Eyrie pushed open the door to Council Chamber slowly, then she and Wyand walked towards the Woven Wall and the waiting members of the Elder Council. To Wyand’s surprise, Ryna was already there and shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the Council members. Wyand noticed the eighth chair in the row of Council seats sat vacant as he and Eyrie crept closer. Axebrother Ordlam isn’t here, he realized. It was strange for the Elder Council to begin without one of its members. Wyand knew his curiosities couldn’t be posed aloud, though, so he and Eyrie waited behind Ryna in silence for the Council to address them.
“…said you took something for Stora, is that correct?” Leomar asked, peering at Ryna with a look of intense scrutiny. All of the other Council members shared his stern expression except for the Voice of War and the Voice of Peace: Tilia nodded to Ryna reassuringly while Myrten smiled at her beneath a caring frown.
“Yes, Council Guide,” Ryna answered.
“And what was it that you took?” the elderly Guided continued.
“Two climbing hatchets, from the Axe dwellings,” Ryna replied. Angry murmurs and incredulous stares came from several of the Council members after hearing her answer.
Leomar raised his hands for quiet before exhaling slowly and deliberately through his nose in an effort to remain calm. “Aloric, please describe what you found in the guard towers at Cynmere’s main entrance,” the Council Guide said quietly.
The bald Stonebrother cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Both Sentinels were found dead from a single sharp blow to the back of the head,” his voice boomed. “Their wounds indicated that the weapons used were something similar to climbing hatchets.”
Ryna stared down at the floor, clearly in shock. Equally stunned by the implications of this new development, Wyand looked to Eyrie for some sort of reassurance. Her eyes were closed, though, and she shook her head sadly. “So, Ryna, did you help Stora kill the Sentinels?” Leomar asked.
“No!” Wyand shouted, and the entire chamber shifted focus to him. “She was with me all night at the festival, long before the fires began.” Ryna attempted to smile when she looked at Wyand, but the sadness of guilt quickly reclaimed her.
“I was wondering why Tilia brought you here,” Leomar raised an eyebrow at Wyand. “Eyrie, can you confirm his statement?”
“It’s true, Stormbrother. She was with us at the festival when the Sentinels were killed,” Eyrie said.
Ryna shook her head. “It makes no difference. I didn’t help Stora kill them, but it is because of me that they are dead,” she admitted. “The same is true for everyone else that died in this attack—I take responsibility for the loss of their lives as well.” The Council was silent, but the majority of their stares shouted for Ryna to face justice.
“She had no direct role in this attack,” Tilia declared, standing to face the Council and breaking the oppressive silence. “The Sentinels died either at the hands of Stora, or more likely at the hands of the escaped Smokedwellers. Ryna’s crimes are lying and theft, but not murder.”
“I agree,” the Voice of Peace said in his gentle, high-pitched voice. “Her punishment must be based on the crimes for which she is guilty, not those for which she feels guilty.” The Council murmured quietly, with several members still scowling at Ryna in anger.
“What do you suggest, Myrten?” Leomar asked as he knuckled his chin in thought.
Myrten lifted himself unsteadily from his seat and hobbled over to Ryna; to Wyand, it appeared a gentle breeze would be enough to knock the old man over. “You studied us in secret, and now you’re ashamed of your dishonesty. For that, I am certain many would like to see you banished,” the Voice of Peace said. Emphatic nods from Handsister Okima and Dawnsister Scilda confirmed the Nightbrother’s suspicions. “That would be a foolish waste of life, though, because we know that sending you alone into the Eastern Hills would likely lead to death. I believe a far more effective option is to force you to study our people openly once they know of your betrayal. They will hate you—some will never forgive you—and earning their trust will require great effort on your part. Enduring this for the next turning will be a fitting punishment for the first of your crimes.”
The Council members nodded approvingly, except for Scilda who stared blankly at the ground and Okima who sniffed haughtily and looked anywhere but at Ryna. “And for the crime of theft?” Leomar asked.
