Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “Yes, he should, but he must earn it first,” Eyrie stared coldly at Wyand as she spoke. He had no idea what he could do to “earn” food or anything else from these people, so Wyand looked away tiredly. His hunger would not be satisfied today. There were more snickers from the boatmen as they watched him fail, and he heard more than one of them call him “Two-knot” again. Wyand knew it had to be an insult, but the meaning remained a mystery and only added to his frustration.

  “Into the cages,” Eyrie called as she, too, climbed atop one of the scrid. “And stay on your backs,” she added. Wyand exchanged nervous glances with the Unwoven and Halwen, then they each crawled into a wooden lattice. The smell of bark and dirt surrounded him as he slid over the painful supports once more. Daylight shone through the openings, and although the space between branches was large enough to fit an arm through, it still felt too cramped inside the cage for Wyand’s liking. Not even working in the mines had ever felt this confining.

  “Extend your hand,” one of the boatmen said from just out of view somewhere above Wyand’s head. Wyand reached through the slats and waited as he heard one of the scrid approaching. He hadn’t truly appreciated the size of the creature until its tusks were close enough to touch; thankfully it didn’t get any closer. Slow, hot breath accompanied the quiet squishing sound of the inner mouth extending—the smell was almost more than Wyand could bear even on an empty stomach. He made the mistake of glancing at the mouth as it sampled the scent of his hand, and he almost jerked his hand away in fear. Each tooth along the red, serrated edge of the scrid’s jaws was longer than his hand and looked sharp enough to cut things far more solid than flesh. An instant later, the animal was done smelling its new cargo and it crept out of view.

  Wyand’s pulse quickened as he heard the familiar creaking sound again; the shadow of the scrid’s tail blocked the sky from view as it lowered into position. Dozens of pointed legs curled around the limbs above him, and he felt the cage being lifted and flipped. Wyand realized an instant too late that he should have grabbed hold of the roof of the framework, as it suddenly became the floor and rushed towards his face with unfortunate speed. He cried out from surprise more than pain as his body slammed against the branches, a reaction which elicited even more laughter from the boatmen. Thanks to the tight confines it was only a minor drop, but there was still enough distance to add more bruises to Wyand’s growing collection.

  Halwen and the Unwoven must have learned from watching his mistake, because they both clung tightly to the roof of their cages as they were flipped. Wyand watched with annoyed envy as they gracefully settled into position. It wasn’t that he wished them the pain of being thrown around inside the cages, but more that at least then he wouldn’t be the only source of the boatmen’s laughter. In a matter of seconds, though, that laughter was washed out completely by the sound of wind rushing past as the scrid moved forward through the forest with unbelievable speed.

  At first, Wyand was terrified to be close enough to the ground to touch it while moving so quickly, but then a surge of exhilaration made him forget his fears. The path ahead became a tunnel of blurred foliage, rocks, and dirt as the scrid flowed along the ground faster and faster. Wyand had always loved the thrill of speed, but the pace he achieved in days past when running to Last Calling was embarrassingly slow when compared to these creatures. Still trying to catch his breath, he laughed as the undulating legs covered more distance in the span of a single breath than he could cover in twenty strides.

  A sudden movement high in the tree tops to the left of the path caught Wyand’s attention, and he was awestruck by what he saw. One of the enormous scrid, with a boatman tethered to its back, climbed the gnarled branches of a Spineleaf and vaulted to the next-closest tree without any sound that Wyand could hear. The amazing feat did not stop there, though, as the creature continued leaping silently from one tree to the next with no sign of any effort; it flowed just as easily through the canopy as it did over the ground. Wyand looked to the right of the path and found another of the animals leaving the upper branches of one tree for the next.

