by K M McGuire
“If your eyes flicker open to wake you from your dreams, does the light from the morning burn so much that you refuse to see?”
Breathlessness and sweat broke Voden from the visions of his sleep. His eyes were still groggy, though the rest of him felt fully energized, and his body thrashed in kind to the duality. His sheets became irritated from his flailing limbs, which had reacted to the thump of his heart. He settled as his mind became more aware that he was no longer trapped in his nightmare. But his mind still lingered on the light pouring from the man’s eyes. He sat at the edge of his bed, flustered, reconciling his feelings. Fear still ached in his chest. He held his face, knowing the dream felt real, but he was thankful it had only been a fabrication.
He took a reflective breath, smelling the freshness of morning, and turned his attention to the tiny sliver of gold slipping through the crack of the emerald drapes pulled snuggly across his bedroom window. He gave his attention to the chorus of whistling birds sharing the brilliance of the late summer, where he could imagine their gleeful dance weaving across the sky, as though they knit paths to each tree they rested on. He took the thought of grace and lifted himself from his bed.
He stepped across the stone floor, cool against his feet, and he reached his hands out to pull the heavy drapes open, where he was kissed by the chill of summer dew. He felt a sense of simple comfort, as he took a moment to marvel at the spectacular city of Adetia, standing proudly under the shimmering dome.
Perhaps it was not quite right to call it simply a city, he often thought, considering the land stretched further than the walls that confined the Blue Keep, or the many organizations that resided within the walls, or even the homes of the people. The island was keenly divided, where the land to the north was dedicated to farmland and cattle, and more of the central areas of the island were used for crops and greenhouses, while the south held the residential districts. It was more of a province or a country than a city, though Voden hardly understood the philosophy behind it.
“It’s because of the Dome,” his best friend Andar would point out. “It protects us and the land from those plotting our doom. Everything living beneath the Dome is part of the city.” The reality being it really didn’t much matter to Voden. Everyone called it a city, and he, too, stuck to the idea.
He gazed at the row of houses stacked carefully along the cliff overlooking the turquoise cove, watching the wayward clouds drift along the sky like the hands on a clock. The Dome twinkled faintly from the beams of the sun, where the sky subtly wavered in the reflective ripples. It was comforting to see it there. Today was destined for greatness.
It was, in fact, going to be an excellent day. He had the sudden realization that he could finally take his life in his own hands, and he breathed the heavy mixture of fear and excitement as he thought of it. He had just finished his education at the academy, learning and working around many different types of jobs and skills. He found he wasn’t particularly good at anything (not like Andar), but their teachers always seemed to favor his attitude. In many ways, he felt his demeanor had all but dragged him through his schooling to his graduation, and he half wondered what he could have accomplished if he’d spent a bit more time paying attention.
The reflections no longer mattered. Today, he could decide what kind of man he would become. It was the trademark of being an adult, the staple to change. For once, the options lay open to choose as he willed, to do something and be part of the community. The thought worried him, concerned he would struggle to manifest the ability to apply himself in becoming an adult.
But this was the custom. Every year after the students graduated, the city raised tents in the square, and the multiple guilds raised their banners, looking for people to join. The guilds picked elders who would frequently assemble with the High Priest and discuss what things needed to be done. They posted jobs according to their conclusions on the Great Board, which sat in the center of the square. Once posted, anyone could go to the corresponding guild and offer their help. Their methods were rather effective, and because of this, not a person was left wanting. They had no need for money, and corruption was far removed from the citizens.
He felt a gentle encouragement from the wind as excitement billowed in his chest. He forfeited his thoughts of the dream and began wondering, instead, of the journey ahead. The notion of the unknown, whether he would become a carpenter or a blacksmith—no, that probably would not happen—meant the opportunities were mere inches from his hand. Quickly, he searched through his wardrobe and began hastily shoving himself into clothes. He scuttled to his door, passing the torches lighting the hall, which greeted him with cheerful flickers. He marched his way into the kitchen, where his mother prepared a hearty breakfast for him.
“Voden!” she exclaimed as he entered. “I was almost worried you had forgotten the day!” She set the iron pan of cloudy eggs back on the stove and embraced her son, tenderly kissing his forehead. She then looked at her child and her eyes started to swell. “Oh, I wish you could understand just how excited we are for you!”
Voden awkwardly smiled, feeling his nerves begin to tug his stomach. In that moment, he realized how big of a decision he was about to make.
“Come, sit,” his mother beckoned, breaking his thoughts as she pulled a chair away from the table. “Your father has already left this morning. He had to help prepare some things for the counsel. It will be quite the interesting year! After all the innovations that have been sprouting up…”
She returned to the stove and folded over the eggs. After a few moments, she slid them onto a fine porcelain plate and scooped up a couple links of sausage that screamed with violent sizzles. She placed it in front of him. He glanced at his mother, adoration knocking just on the other side of her eyes, burning with the same blue as his own.
“Thanks, Mom,” he whispered.
He now considered his food, wondering where to start. Why do decisions have to be so daunting?
He knew this was only an extension of what brought fear into his chest. It made swallowing food that much harder.
