Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  The Voice of War nodded tiredly. “And the High Conduit’s,” she added. “There is irony in my own existence that I cannot ignore—I am the leader of Cynmere’s fighting forces, yet I also gave birth to the most fearsome warrior among the Penitent Faithful. Old Ones watch over me, but I wonder at times if I’m to blame for single-handedly prolonging this conflict.”

  Ryna felt a knot of queasiness forming in her stomach. After experiencing the process of childbirth and all that led to it, she couldn’t imagine being tricked into something that staggeringly personal and sacred. She knew that what the High Conduit had done—and continued to do—was evil in its purest form. Even through the layers of pain she felt from the loss of Halwen, a deep, burning hatred suddenly flared within her. The people of Dism Slyde would be freed and the High Conduit would be punished; she vowed that silently to them and to herself.

  Aemetta shook her head faintly. “Does he know who you are? Ansund, I mean?”

  “I’ve tried telling him several times throughout the turnings, but no,” Tilia sighed. She leaned close to Aemetta and turned until the torchlight shone on the right side of her face. “This was the result of our last encounter,” Tilia said, pointing to the long scar that traced from the corner of her eye to the bottom of her jaw. “I can’t kill him, but I’ve also never been able to capture him and bring him to the truth.”

  Aemetta was silent, and Ryna could understand why. Ryna had assumed the two children represented by the knots of Tilia’s sima had died at birth, but the truth of their existence was far worse. One remained a captive in Aldhagen, while the other was known for killing more Cynmeren than anyone else ever had. With her newfound understanding of what ‘family’ meant, Ryna couldn’t imagine the kind of pain Tilia had to endure every day. “Why are you telling me all of this?” Aemetta asked suddenly, and Tilia smiled with a mixture of warmth and sadness.

  “Because I need you to understand the evil of our common enemy,” Tilia replied, “and because I intend to get as much information from you as possible. I would prefer you learn to trust me quickly and offer it freely than force me to extract it from you.” There was a threatening glint to her eyes when she next regarded Aemetta.

  “You said you believed me,” Aemetta pointed out quietly.

  “Oh, I believe you, but you are still a member of the Shroud Legion. As such, my trust will be hard to earn.” The Voice of War nodded to the Bloodsisters holding Aemetta in place. “My tent. Now. And someone send for one of the Guided. Wyand, I’ll need you as well.” It all happened too fast for Ryna to protest; before she knew what was happening, only Eyrie was left standing by her side. Ryna watched helplessly as her last remaining friend from Locboran was led through the rows of sleeping Cynmeren towards what was certain to be a painful interrogation.

  ---

  Aemetta panted after one of the Bloodsisters delivered yet another strike to her face. Wyand winced, unable to mask his discomfort as he watched her questioning continue. The young Stormsister asking the questions—Laersi—took hold of Aemetta’s head once again. “Short answers,” the Guided reminded her. Aemetta said nothing, her expression blank despite enduring what Wyand knew had to be incredible pain. “Now, how long have you been watching our group?” Laersi continued, her eyes swirling with color as she focused on Aemetta. Even wearing the full set of Sreathan plate, it was impossible to mistake Laersi for anything but a Stormsister.

  “One day,” Aemetta answered slowly, adding extra emphasis to each word.

  Laersi smiled in response to the sudden compliance, but the expression never reached her penetrating gaze. “And why did you choose to reveal yourself when you did?” the Guided asked.

  Aemetta flinched but recovered an instant later. “To see Halwen before she died.”

  Laersi pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. “I can understand that.” A moment later her head tilted to the side suddenly, as though she had just noticed something within Aemetta’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. “She wasn’t the reason you were following us,” Laersi realized. Aemetta looked away in an effort to escape the situation, but the Voice of War was quick to step forward as soon as she spotted the instant of weakness.

  “You claim to stand against the Penitent Faithful, and yet you followed us in secret. Why?” Tilia demanded. Aemetta did not respond with sufficient speed, and one of the Bloodsister’s was ready with another fist. “What were you doing? Trying to gain information? Staging an ambush?” Though her eyes didn’t glow, the Voice of War stared at Aemetta with enough intensity to match any one of the Guided. Wyand held his breath as he waited for an answer.