  The bodies of these two scrid, high in the tree tops, appeared more slender and narrow than the massive creatures that hauled Wyand and the other newcomers. Their movements darted whereas the scrid with transport cages seemed to move at a constant, albeit incredibly rapid, pace. As Wyand watched, he realized that the boatmen mounted on these smaller scrid were the two that Eyrie had referred to as “Sentinels.” Their curved sticks and arrows were strapped to their backs, but the Sentinels appeared to be scanning the horizon nonetheless. There can’t be haugaeldr here… Wyand convinced himself, wondering what the Sentinels were looking for instead that could possibly be worse. Of all the mysteries from the last two days, after seeing the nightmare of the haugaeldr, this was one question he prayed would remain unanswered.

  14

  “Too many delays,” Edan whispered through gritted teeth; it wasn’t the first time he had voiced this thought since the offering procession left the mines. Every few strides, the two columns of miners were slowed by more people stepping forward to either congratulate them or jokingly ask why it had taken so long for the mining task to be chosen for the offering. All in all, it turned what could have been a very brief journey into a lengthy ordeal. Despite their slow speed, the dozens of filled minecarts in the procession generated a constant thunder that caused the small stones on the path to bounce and jitter. Edan trudged on, nearly stepping on top of the Smelter in front of him several times as he tried unsuccessfully to resume a more reasonable pace. It didn’t help that his earlier nausea still lingered and a dull ache had formed behind his eyes just after exiting the mine. As it was, the sound of the carts felt like two boulders pressing against the sides of his head.

  “Relax, boy,” Stonecaller Galbrun urged from Edan’s right side. “Let them enjoy their ceremony. Besides, this is normal for Kingdomturn—the offering chimes sound, the procession begins, and it always takes hours to finally reach the Hall. It’s been this way for every offering before, why shouldn’t it be the same for ours?” Edan nodded, but his irritation wouldn’t pass so readily. Galbrun knew this too, so the man looked away with a sympathetic laugh and a shake of his head.

  Complaining like this is shameful, Edan scolded himself, thinking of how Wyand would have reacted to such sullenness on a day as significant as this. This was a day to be proud, both of personal accomplishment and of the combined efforts of the mining task itself, but Edan’s temperament had been on a steady decline since the end of the Trials. He tried once again to refocus, hoping that an appropriate level of exuberance would return that was fitting of someone about to deliver the Kingdomturn offering. What he received instead was a sharp jolt of pain from deep within his head accompanied by a faint ringing in his ears.

  Edan winced as he rolled his head from side to side to try to work out whatever was causing the discomfort. The faint light filtering through the layer of clouds overhead felt unbearably bright to his sensitive eyes, so he shut them as the march to the Hall continued. Moving without sight only worsened the nausea, though, so Edan was forced to squint to avoid being sick. Venerates give me strength, he prayed, feeling utterly miserable. This was not at all how he had envisioned the experience of providing the offering.

  A cold wind swirled through the crowd and brushed against Edan’s face; he was surprised to find its touch felt strangely familiar. The chill called his mind to a recent memory, but he couldn’t cite the exact time or location. His vision blurred as echoes of other sensations flashed in his thoughts—sensations that he knew were somehow connected to the frigid breeze.

  I was running, Edan remembered; then from another flash, I was running at night. People were shouting, but Edan couldn’t discern whether it was the joyful crowd gathered for Kingdomturn or the people that ran beside him in his memory. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Another flash came faster than the last—Blood. Blood on the ground, flowing with the rain. Staining it red,
shining in the lamplight. Need to run faster. Need to catch them.

  “Who?” Edan whispered, though he wasn’t sure if it was aloud or just inside his head. The answer arrived suddenly, and it struck Edan with the force of a runaway minecart. Wyand. The name seemed to echo in his mind as more of the hidden memories were revealed, until one final sensation burned itself into Edan’s thoughts. It was the touch of a cold breeze from the Exile Door that swept across Edan’s rain-drenched face as he screamed with the rest of the crowd. Then he watched Wyand leap from the Casting Platform and vanish into Wracandyr.

  “No!” Edan shouted, unable to believe what he had been shown.

