Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “What are those?” someone cried from the group on the shore.

  “Get back, Taerius!” Grigg shouted. “Run!” The first of the monsters latched onto Lissara’s leg, but Grigg kicked the beast furiously back into the water. Five more took its place, however, as the glow in the lake grew brighter every second. Grigg dragged Lissara away from the water as fast as he could, but he knew he could not outrun the ever-expanding horde of writhing death. Then two unfamiliar men appeared by his side, both holding a torch and both taking hold of Lissara’s robe to help pull her faster. Grigg watched in horror as one of the creatures slipped past their notice and struck one of the two men with a long tendril that erupted from the top of its body. The man cried out, then swung madly at the beasts with his torch.

  The other man helping Grigg faltered at the sight of his injured friend, tripped in the mud, and then he too was injected by one of the glowing monstrosities. He dispatched the creature quickly with his boot, but Grigg knew it was already too late for this man as well. Left to pull Lissara by himself for the moment, Grigg desperately swatted away the creatures with every step, but more and more pale yellow lights emerged from the lake. There was a sudden, sharp pain in Grigg’s right leg, but the burning agony was fleeting and immediately replaced by numbness. He glanced down, and his worst fears were instantly confirmed. One of the bulbous yellow creatures writhed in the mud directly behind his leg, and Grigg watched as it finished retracting the long spike that had ensured his own demise.

  In a fit of anguish and rage, Grigg flung himself at the beasts as a last layer of protection to keep them away from his fallen wife, his son, and the crowd of people standing on the shore behind him. Using his hands, feet, rocks, whatever was available, Grigg began a systematic extermination of everything that glowed with the sickening light. Strangely, the creatures seemed completely disinterested in him now; some even tried to avoid him. He was joined by the two men who had stepped in to help him earlier, and together they formed a silent bond that fueled their movements with the strength of unified purpose. Scores of the yellow creatures were reduced to glowing, viscous lumps in the sand as Grigg and his two companions swept across the shoreline, until in a few short minutes nothing moved that wasn’t human.

  Exhausted and constantly reminded of his own imminent death by the spreading numbness in his body, Grigg limped back to stand over Lissara in case any more of the beasts emerged from the water to try to consume her. Taerius ran to embrace his father, and the crowd of people cautiously approached in his wake. “Forgive me, son,” Grigg whispered. “Forgive me.” The boy only sobbed.

  “What…happened?” a woman asked. Grigg looked up at the sound of her voice and found a mass of very nervous strangers staring back at him. He couldn’t tell which one of them had posed the question, but it was clear they all shared the same curiosity and fear.

  “Aldhagen is lost,” Grigg announced sadly. “Its people were wiped out by the creatures you see dead in the sand. We were betrayed by the Cultivators—the ones we call Venerates.” Gasps and murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd, but Grigg continued without slowing. Wyand could feel a deep, gnawing sensation of thirst forming in Grigg’s core, and he and Grigg both knew it wouldn’t be long before the desire for water would outweigh the ability to talk. “There is more,” he said, raising his hands for quiet. “You cannot stay here, or you will die too.”

  “This is our home! You can’t ask us to leave,” a young bearded man protested.

  “I’m asking you to save your lives,” Grigg replied, licking his lips in a futile attempt to slake his growing thirst. “As the only uninfected people remaining on this world, your lives all just became very important. So, I am telling you that you need to run far away from this place.”

  The people looked to one another and murmured in confusion. One of the men stepped forward with his bearded jaw set in clear opposition of Grigg’s instructions. “Who are you to tell us what to do?” he asked defiantly.

  “I am the man who just witnessed the death of everyone he’s ever known,” Grigg replied coldly.

  “How did you survive if everyone else in Aldhagen is dead?” the man demanded. Many in the crowd nodded in shared support of the question.

  Grigg paused, then shook his head. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “My son helped us escape. He is guided somehow; he knows things that cannot be known.” The crowd then looked to Taerius, who stood by his father’s side over Lissara. The boy lifted his head, and even through the tears it was easy to distinguish the unnatural swirls of green and blue that had so recently developed. Several of the closest people recoiled, while the bearded man stared back at Taerius in amazement.

