Without warning—but to Wyand’s relief—the boatman helping him carry Stora suddenly stopped. Wyand looked up to find that they had halted at a point where the towering cliffs had diminished into low piles of rubble that were lost within the dirt underfoot. A vast, white expanse reflected the early morning light as far as Wyand could see, though his eyes were instantly forced shut by a gust of scathing wind.
“What…is it?” Wyand heard Halwen ask.
“This is the Plateau Desert,” Eyrie said. “And that high mountain is your former home.” Wyand blinked furiously to clear the sharp bits of sand from his eyes so he could see where Eyrie was pointing. When he was at last able to follow her hand, Wyand was shocked to see the Hall of the Venerates as nothing more than a tiny spike atop an enormous peak on the western horizon. Other mountains loomed in the distance beyond, but none was even half as tall as the one that held Aldhagen. In stark contrast to the blinding brilliance of the desert sun, a layer of cloud seemed stubbornly fixed above each peak.
Within Aldhagen’s shadow, Wyand could see the thin trickle of water that marked the exit from Wracandyr into the lake beneath. Even though its start was far below the walls of the city itself, the cascading water spilled hundreds of strides down the face of the cliff. I fell from there? Wyand thought in amazement as he surveyed Aldhagen’s true height. He was beginning to understand the volume of bones that lay beneath the Exile Door.
“Aldhagen and Locboran exist side by side up there, separated by only one simple wall, yet their inhabitants know nothing of each other. It’s tragic how close they are while at the same time remaining so isolated. You can’t see it from here, but the body of water that you entered after your Casting lies in the ravine at the base of that mountain,” Eyrie explained. “We call it Drugoth—the Lake of Skulls—and these are the Deadlands that surround it.” Squinting as he looked around more, Wyand recognized the landscape of jagged chasms that stretched out far beyond the Exile Door. He had seen this place in a flash of lightning as he fell from Aldhagen, and now he was standing at the top of one of its fissures.
“We should keep moving,” Eyrie said hurriedly, as though she could sense Wyand’s fascination with the strange scene and felt the need to pry his attention away. Halwen ignored Eyrie’s order completely and gazed longingly at the mountaintop.
“Can you take us back there?” Halwen asked, still fixated on Aldhagen. That was one of the first questions Wyand had considered as well, but so far he had not been permitted to ask.
“There is no returning once you are cast out,” Eyrie said flatly. Then she continued more gently, “But a new life awaits you in Cynmere.” Eyrie’s attempt to offer comfort failed, and tears welled in the corners of Halwen’s eyes. The Unwoven approached Halwen, whispered something into her ear, then caringly wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they turned away from Aldhagen.
Wyand shared Halwen’s disappointment, but at the same time a familiar fire grew within him as he stared at the high mountain. Returning to Aldhagen was a challenge just like any other, and Wyand knew that with enough thought and effort any task was possible. To make it back, though, he also knew that he needed more than just determination after witnessing how quickly death found the unwary in this hostile land. It pained him to admit it, but aside from the beatings and harsh words, this group from Cynmere was his best—and only—option for surviving outside the walls. Wyand would stay with them for now, learn what he could, then leave when he felt comfortable enough to return to Aldhagen on his own. He vowed to share the truth with his fellow workers, whether these people from Cynmere chose to help him or not. Peace and honor, brothers, Wyand thought as the journey east resumed. Today is Kingdomturn.
11
The benediction chimes sounded at the end of First Calling, but no food was brought forth—there was no need, not today. In place of the blissful stillness that usually followed the chimes, a joyous cheer rose up from the workers of Aldhagen. They looked at one another with smiles of hope and anticipation while the most eager workers led the rush out of the Hall. Edan joined the throng and even managed to return several of the smiles he received, but his heart was not truly invested in the Kingdomturn festival. If anyone took note of his lack of exuberance, those who knew him assumed it was just his typical demeanor. Those who didn’t know him were too excited to care. Kingdomturn had that effect on people.
