Kingdomturn

by Matthew Williams

  “What he says matches the histories,” Fadian breathed, a faint smile creeping onto his aged face. Leomar was not smiling, however; his jaw was clenched tightly, and he regarded Wyand in the same way an untouched wall of stone would regard a pick swinging towards it.

  “Yes, it does, Stormbrother,” Leomar said, never taking his eyes off of Wyand. “Which leaves me to choose between one of two conclusions. Either he speaks the truth and has somehow brought new life to our most ancient relic, or this is all a very elaborate trick.”

  “A trick? How…?” Fadian demanded.

  “Simple. Beyond Grigg and the thousands of dead who fell during the Cultivators’ betrayal, who else knew every detail of the fall of Aldhagen?” Leomar asked.

  There was a moment in silent confusion, then Fadian’s frown suddenly vanished. “The Cultivators themselves!” he whispered, clearly stunned by the revelation.

  “Exactly,” Leomar said, stepping closer to Wyand. “They have been quietly searching for Cynmere since the time of the founding, eager to end our meddling in their affairs. I ask you this: what if they have finally found us? Suppose this man is somehow a tool of the Cultivators, granted a portion of their ancient knowledge as a means to gain our trust, infiltrate our society, then later betray us.”

  “You think that is truly possible?” Fadian asked. “Even though he has been cleansed, you think the Cultivators could still hold power over him?”

  “Perhaps,” Leomar replied, taking the stone from Fadian’s grasp and studying it at eye level. “Perhaps this is how he is controlled. Or it could be a weapon, brought here to destroy us. There’s only one way to find out. Wyand, how did you supposedly activate the Thoughtcaster?”

  “I didn’t have to do anything,” Wyand said with an uncertain shrug. “I just put it around my neck, then as soon as my hand touched the stone, I was transported into the Interface.”

  Leomar nodded slowly. “Give me the Thoughtcaster,” he ordered suddenly, and Wyand lifted the thin chain off of his own neck. Leomar lowered the sacred object into place against his chest as he had done so many times before, then he was motionless. Fadian, Eyrie, and Wyand all held their breath as they waited, but then Leomar looked up from beneath his brow. “It seems you are proven a liar, Wyand,” Leomar proclaimed. “Unfortunately, that means—” the Council Guide stopped mid-sentence as the stone emitted a short burst of its blinding blue light. Then, he collapsed to the ground.

  “Leomar!” Fadian exclaimed as both he and Eyrie dropped down to aid the elderly Guided. Leomar stared wide-eyed at the ceiling of the chamber, jaw slack and body shaking violently. At last, the convulsions ceased and the Council Guide was still. Fadian leaned in close to Leomar’s face, then sprang upright and turned towards Wyand threateningly. “What have you done to him? What have you done!” Fadian shouted. “He was right about you!” From the floor, Leomar inhaled sharply, putting an end to Fadian’s accusations for the moment.

  “He’s breathing!” Eyrie announced, and Fadian immediately returned to Leomar’s side.

  “Old Ones…watch over me,” Leomar panted softly. “It works. It works.”

  “What?” Fadian asked, confused by what he’d just heard.

  “He wasn’t lying,” Leomar explained. “The Thoughtcaster works. Help me up.” Fadian and Eyrie each supported an arm as the Council Guide rose to his feet. He brushed them away as soon as he regained his balance. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Leomar said. “It’ll take more than that to stop me.” He looked at Wyand with a combination of wonder and wariness. “You didn’t mention the beacon,” he breathed.

  “What about the beacon?” Fadian interjected.

  “The real one has never been used,” Leomar replied. “It’s hidden somewhere deep within the Hall.”

  Fadian blinked in shock, his eyes darting as he leapt from one thought to the next. “That means there’s still a chance the Old Kingdom isn’t lost to us!” Fadian exclaimed, but Leomar shook his head slowly.

  “Even with this new knowledge, there is still no means of reaching the true beacon to activate it. The Cultivators have killed any who try to reach Aldhagen; you know that as well as I do, Fadian,” the Council Guide said with a pained frown.

