by Casey Eanes
Vashti. He slid his hand from its black leather glove and held out his bare palm to the mirror. He drew out his knife and cut the tip of his finger. He winced at the bite of the blade where the small bead of blood grew.
He flicked it onto the mirror, and the small, crimson drip sizzled as it hit the glass face.
She appeared in an instant, causing a pang of fear to hammer in Seam’s heart. Her long, regal face stared down upon him, her eyes shifting colors until setting on the orange-red of twilight. These twilight eyes set deep onto Seam like daggers, causing fear to overtake him.
“Know this, King Seam of Vale. I and my kin are subject to no one, not even you. If you want to commune with us, there will be a cost.”
His response came faster and more assured than he expected. “So I take it that I am to barter with you in drops of blood?”
The woman’s face fell into a scowl. “You are a fool if that is what you think, for surely you have no understanding of what you speak. I will drink rivers of blood, for no one in Candor can satisfy my thirst. No sacrifice can meet the obligation owed to me and my kin.” She placed her long hand up to the mirror’s edge and glared at him. “This mirror is the only thing that protects you from me. You would be wise to know to whom you speak.”
Seam slipped his glove back over his bleeding hand and pressed his palm back to the mirror. He stared coldly into the dagger eyes that attempted to pierce him.
“Abtren, I understand the prophecy’s truth and I know very well the appetite and obligations that must be fulfilled.”
“So you do know my name,” she glared at him through the glass, her yellow-red eyes glowing like stoked furnaces. “You think yourself very wise don’t you, High King? Do not fool yourself into thinking that I am utterly powerless in this prison.” Her face grew in the glass, filling the whole mirror. “You do not know power. You do not know strength. You do not know fear. You are but a boy.”
Seam searched in vain for a response, when suddenly he found himself enveloped by mirrors on all sides. Abtren’s voice echoed in a panoramic swell. The sunlight within Seam’s quarters evaporated, and the chamber fell under a tide of darkness. His skin turned cool as he stood surrounded by the circle of mirrors that appeared around him; a hall of glass. Within the mirrors stood men and women whose faces bore the likeness of animals, each of them a beast. They opened up their horrible maws, roaring with desperate hunger. Seam stood motionless amidst the faces of a lion, snake, boar, and hawk. Abtren stood in her mirror directly in front of Seam at the head of the others, like some twisted queen ruling over this nightmare menagerie.
“You see, High King. I have many powers, even behind this glass.” Her face transformed before Seam’s eyes into the horrific face of a wolf. She bore a fanged mouth frothing with malice. The beast before Seam spoke in a voice that sounded like a thousand screams harmonizing into words, “I am sure that we could find a good use for you and our purposes on Candor.”
Seam straightened his back and took time to examine each of the creatures before setting his eyes back on the wolf-beast. He continued to stare into the glass and spoke quietly.
“I am unconcerned with your purposes, Abtren.” He reached deep within his shirt and pulled out his father’s key. He held it out before him like a weapon. The beast let out a low rumbling growl and winced, only to let out an ear-splitting howl. The vision mirrors shattered all around him, sending out an explosion of crystal fragments through the room, disappearing into the night air like a memory. As soon as they appeared, the other nightmares vanished, leaving Seam once again in front of the mirror. Abtren was there, and her eyes burned with rage.
Seam held up the small gold key and smiled. “You are bound, Abtren of the Serubs. Bound to me and my purposes. Bound to my destiny. You know history as well as I do, and your fairytale creatures are not to be feared. One must fear the Keeper. Because I will wield absolute power in my hand.” Seam looked down at the key in his palm. “I will rule with the hand of Aleph.”
Abtren screamed, her shrieks making Seam’s head rattle in pain.
“Do not speak that name to me. Do not speak the name of that false god.”
Seam spat at her in full rage, “If you try to defy me again or try to manipulate me, Serub, I will repeat that name over and over until you submit to my will. Candor has been waiting on direction and unity, and I will finally bring it to this broken planet. I will bring it even if I have to enslave you and your brethren to do it.”
