Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “And where is it on your map?” Carnan asked.

  “That’s part of my theory,” Keltin explained. “When you mentioned that there appeared to be a large body of water to the north, vivid memories of a similar location jumped to the forefront of my mind. You know where I’m referring to, don’t you Aemetta?”

  She nodded. “Dism Slyde,” she answered slowly, trying desperately just as everyone else was to piece together where Keltin’s theory was headed.

  “Dism Slyde,” Keltin nodded. “For you who’ve never been there, Dism Slyde sits at the edge of an enormous northern ocean that no one, to my knowledge, has ever explored. Since our groups collided here”—he tapped a spot in the mountains between the desert and Cynmere—“and we were taken north by the Guided”—he made a line that stopped near the top of the drawing—“I believe Crolun Raigh is perched on the edge of the same ocean as Dism Slyde.” He drew the circle marking their current location, then a long line to connect the ocean north of Dism Slyde to the body of water Wyand had just seen through the window.

  “What’s your point?” Carnan demanded.

  “My point is that we now have an option,” Keltin replied. “Our task remains to free Dism Slyde, but the Penitent Faithful are well trained in the methods of repelling an attack from any direction”—he tapped the desert and then the mountains on either side of Dism Slyde—“except one.” The end of the stick moved slowly to the northern ocean and stopped where it intersected with Dism Slyde. From that spot, Keltin then drew a line in the ocean that ended on the coast north of Crolun Raigh.

  Everyone was silent, their mouths slack with awe. Wyand’s eyes jumped from Crolun Raigh to Dism Slyde and back again several times as Keltin’s plan began to form. “We need a boat,” Wyand realized suddenly.

  “We need several, and an assault force of at least fifty fighters if we plan to conquer Dism Slyde,” Carnan declared.

  Keltin shook his head. “Conquering was never my intent—we don’t have the time or the people to support that. I’m envisioning something much less…overt.” He tapped the north shore of Dism Slyde again. “As far as I know, the cofa only grows in one place, and that is in the fog-draped marshes between Dism Slyde and the ocean. At this point, the reality is that the Thoughtcaster is likely lost or destroyed, so we need to plan accordingly. I say if we can’t bring the truth to the Penitent Faithful, then we remove the source of the lies instead.”

  Everyone began talking at once; two, sometimes three conversations overlapped one another as each person in the Vestry studied the map and offered opinions of how to go about destroying the cofa. They were so engrossed in their discussions that no one noticed Hirst return until he was halfway across the main hall. “I ran back as fast I could,” the Pathshaper panted as he uncovered his eyes. “Something significant just happened here. What was it?”

  Everyone turned to face him with an eager grin, even Carnan. Wyand stepped forward and pointed to the map. “You need to see this,” he replied excitedly.

  ---

  “Of course,” Hirst laughed. “Of course! The Vision makes perfect sense now.”

  “You knew this would happen?” Wyand asked incredulously.

  “The details, no. The end result, yes,” the Pathshaper explained as he sat and stared down at the map. “Many people witness the Visions; the true gift is being able to interpret them accurately. When I was still in Aldhagen, I received a Vision that revealed the steps to liberating all people of this world, but its concepts were frustratingly abstract. I saw people in strange armor—who I later came to know as the Cynmeren—trapped within a shrinking ring of black smoke. A dark, shining ball rose up from the ground and then shattered in their midst. The fire it released pushed back the smoke until the people were safe once more.

  “As soon as I arrived in the Burning Lands far to the south, I knew I was on the correct path. I learned of firesand and how to make the thunder stones, and with them, the Distant Watch have been able to hold back the Penitent Faithful’s assaults.”

  “Those stones are being used to kill people, too, Hirst,” Keltin pointed out as gently as he could.

  “That was an unforeseen consequence,” Hirst replied sadly. "At first, I assumed they would be used solely for intimidation and deterrence, not actual violence. Without those stones, though, I now fear the Distant Watch and all the forces of Cynmere would have already been overrun.”

  “What does that have to do with Dism Slyde?” Aemetta interjected.