  “I may have a solution to that problem,” Wyand said hesitantly. The chamber was still and all eyes were suddenly on him, then they followed his hand as he pointed to the stone from the Cavern of the Winds. “Beyond what I’ve told you so far, that stone has the power to do…other things. Darker things.”

  “Such as?” Leomar urged him.

  “I’ve seen it kill one of the Cultivators.” The Council Chamber fell into complete silence after Wyand spoke.

  “I see,” Leomar said quietly a moment later. “That is the true burden you carry then, not the stone itself.”

  “Yes,” Wyand replied.

  The old Guided nodded to himself and moved slowly towards the Woven Wall. “It is a weapon, then,” Leomar said quietly, studying the stone as he walked.

  “Forgive me, Stormbrother, but don’t you realize what this means?” Fadian asked. “I find myself struggling to keep from laughing with joy. We finally have the ability to take back Aldhagen, to free our brothers and sisters imprisoned there and cleanse them completely. If this stone can remove the influence of the Cultivators forever, then we must use it immediately!”

  Leomar turned back with a pensive scowl. “There will be death,” he muttered.

  “Many of us may be forced to sacrifice ourselves in the name of Aldhagen’s freedom. You are correct,” Fadian agreed. “That does not mean the endeavor is not worth attempting.”

  “There will be killing!” Leomar spat. “Our wayward brethren from Dism Slyde will be forced to defend the ones they call Venerates. They would be our final obstacle, and as such I cannot agree to any action that will place their blood on our hands. No. We will not retake Aldhagen in this way. This stone will be used for cleansing and as a tool to spread knowledge gained from the Thoughtcaster, nothing more. All of you will not speak of its other ‘power’ to anyone.” Leomar’s eyes blazed with color, and it was clear the discussion was finished from the way Fadian bowed as the Council Guide walked past. He stopped in front of Wyand and offered the stone to him.

  “I don’t understand,” Wyand said as he took back the stone from the Cavern of the Winds.

  “It is yours, by all rights,” Leomar said. “And I am trusting you with this as well.” He removed the Thoughtcaster and passed it back to Wyand. “Until the Council has had time to decide what actions we take from here, you will protect these sacred objects with your life.”

  Wyand stared down at the Thoughtcaster in one hand, the stone in the other. “Does this mean…is my assessment finished?” he asked tentatively.

  “It is,” Leomar nodded. “The Order of Storms will not speak for you.” Wyand felt his stomach lurch with worry, then the Council Guide continued. “Even with my dissenting vote, however, that leaves the final count at five Orders in your favor and three opposed. You have passed your assessment.” Leomar returned to the Woven Wall again, lost in his thoughts.

  Wyand breathed a sigh of relief, then another unanswered question suddenly occurred to him. “Which Order will I join?” he asked.

  “Isn’t that obvious?” Leomar called over his shoulder. Wyand looked to Fadian, who smiled faintly and tilted his head towards Eyrie.

  “Welcome to Aldhagen, Bloodbrother,” she said with a broad smile.

  Eyrie embraced Wyand then, and in that instant, he reveled unexpectedly in the faint scent of vandula blossoms. Lissara’s hair smelled just the same, Wyand remembered fondly, then he realized that wasn’t his memory at all. He shook his head to clear away Grigg’s presence, but the feeling of comfort and familiarity remained throughout Eyrie’s embrace.

  “Thank you,” Wyand laughed as she stepped back. “What do I do now?”

  “You stay here,” Leomar proclaimed from the base of the Woven Wall. “Fadian, bring the rest of the Elder C
ouncil back. The first task for Cynmere’s newest Bloodbrother will be to share the Thoughtcaster’s truth with each of them. When you return, though, you and I must speak privately, Stormbrother.” Fadian glanced worriedly at Leomar’s back, then hurried out of the Council Chamber. Eyrie stood beside Wyand as he nervously awaited the Council’s return. He faced the entryway with both hands shaking faintly, but he never wavered in his grip of both the stone and the Thoughtcaster.