The wraith in the mirror stood in silence, staring at the key dangling from Seam’s hand.
She sighed, not daring to look him in the eye.
“You have...my support. You have indeed studied the prophecies well and understand the power you hold in your hand.” A spark lit in her eyes again as her eyebrows twisted, “Just remember one thing, King Seam. You need us.”
Seam stepped away from the mirror, folded his arm behind himself, and tipped his head. He left his head bowed as he spoke.
“I understand your power, Abtren, as well as that of your kin.” He looked up, facing her again, and whispered toward her with absolute authority. “But I am not subject to you. I understand my place and you will understand it as well. The people of this world are mindless and can accomplish nothing more than to stoke the fires of chaos when left to their own free will. The prophecies call for a new rule, a new order, and I will be the one to finally bring that balance back to this forsaken planet. But I cannot do it alone.” He raised his eyes, his face a painting of some sick cheerfulness, and smiled, “We will make a wonderful partnership. Candor will soon fall under a perfect order.”
Abtren began to shrink back into the shadows of the glass but never let her fiery eyes fall from Seam. “As you see fit, High King.” The last of her to disappear was her knowing, yellow-red eyes. Seam stood staring at the mirror, turning the small key in his hand until a knock at his door interrupted the silence.
A familiar voice beckoned, softening the tension that coiled within the room.
“Seam, dear, do you have a moment? I need to talk.”
Seam cracked the door. His mother’s frail frame was slumped in the dim light of the hall behind her. She was still draped in one of Camden’s robes, its fabric swallowing her shoulders. This was one of the few times that he could remember that she actually ventured out from her room. Seam smiled as he opened the door wider.
“I see you have been able to escape your prison, Mother.” He hugged her. “You have me worried.”
Aleigha afforded Seam a small grin, and her eyes showed a glimpse of their old life. She placed a warm palm on Seam’s cheek before taking his hand.
“Seam. I know you have, but I need you to know that grief is not what shackled me for so long. Your father and I loved each other very much. He would not want me to suffer over him.”
Each word brought an ounce of Aleigha’s former self back from the shadows. She squeezed Seam’s hand and looked at him with a stare that demanded his full attention. She wanted to say something to him, but Seam could not guess what.
“What is it?”
Aleigha sighed, and took in a shallow breath. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for many days now, Seam.” She hesitated, but consented. “There is a fear that has been building within the darkness of my mind. I have tried to understand its source, but I have failed. My dreams are dark, and I cannot focus enough to pinpoint it, but I cannot shake the feeling that something evil is lurking.”
Seam placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder and sighed as he straightened himself before her. He ran a thumb along his father’s cloak and said, “Mother, of course evil is lurking. We are in a time of war and Father was murdered. This world is full of evil. But believe me, I will do whatever I can to change that, and I will keep you safe.”
“My fears do not involve this world, Seam.”
Seam glanced at his mother with earnest concern. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t slept well in days, Seam. I keep having
the most horrible dream. It comes every night, and every night I wake fearing for your life. I need to talk to you about it.”
Seam chuckled, his face igniting into a smirk. “Am I a soothsayer as well as the High King?” Aleigha’s face stayed firm, refusing to acknowledge her son’s rebuttal.
“This dream concerns you, son. That is why I am here. Every night I see you staring into a mirror, a mirror which opens up like a doorway, and every night you walk through that doorway.”
Seam’s mouth went dry.
She continued, “Through the door you encounter a stone staircase. Yet each stone is made up of hundreds and thousands of mangled bodies.” Fear welled in her eyes. “Horrible, murdered innocents.”
Seam swallowed as a shiver went down his spine. “Mother. This is insane. What you are saying…”
“Let me finish.” Seam’s mouth snapped shut. Aleigha’s eyes wandered as she continued to recall the dream. “This staircase is both alive and dead, and each stone screams out to you, blaming you for its fate. Blaming you for this abomination, the staircase descends deep down into the darkness. The staircase, somehow, though I don’t understand it, never leads up…” she looked up at him, a mixture of fear and pity in her eyes. “Yet you have no problem walking on these living stones. In fact, you don’t even notice them, Seam.” Her eyes began to fill with desperation. “You just keep descending...and where the staircase ends…” Hot tears welled up in her eyes now, and she let out a deep, mournful sob.