  Hirst lifted a hand for patience, much to Aemetta’s annoyance. “There was more to the Vision. I saw another group of people draped in robes of tan and grey. They stood within cages made of intertwining wisps of the same smoke I watched encircle the Cynmeren. A storm surged towards them—a great blizzard with a force no one on this world has ever experienced, and in its howling wind I heard your name, Wyand. Immense spears of ice fell from the sky, shattering against the ground and dispelling the smoke wherever they touched. The storm enveloped a grey spire and hurled a relentless barrage of ice at the ancient stones until the tower crumbled and fell. The one detail of this Vision I hadn’t remembered until now is that the storm swept in from the north.” Hirst smiled in astonishment. “The Visions reveal their truth again.”

  Still excited but now somewhat confused, Wyand frowned at the Pathshaper. “I’ve seen the thunder stones, but I don’t know of any spears of ice. How does our plan for the cofa match your Vision?” Carnan and Keltin nodded in support of his question, while Aemetta appeared lost in her own thoughts as she tried to find the answer for herself.

  “You are thinking too literally, just as I did,” Hirst advised them. “This group is the blizzard, your actions to destroy the cofa are the spears that will free the Penitent Faithful and remove the influence of the Venerates from Dism Slyde. Can you see it now?”

  “I can,” Wyand replied, stunned once again by the power of the Visions. For the first time since leaving Cynmere, the way forward was clear. “Do any of the storerooms in Crolun Raigh have wood in them?” he asked hopefully.

  Without further conversation, the Pathshaper nodded and led the way back from the Vestry towards the main section of Crolun Raigh. As they descended the narrow path, Hirst noticed the isen hanging against Wyand’s leg. “I’ll take that. There are no weapons within Crolun Raigh.”

  “That rule changes today,” Wyand said with exhausted defiance. “With Silax’ location unknown, I won’t allow myself to be unprepared again.”

  Carnan smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. While we’re discussing weapons, where are you hiding my oar, Stormbrother?”

  “It is in a safe place,” Hirst reassured him, then he turned back to Wyand. “For you, I will make a reluctant exception. For the rest, they will be given their weapons when they depart for Dism Slyde.” Carnan muttered to himself while Aemetta and Keltin frowned in irritation, but the argument ended with nothing else said.

  After returning to the valley, Hirst led them to a storeroom on the northern side of the river. When the door opened, Wyand was dismayed by the sparse piles of lumber stacked inside. “Is there more?” he asked hopefully.

  “This is the Cult’s entire stock, both for building and for heat through the winter,” Hirst answered apologetically. “Use whatever you need. I can certainly help in the cutting and shaping of timber, but I know nothing of boat making.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Carnan declared. “I’ve made boats before, just don’t expect much from these scraps.” He lifted one of the logs and scoffed as a section of bark fell apart in his hands. Undeterred by the quality, Carnan spent the better part of an hour explaining the careful shaping and joining of boards that was required to achieve a watertight seal, then he laid out dimensions and quantities for all boards needed. Once the plan was established per the Stonebrother’s directions, the group began the hundreds of tasks required to make a boat, even one as small as this was certain to be.

  As Wyand worked with an axe, wedges, and
a wooden mallet to split a log four strides long, he heard Carnan suddenly laugh. “No weapons in Crolun Raigh, right Stormbrother?” Carnan called to Hirst, then he lifted an axe. “What do you call this, then?”

  “That axe is a tool first and a weapon second,” Hirst answered as he used a drawknife to smooth the surface of a board.

  “My oar is a tool first and a spear second!” the Stonebrother countered indignantly.

  “Yes, but we don’t have a boat that needs it yet, do we?” Hirst said sweetly. Carnan shook his head in frustration, but he knew the Guided had outsmarted him.

  The next day and a half was a blur for Wyand; with each task he took on, he quickly fell into its rhythm and focused on nothing else. Still, there were quiet moments—meals, the minutes just before sleep—where his thoughts drifted along winding pathways of doubt and confusion. First, he would reach for the Thoughtcaster’s chain out of habit, then he would discover it missing and remember why. Whenever Silax came to mind, Wyand’s head was filled with the phrase the madman had spoken just before attempting to use the isen on him: They are only showing you what they want you to see.