  “Did you really see the Old Kingdom?” Eyrie whispered from his right side.

  “I did,” Wyand replied, grateful for the momentary distraction.

  She exhaled quietly in disbelief. “I look forward to you showing it to me,” Eyrie said. “Perhaps I can show you some of the customs of Cynmere in return.”

  Wyand turned his head slightly to look at her from the edge of his vision, but her eyes remained fixed on the entrance of the chamber. As he watched her, though, a small smile crept onto Eyrie’s face. He wasn’t sure what it meant exactly, but he recognized that same sort of smile from Grigg’s most pleasant memories of his time with Lissara. Wyand smiled to himself despite his nervousness. “I’m eager to learn,” he whispered.

  20

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Grefstan said as he loaded the last of the ore into the cart with Scur’s help.

  “Why not?” Edan asked, resting his pick. “I think Stonecaller Galbrun would be an invaluable addition to our effort after he accepts the truth.”

  “If he accepts the truth, which he never will,” Grefstan replied. “He is more devoted to the Venerates than any other worker in Aldhagen, especially after delivering the offering. Just like all the others, the Stonecaller truly believes that we were in the company of those summoned to High Calling during that ceremony. Now even hinting to him that we view the Venerates as anything less than gods would bring a swift end to the Silent History we’ve sworn to protect.”

  Edan’s shoulders slumped. He knew Grefstan was right—the Stonecaller’s zeal seemed boundless after witnessing the Venerates’ grand Kingdomturn illusion. Still, Edan longed to have someone else within the mine he could talk to who wasn’t also a Tailing. He liked both boys, but it was difficult to treat them as equals after so many turnings of viewing them as children. Edan knew there had to be other Observers of the Silent History somewhere in Aldhagen who were his age or older, but he also knew that trying to find them would be difficult or potentially destructive. One of the key elements of being an Observer was to only discuss the movement with the person who recruited you and the person you recruited, no one else. Thus far, Edan hadn’t found any viable candidates.

  In the eight days since his cleansing, Edan had witnessed two unofficial Castings and one death that the majority of Aldhagen had been forced to forget. His feelings of uneasiness in the presence of the Venerates had grown steadily, to the point where he now avoided them whenever possible. Seeing so many people brushed aside and forgotten made him constantly worry about what would happen if the Venerates ever discovered his involvement with the Observers. Even though he was known for being intimidating and impossible to read, Edan knew his fear was clearly visible any time the Venerates were nearby.

  “We should get this cart up to the Smelters,” Scur said. “It’s almost Third Calling.” Edan nodded and began swinging his pick once again as he listened to the cart rumble towards the cage that led up to the main section of the mine. Edan tried to lose himself in his work, but it was impossible for him to forget that a Calling was imminent. Where they had once been his favorite moments of each day, the Callings were now terrifying encounters with the Venerates and their tainted food. When the message filtered down from the top of the mine that Third Calling had arrived, though, he knew he had no choice but to attend.

  The steady rain soaked Edan as soon as he exited the mine, and there was no sign of it ending any time soon. He hurried back towards Aldhagen alone, praying that tonight’s lesson for his learning group would involve a distinct lack of food and a dry change of clothes. Edan chuckled to himself bitterly at that thought—he knew there would undoubtedly be food, and that the Venerates would let the learning group shiver until it was time for Last Calling. Somehow the Venerates would explain it as “making the workers stronger” or “proving their devotion,” but now Edan could see through the fog of lies they breathed into every word they spoke. The Venerates had no concern for the comfort of Aldhagen’s workers. They found people tedious and burdensome, yet they were forced to keep them alive just so the labor tasks could be completed.

  As Edan neared the Learning Hall where his group met every night, people passing by either offered him a mumbled greeting or remained silent before walking by as fast as they could. He was confused at first, but then Edan realized he must have been frowning more than usual. Apparently his “intimidating” demeanor was widely known, and people wanted even less to do with him when he looked displeased. Shifting his mindset took considerable effort, but by the time Edan entered the Learning Hall, he could feel that his face had returned to its usual state of neutrality.