“What, Mother? What is at the end of the staircase?”
Aleigha stared deep into Seam’s brown eyes. “Your father. Camden is at the end of the staircase. He stands to block your path; he says he has something to tell you, but you...you…” She could not bring herself to the words.
“What do I do?”
Aleigha stood, her face cold and rigid. Finally she answered her son, “You slit his throat…and his blood pours out on the ground.”
“What did he want to say to me?”
“He wanted to tell you to stop. He wanted to tell you that he loves you. He wanted to tell you that you can still find peace.”
Seam took a step away from her, closing his eyes. He could feel his hands shaking, and the room began to spin. A sense of timelessness and youth filled his mind, and for a brief moment he felt as if he were just a child, not a king or a prince, but just a boy. A whole world of possibility lay before him, and there was nothing that seemed pressing or too serious. There was not the burden of war. No plots, no politics. No mirrors, no murder. Only peace. The feeling wafted over him in an instant, wanting to linger. One word was spoken in his mind at that moment, from the depths of Seam’s very soul.
No.
He opened his eyes and met his mother’s deep gaze. Seam smiled at her, brushing the tears that welled in his own eyes. He pointed over his mother’s shoulder to the empty hallway that led to the throne room behind her.
With a cracked voice he spoke to her calmly. “It was just a dream...a horrible one at that. Many kings and rulers before me have tried to manufacture peace, Mother, including father. No doubt his ghost wants exactly what I want, but I will finally end the chaos that has been ruling Candor once and for all. I have always known I would do something great, and I believe that I am not far from obtaining what many have thought to be impossible. Peace will come again to Candor, Mother. Peace of my making.”
Aleigha’s eyes left Seam’s face and her smile withered, only to be enveloped by a look of terror. Aleigha pushed past Seam, barreling into the small room. She stared into the tall mirror standing against the wall. She stood without a sound before reaching for the pane. Seam ripped her arm back and placed himself between his mother and the mirror.
“NO! Don’t touch it!”
Seam forced himself to look past the knowing, penetrating gaze of his mother. “Why can’t I touch this mirror, Seam?” The simple question made him want to ring her neck.
He stammered out a hollow answer. “It’s just that it is quite the antique and I don’t wish it to be disturbed.” A warm smile grew on his face, but his eyes were locked in a cold, threatening stare.
Aleigha’s face fell. “Tell me, Seam. How does one disturb a mirror?”
Seam said nothing.
“How long has it been here? This is the same mirror I saw in my dreams...the one that swallowed you whole and took you down into that hellish place. ”
He screamed at her, “You need to leave...now!”
Seam tried to corral her back out the doorway, but she refused to be moved and pushed his hands away from her as she continued, “I want you to TELL me how long that has been here! It does not belong in this palace!”
Seam laughed at her, but his eyes burned like hot coals as his hand clamped down on her. In one swift motion he forced her out of the room. “Come, Mother. You mustn’t be upset.” She stiffened in protest at his touch, but he was finally able to get her out into the hallway as she continued to struggle in his grip, looking back over his shoulder, back into the room.
“Seam Panderean.” Her voice was high and pleading. “You MUST destroy it. For Aleph’s sake, you must break it into a thousand pieces!”
Seam’s voice took on a patronizing, sorrowful tone. “Mother, you are clearly stressed. Are a few bad dreams all it takes to make one act like a madwoman? Will you have me chop up the throne for firewood next? I don’t understand why you would be so concerned about an antique mirror that was given to me as a gift. You must have seen it in passing and placed it into your terrible dreams.”
“A gift? Who gave that to you?”
Seam smiled and placed his hands back on his mother’s shoulders as he tried to get her moved further into the hallway, “A very powerful ally, Mother.” His face softened as the protective rage he felt began to fade. “You have nothing to worry about. As a matter a fact, I don’t intend to keep the mirror here. If you don’t care for its appearance, I will have it moved very soon.”