  “No,” Aemetta said quietly after regaining her breath.

  “Then why?” Tilia asked.

  “I…" Aemetta began, but she stopped herself as she struggled to find the words she sought.

  “Speak!” the Voice of War commanded.

  Aemetta looked up so sharply that even the Guided gasped. “I don’t know where I belong anymore!” she shouted. “I won’t go back to Dism Slyde, and I can’t get back to Locboran. Up until two days ago, I thought Cailla’s instructions to find her sister were nothing but an illusion; now I find myself taking incredible risks to comply with her wishes even though I am uncertain of almost every step. So yes, I was studying you, trying to learn who the Cynmeren are and if they are any better than the Penitent Faithful. Thus far, I’ve yet to be convinced.”

  Tilia was angered by the insult for an instant, then her expression faded into one of pity and understanding. “Allow me to convince you.” She motioned for Wyand to step forward, and he knew to have the Thoughtcaster and the Stormheart at the ready. The Bloodsisters keeping Aemetta in place lifted her arm up and extended it towards Wyand. She kept her fist clinched tightly at first, but then slowly uncurled her fingers as Wyand approached. Aemetta tilted her head as her normal look of calm gave way to curiosity and confusion.

  “What is it?” Wyand asked, slowing mid-stride.

  “You look like someone else I know,” Aemetta replied quietly, then she shook away whatever thoughts had taken hold of her and her stoic expression returned.

  Uncertain what to think, Wyand placed the Stormheart into her hand. “It may hurt,” he cautioned her, then he lowered the Thoughtcaster’s chain over her dark hair. The flash of blue light flooded the tent, then receded as the Stormheart faded. To Wyand’s relief, Aemetta didn’t experience any sort of violent reaction after her first use of the Thoughtcaster; instead, she stared blankly forward, unblinking and motionless. A tear crept down slowly from her left eye, then was soon joined by another from her right. All at once, Aemetta’s composure dissolved and she slumped against the Bloodsisters’ arms, weeping bitter, terrified tears.

  Alarmed by the drastic change, Wyand hurriedly reclaimed the relics before being pushed aside a moment later by Tilia. The Voice of War waved away the two Bloodsisters as well and eased Aemetta to a sitting position on the ground. Aemetta curled into herself, shuddering and writhing on her side as she wept miserably. The Voice of War knelt beside her but did not reach out to comfort her. “You are safe,” Tilia repeated softly many times, until at last Aemetta was able to speak through the sobs.

  “I had to know,” she stammered. “I had to know.”

  “You asked what you needed to ask; there’s no reason to feel guilty for that,” Tilia said soothingly. “The truth is sometimes very painful.” Aemetta nodded in agreement as her face contorted once again with renewed sadness. Tilia turned to Laersi. “Give her time, then inspect her again. She is our first true test of the Council’s plan to defeat the Smokedwellers.” Laersi waited with everyone else in the tent for Aemetta’s tears to subside; her quiet sobs were the only sound other than the gentle fluttering of the canvas walls.

  After what felt like hours to Wyand, Aemetta sat upright and blinked away the last of her tears. She looked expectantly at Laersi until the Stormsister knelt down and placed her hands on Aemetta’s head once again. Almost immediately, Laersi relea
sed her and backed away. “She is clean,” the Guided declared; Wyand’s was not the only relieved sigh heard in the tent.

  Aemetta brushed the dirt and spineleaf needles off of her dark clothing as she composed herself and stood to face the Voice of War. “I want to help you free the Penitent Faithful,” Aemetta said, her look of determination labeling the statement as anything but a request.

  “In time you may, but other matters require our attention first,” Tilia replied. “I need to understand how the High Conduit will attack Cynmere since he will likely know its location in the next few days.”

  Aemetta frowned in amazement. “None of us truly expected to find Cynmere,” she whispered, then her eyes grew wide with alarm. “He’ll send everything he has and won’t stop until only ashes remain.”

  Tilia rolled her eyes. “That much was assumed. I need to know how he will attack. Plans. Details. Anything you know.”