  Aside from muddy footprints and small puddles inside the entryway, the Learning Hall was thankfully dry compared to the paths outside. Edan was surprised to see a fire supplying heat from the small hearth in the corner. Surely the work of one of Chamberlains and not the Venerates themselves, he thought, then quickly stopped himself from frowning again. Most of the Learning Group was already present and seated, eagerly awaiting the Third Calling meal as they discussed the day’s events. Edan nodded to a few of his closer acquaintances, but without Wyand and Keltin there were no conversations that interested him. No one wanted to try to talk to Edan either, which was perfectly fine with him.

  The scent of warm bread floated into the room, and just as the Calling chimes sounded, one of the Chamberlains appeared in the doorway with two covered baskets filled with steaming loaves. Where the sight and smell of such a feast would have once made Edan salivate, now he struggled to keep from being sick. No matter the type of food or the way in which it was prepared, Edan could always smell the Venerates’ poison hiding inside it. Still, simply to avoid standing out, he removed several pieces of bread when one of the baskets came past.

  He had practiced the act of pretending to eat since the night of the Kingdomturn festival, and it was finally becoming easier. Take small portions, but not too small, he reminded himself. Hunch over the plate with one arm propped up to block everyone else’s view. Break off a piece and let it fall into your shirt. Pretend to chew. Now do it all again. Trying to perform these simple actions with a rain-soaked shirt proved exceedingly difficult, but Edan knew no one was watching him anyway. The pieces of bread quickly absorbed water from his shirt and formed a lump of soggy dough near his waist. This is going to be an uncomfortable Calling, he realized.

  Edan felt a chill on the back of his neck and turned to look at the entryway. Just as he expected, a Venerate was about to enter the room. One of the strangest things he’d noted since ridding his body of their poison was that the Venerates’ footsteps weren’t actually silent. He’d asked Grefstan and Scur if they had noticed the same thing, and to his relief they had. Neither one of them could offer any explanation as to why the Venerates would want people to perceive their footsteps as being silent, but it was clearly a planned fabrication that served some unknown purpose. I can hear you, Edan laughed to himself internally as the Venerate strolled proudly to the center of the room. Your lies can’t touch me now.

  He rarely listened to anything the Venerates had to say anymore, and this Calling was no exception. The lesson dragged on for hours, and just as he had done with the act of eating, Edan only pretended to listen. He nodded when appropriate, laughed when everyone else did, he even responded in unison when called to do so, but his mind was far beyond the Learning Hall. He thought about Wyand and Keltin mostly, sometimes wondering if they might still be alive somewhere in the lands beyond the Exile Door. He had no memory of Keltin being cast out, but he was ce
rtain that’s what had happened after his friend never came back from Isolation.

  Then, to Edan’s surprise and delight, the chimes signaled the end of Third Calling. He rose with the rest of his learning group and turned to begin a brisk walk to the living quarters. He used to run with Wyand and Keltin so they could be the first to arrive at Last Calling, but now he saw no point in wasting the effort. “Peace and honor, Venerated One,” Edan said with as much respect as he could muster to the Venerate who now stood by the entrance.

  “Peace and honor,” the Venerate replied dismissively.

  That’s right, Edan thought. Ignore me. I’m invisible to you. Then he felt the wet lump of bread shift against his waistline and slide rapidly down his right pant leg. It struck the wet floor with a splash, and Edan winced immediately.

  “What is that?” the Venerate asked, and Edan stopped where he was.

  “It, um…it’s bread,” Edan replied. “Or, it was before it got soggy.”

  “Why didn’t you eat it during the Calling?” the Venerate demanded, his cold eyes now probing Edan’s own.

  “I was planning on saving it. For a snack. During Reflection,” Edan lied awkwardly, then he quickly added, “…Venerated One.”