  “You are called Iorstan,” Taerius declared, and the man’s eyes instantly grew wide. “You should say farewell to your brother before we have to go.” Taerius pointed over his own shoulder to one of the two men standing behind Grigg.

  “And what makes you think he’s not going anywhere I go?” Iorstan asked somewhat nervously.

  “Because he’s already dead,” Taerius replied, then he looked away sadly. “That’s why my father can’t go with us either.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Iorstan’s brother asked Grigg in a hoarse whisper.

  “Once they inject you, that’s it,” Grigg replied with a bitter sigh. “You and I will both be dead soon, consumed by the hundreds of glowing creatures that are growing inside us right now. Our only task is to remain here and kill as many of their kind as we can before we succumb to their poison. I’m sure you’ve already started to feel the thirst.” The man stared down in horror, nodding slowly as he struggled to comprehend his life’s imminent conclusion.

  “How long?” Iorstan’s brother asked.

  “Less than a day, from what we saw in Aldhagen,” Grigg replied, then he addressed the crowd again. “Which is why you all need to get as far from this place—and from us—as possible. My son is right: those who were struck by the creatures are already dead. We will remain here to protect your departure.”

  Iorstan stepped forward, then knelt by Taerius’ side. “I don’t understand your ability,” Iorstan said, “but I believe you. Will you come with us to find safety?” Taerius turned to face his father, and Grigg nodded with a pained frown. Taerius then leapt into Grigg’s arms, embracing him tightly as a new stream of tears flowed over his cheeks. Wyand could feel the agony tearing at Grigg’s core, first from the loss of the woman he loved and now from the knowledge that he would never see Taerius again.

  “Whatever you become, you will always be my son,” Grigg whispered. He held Taerius for an instant more, then forced himself to place the boy back on the sand. “Go with them,” Grigg said, wiping aside tears of his own. “Guide them to safe water. They’re your new family now.” Taerius backed away, eyes swirling with pulses of green, then spun to join the waiting crowd. From the corner of his vision, Grigg watched with sympathy as Iorstan embraced his brother for a final time. When they were done, Grigg suddenly took hold of Iorstan’s arm before the man could walk away. “I’m trusting you,” Grigg warned him. “Take care of my son.”

  Iorstan nodded. “I will,” he promised.

  “I have one final thing to ask,” Grigg said, reaching up to remove the Thoughtcaster from around his neck. “Where my son will help to guide your future, this will answer your questions about the past.” Iorstan looked at the Thoughtcaster uneasily, and refused to touch it at first. “You’ll understand after you use it,” Grigg said. “Once you know the truth this Thoughtcaster holds, promise me that you will one day activate Aldhagen’s true beacon.”

  “I don’t under—”

  “Promise me,” Grigg said firmly as a sudden surge of painful thirst nearly forced him to the ground.

  “I promise,” Iorstan said hurriedly. “I promise.” In that same instant, Grigg’s vision grew dark and the rushing wind shifted his consciousness away from Wyand’s own.

  ---

  Wyand blinked as he recogn
ized the familiar broken columns and archways of the Interface. The Monitor stood a few strides away by the motionless fountain, waiting patiently for the questions he knew would be coming. Wyand stared at the fountain in numb disbelief. “The Cultivators…created the haugaeldr,” he breathed; it was half statement, half question.

  The Monitor nodded in affirmation. “The creatures are not native to this world, though they may have been derived from a modified form of indigenous species.”

  Wyand shuddered at that concept and chose to change the subject quickly. “What happened after Grigg and Taerius parted ways?” Wyand asked.

  “Grigg established a final linkage with the Interface,” the Monitor said. “His request was to store as many of his thoughts as possible that pertained to the fall of Aldhagen. I warned him this would be an intensive process for the Thoughtcaster, especially with so much of it suffering from the corruption, but he wished to proceed anyway. The power required to accomplish the task completely exhausted this device’s reserves, and so it has remained dormant ever since. You are the first person to provide a new power source, and it is clear to me from the memories you have of the Woven Wall that Grigg died many hundreds of turnings ago.”

  Wyand thought through everything he just witnessed. “So, Grigg wasn’t Guided at all. The early Cynmeren called him ‘Father of the Guided’ because he was literally the father of the first Guided, Taerius,” Wyand realized.

