Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “That was very different…”

  “The feeling of regret was the same. I felt like I had taken away your only true friend, and that was a burden that weighed on me constantly.”

  Ryna shook her head to counter again, but then a new revelation struck her. “We both lied,” she said bluntly, “but now we’ve been given another chance to do things the right way. No lies, no mistrust.”

  “Agreed,” Wyand said with a relieved sigh. “So…where do we go from here?”

  “The Wargarden first. Then the Plateau Desert. Beyond that, nothing is certain.” Ryna shrugged while keeping her injured left arm stationary; it may have been a harsh answer, but at least it was an honest one. “Come on. We don’t want to be the last ones in there.” She and Wyand joined the rest of the workers and slowly found their way into the old building.

  Inside the Wargarden, the murmuring crowd lined every wall until only a small strip in the center of the dirt floor remained open. Ryna and Wyand barely made it through the door before the Voice of War sought them out. “It’s time to begin. Wyand, come with me,” Tilia commanded, then she took his arm and hurried to the middle of the room. Ryna watched in silence; she felt out of place and desperately lonely despite being surrounded by hundreds of people. To her relief, Eyrie appeared from within the crowd and walked over to her.

  “Did he apologize?” the Bloodsister asked with a faint grin.

  “He did,” Ryna answered. “I did, too.”

  Eyrie raised her eyebrows, then nodded understandingly. “A fresh start. Good. That happened sooner than I had expected.” Ryna was puzzled by the Bloodsister’s words, but her questions were cut short by a rapid burst of drumming from the center of the room. All conversations ended as the furious rhythm filled the Wargarden, then Tilia raised her hands and there was silence.

  “Sisters, brothers, the time has come,” the Voice of War began. “The escaped captives were not found, so now we must assume that our greatest fear has been realized: Cynmere’s location is no longer secret. In recent days, we have all suffered loss—the destruction of our homes, the death of friends and family, the end of our children’s innocence—but whatever the reasons for our grief, we must fight now to keep safe all that we have left.

  “But this is not the end; instead, this marks the beginning of our journey to at last free this world from the Cultivators’ influence forever. We have been blessed with the greatest source of power imaginable: pure, undeniable truth.” Tilia nodded to Wyand, who lifted the Stormheart and the Thoughtcaster for the crowd to see. “Together, we will take the truth into the desert and wipe away the lies that have festered there for far too long. Together, we will defeat the Cultivators. Together, we will save our home. For the honor of the fallen! For Cynmere!”

  The Wargarden thundered with the cheers of a thousand Cynmeren, and Ryna was proud to add her own voice to the incredible display. A sense of excitement and levity took the place of the apprehension that had gripped everyone before—whatever happened in the desert, it was to be accepted, not feared. As the shouts subsided, each Hunting Watch broke away from the main group of people to discuss final preparations. Ryna stayed by Eyrie’s side, as instructed, and carried out any tasks that came up as Eyrie worked to ready the members of her Watch. They eventually left the Wargarden for a clearing deeper in the forest that served as the scrid staging area and Ryna prepared to load provisions into the creatures’ transport cages using only her right arm.

  As Ryna neared the first cage, Eyrie called over to her. “Pause what you’re doing, Ryna,” Eyrie said. “Forgive me—in all the commotion, I forgot your most important task before we leave.” She pointed back in the direction of the Wargarden, and Ryna winced at what she saw. Halwen ran towards her, eyes filled with imminent tears. As Halwen came closer, her expression changed to one of surprise and uncertain joy.

  “Your…your sima….” Halwen stammered when she was within a stride. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know how or why, Halwen, but I’m rewoven,” Ryna explained. Halwen’s emotions shifted once again to pure exuberance and she carefully embraced Ryna without accidentally disturbing her bound arm.

  “That’s incredible!” Halwen exclaimed. “I knew if anyone could find a way back from being Unwoven, it would be you, Ryna.”

  Ryna smiled in thanks, then forced herself to push Halwen back. “There’s something else you need to know, Halwen—”

  “You’re leaving,” Halwen said quietly, her smile fading more with each nod of Ryna’s head. “I heard from one of the Handsisters, but I didn’t want to believe her until I had seen it for myself.”

