Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  Eyrie suddenly moved in from the doorway. “No,” she laughed in disbelief. Even in the gloom, Ryna could see the fury in Stora’s eyes when faced with such insolence.

  “What gives you the right to challenge me? Get out, heretic,” Stora snapped. Instead of heeding the command, though, Eyrie stepped forward defiantly.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, my people and I risked our lives to carry you to safety,” Eyrie said quietly. “We brought you here, healed you, gave you shelter. This place was our home long before you even knew it existed. You have no authority here, and you will not attempt to command me again.” The two women stared at each other, neither willing to concede, until Stora at last sniffed in disgust and brushed past Eyrie. On her way out of the room, the Mainwright paused beside Ryna.

  “I was a fool to think an Unwoven could be capable of anything useful,” Stora spat before stepping into the hall. For an instant, Ryna was stunned by the scathing dismissal, but her resolve to share the Thoughtcaster overpowered the sadness that tugged at her core. She rushed into the hall after Stora.

  “You need to see the truth!” Ryna called after her, and the Mainwright stopped suddenly.

  “Truth?” Stora asked incredulously. “You, of all people, would speak to me about the truth?” Her eyes burned with malice, then she suddenly looked past Ryna towards the opposite end of the hallway. “We are leaving. Let’s go.” Ryna turned to find a bewildered Halwen standing a few strides away.

  “Where are we going, Mainwright?” Halwen asked hesitantly, glancing at Ryna as she spoke. Amid the tension, a small crowd of confused Handsisters and Handbrothers began to approach cautiously after hearing shouts at such an early hour.

  “Locboran,” Stora replied. “Since they won’t give up the Thoughtcaster or the stone willingly, it’s our task to report the activities of these filthy nonbelievers to the Fyrnraed. Once they learn of this place, I am certain the Lifegivers will come here to claim the objects for themselves and to pass judgement on the faithless. We want to be far from here when that day comes.”

  “I…” Halwen faltered. She stared up at Ryna, her innocent eyes pleading for help. Ryna shook her head slowly, and after a few seconds, Halwen at last seemed to understand. “I’m staying here,” she blurted out. “You should stay too, Mainwright.”

  Stora’s lips pressed together tightly as a look of haughty irritation overtook the rest of her face. “You disappoint me, Halwen. Very well, then. I’ll do this myself,” she declared, then a dark smile creased the corners of her eyes. “Since the Unwoven is so interested in the truth now, why don’t you ask her about Onaela’s death after I leave? We’ll see how much she likes the truth then.” Without another word, Stora was gone. Halwen started towards the door, but within two strides her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  Murmurs from the crowd followed Stora out the door, and Ryna realized with terror that many pairs of eyes now studied her uncertainly. She avoided their stares as best she could, but then Halwen’s face appeared. Her lip trembled and tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks at any instant. “Halwen…” Ryna began, stepping towards her friend.

  Halwen shook her head and backed away several steps. “I don’t understand. Why did the Mainwright choose to leave now? And why didn’t we go with her?”

  “She realized her plan had failed, Halwen,” Eyrie replied gently. “Your Mainwright wanted to steal the Thoughtcaster and the stone from us so she could take them to Aldhagen.”

  “She wouldn’t do that!” Halwen protested.

  “She didn’t have to,” Ryna said quietly, slowly removing the relics from her pocket. Halwen’s wasn’t the only surprised gasp to fill the hallway.

  “What are you doing with those?” Halwen whispered.

  “Everything Eyrie said is true. Stora demanded these, so I took them,” Ryna confessed.

  Halwen’s short brown hair swished vigorously in front of her face as she shook her head again. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even if she did want to take the Thoughtcaster and the stone to the Fyrnraed, Mainwright Stora wouldn’t have been able to do it because she’s still in the middle of recovery. You saw her—she could barely walk two days ago!”

  “I know, Halwen, and I can’t explain it. But…well, she seemed perfectly capable of walking when she stormed out of here,” Ryna said with a baffled shrug.