  “Correct,” the Monitor said.

  “And they kept the Thoughtcaster safe since the time before Cynmere’s founding because they viewed it as a sacred link to the past, even though they had no way of knowing what that meant. It never worked for anyone other than Grigg.”

  “And now you, Wyand,” the Monitor added.

  “True,” Wyand agreed, then he suddenly realized that he had accessed the Interface in the midst of his assessment to join one of the Kindred Orders. He’d become so lost in Grigg’s memories that he had completely forgotten the events that led up to wearing the Thoughtcaster in the first place. “I have to get back,” he said worriedly. “How long have I been here?”

  “Time does not function in the Interface as it does elsewhere,” the Monitor replied. “All information that you have witnessed as part of this linkage was transferred to you at the speed of thought; any passage of time that you have experienced here is illusory. In the physical realm, less than one hundredth of a second has elapsed since you established the link.”

  Wyand laughed in disbelief, but readily accepted the Monitor’s words as truth considering all the other astounding things the Thoughtcaster had done so far. To Wyand, the Venerates’ most impressive magic now seemed dull compared to even the basic functions of this incredible device. “Can I come back?” he asked, eager to discover what other mysteries of the past were hiding within the Interface.

  “Of course,” the Monitor replied. “The mechanism for internal energy storage in this device is damaged, but as long as a power source is nearby, the linkage may be established at will.”

  “I am ready to go, then,” Wyand said. As he spoke, there was a deep rumbling that shook the platform, and Wyand watched as a thin crack formed directly beneath his feet. “What’s happening?” he shouted over the sound of the stones breaking apart.

  “Corruption,” the Monitor replied in a voice that sounded oddly distorted. “I will repair what I can.” The rumbling stopped, but the crack remained across the perfect white tiles. The Monitor paused, then looked up with his typical pleasant smile. “Before you go, I should warn you of a possible complication, Wyand. Because of the damage to this device, severing the first linkage may be violent for you; Grigg suffered a prolonged episode of unconsciousness. I apologize for any harm that this experience may cause you when you return to the physical realm.” Before Wyand could reply, the rushing wind and darkness returned to carry his consciousness out of the Thoughtcaster and back to the Council Chamber in Cynmere.

  ---

  “—let me see the stone,” Fadian commanded as his fingers took hold of Wyand’s arm.

  At Fadian’s touch, Wyand’s entire body spasmed and his skin felt as though he’d been dropped into a lake of freezing water. He tried to shake away the sensation as he absently passed Fadian the stone from the Cavern of the Winds, but the numbness persisted. A black haze pulsated at the edges of Wyand’s vision, constantly threatening to overpower his consciousness; whenever he tried to concentrate on the situation at hand, Grigg’s memories were like whispers inside his mind, tempting him away from all thoughts of the present. Fadian’s face blurred and shifted into an image of the Monitor, then Taerius, then Lissara. As the last grim visage manifested itself, Wyand was forced to shut his eyes to avoid reliving the death of his wife. Grigg’s wife, he reminded himself in a feeble attempt to cling to reality.

  The stone still glowed a faint blue after activating the Thoughtcaster, its reflection blending with the swirls of color in Fadian’s eyes as he studied it. “This stone is from somewhere else,” he said in wonder, then his eyes grew large. “This is the seed from my Vision!” Fadian shouted. “The message is clear to me now: this stone will bring great pain, followed by unimaginable growth.” Wyand struggled to make out Fadian’s words over the gusts of wind that he knew only he could hear. There was a sudden flash of memories, all focused around Taerius’ early childhood. Wyand stumbled backward and saw the ceiling of the chamber appear in the center of his diminishing vision. There was no harsh strike against the floor, though—something had stopped his fall.

  A familiar face hovered over Wyand, and he was instantly grateful to find Eyrie staring down at him. Her brow was furrowed with concern, but he could see that beneath the surface she was fascinated by whatever was happening to him. She’s incredibly beautiful, Wyand realized suddenly, then another thought followed that seemed to echo with Grigg’s voice: Lissara was beautiful too. Wyand gazed happily at Eyrie for several blissful moments until the sound of rushing wind faded.

  “What is this stone?” Leomar demanded, standing directly over Wyand’s shoulder. Wyand put a hand to his head and blinked several times to clear the residual darkness from the edges of his vision.