“Voden,” his mother said, and she took his hands. “You will be okay. You’ve come so far since you were a child! You’re going to be faced with several things in life that are more difficult than what others will endure, and that’s okay! It leads to new frontiers never explored before, and that leads to strength. That initial beauty, where you enrapture the unknown, when that is seen for the first time, it is greatest of all! It elevates with gasps of hope when it is seen.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He felt the warmth pouring from her soul, calming the storm that sent tremors through his nerves. She rubbed his back and left him to his meal as she began to clean the dishes. A light knock echoed through the stone halls. Voden gave his mother a curious glance. She wore the same perplexed expression.
“Who could that possibly…” she muttered, hurrying out of the kitchen and through the hall to the front door. Voden continued to eat. The sun trickled in through the window, tiny particles of dust frolicking listlessly in the angled beams. He then heard his mother shrieking with excitement. She exchanged a few blurred words with a voice deeper than her own. Hurried footsteps scooted across the floor and entered the kitchen.
“You’re only just eating?” jeered a silvery voice.
Voden cocked his head toward his friend who leaned against the doorframe, a wide grin stretched across his handsome features. His friend was a Tasmian, a mix of human (from his father’s side) and Tastin (his mother’s side). Tastins came from somewhere west of the Zaztak Mountains and had voyaged to the northern woodlands thousands of years ago. They were incredibly beautiful, their bone structure much less harsh then humans, and their soft skin ran smoothly over the gentle angles. Their skin was yellowed, accented with flushing pinks and delicate purples, livening the jaundice-looking skin, similar to the colors of a peach. These features, combined with the harder structures of man, made quite the appealing individual. Voden’s friend had inheri
ted all the good qualities of each race.
“Andar, you would still be sleeping if your mother refused to wake you,” retorted Voden, rising from his chair and marching over to him. Andar fixed his steel-grey eyes on him. Voden brought himself up to Andar’s face, staring into his white pupils. After a moment, Andar spread his arms and embraced his friend.
“We made it my friend!” Andar said, laughing with excitement.
“I know, it’s quite strange to consider,” Voden replied, and the pang of nerves came back again. “You have any idea what listing you’re expecting?” He felt like he knew, but he wanted to ask anyway.
“I mean, I don’t think I would be surprising anyone if I said I intended to pursue blacksmithing,” he said in an obvious manner, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Figured,” Voden chuckled. It was the right fit for him. In their Tours of the Labors, they had the opportunity to work beside the craftsmen, learning some of the skills needed for silversmithing to carpentry. At one point, Andar had picked up a blacksmith’s hammer during a demonstration on bending hot metal, and Voden still swore he saw the sky part with rays of light shining down on his friend.
A soft jingle had drifted into the kitchen, disrupting his thoughts. A carriage to the square had stopped at the end of the street.
“Hurry you two,” Voden’s mother urged, pressing the small of their backs out the door. “You can discuss this on your way to the square. It would be quite unfortunate to miss all the good opportunities over such small talk.”
Voden hugged and kissed his mother hastily, and he and Andar turned towards the carriage, jogging across the burgundy cobblestone. They greeted the driver and settled towards the back. Andar had always sworn the seats there were the most comfortable. The driver lingered a bit longer, ringing the bell again, waiting for other travelers to join the party, until he finally decided that no one else was coming. With a gruff outburst, and a hard flick of his wrists, the horses lurched forward, pulling them towards the center of Adetia.
The journey was a fair distance. Voden lived towards the outer edge of the suburbs. His house rested at the top of a plateau overlooking the cove in the southwest corner of Adetia. They weaved through the streets, met warmly by tantalizing smells of elderberries and fresh dew. Young children laughed and screamed, chasing each other like a leaf on the breeze, jolting through the alleys and perpendicular roads. As they closed in on the square, the streets began to thicken, bifurcated by quaint gardens, with babbling tributaries that ran through them, eventually ending in simple fountains at the intersecting paths. The tan brick buildings began to tighten together, and their architecture became taller and more ornate.
They were about a block away from the square when the driver finally stopped and waited for them to disembark. It was now a matter of walking down the elaborate stairs to the main square, where the guilds congregated. They thanked the driver, and with a curt nod he rode off, searching for more citizens in need of a ride to the square.
Andar looked at Voden, confidence manifesting on his face. “You ready?” he asked, elbowing Voden forward.
Uneasy, Voden sighed. “I suppose. This is all that could be.” He turned back to Andar.
Andar’s smile broadened, and he patted Voden’s back. “There you go! You never know. You may find something that could come from your dreams!”
The Blue Keep rose high above the surrounding structures, its cerulean stones gleamed with splendor. The golden dome sat atop, flashing in the light of the early morning against the dull colors of the roof. Turrets marked the corners of the keep where large bay windows were fashioned in the higher sections, facing towards the square. Niches were cut out below the windows, and the likenesses of some of Adetia’s legendary heroes now watched from them. The stones of the structure were meticulously placed, and if one spent time observing the stones, the amount of thought put in to their structure and placement became obvious. The entrance hung open, with its massive wooden doors tucked inside the vestibule. They left the doors open so anyone who wished to find help from one of the guild leaders or a priest could find what they were looking for. It was their beacon of hope.
