Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  Soon the sight Ewing feared was before him. Grift’s bloodied face was on the screen as Seam was holding him by the shoulders, yelling at him that he was being arrested for the murder of his father. The announcement brought a roar from the people on the square watching as they screamed in approval. Seam then turned to Willyn and announced that she too was to be tried for assisting in the murder of her own brother and for conspiring with Grift.

  The cameras then pulled away to show the raiding party abandoning the sinking ship, dragging out Willyn and Grift, and then throwing fire bombs deep into the ship’s belly, sending a gush of flames pouring out of the door. Seam appeared back in front of the cameras, his face full of gleeful pride, addressing all who gathered to watch.

  “To my brothers in Lotte, Groganlands, Riht, and Elum and the covenant group of Preost. We have seized and captured the traitors. Willyn Kara of the Groganlands and Grift Shepherd of Lotte are now in our custody. They will be held captive and tried for their crimes. Just as Lotte and the Groganlands have partnered to end our war, we will partner in bringing these criminals to justice.” Ewing shook his head as Seam exclaimed his pronouncements to the world. “We stand together as we fight against terrorist tyranny. We will have justice for those who attempt to bring about war through division. My friends, this is a time for unity and we will make an example of those determined to destroy our continent. I will work with the leaders of each Realm to ensure that the proper judgment is rendered to these who have sought to destroy us. This is a new day for all of Candor, and I am honored to be your king.”

  Seam then held up his hand and saluted the camera before signing off the broadcast, “For Unity.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You must unlock Arakiel first, High King.” A kaleidoscope of deep golds, greens, purples, and oranges danced within Abtren’s eyes as she stared out from her glass prison.

  “Why?” Seam could feel himself being pulled, drawn into the hypnotic fire that channeled out of Abtren’s presence. He willed himself to force his eyes away from her so he could gather his wits and channel his own mind into order.

  “It is the way it must be. Arakiel is the first, I am second. We are essential in unlocking the others. You must have faith in us.” She blinked and laid her hand on the back panel of the mirror, the form of her body pressed as close to the glass as possible. All the beauty of the world seemed to pour out of her. “You must have faith in me.”

  Waves of energy swept through Seam. A furnace of heat and desire washed over him. It took everything in him to squelch it, to bury it, and destroy it.

  “The only faith I have, Abtren, is in myself and the destiny I have been called to fulfill.” Seam let out a low sigh, briefly allowing his eyes to fall on her again. “But I will do as you say.” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal an intricately sculpted iron bracer. Snakes and ivy were threaded over it, only broken by sunbeams. “I am the Keeper of the Keys now, Abtren. I am your rightful Lord and Master, and I will lead your kin. Your allegiance is to me and me alone.”

  Abtren bowed her head, but said nothing.

  Seam ushered an order through his datalink.

  “Bring me Arakiel’s mirror.”

  Soldiers wheeled in the pane of glass, recently unearthed from the dry desert outside Zenith. Seam looked at it, his reflection off the glass still dirty with fresh earth, his mind filling with a fever of maddening thoughts.

  “Bring in the sacrifices.” He looked at Abtren and smiled.

  “It will soon be time to feed Arakiel.”

  The ancient streets of Zenith had been revived. The corpse of the former city had found new life as trainloads of soldiers, citizens, and servants arrived day by day. Kull’s earlier revolt in the King’s Pit had been quieted and forgotten. The riot was squelched, and those who opposed the work detail were quickly addressed and buried in a mass grave. A quiet and hushed determination pushed back into the city. Free men and women from all of Candor flowed into Zenith, happily toiling for its reclamation. The Groganlands and Lottian alliance’s new nexus would be here, and after hundreds of years of abandonment, life once again filled the alleyways, courtyards, and plazas of the once-forgotten metropolis. Abandoned wells were reclaimed, and water flowed through the city’s aqueducts. Black and gold decor adorned the signs and screens erected throughout the city directing new settlers and laborers throughout. There was little silence. Excitement filled the desert with hope for a new peace, a peace that called for all the citizens of Candor to take up the honor of rebuilding the city. Only the most skilled laborers and soldiers had been hired through a massive public selection process, broadcasted via datalink, while baggers were piped in by rail line to fill in the roles less desirable.