  “Forgive me, Halwen.”

  “It’s all right. I’m going with you,” Halwen declared.

  “You’re doing what?” Eyrie called from one of the nearby scrid. She marched over to Ryna and Halwen with an incredulous expression.

  “I’m going with Ryna,” Halwen repeated, but Eyrie’s icy stare caused her to falter. “…that is, if you’ll let me, Bloodsister. Please?”

  Eyrie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Why should you accompany us into the desert? There are so many who need healing here—shouldn’t you stay with the Order of Hands?”

  “There are many injured, that is true,” Halwen conceded. “I can’t stay at the Order of Hands, though, if I hope to be of any assistance. Leighelle, my primary instructor, can’t even look at me without crying now. She sees me, and because of my connection to Stora, Leighelle is forced to remember what happened to Holt. In a way, she blames me for his death simply because I brought Stora here.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” Eyrie replied.

  “She’s not the only one who feels that way, either,” Halwen continued. “Dozens of Handsisters and people from other Orders who lost someone in the attack look at me differently now. I can’t stay here.”

  “What would you do if you joined our forces? How would you contribute?” Eyrie demanded.

  “Well, I can tend the injured and I was a Wright just like Ryna. Beyond that…” she trailed off, then regained her determination and stamped her foot once in uncharacteristic frustration. “Beyond that, it doesn’t matter—I’ll help however I can. Whatever the task, my place is with Ryna. There will be nothing left for me here except painful memories and untrusting stares once she’s gone.” Tears wavered just above her eyelids as she spoke.

  Eyrie sighed and shook her head a moment later. “Fine.” Halwen’s smile returned instantly, but Eyrie held up a hand to silence her excitement before it could begin. “Since you do not yet belong to an Order, you will perform the same tasks as Ryna. The days will be long, the work will be painful.”

  “I understand,” Halwen replied solemnly. “Thank you, Bloodsister.”

  Eyrie nodded, then pointed to the scrid cages. “Help Ryna get the supplies loaded,” she commanded, then she went back to see to the members of her Hunting Watch.

  After a few minutes of work, Ryna glanced at Halwen. “What are you doing here, Halwen?” she asked with a curious smile.

  Halwen tightened another strap and then met Ryna’s gaze. “We’ve come this far. Did you really think I was going to just let you leave without me?” Ryna laughed quietly but said nothing as they secured the rest of the supplies. She caught herself staring at Halwen with a mixture of gratitude and worry—it would be a comfort to have her friend nearby, but the idea of taking Halwen into the desert to face its dangers was troubling.

  “Ryna! You’re riding with me,” Eyrie called from the top of her scrid as she pointed to an empty cage. Ryna nodded and hugged Halwen once more before crawling into the woven tangle of branches. “Halwen, you’re with Wyand.” Ryna’s eyes searched through the slats of her cage as it rotated into place and found Wyand approaching on a scrid of his own. He was already grinning mischievously, and Ryna knew what was coming next.

  “Make sure you hold onto the slats!” Wyand shouted to Halwen with mock concern, and Ryna almost burst with laughter. Seeing Hal
wen—who had so proudly told the story of Wyand’s awkward introduction to the scrid’s transport cage—now forced to trust him while her cage was lifted into place was more irony than Ryna could bear. Ryna laughed, but thankfully she wasn’t the only one to do so. Apparently, the tale of Wyand’s painful cage ride had spread throughout most of the Order of Blood. That laughter escalated into a roar when Wyand had his scrid pause in its loading of the cage at just the right moment to leave Halwen suspended with her head pointed straight down.

  “Wyand!” Halwen shouted after a few seconds. “It was wrong of me to mock you.”

  “What?” Wyand called as he made the scrid bounce the cage slightly. The crowd howled.

  “Forgive me!” Halwen shrieked as her grip started to fail.