In truth, Edan was distracted by two competing lines of thought—one positive, one negative. For the positive, he was still in shock that Wyand had been miraculously summoned to High Calling two nights earlier. When the Venerates had delivered the news of Wyand’s summoning during First Calling the following day, Edan had trouble believing it was real at first. How could someone be selected as a key participant in the Kingdomturn offering, then be chosen for High Calling just days before the ceremony itself? It made no sense, but Edan held to the belief that the Venerates had an incredible plan in mind for Wyand. With first Losian and now Wyand going to serve the Venerates in the Hall, though, a small part of Edan wondered with quiet anxiety what the Venerates had planned for him, too.
The negative line of thought stemmed primarily from Keltin’s extended punishment. Edan had been able to ignore his friend’s absence for the first few days of Isolation, but with Wyand gone now too it was impossible for Edan to feel anything but alone. He worried that Keltin might never truly come back after spending nine days locked away in the dark. At least now there was only one day of Keltin’s punishment left to endure. Surrounded by all the smiles and joy of the Kingdomturn festival, however, Edan knew it was going to be a very frustrating day.
The same bank of grey clouds that filled the sky at dawn was waiting outside the Hall when Edan reached the exit. Along with the clouds, the storm from two days earlier brought a chill wind with it that did not fit well within the Kingdomturn season. Edan knew if Wyand had been there he would have commented with concern that it was a good thing the crops would be harvested today. Likewise, if Keltin had been there he would have agreed with Wyand, although somehow he would have still found a way to make fun of a Carver for claiming any familiarity with tasks that didn’t take place underground. Edan allowed the beginnings of a faint smile to crease the corners of his eyes when he thought of the usual back and forth between Wyand and Keltin. Now, the silence Edan heard in place of their banter was quick to remind him of how different life was going to be from here forward.
Waves of excited workers surged past Edan, breaking around him in small eddy currents of laughter and movement. He followed their course as it flowed towards the first of the Kingdomturn Trials, but his steps were burdened when they should have felt light. Edan glanced back at the Hall, and suddenly he had a distinct sensation that Wyand was looking back at him, urging him forward, and scolding him for being so unhappy. With guilty resolution, Edan admitted that the Venerates would be disappointed if they learned of his ungratefulness. Tales of Kingdomturns past never spoke of heroes who were reluctant to provide the offering—that went against the basic principles of honorable work. Edan was a hero now too, he realized, whether he was ready to be or not. It was time for him to accept that honor with humility and gratitude, just as Wyand had.
“Kingdom find you, Depthcarver,” a young voice said, jarring Edan’s attention away from the Hall.
“And you, Adlig,” Edan replied absently, then he noticed the Tailing’s pensive frown. “What’s troubling you?” Adlig looked away, struggling to find the right words, then his shoulders sank.
“Scur,” Adlig sighed tiredly, and from that one word a verbal landslide was set into motion. “For the last two days he’s been acting especially…strange. He doesn’t say much anymore, except for little mutters he doesn’t think I hear. He says things like ‘it’s all wrong’ and ‘I won’t forget.’ Now I can’t even find him. When I woke up for First Calling he was already gone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I thought maybe you could help. Because if anyone can figure this out, it’s a Depthcarve
r and….” Adlig trailed off when he met Edan’s intense gaze. The boy clenched his lips shut like more words would literally pour out of his mouth otherwise.
“Now,” Edan said calmly, “when did you last see Scur?”
“Reflection,” Adlig replied. “Last night.”
“And did you notice anything unusual?”
“No. Well, maybe. Probably not. But maybe—”
“What was it?” Edan broke in pointedly. Adlig nodded in apology for letting his thoughts drift as he spoke.
“Scur was walking the walls with Grefstan,” Adlig said slowly as he, for once, considered each word before he spoke. “But that didn’t make any sense, because Grefstan doesn’t like talking to me or Scur. He says it makes him feel tired.”
“I can’t imagine why he might think that,” Edan said with an imperceptible smirk. “What were they talking about?”