  With each passing day, Zenith was being resurrected for all to see. The former bones of skyscrapers began to shine once again in the desert sun, pillars that served as symbols of the continent’s growing power and privilege. The city’s central building, known as the Spire, was the High King’s primary focus. The king had begun work before the announcement of peace, making way to a new order and coalition between the Realms, as it would serve as the perfect backdrop for his announcement. In that time, work crews managed to restore the majority of the tower’s outer windows and support beams. Soon, the monolith of glass and mirror twisted into the desert sun and gleamed with a brilliance that was matched only by the excitement of the people working tirelessly below.

  Kull’s eyes flickered open. His head pounded with a thumping wave of pain that swelled from ear to ear. He tried to lift his head to take in his surroundings. As his blurred vision came together he felt his hands locked in place. He was shackled in the center of a large round room. Troughs ran from where he was chained to five different platforms; two of which held long, tall mirrors.

  Kull was bound too tightly to move his head, and his swollen eye cut his peripheral vision, but he could feel that he was not alone. Someone else was bound in this place with him. He could not see them, but he could feel their presence and hear them breathing, heaving, fighting for air. Kull’s heart quickened its pace as he whispered.

  “Wael?”

  There was no response, only heavy breathing and a stirring of the chains.

  “Wael, is that you?”

  Kull’s second question was followed by more groans and a stirring, but no coherent answer. A loud voice shot out from the back of the room.

  “Shut up, worm! If you so as much say one more word, I will personally wipe you off this floor.”

  The sound of heavy boots fell against the metal floor and a burly guard came into Kull’s line of sight. He unsheathed a baton, lifting it toward Kull’s chin.

  “Your face could bloody up this here club very nicely. Now shut your mouth or I will shut it for you. I had fun convincing your friend here to keep his mouth shut.” He glared down at him; his face was a foul mixture of pride and sick pleasure.

  Kull dipped his head, “Yes, sir.”

  The guard spun around with a wide smirk inching across his plump face, “That’s what I thought.”

  Kull’s whole body ached from the labor and from the beatings he endured over the past few days. He forced himself to stand, the bindings around his arm and neck tightening with his movements. He passed the time watching the shadows shift on the floor as the sun paced across the sky. The view from the panoramic window was breathtaking. Whatever building he was in, it was surely the tallest on the continent. It was as if all of Candor gathered under this one spot to be evaluated and observed, bowing before the tower. To the north he could barely see the Asban Mountain with its clear blue river flowing out from Lotte. He knew Vale was there, and below that, Cotswold. Kull took in a deep breath as he thought of his mother and the fact that he failed to bring his father back to her. Now he would most likely die, leaving his mother sick and alone and his father still missing. It felt like a lifetime passed since he had been captured by the Grogans. The pain of it all fell on him like lead weight, and Kull pushed his
eyes away from the distant horizon that he knew held Cotswold. To the west he could see the desert borderlands of Riht and the Dagger Mountains of the Groganlands. Rhuddenhall, despite its vastness, seemed like a miniscule dot from this vantage point, a blot of blood on a dry brown canvas.

  Where in the world am I?

  He thought over what he and Wael discussed during their time on the hedgehog. He had only heard a few stories about the Serubs, the Kings, all of which he dismissed, if not mocked, growing up in Cotswold. But there was a tale that Ewing told that he could never, ever forget. A tale that now revealed a horrible truth.

  He could still hear Ewing’s low, droning voice by the fireplace in his old shop.

  “You’ve heard tales of the Five, haven’t you lad?”