  Tense silence filled the tent as everyone waited for Aemetta to respond; she shook her head a moment later. “Nothing was ever discussed, not with me at least.” Tilia gave a disappointed nod and prepared to walk away, but Aemetta took hold of her hand. “I may not know the overall strategy the Penitent Faithful will use, but I do know their tactics well enough to be of some use when the fighting starts.”

  “Good to know,” the Voice of War said. “You will not be permitted a weapon anytime soon, though, so don’t expect to take part in the fighting itself. You are an advisor.”

  Aemetta’s determination quickly faded into a look of disappointment. “As you wish,” she responded with a small bow of her head.

  Tilia gave a satisfied nod, then she pointed to one of the Bloodsisters. “Since this woman—Aemetta, was it?” Aemetta nodded, “—no longer requires physical restraint, go retrieve some food for her. I’m certain her time wandering the Eastern Hills has left her quite hungry.” The Bloodsister released Aemetta’s arm with a final threatening glance, then exited into the night. “I will speak with my new advisor while she eats,” Tilia continued. “Everyone else go and get a few hours’ rest; we’ll break camp when the night is half-passed.”

  ---

  It seemed to Wyand that he had just closed his eyes when he felt a hand shaking the Sreathan plate that covered his shoulder. He peered into the shadows and found Eyrie kneeling behind his head. “Tilia calls for you,” she said softly. “It’s almost time to leave.” Wyand stretched and shook away his drowsiness, then followed Eyrie through the dark camp to the Voice of War’s tent. He looked up just before entering and was glad to see that the lingering bank of clouds had at last blown away, leaving a clear sky shimmering with stars.

  Tilia and Aemetta sat next to one another on the floor of the tent with several pouches of food scattered around them. Wyand was amazed—it appeared that the two women had chosen to forego sleep and instead had been talking and eating since he left. Stormsister Laersi stood alone in one of the corners, idly running her fingers over her light brown sima as her eyes glowed faintly. Tilia and Aemetta rose from the ground somewhat reluctantly as Wyand and Eyrie entered. “I suppose you haven’t changed your mind about leaving us for a week?” the Voice of War asked, already certain of the answer. Wyand shook his head. “As I thought. Well, let’s get to it then.” As she spoke, the tent flap opened and a man wearing full plate and a Watch helmet slipped inside. His head turned from one pair of questioning eyes to the next, then he sighed and lifted off the glowing helmet.

  “Better?” Gasric asked, clearly irritated as he tucked away the Watch helmet.

  “Not a great improvement, but good enough for now,” Tilia replied dryly. If the statement had come from anyone else, Wyand might have mistaken it for humor. The Voice of War locked eyes with the elderly Bloodbrother until Gasric at last snorted and shook his head. Tilia seemed satisfied by his response. “Now that we’re all here, I’ll need you to step outside, Aemetta,” Tilia said. Aemetta nodded in understanding, but before she could leave, Laersi stepped forward from the shadows.

  “Actually, Bloodsister, she is meant to stay for this discussion,” the Guided advised.

  Tilia shook her head slowly. “Reassess your Visions, Laersi. I like the girl well enough, but she cannot be a part of this.”

  “She must, or everything we are fighting for will be lost,” Laersi said, the swirls of blue and green flaring brightly in her eyes.

  Tilia tightened her lips as she regarded Laersi. “Fine,” the Voice of War said at last, and Aemetta slowly moved away from the entry flap. As she rejoined the group, Wyand noticed a look of pure disgust on Gasric’s face. He muttered something about Smokedwellers and where they belonged, but it was too quiet for Wyand to distinguish any of the other words. He decided that was probably for the best based on Gasric’s expression.

  “With that settled, you all know why we are here,” Tilia began. “Wyand has…offered…to travel to the other Distant Watch camps with the Thoughtcaster in an effort to gain their support.” The Voice of War nearly choked on the word ‘offered’; Wyand was certain she was thinking phrases such as ‘Wyand has foolishly chosen’ or ‘against my direction, Wyand has insisted’. “Gasric will accompany him, as he knows the locations of other Distant Watch camps,” Tilia went on. “Now we must determine who else will join them.”

  Before even a second had passed, Eyrie stepped forward. “I will accompany Wyand on this task,” she said eagerly.