“It was hard to hear,” Adlig continued, completely oblivious to Edan’s subtle sarcasm. “They…didn’t know I was following them. I heard Grefstan mention Depthcarver Wyand, though, and then Scur said something about Wracandyr.”
Edan frowned. “Now that doesn’t make any sense. Depthcarver Wyand would have no reason to go near the Exile Door ever again. That place is beneath him now, both literally and figuratively.”
“I know,” Adlig agreed. “But that’s what they were saying.” Edan nodded then looked towards the Hall while he thought about what to do next. The stream of workers leaving First Calling had dwindled to a few sparse groups of two or three people, and their hurried steps meant that it was nearly time for the first of the Kingdomturn Trials to begin.
“Adlig, I have a task for you,” Edan said at last. “I need you to find Scur and Grefstan as quickly as you can. I want to speak with both of them before the offering ceremony begins. Can you do that?” Adlig’s troubled expression changed to a smile that spoke of immense pride from feeling needed, though he quickly masked it with an air of dutiful focus.
“Venerates willing, I will find Scur and Grefstan for you, Depthcarver,” Adlig replied, bending one knee to the ground and bowing his head.
“Get up,” Edan said hastily, checking to see if anyone had seen the Tailing’s over-formalized display. Thankfully all of the nearby paths were empty. “And thank you. You have until the end of Second Calling to find them. Any later than that and I’ll have to wait until after the Ceremony to speak with them.”
Adlig nodded and sprang to his feet. “Peace and honor, Depthcarver,” he said as he turned to dash away through the rows of living quarters.
“Peace and honor,” Edan replied mostly to himself, since Adlig was already ten strides away. With everything else changing, at least Edan could always rely on Adlig to remain constant. Tedious at times, without question, but constant. Maybe Keltin will be the same as he was, too, Edan thought hopefully. With his spirits somewhat renewed, he started into a quick jog to the first of the Trials.
The Kingdomturn Trials took place every Turning at selected locations throughout Aldhagen. A group from each task was chosen to host the Trial for their type of work, so the entire population of Aldhagen moved throughout the day from forest to field to mine as they followed the Trials. Any given event was open to all workers from that task, and an air of friendly competition quickly enveloped everyone present. Competitors were tested to the limits of their task’s skillset, and pushed to attain feats that surpassed legend. Those who won their task’s Trial were given distinguished recognition by the Venerates, and their names were forever etched into the story of that particular Kingdomturn.
Though the honor of such an achievement was rewarding enough, there was another motivating factor that drove the Trial competitors to seek victory. Each Kingdomturn, the Venerates delivered new, young workers to join the population of Aldhagen, and winning one of the Trials earned a competitor’s group special favor with the Venerates. Special favor meant more new workers for that group, which led to increased productivity and a much greater chance of being selected to provide the offering in turnings to come.
The new workers represented the most impressive and tangible proof of the Venerate’s magic; to call them “new,” however, wasn’t accurate. Instead, it was better to view them as “renewed” or “returned” workers that had completed their High Calling tasks over the span of many, many turnings. After faithful service in the Hall, each worker was granted the gift of youth before being welcomed back into the population of Aldhagen. No one understood how the process worked, and no one cared. It was deeply reassuring just to see these “children” brought forth from the Hall every turning; it was a reminder of the power of the Venerates and the blessings that they could bestow.
The return of the workers was bittersweet, though, because memories of High Calling and of life before being summoned were lost to them during the renewal process. In essence, they were forged into completely new people before leaving the Hall. Pessimists brooded about the loss of skills and the forgetting of past friendships, while optimists embraced the idea of being given a fresh opportunity to grow through service to the Venerates and Aldhagen. Edan, like most workers, was somewhere between the two viewpoints.
The first Trial was set to take place at one of the stands of trees within a few hundred strides of the living quarters. In turnings past, the Woodsmen’s Trial had been held in forested areas as distant as the far wall, a journey of three thousand strides or more. Edan breathed deeply as he slowed to a walk—thankfully this Kingdomturn didn’t require such a trek first thing in the morning.