  “I…don’t know,” Wyand stammered. “I found it buried deep in the Cavern of the Winds. It’s some sort of…power. When I first touched it, I could see through the Cultivators’ lies. More amazing than that, though, is that it just activated the Thoughtcaster.”

  “Impossible,” Leomar snapped, abruptly pulling Wyand’s shoulders up off of the floor. “You dare lie to one of the Guided?”

  Wyand’s thoughts shifted involuntarily to the memory of Grigg watching his son turn to join the group beneath the Exile Door. He’s guided somehow; he knows things that cannot be known. Wyand shuddered and Grigg’s voice receded. “Not lying,” Wyand panted. “I was there. I saw through Grigg’s eyes; I became him. I felt the love he had for his family—Lissara, his wife, and their son, Taerius.”

  Leomar scowled at him initially, but as he searched Wyand’s eyes, the old Guided’s expression quickly changed to one of shock. “That isn’t possible. You cannot know that name. Fadian, you didn’t mention Taerius to him, did you?”

  “No, Stormbrother,” Fadian replied quietly. He was visibly nervous, his gaze shifting from the glowing stone in his hand to Wyand and back. Whether from paralyzing fear or stubbornness, though, Fadian did not back away. He and Leomar both focused solely on Wyand now, and they were joined by every other person in the Council Chamber.

  Eyes wide and blazing with internal light, Leomar turned to face the Council members and the representatives from each Order. “The assessment is finished. Please leave us to question him further—this is a matter for the Guided now,” he announced in a voice that exuded authority even though it creaked with age. The other members of the Elder Council grumbled to one another just loud enough for Wyand to hear words like “unorthodox” and “improper,” but one after another they all left the chamber.

  “I wish to re
main with him, Council Guide,” Eyrie said with a respectful bow of her head once everyone else was gone. Wyand looked at her incredulously, but she pointedly ignored him.

  “You may stay,” Leomar replied, “but it will be strictly so that we may learn more of what you know about this stone and Wyand’s arrival in the Lake of Skulls, should his answers prove unsatisfactory.”

  “It will be as you say,” Eyrie nodded. “I fear my insight is limited in the answers you seek, though.”

  “We’ll see,” Leomar responded, then he knelt by Wyand. “All right, boy. The Thoughtcaster was only around your neck for an instant, yet you claim that you are now intimately familiar with Grigg and his family. How can that be?”

  Wyand stood slowly with Eyrie’s assistance. “I don’t truly understand it either,” he admitted, “but I was told that time in the Thoughtcaster follows different rules than it does here. Lifetimes of information can be shared in an instant, all conveyed at the speed of thought itself. That was how the Monitor explained it, at least—”

  “Who?” Fadian interjected.

  “The Monitor,” Wyand replied, then he realized from the confused expressions all around him that no one but Grigg would have any concept of what the Monitor was, or the Interface itself. “There is a sort of…presence…inside the Thoughtcaster that coordinates information,” Wyand explained somewhat awkwardly.

  “And this Monitor showed you Grigg’s memories?” Leomar asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” Wyand replied. “Grigg asked that the next person to use the Thoughtcaster be shown his memories of the fall of Aldhagen. I was that next person.”

  “That’s very convenient,” Leomar said with a wry smile. “Tell me then, Wyand, what did Grigg share with you about the fall of Aldhagen?”

  “Everything,” Wyand replied, staring at the floor as he spoke. “The Venerates—Cultivators—tore apart the workers’ families when they deemed their children ‘inferior.’ The workers protested, and the Cultivators responded with violence. Conflict spread as more people were called to revolt against the Cultivators’ cruelty. When victory over the Cultivators seemed imminent, they sealed themselves in the Hall until the crowds dispersed. Then, in an act of pure cowardice, the Cultivators released the haugaeldr into Aldhagen by using the workers’ children as hosts. The haugaeldr wiped everyone out except for Grigg and his family. They escaped briefly through Wracandyr, but only Taerius survived to venture into the lands beyond Drugoth.” Wyand closed his eyes to dispel the flashes of memory that plagued his mind throughout the explanation. When he looked up, Leomar and Fadian both stared at him in silence.