“She stole two climbing hatchets, so she will make two more to replace them,” Myrten said simply. “You were a Wright in Locboran, yes?” Ryna nodded and the old man smiled. “She will also make anything else the Order of the Axe needs from her during the next turning.”
Dawnsister Scilda shook beneath her green apron. “It’s not enough!” she shouted. “Because of her, the location of Cynmere could be revealed to the Smokedwellers at any moment.”
“That crime belongs to Stora, and she is already dead,” the Voice of War replied dismissively. Scilda crossed her arms and fumed in silence.
“I agree with Tilia,” Leomar shrugged, “but this raises the next item for discussion: our actions, should the escaped Smokedwellers not be recovered. Before we delve into that topic, though, we must assess Nightbrother Myrten’s…creative…plan for Ryna’s punishment. How does the Council vote?”
“For,” Stonebrother Aloric said quickly.
“For,” Songsister Cleowen replied with an intrigued raise of one eyebrow. The way she studied Ryna reminded Wyand of the way Stonecaller Galbrun studied veins of ore—even when only a tiny sliver of metal was visible, he was somehow able to determine if there was anything else of value just beneath the surface. Galbrun had explained once that he was also always searching for even the tiniest spots of weakness, and Wyand realized Cleowen was doing the same with Ryna.
“Against,” Okima said emphatically. The old Handsister’s scowl seemed angrier than usual, and her upper lip curled back in a sneer as she spoke.
“Dawn is against it,” Scilda spat. If she hadn’t been one of the oldest and most respected members of her Order, Wyand would have laughed at her for pouting like an angry child.
Bloodsister Tilia smiled at Ryna. “For.”
“It was my idea, so I suppose I’m for it as well,” Myrten chuckled. No one else in the chamber shared the old Nightbrother’s levity, but he didn’t care.
Leomar stood and stared down at Ryna. “The Order of Storms supports this plan. That leaves the vote at five against two. Until the Order of the Axe has time to select a new Council member to replace Ordlam, they have no vote. This means Myrten’s plan for Ryna’s punishment is accepted and is effective immediately. Ryna, you will report to the Order of the Axe from this day on until one turning has passed. Leave the presence of this Council, and learn from your crimes.” Ryna bowed her head in acceptance and then rushed out of the Council Chamber before another word could be spoken.
Assuming his role in Ryna’s judgement had been fulfilled, Wyand turned to follow her out. He felt numb—Leomar’s words confirmed that Ordlam was among the dead, too. “You’re not dismissed yet, Wyand,” Leomar said suddenly, and Wyand stopped mid-stride before hastily returning to his spot beside Eyrie. “We must discuss matters that directly affect both of you,” Leomar continued, nodding to Wyand and Eyrie before turning to address the Council as well. “As all of you know, today was originally planned to be the day that one of our largest Watches ever assembled left Cynmere for the Plateau Desert. By taking the Thoughtcaster with them, the task of this group was to convert as many Penitent Faithful as possible to prevent massive conflict. In light of the attack and the two escaped captives, however, we must adjust our plan accordingly. It is a difficult thing to speak about, but I know we are all thinking it—if we do not find those two Smokedwellers soon, I fear an overpowering force from Dism Slyde may be headed this way.”
“We must bolster our defenses, tend to our wounded, and rebuild the lost sections of Cynmere,” Aloric’s deep voice thundered. “If we had posted more patrols nearby, this attack could have
been avoided.”
“You can’t be certain of that,” the Voice of War countered. “Besides, if the Smokedwellers do learn of Cynmere’s true location, what will we do—hide here and wait for them to arrive? That is an attack that must be avoided. I agree with you that we need more patrols, but they need to be pushed deep into the Plateau Desert to keep the Penitent Faithful contained as far away from here as possible.”
Okima sniffed in irritation. “I don’t know why we’re still discussing this. Those captives will never make it all the way back to Dism Slyde, so this topic is irrelevant. What is relevant, though, are the scores of injured brothers and sisters waiting back at the Order of Hands. I’m certain I can be of more use there than here.” She stood hastily and stepped away from the Council.