  “Steady, Depthcarver,” Galbrun said worriedly. “I’m just guiding you back onto the path.” Only then did Edan realize that he held the Stonecaller’s wrists in a crushing grip. Embarrassed, he released Galbrun’s arms and looked around in shock. The outermost ring of the living quarters was only a few strides away now; somehow he had unknowingly covered a great distance during the sudden surge of memories. Dense crowds lined the central path as the Hall drew closer, their cheers growing louder with each sounding of the offering chimes.

  “What happened?” Edan asked during one of the lulls, though he still had to shout to be heard over the crowd and the carts.

  “You were completely lost in thought,” Galbrun replied with a frown. “So much so that you wandered out of the procession. What in the Kingdom were you thinking about?”

  Edan’s jaw hung open as he searched for an explanation. He couldn’t describe what he had just experienced to the Stonecaller, not today, because it would detract from the sanctity of the ceremony. Honestly, he had no idea what to make of the startling images that had suddenly invaded his mind, so Edan chose to respond as honestly as he could.

  “It was a memory of a dream,” Edan answered, still recovering. “A very strange dream.” The Stonecaller looked at him sideways and then nodded once sharply. Galbrun’s expression returned to one of determined pride—he wasn’t going to let anything disrupt the events of this Kingdomturn.

  “Stay sharp,” Galbrun said just before the chimes sounded again. “I can’t have my Depthcarver losing focus now. Not when you’ve brought us this far.” It was both a warning and an incredible compliment, perfectly conveyed in as few words as possible. One day, Edan would learn how Galbrun could do that so well. For now, he nodded to the Stonecaller as the shouting resumed from both sides of the path.

  When the entrance at the base of the Hall came into view, the sound of the crowd swelled into a frenzy of exuberance that overpowered even the ringing of the chimes. Edan’s confusion subsided briefly as he reveled in the significance of the moment. The Hall was waiting—all of Aldhagen was waiting—for the men of the mines to deliver their first offering. A sudden surge of anxiety gripped Edan’s stomach with enough force that he felt certain he was going to be sick. There were so many people, and they were all watching him, remembering his every action as part of the stories they would tell of this Kingdomturn. The pressure to act like one of the men of legend continued to weigh heavily on Edan until he finally forced himself to stand a little taller and smile a little broader.

  As the first two Tailings reached the entrance to the Hall the thunder of their carts subsided, leaving only a deep and distant echo in its place. The crowd became quiet too as they waited eagerly for the offering ceremony to truly begin. Edan listened in the relative stillness as a chain of voices repeated the same command from the front of the procession to the rear where he stood: "hold.”

  The Tailings, with Adlig in the lead, started the call as they came to a halt. It seemed out of place for their youthful voices to be delivering an order to the entire offering procession, but this was the custom of every offering. Those of the lowest rank in a task led the way to the ceremony, and those of the highest rank entered the Hall last. It was an important symbol, a reminder that all workers started from the same point, no matter how elevated they had become within a given task. For the Tailings, it was also an opportunity to see how it felt to issue commands for once instead of receiving them.

  Immediately behind the Tailings were the Carvers, their voices deeper and more certain when delivering the message to stop. Where the Tailings were excited and nervous, the Carvers were calmly proud. They knew it was their picks that had freed so many carts of ore from the stone beneath Aldhagen, and they savored the victory that the offering represented. When people looked back at this Kingdomturn, the Carvers would undoubtedly be remembered as its heroes, and the Carvers were well aware of that fact.

  The gritty voices of the Smelters were the last to carry the order. Though they spoke clearly and loudly, most of the Smelters didn’t share the same proud energy exhibited by the Carvers. For many, it had taken nearly twenty turnings of hard labor to reach this point, and for others it had been almost that long since they were strong enough to even swing a pick. They were a haggard group, weathered by the task they loved but infinitely reliable and constant in their work nonetheless. More than any other emotion, the Smelters were relieved to be a part of the offering at last. Unfamiliar tears wandered the creases of many of their faces as they added their voices to the call.