  It seemed to be the ramblings of a chaotic mind, as did Silax’ response when asked whom he was referencing, yet there were inexplicable hints of truth Wyand couldn’t purge from his mind. Something led the Feller to Crolun Raigh, though he claimed it wasn’t the Visions. Something had changed his eyes from those of the typical Guided into flickering pits of emptiness. Something drove him to take the Thoughtcaster. But what? Wyand demanded of his own thoughts. And to what end? Invariably, there were no answers to be found, so Wyand would retreat into the rhythm of whatever task awaited him, be it labor or simply the chewing of food.

  By late afternoon of the second day of work, the tasks reached an end, albeit a humble one. In the middle of the storehouse, now woefully depleted of lumber, a small boat had taken shape. It was only four strides from end to end and two strides across at the widest point, but it was solid and had enough crude seats to carry five people as well as a limited set of provisions. Wyand stood with the others as Carnan performed his final inspection of their collective handiwork. The Stonebrother carried a chisel and mallet, making minor corrections as he moved from one part of the boat to another. Finally, he stepped back and gave a satisfied nod.

  “It isn’t much, but it’s finished,” Carnan declared with a shrug, then he spun to face Hirst. “I’ve been very patient, but after this I think I’ve earned a visit with Laersi, don’t you?”

  Hirst bowed his head with a smile. “That you have. Fortunately for you, she awoke for the first time a few hours ago; she’s still weak, but she’s ready to see you. This will be the only opportunity you have to speak with her before we leave, so stay as long as you like. I recommend you get some rest, though—dawn will be here before you know it.”

  “You’re coming with us, Hirst?” Wyand asked in surprise.

  “I’ve followed the Visions this far, so why would I choose to stop now?” the Pathshaper replied. “In the hours before light, the Cult of the Guided will gather to carry this boat to the waters that separate Crolun Raigh from the Frozen Lands to the north. We will row west and trace the shore until we at last arrive at Dism Slyde. I have no knowledge of how long this journey will take, but I assume it will be at least two days if not three. That will give us ample time to discuss the details of how we will dispose of the cofa.”

  “Actually, I think I just resolved that portion of our plan,” Aemetta interjected, her eyes distant with thought. Everyone stared at her expectantly until she seemed to suddenly realize she was no longer speaking except within her own mind. “As soon as we spot Dism Slyde, whatever time of day that may be, we need to wait to strike until the chimes sound for Last Calling.”

  Hirst raised a curious eyebrow. “Why then?” he asked.

  “That is the only point in the day where the majority of the Penitent Faithful are occupied within the Holy Spire,” Aemetta explained. “It is also when the Silent finish their cofa harvesting efforts, so we should encounter no one within the fog marshes. The last reason is that we can use darkness to conceal our retreat once we are finished.”

  “A good plan,” Carnan said approvingly, the compliment causing Aemetta’s eyes to grow wide with surprise before she could suppress the emotion. Wyand concealed his mouth with his hand, praying that Aemetta wouldn’t spot him laughing at her sudden shock.

  “Th-thank you, Carnan,” Aemetta breathed, still unable to believe what she’d just heard.

  “Mmph,” the Stonebrother grunted, but with that one sound and a sharp nod, Carnan proved he no longer viewed Aemetta as the enemy. Their eyes met for an instant, then Aemetta returned the gesture with a respectful nod of her own. As quickly as it had occurred, though, the moment was gone when Carnan shifted his attention back to Hirst. “Good. That’s resolved. Can you take me to Laersi now?” True to his word, Hirst escorted the Stonebrother out of the storeroom to wherever it was in Crolun Raigh that the sick and injured were kept.

  Wyand stood alongside Keltin and Aemetta. “So, what do we do now?” he asked.

  Aemetta eyed the boat and the piles of wood warily. “I suspect lighting a fire in here would be a bad idea,” she said. “Not to mention that building the boat already consumed the majority of the Cult’s firewood, and winter hasn’t even arrived yet.” Wyand and Keltin agreed, instead opting to wrap themselves in the blankets they’d slept under each night since first arriving in Crolun Raigh. It wasn’t as warm as a fire, but it was good enough to allow them a moment of quiet solace before they were forced to face the inevitable discomforts that would accompany the journey to Dism Slyde.

