Silax,” Aemetta replied quietly, her stare darkening as she looked at him. There was an instant where he started to speak, but Aemetta shook her head slowly and nothing more was said about the Cynmeren. Keltin was certain the unusual exchange was somehow tied to whatever events had led both Silax and Aemetta to Dism Slyde, but the details of those events remained unspoken.

  “Eagerness aside, the problem is that you’re letting yourself get distracted. The same can be said for you, Silax,” Aemetta continued an instant later. “Keltin, I saw you several times within the smoke.”

  “I didn’t see you once!” Keltin exclaimed.

  “That’s the point,” Aemetta replied. “Tell me this: for any of the hits you received, did you see who actually delivered them?”

  “No,” Keltin answered honestly. “Then again, I can barely recognize anyone in the smoke, let alone remember the name that goes with each pair of eyes I do manage to see. It’s only my second day of this.”

  “Understood,” Aemetta said. “It’s my seventh day, and I still don’t know most of the Legion by name. But what I do know is how each of them thinks and moves inside the smoke. That’s the secret to success in this group: it’s about evasion and deception, not overt aggression. The point is to see who can avoid the most hits, not who can deliver the most.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Keltin demanded.

  “Relax and concentrate,” Aemetta replied. “It seems like the two can’t be done at once, but they can. You’re close—I saw you starting to focus near the end of the session, so in another day or two you’ll be able to exit the smoke without a single hit. I apologize for the cut on your shoulder, by the way.”

  Keltin felt the dampness on his left shoulder as blood continued to soak into the back of his shirt. “I didn’t know that was from you,” he admitted.

  “That’s the point,” she repeated. “Silax, I saw moments of incredible skill from you, but you grew impatient and lost your focus before the proper moment arrived to strike or evade.”

  “I’m still learning,” Silax said defensively. “Venerates willing, I’ll escape the next session without a scratch just like you.”

  “Venerates willing, it will be so,” Aemetta agreed with a nod. She seemed at peace as they walked on in silence across the sand, but Keltin watched a concerned frown form on her brow several times. It was subtle and lasted for less than a second, but it happened just after each time she looked at Silax. Glancing at the path ahead, Keltin saw that Craed had paused in his trek to the Third Calling meal. One of the servants stood with him and appeared to be gesturing urgently towards the heights of the Spire. As soon as the Servant departed, Craed spun and raced towards the three newcomers.

  “You will follow me. Now,” Craed commanded between breaths. “The High Conduit has summoned us all.”

  ---

  “Enter,” the High Conduit said, and at his order the massive doors began to open. Craed walked through first, with Keltin, Silax, and Aemetta close behind him. The High Conduit was just inside the doorway and smiled warmly as they approached. Craed began to kneel, but the High Conduit was close enough to place a hand on the Legionnaire’s shoulder. “Please, there is no need for such formality—we are simply sharing a meal,” the High Conduit explained, and Craed immediately stood upright. Keltin, Silax, and Aemetta followed his example. “Welcome, all of you,” the High Conduit continued, “and thank you for answering my summons so quickly. Please, join us on the balcony.”

  As they all walked past the enormous stone table, Keltin’s eyes immediately latched onto the incredible map at the opposite end of the room. He longed to study it, just to gain a better appreciation of how large the world outside the walls truly was. That would once again have to wait, however, as the High Conduit led the group into a narrow passage on the left side of the map.

  After a few strides, Keltin felt a cool breeze rush towards him from whatever place waited at the end of this corridor. Then, with a final sharp turn to the left, the passage opened onto a balcony that overlooked all of Dism Slyde. Keltin surveyed the scene in wonder, until he suddenly realized this was the same balcony where he’d watched the last of the Cynmeren die less than a week earlier. He shuddered, then a hand abruptly gripped his shoulder to prevent him from walking any farther. Keltin glanced back at Silax in confusion, then looked forward and realized he had almost walked into Craed’s back. The High Conduit stood in front of them, arms outstretched and face beaming with pride.

  “Through the Venerates all things are possible, even a v
iew as beautiful as this!” the High Conduit proclaimed as he gestured towards the plain beyond. “Please, move freely, talk with one another, and be at peace. I will return shortly when our final guests arrive. And then, we eat!” The High Conduit hurried back into the passage, followed closely by two Protectors who moved as silently as any member of the Shroud Legion. Keltin turned to thank Silax for preventing the collision with Craed, but as Keltin opened his mouth, another voice called out to him from the other side of the balcony.

  “Venerates smile upon you, Keltin and Silax,” Draeden Ansund greeted them as he walked over.

  “And you, Draeden,” they replied.

  “How is your training with the Legion?” the Draeden asked eagerly.

  “We’re…learning,” Keltin answered with a quick glance towards Craed, who had moved to the railing along the edge of the balcony. The Legionnaire snorted in reply, but said nothing.

  “Excellent! After seeing you both in action at the Gates I knew you’d do well,” Ansund said. “And you are Aemetta, yes? I’ve heard your name whispered several times—you’re quickly becoming a sensation, even among the Shroud Legion. Impressive.”

  “Thank you, Draeden,” Aemetta replied with a slight bow of her head. There was a long pause, during which it was clear the Draeden expected her to say more. When she didn’t, he smiled briefly then walked over to the railing to stand beside Craed. Keltin finally found his opportunity to speak.

  “Thank you for keeping me from making a fool out of myself with Craed,” Keltin said quietly to Silax.

  “It wouldn’t have been the first time you did that today,” Silax replied with a sly grin. This was the sort of taunting Keltin was accustomed to receiving from his friends in Aldhagen, but not from Silax. After witnessing the former Feller in such a sullen state during his first few days in Dism Slyde, it felt strange to now see him smiling mischievously and making jokes. Keltin had no reply ready, so instead he just chuckled and shook his head as he walked away.