  “I think your Mainwright has been well for quite some time, actually,” Eyrie interjected. “She’s a clever one; I hadn’t spent enough time with her to notice it until now. Impressive.” Eyrie nodded to herself thoughtfully. “Regardless, if she truly does leave Cynmere, I’m certain she’ll either return immediately or meet her demise long before nearing Aldhagen.”

  “Don’t say that!” Halwen exclaimed, her voice cracking from shock and sadness.

  “I’m not trying to upset you, Halwen,” Eyrie continued, “but let’s be realistic. She can’t make it back to the Cultivators on foot with no supplies and no familiarity with the terrain of the Eastern Hills. It simply won’t happen. I hope for her sake that Stora’s desire to live outweighs her stubbornness.”

  An awkward silence followed that lasted for several seconds, then Halwen asked quietly, “What happened to Onaela?” The simple question sent a chill across Ryna’s skin; she’d secretly been praying that Halwen had forgotten the Mainwright’s parting words in the midst of everything else that was happening. This was a truth that would cause incredible pain.

  “There was an accident,” Ryna said slowly, unable to meet Halwen’s gaze. Then Ryna sighed, and the words began to flow. “When we were very young, before you and I worked in adjacent forges, I studied under Onaela almost every day. She was an incredible Wright, especially when it came to complicated welds. I was helping her one day with a weld of two enormous bars of metal, and sparks from one of the pieces hit my arm. I was new to the process, so the unexpected sensation of pain made me lose my grip on the bar I was holding. It was the only thing keeping the other bar in place, so when I let go, the other bar dropped off the anvil. The end that was still at welding heat struck Onaela in the face and stayed there. In the confusion, I remember a surge of Wrights coming over to try to help—Stora was one of them. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me…such accusation and anger. And as time went on and the situation got worse, I knew Stora was right to feel that way. Onaela died, Halwen. I killed her.”

  Halwen said nothing; her expression was utterly blank. At last, she shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice hollow with pain.

  “I didn’t remember it as something that had really happened until the night of the storm in the Deadlands. We were already so lost and terrified, I didn’t want to cause any more panic by telling you I’m a murderer,” Ryna explained, wincing at the last word. She continued more quietly, “And I didn’t want you to hate me for it as much as Stora did.” Halwen looked away, still struggling to comprehend what she’d just learned.

  “A murderer?” Eyrie said incredulously. “I would not have guessed that. It’s an unwarranted label, though.”

  “What do you mean unwarranted? I killed her,” Ryna replied.

  “Yes, but did you intend to?” Eyrie asked.

  “Of course not!”

  “Then it wasn’t murder.”

  “What was it then?”

  “You said it yourself—an accident. A mistake. A tragedy, but ultimately not something you meant to happen,” Eyrie explained. “In my time as a Daughter of Mercy, I’ve witnessed the deaths of untold scores of people, maybe close to a hundred, maybe more. Almost every time I fail to rescue someone, I realize something I could have done differently that would have saved that person’s life. I am burdened by their deaths, to be sure, but that does not make me a murderer. It makes me imperfect, just as all people are.” With an empathetic furrowing of her brow, she took hold of Ryna’s shoulder. “The same is true of your situation with Onaela: she died, but you did not murder her.” Ryna let the idea sink in. She wanted to believe i
n her own innocence, but it felt too easy, too simple to be real.

  “I understand,” Halwen said softly, causing Ryna’s head to snap towards her.

  “What?” Ryna asked, finally meeting Halwen’s gaze.

  “The way you described Onaela’s death. Eyrie is right—it was an accident,” Halwen declared with increasing confidence. “It’s the same as what happened to Kiorla and Celina at the Lake of Skulls. We tried to save them, but we failed and they both died. We aren’t murderers for that.” With a pained smile and eyes full of tears, Halwen reached towards her friend a moment later.

  “Can you forgive me, Halwen?” Ryna asked as they embraced.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I just wish you’d told me sooner,” Halwen said with feigned anger. Ryna laughed in relief—her spirit was light now that she no longer felt forced to hide the truth from Halwen.