“No,” Leomar commanded quietly, and the Handsister froze. “Not until this is decided, Okima. We’re already short one voting member, please don’t make it two.” The Handsister narrowed her eyes and pinched her lips together tightly, but she said nothing as she briskly walked back to her seat. “Thank you, Sister,” Leomar nodded gratefully, but Okima barely lifted her chin in reply. “Now, is the Council prepared to vote, or does anyone have something left to say on the subject of the escaped captives?”
In the moment of silence that followed, Wyand felt an unexpected but familiar heat from within his interior waist pocket. He reached through the layers of Sreathan plate that covered his torso and removed the stone from the Cavern of the Winds. The Stormheart, he thought, watching its blue glow pulse beneath a surface that appeared as dull as any other stone. Everyone else in the chamber was captivated by its glow as well, and as their eyes all fixated on the same object, Wyand saw with sudden clarity what needed to happen next.
“I have something to say, Council Guide,” Wyand began. Leomar frowned at first, but his gaze crept back to the stone again and he motioned for Wyand to proceed. “I don’t know if it has been addressed yet or not, but Stormbrother Fadian died by Stora’s hand before she could be stopped.”
“I shared that news with the Council as soon as they arrived,” Tilia answered. “What of it?”
“He spoke with me the day before the festival, and he asked to use the Thoughtcaster. While he was linked with the device, Fadian had another Vision regarding this stone—his words have been constantly repeating in my mind ever since, and now I know why.”
“He described another of his Visions to you?” Leomar growled.
“Not in detail, just in message,” Wyand replied hurriedly, and Leomar seemed to settle somewhat. “He told me that a storm was approaching, and that its fury would be unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Every use of this stone brings the chaos of the unknown closer to us, and he believed we would soon be forced to face it.
“This corresponds with his previous Vision that was shared during my assessment, in which this same stone was taken into the desert. He said that action would ultimately lead Cynmere into a period of both great pain and incredible growth. More than that, though, he mentioned a storm brewing on the horizon in that Vision. I believe it is the same storm from his final Vision. I see now that this stone”—Wyand extended it towards the Council and lifted it higher—“is central to everything that is happening, both in Cynmere and in the world beyond. It’s no longer just a strange stone from the Cavern of the Winds; I’ve decided to call it the ‘Stormheart’ in honor of Fadian’s final words to me. He said that the pulse of this stone will be our end and our beginning, and that it is the heart of the storm that swirls around us all even now.”
The Council Chamber was still as everyone regarded the pulsing Stormheart in Wyand’s hand. Myrten’s chair creaked, then the old Nightbrother walked slowly towards Wyand. “Your interpretation of Fadian’s Visions shows a wisdom well beyond your age. What is it you think we should do next, Wyand?”
“We adhere to the things Fadian said,” Wyand answered without hesitation. “I believe this attack was the first bolt of lightning to strike from the approaching storm, and that chaos will follow wherever I take the Stormheart next. For the sake of Cynmere and its people, I will go into the desert and take the stone with me.” Myrten nodded in support of Wyand’s reasoning and turned to face the Council.
“Suppose we recapture the Smokedwellers, or find them dead. If the threat of Cynmere being discovered is gone, what then?” Stonebrother Aloric asked.
“It changes nothing,” Wyand replied. “I still need to get the Stormheart away from here soon. The attacks, the destruction will continue to happen in one way or another, and it will only get worse.”
“It’s settled then. We go into the desert in force immediately, as planned,” Tilia said with a decisive nod.
Leomar stood. “It is not settled, but I have developed a compromise that I would like to put to a vote. If the captives are recovered before midday today, the force planned to go into the desert will delay their journey by two days. During that time, they will patrol the Eastern Hills and assist in cleanup efforts here in Cynmere. If the captives are not found by midday, our forces leave for the desert immediately thereafter, as does Wyand. How do the Orders vote?”