  Wyand at last settled the transport cage into place. “All right, Halwen. I forgive you.” He smiled triumphantly to himself as the crowd cheered. Ryna shook her head with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

  “If you’re finished humiliating her, we need to get moving,” Eyrie said, and the members of her Hunting Watch immediately abandoned their laughter and cheers for looks of quiet focus. Ryna felt the scrid surge into motion as Eyrie continued issuing commands. “Beyond the entrance, all communication above a whisper must be through An’ymb Glor—if not, the Smokedwellers could learn our plans and use them against us. Sentinels, when we enter the Eastern Hills, advance forward two hundred strides and report back. We need to keep pace with the Watches on either side of us, but we don’t want to overextend and expose ourselves to attack. Those of you on scrid, remember that we are escorting a large unmounted force—check your speed if you start to pull away from them. We will press as far towards the Plateau Desert as we can by nightfall. For Cynmere!”

  The Watch shouted in reply, but Ryna was too preoccupied with the rows of workers who lined the path to the entrance. She saw faces she recognized and many more that she did not, but they all shared expressions of hope, pride, and gratitude as the Hunting Watches passed by. Then the guard towers loomed overhead, and the crowds were abruptly gone. Kingdom preserve us all, Ryna prayed. Please let this work.

  33

  Edan stared towards the eastern sky in wonder as he recalled the incredible sight it had offered at sunrise that morning. From the time he woke up, Edan had known something strange was happening: the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air long before even the first rays of sunlight crested over Aldhagen’s walls, and when the sun did appear in the west, its light was somehow absorbed by a towering mass of clouds to the east. These were unlike any clouds he had seen before—dark and billowing, they seemed to grow from one spot and maintain that location even as they dissipated and reformed. For a brief instant as soon as the sun touched them, their darkness vanished, and the bank of clouds burned as brilliantly as any fire with stunning hues of yellow, purple, orange, and glowing red. Then the sun rose higher, and the darkness returned once more.

  Many workers had paused in their morning routine to examine the incredible sunrise or comment on the thick smell of wood smoke, but no one had seemed overly concerned about the strange occurrence. Edan viewed things differently, though, and had immediately started asking himself questions. Could those massive clouds really be smoke from something burning? If so, what? Where was this enormous fire? Had a person beyond the walls started it, or did it happen naturally? His mind had raced as he thought through all the possibilities, but he knew he couldn’t pose any of his questions without attracting attention from the Venerates.

  First Calling only made Edan’s paranoia worse, since anyone still eating the Venerates’ tainted food was instructed to forget they had ever seen the column of smoke or smelled it in the air that morning. The fact that the Venerates were so eager to remove all memory of the unusual sunrise convinced Edan that it was a notable experience worth keeping as part of the Silent History of Aldhagen. In the days since his last bite of tainted food, Edan had focused on anything like this that the Venerates tried to suppress—he was certain that whatever secrets they guarded could somehow be used to one day free the people of Aldhagen.

  One curiosity Edan had noticed several times occurred again at the Casting he’d experienced the night before. At the beginning, it had seemed like a typical ceremony, complete with fanfare and false accusations, but then the Venerates marched the prisoner into the room. The man’s eyes glowed briefly with unnatural swirls of green and blue, and as he walked towards Wracandyr he exuded an air of confidence. This was the fifth man with glowing eyes to be cast out in the span of a week, and Edan wondered what that glow signified. Clearly it was important, because at the conclusion of the Casting ceremony the Venerates had instructed everyone that the man’s eyes were ‘unremarkable and completely normal’.

  “Edan?” Stonecaller Galbrun asked, jarring Edan out of his thoughts. “What are you doing up here during the heat of the day?”

  One of the first things an Observer learned to do was to always have a believable story—a logical means of escape should questions arise from other workers or the Venerates themselves. Edan had developed this skill quickly, and although it still felt wrong to lie, he was now able to do so almost effortlessly when the situation called for it. “Peace and honor, Stonecaller. The men are working hard today and need additional water carts; they’ve drained three in the last hour alone. So, instead of distracting any of them from their tasks, I came up to secure the carts myself.” In reality, his stomach was what had brought him to the surface, but Edan couldn’t mention that. Without being able to consume the meal offered at Second Calling, he was eager to find one of the hidden stashes of untainted food nearby. He scolded himself for not taking extra when he visited a stash during Reflection the night before.