  “Oh come on, Ewing. Not another Serub tale.”

  The fire crackled and popped, the sparks filling Ewing’s dark, old eyes with amber. “So you don’t believe in the Serubs, do ye? That’s what many people used to think, until they died by the Serubs’ hands.”

  Kull had rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

  “Do you know how the Serubs stayed alive, Kull?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “So you’ve never considered how the Serubs remained on Candor? What sustained them on our plane of existence?”

  “Can’t say that I have…but I’ll bite. How?” Kull flashed a smile to prove to Ewing his bravery.

  “Human blood.” Ewing stared deep into Kull’s eyes. There was no smile on his face, and his stare was so intense that it made Kull’s gaze retreat into the fire.

  “You see, Kull, the Serubs cannot stay in their physical form on Candor. They weren’t made for this world. So when they left the Aether and made their dominion here they had to find a way to sustain them. The only way to stay in their physical form was through sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?”

  “Aye. Sacrifice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean precisely what you think I mean. Legions of folks, Grogan, Lottian, Rihtian, and Elumite were slaughtered to keep the Five Kings alive. To keep them on this plane of reality.”

  Kull had sat in silence. He went to bed that night deciding it didn’t make sense to believe in such nonsense. He sighed as he realized that Ewing was trying to prepare him all along. For the key he would one day inherit. Despite the fact that his father never mentioned the keys to him, Ewing was trying to drop breadcrumbs to bring Kull to the truth. Those were the early warning signs, the ones he failed to give much attention. The platforms, the troughs. Kull could add it all up. Sacrifice.

  “I did not come this far to die,” he whispered to himself. Briefly, hope flared up within him like a single match light. It burned brightly for a time, but as the sun set in the horizon, it was swallowed in a sea of darkness. Kull hung his head, allowing it to go limp against the chains that held him in place.

  Death, it seemed, would be his only escape.

  Seam sat in silence in the helicopter that was taking him and his final trophy back to Zenith. He twisted the final Key of Candor between his fingers. After months of frustration, the dagger-key of Riht was finally his. Grift Shepherd had done an admirable job of keeping it from him. Seam chuckled when he thought of a punishment worthy of his adversary. His eyes flitted across his prize. The Key’s edges were razor-sharp, crafted from shiny black obsidian. Out of all of the keys, this was his favorite.

  He unbuckled his restraints and slipped to the pilot’s chamber.

  “Captain. How much longer?”

  “We will be hitting the tarmac in less than half an hour. From there we have set up a faster air transport to Zenith. You should touch down on target no later than midday.”

  “Very good. Make sure that there are no delays in transfer. Ah, and captain, any word on the captives' transport?”

  “Yes, sir. They were loaded only a half hour behind our departure. They should be landing an hour or less after we do.”

  Seam smiled and patted the pilot on the shoulder. “Thank you, captain. Please make sure that they use the utmost caution. We are transporting some very dangerous individuals.”

  “Yes, sir. I will link with them now to check.”

  Seam slinked back into his seat and slid back his sleeve to examine his bracer. His fingers trembled with anticipation as he slid the dagger Key into the final, empty slot. The key dutifully clicked into place, just like its brethren, and completed the collection that had been separated for so very long.

  Unsure if it was only adrenaline or something supernatural, Seam could feel a raw energy coursing through him. His muscles tightened and his body tensed. He felt powerful. Imagination or not, Seam knew exactly the power he had unlocked, his pulse quickened with the thoughts of a destiny that were now his.

  The thumping sound of the helicopter’s motor was comforting. It had a similar rumble to that of a rook, and it made Willyn feel at home. Despite her shattered hand and shackled arms, she allowed herself to disappear within the droning hum of machinery. Either she was in shock or her body was simply exhausted of sending tendrils of pain to her brain, but Willyn’s hand had long stopped hurting, and she was able to plan her next moves. The important thing was she could think.