Aleigha fought to catch another glimpse of the mirror as Seam continued to usher her down the hallway. She spat her rebukes at him. “I don’t care what the thing looks like. You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” She stared at him, trying desperately to read him. “What are you hiding from me? You don’t understand what was given to you. That mirror is the source of my fears. It is evil! I don’t want it moved. I want it destroyed!”
Seam held her with one arm and pointed back to the open door of his chamber. “Mother, I understand very well what was given to me. It is a priceless gift and one I am grateful for. No mad dream is going to change that. Now, you need to rest. I don’t like seeing you like this.”
He paused, trying to control himself and assure her.
“We are okay and you are okay. I will keep you safe, that I promise. I know I could not keep Father from dying, and your cursed dreams continue to remind me of that failure, but you are safe now, and you will stay safe. Now, let me have Bronson help you to your quarters and I will have the staff bring you something to eat. You need to rest.”
Seam tapped at the datalink on his wrist and called for Bronson as he continued to walk with his mother toward her room and away from his chamber. Bronson appeared around the corner and rushed to Aleigha’s side.
“Please allow me to assist, Your Highness. It would be my honor to escort you back to your quarters.”
Aleigha took Bronson’s arm but looked back at Seam and said, “Destroyed. I want that mirror destroyed. I don’t care who gave it to you or what value you might think it has. I am no fool, son, and my dreams are not madness. I need you to listen to me.”
At the mention of the mirror Bronson’s face went white as a sheet. He gathered himself quickly and without a word reached for Aleigha’s arm. “Let’s give the king his peace.”
Seam turned without addressing his mother again and made his way back into his chamber. As he stepped back into his reclusive lair he forced his mind to let go of his mother’s dreams, the vision of warning from his late father. Th
at man was a fool anyway. A foolish king too concerned with the traditions and the old ways, never seeking to seize the opportunities that lay before him to actually make a difference. Camden was a coward. A coward with no vision. He found himself again staring into the mirror, his eyes enamored at seeing himself.
“But I,” he whispered quietly to himself, “have more vision than can be contained.” He pulled off his black leather glove and without hesitation sliced open his palm with his dagger. He slammed it on the glass, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm, and let the hot, wet blood pour out over the mirror’s face. It sizzled and smoked relentlessly, as if it was being funneled into a fire.
“Your dreams have no merit here, Mother. Mine, I’m afraid, are the only ones that matter.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Willyn’s prison cell was a far cry from the lush vineyard estates and mansions she had seen during her journey into Elum. The floor of her cramped cell was cold and damp, leaving her little choice but to stand. She whittled away the hours examining the fine lacework of green moss that wove on her dirty cinderblock walls. Cracks crossed through them like spider webs, and drops of salty brine bled out from the gaps, slowly running toward the middle of the floor where it pooled. The overwhelming stench of mildew was enough to make her want to scream.
The steel iron cuffs around her ankles clanked an audible reminder that she was caged. She rubbed her eyes. She had studied the moss-covered walls long enough. It was time to examine the door again. Three days had passed since she was arrested from Luken’s ship. Or was it four? It didn’t matter. It might as well have been an eternity. She stared at the door, a sigh escaping through her lips. She ran her fingers up the rough, rusted features of the iron door, taking time to explore the hinges for any signs of weakness.
The small window near the top of the cell’s door was a dim beacon for the room, offering only a withering portion of light for Willyn to ration out during her days. This slim arrow of daylight was precious to her. It was the only thing she had that could cut into the stale, murky fog that hung within her cell. She tried in vain to stand on her toes, doing her best to peer outside, but it was no use. The window stood too tall and offered no clues of her whereabouts. All she could make out was a long, narrow hallway outside the cell, constructed of the same cinderblocks that surrounded her. As she tumbled thoughts of escape through her mind she thought back to Luken. His face seemed to push out the monotonous grind. She remembered his promise to her. He promised he would come back for her. That promise and her rationed daylight were the only comforts she had.