  At the very back of the procession, Galbrun and Edan came to a stop once the message reached them. Being viewed as a near-equal by the Stonecaller was a new and very surreal concept for Edan to embrace; despite his best efforts, he still felt out of place standing beside a man like Galbrun. To add to the discomfort, now they would be forced to stand in silence as they waited with the rest of Aldhagen for the Venerates to appear. Edan kept his eyes straight forward in an effort to minimize his nervousness; as more time elapsed, though, the tactic rapidly lost its effectiveness.

  Then came the sound everyone was waiting to hear—the Hall doors swung open on their ancient hinges and the Venerates marched out to review the offering. Their staves struck the ground in unison as they walked to the front of the procession, and even at this distance Edan was mesmerized by the beauty of such perfectly-timed motion. Still in rhythm, the two columns of Venerates split apart to examine each offering cart as well as every member of the procession. They shifted simultaneously from one point to the next until at last arriving beside Galbrun and Edan. All of Aldhagen held its breath as they waited for the Venerates to speak; Edan tried to appear as calm despite his pounding heart.

  “Turn and face your people,” the Venerates closest to Galbrun and Edan said in unison. Edan did as he was told, and was immediately petrified by the stares of more than a thousand of his fellow workers. He wanted to scream, but thankfully he was able to smile instead.

  “Today begins a new turning, but it also marks the beginning of a new era for Aldhagen,” the Venerate closest to Galbrun began. Another Venerate standing by the Carvers conveyed the next thought, “It has long been a question—why does the mining task never provide the Kingdomturn offering? Speculation has ruled the minds of most workers, forcing them to believe that the miners have somehow offended the Venerates, or perhaps that the task itself is unworthy.” An uncomfortably long silence followed as the crowd tried to determine what the Venerates would say next.

  “This is not so,” another Venerate continued at last. “We did not call upon the men of the mines sooner because we needed them to be motivated to provide the offering more than any other task has ever been. It was only through an incredible level of determination and focus that they could be expected to succeed in the task we had in mind for them.

  “Since the founding, we knew a time would eventually come in which our original source of power would be completely expended. That turning has arrived; our magic is nearly gone.” Shocked murmurs spread through the crowd, but the proclamation continued, still shifting from one speaker to the next.

  “But there is hope. As you know, an immense crystal was secured by the Carvers serving under Stonecaller Galbrun, although when it was first presented we only spoke briefly of its importance. Now, with this crystal before
you once more, you will learn the true purpose of the offering from the mines and the impact it will have on all of your lives.” Three of the Tailings were chosen to hoist the enormous yellow-green crystal out of the lead mine cart; Edan smiled when he saw that Adlig was one of the Tailings selected.

  “With our magic dwindling, the task we set before the miners was to secure a new power source as their offering to us,” the Venerates continued. “Their best and purest Carvers faced the dangers of the Lower Depths, never faltering, never losing faith, until at last they prevailed. This crystal is the result of their work. This crystal is the future of Aldhagen. This crystal is our new power source.”

  “Stonecaller Galbrun,” one of the Venerates announced. “Depthcarver Edan. Men of the mining task. We accept your offering.”

  For the length of a single breath there was silence. The secret was now revealed to everyone, and Edan smiled knowingly as he watched the expressions of all workers, miners included, change from shock to pure joy. Shouts erupted on all sides, reverberating against the inner ring of living quarters and gaining volume with each passing second. The Venerates marched into the Hall in unison, and the delighted Tailings led the procession in immediately after them.

  The next few minutes were a blur in Edan’s mind. Everywhere he looked there were people smiling as they shouted their support for the mining task, proclaiming that the mines had saved Aldhagen. Then, within a stride, the Hall entrance passed overhead and quickly muted the sound of the crowd’s praises. Edan had walked through this doorway thousands of times over the turnings, but never as part of the offering ceremony. As such, the Hall felt mysterious and new even though everything was exactly as it had been in days past.

  Edan had expected to deliver the offering to a room high in the upper floors of the Hall, near the beacon, but with a start he realized that the Venerates were leading them down the spiraling hallway instead of up. He turned to Galbrun, who appeared to share the confusion.