  The cabin she was in was dark, but she could make out the slouched figure in front of her. Grift. The attacking party had been so much harder on him. Maybe they felt bad attacking her because she was female. Fools, she thought. Grift hadn’t moved since they pulled the two out from Luken’s boat, and this fact alone was worrying her.

  As her eyes examined the broken figure of Grift, her thoughts trailed back to Luken. A choking pain swept over her at the thought of the grenade exploding and ripping through him. He is dead, Gods above. The thought of Luken burned alive and sinking into the Endless Ocean flashed in her mind, and she fought back the emotions that came over her in the dark. He had been a most unexpected ally. He could have been something more. It felt wrong to think it, but it was true. And now he was gone. Dead. Willyn saw what happened. As much as she wanted to hold onto some foolish shred of hope, no one could have survived that.

  Rest now, dear friend.

  She pushed away the excruciating image of Luken’s lifeless body drifting in the ocean waves and forced her mind back into the present. Her only restraint was a basic hand lock that was tethered to the helicopter’s floor. She let out a small laugh and glanced around the dark cabin. It was empty other than Grift, which suited her perfectly. It was another foolish mistake by her captors.

  She dislocated her thumb and slid her good hand out from one of the shackles. She was free, as easily as she had been trained in the Grogan military school. She was never more grateful to have had someone break both of her thumbs as a young girl than she was in that moment. She slid her hand back into the hand lock, content that at least one thing was working in her favor. No need to waste that advantage now. When the time was right she could free herself again within seconds.

  She slid her foot out and kicked Grift. He lay motionless on the floor in a heap. As she kicked him, he raised a single eye to her, and with a low, defeated voice grumbled.

  “What?”

  “I can get out of these bindings. We have to escape.” It was not a suggestion.

  Grift let out a series of horrible coughs. He spat blood on the floor. His voice could just be heard over the engines of the helicopter.

  “There is no escaping now, Willyn. Seam holds all the Keys of Candor.” Grift closed his eyes, revealing their black and bruised landscape. “Our only hope is to remain with this party, wherever they are going, and wait for one last attack. Save our strength.”

  “How can you be sure we will be in the High King’s detail?” Willyn asked with an earnest voice.

  “Trust me, if we are the prisoners of Seam Pandarean, we will have to be publically humiliated, judged, and executed in his presence. His ego will stand for nothing less. His pride will not allow another option.” A dark determination fell on Gr
ift’s face. “I know my enemy, and I know him well. It will be our last stand.” His eyes locked with Willyn’s, his voice filling with regret. “I wish we had not been enemies for so long, but I’m glad Aleph saw to it to reveal the truth to both of us.”

  Willyn’s mind conjured up the journey she had faced. The death she caused and the death she had seen. Again, Luken’s body floated in the Endless Ocean of her mind. “Why do you bring religion into this, Grift? If there ever was a god who worked wonders on Candor, he has lost interest in us long ago. Try telling Luken that Aleph is watching over us.”

  Grift nodded, but weighed his words. “I agree. It certainly feels like that is true.” He let out another string of violent hacks and wheezes. “But right now, Aleph is my only hope against such darkness. The evil coming is not like that of war, famine, or corruption. It is something different entirely. The Serubs will butcher our world like a calf set for slaughter, and all its inhabitants with it.” His bloodshot eyes pierced through the darkness, locking on hers. “That is, unless Aleph intervenes.”

  Willyn said nothing, her lips remained pursed. She was no theologian, nor was she a devout believer in anything religious.

  “Well then, if what you say is true, then I guess we have no choice but to wait.”

  Grift nodded. “Wait and hope. We must make our stand. You will know when it is time.”

  Willyn nodded.

  The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

  Kull watched as shadows slid across the floor. They grew longer with each passing hour and extended like long, black fingers from the two mirrors that stood across the metal floor. A sacrifice. The realization still made his throat dry and his mind cloud with fear.