When Edan arrived, he joined the workers as they bustled between the tree trunks, vying for the best viewing spot they could find of the central clearing. A row of ten large Spineleaf trees, all of the same size and age, divided the clearing in half. At the base of each tree, a Woodsman prepared to begin the first Trial at the sounding of the Calling chimes. Calloused hands of seasoned workers flexed and tested grips on their woven climbing sashes, while faces filled with anticipation glanced from treetop to the crowd and back again.
Though the Spineleaf grew tall—nearly thirty strides in some cases—even the tallest tree was still surpassed by the ever-present walls in the distance. Regardless of the height, Edan was always impressed by the daunting task before the Woodsmen as part of this Trial. Not only did they have to climb many strides into the air, each man had to do so with a short-handled axe suspended from a long rope at his waist. The thought of reaching such a height with that much weight pulling down and swaying wildly with even the slightest movement made Edan’s palms sweat from nervousness. Then there was suddenly no more time for thought as the chimes sounded and the competitors leapt up in a blur of motion.
The rhythmic sound of sashes slapping against the bark stood out over even the loudest of the crowd’s cheering, and it was joined by the clatter of the tethered axes as they struck the trees with every step climbed. While it only took seconds for the men to near the tops of the trees, that was just the beginning of their Trial. Once established at the top of the tree, each Woodsman leaned back as far as he could against the sash around his waist. Then, with both hands removed from the tree trunk, a single sharp tug on the tether rope brought the axe into the competitor’s waiting grasp. It was an action that these men had clearly performed hundreds of times before this Trial; their flawless execution of the complex movement appearing absolutely effortless.
With axes in hand, the race to achieve victory truly began. Blades bit into bark, first at a downward angle, then perfectly horizontal. Chunks of wood sprayed with every strike and rained into small piles at the bases of the trees. The crowd stirred into a frenzy as the notch in each tree grew deeper, until at last one of the Woodsmen swung in his sash to the far side of his tree. With one final horizontal swing of the axe, the tree top shuddered and a loud crack silenced the crowd. The man pressed into his sash and used the blunt top of his axe to urge the now-fractured upper section of the trunk to break its few remaining ties to the base of the tree. With a
groan and several pops and snaps, the tree top leaned away from the Woodsman and broke cleanly at the notch. It hurtled to the ground, striking the soft soil with a resounding thud that sent bits of wood, dirt, and Spineleaf needles spraying in all directions. With proof of victory lying on the ground before them, the spectators ended their brief silence with a burst of shouts and cheers for the winner.
Edan applauded with the rest of the crowd as the new champion used his sling to slide down the tree with incredible speed. The remaining competitors finished the Trial soon thereafter, although none of them slid to the ground with the same exuberance. One of the Venerates stepped forward into the clearing to join the victorious Woodsman at the base of his tree. The Venerate raised a hand, and the cheers subsided instantly.
“The First Trial is complete,” the Venerate announced. “This turning, the Woodsmen under Pathshaper Fulgram will receive our favor, thanks to the efforts of Feller Corfen as witnessed here. Remember his example and serve well.” The crowd resumed their elated shouts as soon as the Venerate finished the declaration. Corfen raised his axe high with a proud smile and gave a victorious shout of his own. Edan joined in the celebration, but his attention was quickly drawn to a figure walking through the woods beyond the far side of the clearing. It was difficult to tell from such a distance, but Edan felt certain he was looking at Scur.
Despite the volume of workers gathered all around him, Edan made it through the crowd easily thanks mostly to his size and demeanor. Sometimes it was nice to be viewed as intimidating, even if it wasn’t intentional. When he reached the far edge of the clearing, Edan stopped to scan the forest ahead for the person he had seen. A flicker of movement in the woods to his left showed Edan where to go next. Within a few brisk strides he was close enough to see clearly that this person was Scur, and that he was acting very unusual even by Scur’s standards.
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