  Once more unoccupied by work, Wyand’s mind began to drift. The Cult still hadn’t found Silax or the Thoughtcaster, and more than two days had passed. They are only showing you what they want you to see! He knew he needed to escape the thoughts that always followed, so he decided to try conversation to distract himself. “I wonder how Eyrie and the others are doing,” he blurted out.

  “She’ll be fine Wyand,” Aemetta reassured him, then she went on with a note of warning. “As long as we carry out our next task quickly, that is. In the meantime, she has Ryna there to look out for her, so—”

  “What?” Keltin shouted, leaping to his feet through the cloud of his own heated breath.

  Aemetta’s eyes grew wide with shock. “I can’t believe it didn’t come up until now,” she exclaimed. “I found Ryna among the group of Cynmeren who were traveling with Wyand.”

  A look of fascination streaked across Keltin’s face, then a new realization caused him to frown. “What about Halwen? Or your Mainwright? Or any of the others who were cast out with us?” Wyand felt a lump of sadness growing in his throat with each name listed until his cheeks burned from tears that longed to fall.

  Aemetta’s shoulders slumped and she shut her eyes. “No one else survived, Keltin. They were all taken by the haugaeldr,” she said quietly. “Some more recently than others.”

  Keltin winced, then he lowered himself to the floor and pulled the blanket tight around his shoulders. They all sat in silence until Keltin at last spoke again. “But you say Ryna is alive…and with no injuries?”

  “Nothing physical,” Aemetta replied honestly. Keltin nodded to himself as his expression flickered between pained sadness and suppressed excitement.

  “How did she get to Cynmere?” Keltin wondered aloud.

  “That’s a story I know,” Wyand answered, still longing to distract himself. He recounted his own fall from Aldhagen and the rescue led by Eyrie. Then he told of meeting the group of women from Locboran and of the arduous trek to reach Cynmere. Stora’s betrayal and her abuse of Ryna’s loyalty caused Keltin to fall dangerously silent; Wyand thought it was a particularly strong reaction to come from someone who had only known Ryna for a few hours, but, ultimately, he agreed with Keltin’s anger. Lastly, Wyand explained how he joined the Order of Blood as well as what led to Ryna’s reweaving
and the penance she currently served under Eyrie’s supervision.

  Keltin and Aemetta shared their stories next, and when those were done, Wyand had more experiences to share from his time in Cynmere. By the time Hirst returned with food—and, notably, without Carnan—Wyand was in the midst of explaining the Woven Wall to both Keltin and Aemetta since neither of them had any concept of such a strange object. Hirst watched them with a pleased smile until a break in the conversation at last arrived. “You’ve all had many adventures to make it this far,” the Pathshaper declared, “but your stories are just beginning. Here, eat. Night is looming and you will all need your rest for tomorrow.” He tossed each of them two pouches—one filled with whiteroot, the other with ice viper tails. Wyand and the others continued their discussions as they ate, but a long yawn from Keltin reminded all of them that sleep was imminent.

  With the meal finished and the sun low in the sky, Wyand departed for one of the bathing huts that extended over the surface of the river. It wasn’t as comforting as the steam pump stations in Aldhagen had once been, but the warmth of the water soothed Wyand’s tired body all the same. Whereas at the Vision Pool he had been focused on discovering the path forward, now that his next steps were known, Wyand was in no rush and free to relax in the river’s warm, gentle current. His mind was not so easily comforted, though, and all too quickly Wyand’s moment of peace was once again disrupted by the memory of Silax’ words and actions. With an irritated sigh, Wyand climbed out of the river, donned his night clothes, and returned to the storeroom for the night.

  As he drifted towards sleep, Wyand glanced at the darkened outline of the small boat in the center of the storeroom. Excitement, wonder, apprehension—a hundred different emotions swirled through him when he considered what the next few days would bring. The Visions will guide us to Dism Slyde, he reassured himself, and the worry slowly faded from his mind. From the edge of Wyand’s dreams, however, the voice of doubt called to him again, its sound distant but powerful. They are only showing you what they want you to see.