  “That’s…kind of you,” Galbrun said with a confused frown, “but what about your tasks? Doesn’t this interfere with those?”

  “Not terribly,” Edan replied. “The plan for the day is understood by all, the picks and carts are in motion. My task at this point is ensuring everyone else in the mine is taken care of, so that’s why I came to get more water.”

  Galbrun nodded, but he still seemed concerned by Edan’s behavior. Edan watched the Stonecaller carefully—the old man was wise and incredibly perceptive, and that was a terrifying combination for someone to encounter who had any secrets that needed to remain hidden. “Do you feel ill?” Galbrun asked suddenly. “Perhaps you should have the Venerates assess you.”

  Edan struggled to suppress his panic. “I feel fine, Stonecaller.” It wasn’t enough, though; Galbrun’s silent stare commanded more of an explanation than that. Genuine concern for Edan’s well-being was easy to see in the Stonecaller’s eyes, which made it even more painful for Edan to lie to him again. “I could use more help in the mine, Stonecaller,” Edan sighed. He decided to use the discomfort of telling the lie to convey feigned exhaustion, and it seemed to work. “Since Wyand left, it feels like there are a thousand more questions and decisions every day, and I have to address all of them alone. That’s the real reason I came up here instead of sending one of the Tailings. I needed a break. Forgive me, Stonecaller.”

  Galbrun took his shoulder. “It is no sin to admit that you need to escape for a moment. Why do you think every Stonecaller has a Recess?” he asked with an understanding grin. “Next time you are feeling overwhelmed, come talk to me. Don’t go off alone—that doesn’t solve anything. I can help answer the thousands of questions and will guide you through as many daily decisions as you need. Just like you’re there to take care of the other miners, I’m there to take care of you, boy. Don’t forget that.”

  Edan felt his stomach twist with guilt. “I appreciate it, Stonecaller,” he said earnestly.

  The old man smiled at him with concern for a moment more, then he frowned suddenly as he studied the surrounding area. “Where are the water carts you needed?” Galbrun asked.

  “I haven’t gotten them yet,” Edan admitted.

  “Well you certainly won’t find them he
re by the smelters, will you?” Galbrun said with a gravelly laugh. “Get moving!”

  “Of course, Stonecaller. And thank you,” Edan said as he hurried away from the mine. Galbrun nodded in reply just before Edan slipped out of sight. Tears began to fall as soon as Edan was certain no one was able to see him; he was grateful to finally be able to witness the truth, but there were times where he longed for the simplicity that came from blind faith in the Venerates. Life was complicated now, each day was confusing for some new reason, and just trying to keep up with all the changes consumed a large portion of Edan’s conscious mind. Beyond the frustrating complexity, though, he had an even greater hatred for the feeling of lying to the people he cared about.

  Edan scrubbed away his tears angrily and glanced east. The dark pillar of smoke still lingered in the sky where he had seen it many hours before, although it seemed smaller now than it had been. I don’t want to forget, Edan reminded himself, and he realized he was talking about more than just the beautiful sunrise. Memories of Wyand and Keltin threatened to bring forth more tears, but Edan replaced his sadness with determination. I won’t forget, he vowed to his friends, and then the trek to the water carts resumed.

  34

  Wyand sighed as he heard clicks from the forest ahead; once again, the scrid were being brought to a halt. He pulled back on the tusk ropes, clicked once, and the animal slowed to a stop. Progress since leaving Cynmere the day prior had been tedious—every few hundred strides, the Bloodbrothers and Bloodsisters riding scrid were instructed to wait for the main force of Cynmeren who were trailing behind them on foot. Normally, a Watch wouldn’t travel with more people than could fit either on the backs of the scrid or in the belly cages, so moving at a quick and constant pace was never an issue. This wasn’t a typical Hunting Watch, though, so new patterns had to be developed in order to keep the Cynmeren unified. While he knew it was necessary, Wyand wasn’t the only one to find this process irritating.