From the entrance of the Blue Keep, it was easy to spot the most significant symbol to those who lived in Adetia. The fountain; a spring that gurgled and sang of the legend that founded their city. The Well of the Will was the reason for the ethereal dome that surrounded their home. Within this structure housed a promise, a reminder of the sacrifice that had established their way of life. Here, the Scarred King held off the armies gathered against his march for freedom, and here he had sacrificed himself at the place that was once a spring.
In his death, through the great power of the Will, his body had transformed, pulling his heart out of his chest and turning his remains into the Well of the Will. At least, this was what they were told. Eigan, the High Priest, always reminded them this was the fundamental principal that made the survival of the city possible. There would always be sacrifice for the greater good. The Well of the Will was nestled in the Grand Courtyard, where one could go and drink its waters as they reflected on the Well’s gifts. Voden always thought it a bit curious that Eigan gave such praise to the symbol and not to the Scarred King.
The fountain was a giant ruby heart which spilled waves of spring water from the cracks lining it, flowering up from the ventricles facing the sky. Around the crimson heart sat four, pure white marble hemispheres, etched with intricately woven filigree. They reached close to the length of Voden’s arm stretched out, cupping the water as it spilled from the heart. The cascades of liquid slid over the lips of the golden rims and down to the larger pool beneath the stone heart. Gems of every variety held the golden rings in place around each bowl, where sparkling rainbows of refracted light rippled in the water of the main pool.
Andar and Voden admired the square, now packed with people from corner to corner, from shops to keep, spilling into the tents erected around the fringe of the courtyard, colored to represent each guild. Disembodied voices filled the air with vibrancy, as eager adolescence scurried from one end of the courtyard to the other, pulling each other toward whatever had gripped their attention. Shops were arranged perpendicular to the keep, resting under the vaulted baileys, where smells and sounds mingled from their doorways as a herald to those seeking service.
Voden saw Andar’s eyes drift along the tent tops, no doubt taking note of the colors. The Order of the Ordained, and the Voices (these were the heads of the guilds who discussed law and set the course for the city) hung around their respective tents, scrawling down potential workers’ names where they offered their services.
Voden watched the hither-to of men and women, trying to catch any discernable chatter that lofted through the air.
“Wow,” chortled Andar, his eyes dancing along the heads whirling through the courtyard.
The air mimicked his excitement, which neither could contain. He sifted through the throng as though he were liquid, while simultaneously letting his awe turn his head. Voden grunted, amazed at his friend’s capacity to be taken so easily by his emotions. He did his best to follow the rivet that Andar cut through the people before it closed between them.
Voden lost him a moment but then heard Andar, through the cacophony, shout, “Look! Just right of the Fountain!”
Voden caught sight of him jumping up and down, pointing to a rectangular building under the bailey with a cerulean canopy draped across its top. Beside it stood a long banner, dyed the same blue, with an insignia of a steel-grey hammer, surrounded by a golden ring that bloomed from the head of the tool.
“Come on, that’s the Smith’s Guild!” He waved vigorously for Voden to follow, and they weaved through the crowd, brushing against several people who seemed to take no notice.
Voden and Andar glanced at the canopy, standing amid a group of people, a handful of whom had graduated with them. Few took notice of their presence, eyes mostly drawn to the large board with intensely organized lists filed
along its face. Occasionally, they would hear someone exclaim something indistinguishable and quickly turn towards the crowd, excusing themselves to another location inside the courtyard. Some lingered longer, faces tightened in indecision while they scrutinized the board. Each guild had its own board, and jobs were broken down into categories with prerequisites needing to be met, so the right person could fill the guild’s need. Voden stared at the board, wondering if there could be something comfortable to him.
I’m here now, he thought, trying to reassure himself, but the comfort felt stale. Andar stretched his long neck, raising his body on the tip of his toes so he could better examine the board. Voden became aware of his poise, impressed that someone could hold that position without falling over. He laughed to himself, amused at how odd Andar behaved.
“Great Beyond! Thank you!” Andar cried out, his face lighting up as he punched the air.
“Something piqued your interest?” Voden pried, nudging Andar, jealous of his zeal.
“You need to be decisive, unless you would prefer cleaning stables,” he responded. Voden bit his lip. It almost made him nauseous thinking about it. “Besides,” Andar continued, “you remember the guy who gave us lessons blacksmithing? Ferra? He’s looking for an apprentice! I don’t know if I could expect much better!”
Andar excused himself, weaving through the small congregation towards the building. Voden sighed and followed. Perhaps he, too, could find someone to train him. As they neared the entrance, Voden felt a sprawling chill run down his spine. A spindly hand gripped tightly against his shoulder. Andar must have felt the presence as well because he suddenly spun around. They both faced a large-headed man bearing a grin bejeweled with too many teeth. Voden’s heart leapt against his sternum. It was rare for them to see a Scez. In fact, he realized it was the only time he had seen one.