“For,” Tilia and Myrten answered in unison.
“For,” Stonebrother Aloric said an instant later.
“For,” Songsister Cleowen replied with a smile.
“For, although the Dawnsisters will hate to see him leave,” Scilda said before winking at Wyand. Wyand’s eyes grew wide with surprise before he forced himself to look elsewhere.
There was a long silence as everyone waited for Handsister Okima to speak. She tilted her head in thought, then at last stared angrily up at Leomar. “Against,” she said. “There is no real threat of Cynmere being discovered, and we need to keep our people here to recover and rebuild.”
“While the threat of discovery is debatable, the threat posed by this ‘Stormheart’ isn’t,” the Council Guide replied. “I feared it would bring destructive changes with it, and this attack proves that to be true. I will shed no tears as I watch that stone taken far from Cynmere for a very long time. I am for this plan, which leaves the vote at six against one. The idea passes. No matter where you stand on this issue, pray that we find the missing captives soon.”
The Council members began to disperse, but then Eyrie stepped forward. “I have one final request,” she said, and everyone paused, some appearing more irritated than others. “This only applies to Stormbrother Leomar and the Voice of War,” Eyrie added quickly, and the other Council members gladly went on their way.
“Should I stay?” Wyand asked quietly. Eyrie nodded with an expression that said he should have somehow already known that answer. Wyand stood beside her in confused silence.
“What is it, Sister?” Tilia asked as the chamber doors closed behind Nightbrother Myrten.
“I would like to modify Ryna’s punishment slightly,” Eyrie answered.
Leomar frowned sternly. “How so?”
“I think she should accompany us into the desert. Her skillset would be wasted here—she knows how to mend both injuries and metal, which is a rare combination. The first time we encounter the Smokedwellers, I fear we will need help with both. Plus, I would like to personally supervise her during this period where she must prove herself.” Wyand peered at Eyrie incredulously from the corners of his eyes without turning his head, but she ignored him.
“Why should it be you? Why do you want to do this?” Tilia demanded.
“I was the one to rescue her initially. Even though she hid things from me during her time here, she ultimately chose to confess to me after the Thoughtcaster helped guide her to the truth. Ryna trusts me, and I believe I can trust her as well now that Stora’s poisonous influence is gone.”
Leomar and Tilia glanced at one another, then the Council Guide shrugged. “I see no issue with this. She will still serve a full turning in a role of service and cannot join an Order until that time has passed. Understand something, though—when you go beyond Cynmere, she is your respon
sibility. You are to watch her carefully, but you are also to ensure her safety.”
“I will do all of those things, Council Guide,” Eyrie promised.
“Then your first task as Ryna’s evaluator is to find her and explain the change in her punishment,” Leomar said.
“It will be done, Stormbrother. Thank you,” Eyrie nodded and started towards the chamber door with Wyand following.
“Eyrie,” Tilia called, causing Wyand to almost run into Eyrie’s back as she turned around. “Now that we know Ryna’s true name, make certain her sima reflects it. I don’t want to confuse the members of the Watch or have anyone call her ‘Unwoven’ by mistake.”
Eyrie bit back an excited smile. “Understood, Bloodsister,” she said, then she hurried out the door.
“What does that mean exactly?” Wyand asked as they walked back to the clearing.
Eyrie stared at him with the same expression of tired disbelief she’d used earlier, as though the answer should be readily apparent. A moment later, though, her excitement returned. “It means Ryna is rewoven!” she laughed, and Wyand was left speechless.
---
As the small boat neared Cynmere’s northern shoreline, Wyand was happy to see that most of the fires had been contained in the last few hours. It was still overcast, and a layer of smoke hung in the air over the majority of the Orders, but brief glimpses of daylight pierced through the clouds to the west. Change is upon us, Wyand’s thoughts repeated, but this time he responded with I’m ready. The boat slid against the sand at the lake’s edge, and Wyand stepped out behind Eyrie to go find Ryna, presumably at the Order of the Axe.
Kingdomturn Page 71