  “So, Stora used the secret of Onaela’s death as leverage to make you do whatever she wanted. I underestimated her yet again.,” Eyrie nodded in understanding. “I wonder, did her influence somehow also lead to your Unweaving or the Casting of your entire group?”

  “No,” Halwen replied quickly, “that was—” she stopped herself abruptly. Her mouth hung open as she stared wide-eyed at Ryna.

  “No more secrets,” Ryna sighed. “We were cast out for missing a Calling. There was a fire at the bannuc forge, and I was trapped along with Stora and several others. Halwen brought a group to help us, including a strange man who I thought was Fyrnraed at the time. During my escape from the wreckage, my robes became caught and they were removed in order to free me. I Unwove my sima immediately, for the sin of offending the Fyrnraed’s eyes with my naked form. One of the true Fyrnraed arrived soon after that, and flung us all into Wracandyr without hesitation.”

  Eyrie’s frown deepened as Ryna spoke. “A man from Aldhagen made his way into Locboran?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Ryna and Halwen said in unison.

  Eyrie nodded. “Now that is interesting. We need to share this information with the Elder Council quickly. Come with me.” They began walking towards the entrance, but Halwen stopped after a few strides.

  “We should try to find Stora,” she said worriedly.

  “I get the impression she will find us when she’s ready,” Eyrie replied.

  “What about Wyand? Do we need to take the stone and the Thoughtcaster back to him first?” Ryna asked as they exited the Hand dwelling.

  “As much as I would love to see him start the morning in a panic, I’ll send a runner to tell him what’s happened and where to find us. We’re going to need access to the Thoughtcaster for a little while longer,” Eyrie said, then she smiled mysteriously. “There’s something I need to show you.”

  ---

  The Elder Council stared at Ryna in silence after she finished telling of her encounter with a man inside the walls of Locboran. The majority of the Council members raised skeptical eyebrows, but the Voice of War frowned with genuine concern. “Do you know how he made his way into Locboran?” she asked.

  “I don’t,” Ryna replied. “He mentioned being from Aldhagen, but we never discussed how he went from one place to the other.”

  “Halwen?” the Voice of War asked.

  Halwen shook her head. “I met him outside the Hall in the Scullery Gardens. I don’t know how he got there.”

  “Was anyone else with you when you first saw him?” the Voice of War pressed.

  “Tilia, what more are you hoping to learn?” Handsister Okima interrupted. “These two have told us everything they know. Let’s move on.” Ryna couldn’t tell if Okima was actually irritated or if the scowl she wore was a permanent feature of her face, regardless of mood. Either way, Bloodsister Tilia ignored the older woman’s comments.

  “So, Halwen, was anyone else present?” she continued.

  “Yes. My friend and Ryna’s quartermate, Aemetta,” Halwen answered, then her eyes grew distant. “She was cast out with us, but we didn’t see her after the fall.”

  “Forgive me for stirring painful memories,” the Voice of War said. “I had hoped to speak with her.”

  “Even if you could, what good would it do? We know the man came from Aldhagen—what else is there to learn?” Stonebrother Aloric’s voice boomed inside the Council Chamber.

  “Don’t you see? If the walls are failing between the divided cities, perhaps that means there are points of weakness in the outer walls as well,” the Voice of War replied with an excited gleam in her eyes. Aloric nodded slowly as murmured theories began to form within the rest of the Council. Leomar stood suddenly and there was silence.

  “It means more than that,” the Council Guide said quietly. “In ancient days, one of the last Visions Taerius shared before his departure spoke of this. ‘When the barrier between worlds begins to falter, the sight of the Eyeless will find new light.’ This is a sign of imminent change…” his swirling eyes fixated on the Thoughtcaster’s chain where it hung from Ryna’s pocket, “…whether we desire it or not.” One by one, the other Council members joined him in staring uncertainly at the Thoughtcaster as each considered all that it represented. Leomar’s frown deepened until he at last shook his head and looked away.

  “Cleowen, we need to review any Visions recorded in the early histories that reference the Eyeless,” Leomar commanded.