  “Absolutely not,” the Voice of War replied. “I will need you with me in the coming days, I am certain of that. Besides, you have already been charged with looking after Ryna as she serves her penance.”

  “I could take her with me as well,” Eyrie suggested.

  “I said no, girl,” Tilia repeated sternly. “I asked you to this meeting to provide recommendations, not to volunteer yourself for this…effort.” The Voice of War struggled once again to hold back the words she was truly thinking, but Wyand was certain none of them were kind.

  Eyrie glanced at Wyand apologetically, then her eyes grew distant with thought. “I suppose Stonebrother Carnan would be a wise choice,” she said with a dejected sigh.

  “An excellent suggestion,” Tilia replied, but Wyand felt the complete opposite. He remembered Carnan all too well from the journey through the Deadlands; Wyand’s ribs still ached occasionally from where the massive man’s shoulder had sent him tumbling across the sand.

  “I’ll go as well. Having one of the Guided as part of this group will carry some weight with the Distant Watch,” Laersi said suddenly.

  Tilia frowned at her. “If that is where you are called, then so be it. Your reasoning makes sense.” Laersi bowed her head slightly but said nothing more. The Voice of War waited for other suggestions but none were immediately offered. Wyand could easily tell that Eyrie still wanted to go based on her brooding silence, but that idea had already been rejected once. “One Stonebrother, a Watch Leader, and a Guided aren’t enough,” Tilia said, shaking her head. “This group will need more protection; let’s consider other members from the Order of Blood.” Eyrie opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t,” Tilia cautioned her without even looking up, and Eyrie’s jaw closed with an irritated snap.

  “You need to keep this group as small as possible,” Aemetta said quietly. Tilia stared at her incredulously, as did everyone else in the dim confines of the tent. “Fewer numbers means you will be faster and more difficult to detect when you move, plus you’ll leave less of a trail for the Penitent Faithful to find.”

  “Are you suggesting we send the four of them out into the Eastern Hills with no other guard?” Tilia asked.

  “Not at all,” Aemetta said calmly. “I’m suggesting you send me with them."

  This idea elicited stunned expressions from everyone except Gasric; his face became taught with outrage. “Enough! Why is this smoke-sucking thing still here, Tilia?”

  “Careful, brother,” Tilia replied with a dangerous edge to her voice. “You forget that I was once a ‘smoke-sucking thing’ too.” Gasric
fell silent, but his anger seethed within a clinched jaw and fists. Tilia turned her attention back to Aemetta. “Your suggestion requires a level of trust I do not have for you, so no, you may not go.”

  “I will look after her,” Laersi broke in suddenly, and Tilia’s eyes nearly leapt out of her head. “She’s meant to go with us, Bloodsister; the Visions are clear about that. I was skeptical at first as well, but I see the logic of it now: she knows the tactics of Dism Slyde’s best fighters. Who better to counter them if they attack us along the way?”

  “She was just confirmed as being cleansed!” Gasric muttered angrily through his teeth as the Voice of War continued to shake her head.

  “Aemetta must go with us,” Laersi insisted, staring keenly at Gasric.

  “I will keep your people safe,” Aemetta promised. “I know the subtle signs that indicate the Shroud Legion is near, so letting me go with this group is the best way to avoid any potential conflicts, let alone survive them if they do occur.”

  Tilia’s attention snapped to Wyand. “This is your journey, boy. What do you think of taking Aemetta with you?” Her eyes shook with inner frustration, but her voice remained calm as usual. A wordless growl formed in Gasric’s throat as he waited for Wyand to respond.

  Wyand was startled by the question and had no immediate answer. “I…trust the Visions,” he said slowly, and was astonished to find that he truly believed what he had just said.

  The Voice of War exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes briefly as she turned towards Aemetta. “Stay in the transport cage unless Laersi tells you to get out,” she said reluctantly. “You are an advisor only, so no weapons.” Aemetta nodded, a hint of excitement glittering in her eyes, while Gasric’s mouth hung agape; Tilia went on before either could say anything. “The rest of you, go to the scrid and select the fastest animals available. Eyrie, go waken Carnan and tell him of his task.”