  “From what I can recall, there isn’t much to review, Stormbrother,” Cleowen’s musical voice replied. “If the Order of Song can be permitted a few hours to research the subject, though, I will return to you with whatever answers exist.”

  “Very well,” Leomar said distractedly. “The Council will reconvene after Second Meal.” Lost in his thoughts, the Council Guide then exited the chamber without another word. As the rest of the Council dispersed, Bloodsister Tilia approached Ryna, Halwen, and Eyrie.

  “You three are part of one of the most important times in Cynmere’s history,” the Voice of War declared. “Thank you for coming to us with this information; it could prove pivotal in the fight ahead.” She smiled at Ryna and Halwen, then paused and narrowed her eyes at Eyrie. “I know that look.”

  “What look?” Eyrie replied with feigned innocence.

  “You brought them here for some other reason, didn’t you?” the older woman said with a knowing stare. Eyrie remained expressionless for as long as she could, then she looked away to conceal her grin. The Voice of War sighed. “Pace yourself, girl; you’re not a Dawnsister. Understand?” Eyrie nodded, then Tilia walked away with a quiet chuckle, leaving Ryna and Halwen alone with the young Bloodsister.

  “What was all that?” Ryna demanded.

  “Nothing important,” Eyrie said quickly. “Besides, I already told you I needed to show you something, so it’s no surprise to you or Halwen that we’re still here, is it?”

  “I suppose not…” Ryna replied slowly.

  “Let me ask you this: what was your reason for becoming Unwoven?” Eyrie asked suddenly.

  Ryna faltered. “I already explained that to you, and I just explained it to the entire Council. Why do you want to discuss it again?”

  “You’ll see,” Eyrie said encouragingly.

  “Fine,” Ryna sighed. “As you know, I became Unwoven because a man saw me without my robes.”

  “Exactly!” Eyrie said. “Now, what if I told you that very same action is an important—albeit seldom-discussed—part of almost every Cynmeren woman’s life?”

  “I would say I don’t believe you,” Ryna replied with an irritated scowl.

  “You believed the Cultivators were gods until a few minutes ago,” Eyrie pointed out. “It seems a great amount can change in a short span of time.”

  “Enough. What do you need to show us?” Ryna demanded.

  “This,” Eyrie said, walking over to the base of the Woven Wall.

  Ryna was confused. “Fadian already showed me that,” she said.

  “And Leighelle already showed me,” Halwen added.

  “Good! Then
you know its importance. But did either of them explain the concept of ‘family’ in detail?” Eyrie asked with a faint smile. Halwen shook her head hesitantly, while Ryna watched the Bloodsister’s every move with the care of a Wright watching for sparks from a sliver-thin piece of metal—one mistake could mean disaster. “No one ever does,” Eyrie sighed. “It’s like a game to most people here. They try to see how long they can keep one of life’s greatest truths a secret from all newcomers. I am of a different mindset, however; I believe women should know of their own importance immediately. Before I say any more, though, may I see the Thoughtcaster and Wyand’s stone?” Eyrie extended a hand towards Ryna, who slowly removed the relics and passed them to her.

  With a look of exhilaration, Eyrie slipped the chain of the Thoughtcaster around her neck and gripped the small stone. A flash of blue flooded the area with light for an instant, then the glow began to fade. Eyrie breathed in sharply, her eyelids fluttering, then she began laughing. “This is going to save so much time!” she said delightedly. “Incredible…. So, who wants to be the first to learn the truth?” Without hesitation, Halwen stepped forward. Ryna took hold of her friend’s shoulder, but Halwen brushed her hand aside gently.

  “I’m ready,” Halwen said eagerly.

  Eyrie smiled as she removed the Thoughtcaster’s chain and slipped it over Halwen’s head. “We’ll see about that. Once you’re linked with the device, ask the Monitor about ‘family,’” the Bloodsister replied, then she passed Halwen the stone. As expected, the blue flash followed, but Halwen’s return from the Thoughtcaster was far more violent than Eyrie’s had been. Halwen’s small body shook once, as though every bone was trying to leap through her skin at the same time, then she went limp and toppled backward into Eyrie’s waiting arms.