Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  “Last time I checked, I didn’t volunteer for any position in your resistance, Arthur.” Grift’s voice was cold.

  Ewing roared, his face flushed. “For Aleph’s sake, Shepherd, do you think I’ve been sitting here smoking my pipe, waiting while you ran around this continent? I have spent these months gathering people against this madness. This cursed Dominion. If any resistance is going to survive it has to spread beyond this containment, and I need your help.”

  Grift relented and sat on a small wooden chair propped against the wall. “Arthur. You’ve not seen what I have. Seam’s plans go beyond mere political machinations.”

  Ewing’s voice grew cold. “What do you mean, boy? Speak plainly.”

  Grift leaned in to reveal the awful truth. “Seam has all of the Keys, Arthur. He is unlocking them from the mirrors. From our count, we know he has at least two...if not three.” Fear choked Grift to whisper, his eyes locking onto his friend. “The last mirror is in Preost. I saw it and I saw what was in it.”

  Ewing’s mouth dropped open. “Aleph above.” He paced the floor. “Why would he do that?” His eyes locked onto his friend’s. “What did you see, Grift? What did you see in that mirror?”

  “Ewing. The legends the Order had given us are true. The Serubs, the Keys. All of it. Seam is rallying his forces—not to unite Candor, but to gather the cursed mirrors of the Fallen. The last one he will need is underneath the very Sanctuary of Preost.” Grift stared at his friend. “It’s the only one in our possession right now. Willyn Kara is off to the Groganlands to try to secure one hidden in Legion’s Teeth. At this point, it would be safe to assume that the High King has three of the Five at his beck and call.”

  Ewing’s hands shook. He nodded his head, his tongue licking his dry lips. “I understand.”

  “We can’t let him get to the mirrors, Ewing. We have to protect them, but I am not leaving Rose. Not again. I don’t mean to discredit your works in stoking a rebellion, but what good is a rebellion against the fallen gods?”

  Ewing’s face refused to soften. “I am not a devout man, Grift, but I fear only one god, and he does not walk on Candor.” Ewing’s mind swirled with thoughts, and he paced in silence. After what seemed a long moment, Ewing spoke, bringing an answer back to his beloved protégé. “What good is a rebellion? It’s a spark. Our ancestors somehow overthrew these monsters in the past. We can do it again. We must. We have a spark, and I will not lose hope.”

  Grift shook his head. Ewing’s face was stern as he pointed at Grift. “Get up. It’s time to go. We need to meet with someone. This information has changed our plans significantly.”

  Grift slowly stood, his face drawn with exhaustion. He looked at his wife, hope far from his face. “It can’t take long, Ewing. I am leaving within twenty-four hours. Who do we need to see?”

  A mischievous grin stretched across Ewing’s face. “The queen.”

  Grift watched the hovel that was hiding his wife slowly fade into the distance. The old mill house was one of the few still standing outside of Lotte’s largest sawmill in an abandoned western industrial district outside of Vale. The setting sun cast a red hue over the industrial complex and draped tall shadows over the small houses. Sawdust and soot covered everything in sight. Three tall smokestacks reached up into the sky like rusted fingers stretching out from the metallic building, but no smoke lifted into the sky. Grift breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the mill had not been open for operation at least since the Grogan attacks. Power had long been cut by the Grogan raids, and the roads surrounding them had been blasted out by mortar fire. It would be near impossible to drive lumber into the mill now. Rose and Eva would be safe here for the time being.

  As Grift stepped out into the muddy alleyway, his comfort faded. His mind went dark with the thought of Dominion troops marching on the mill. He glanced at the Asban mountains. A wall of thick fog covered the spot where he knew Vale stood. No one up there will protect this place. Grift knew enough about the relative opulence of Vale to know that the rest of Lotte was on its own. With the exception of a few good barons within the aristocracy, as long as Vale was secure, there would be little help or concern for the regular people suffering within the Realm. He spat at the ground, his eyes still scanning the mountain covered with fog, and the thought of leaving Rose again made his heart ache.

  Ewing snapped at him. “Hey! Are you coming?”

  Grift turned, shaking his head. “Yes.”

  Grift slipped away and followed his friend to the outskirts of the mill. They were off to the tent city.

  Grift spoke within his mind to Rose. I will be back. I promise. Aleph...please.

  Ewing lit his pipe and puffed a blue ringlet of smoke in Grift’s direction as they bounced in the back of a covered timber truck. “Don’t worry, Grift. A soul hasn’t come anywhere near the old mill since the attacks, plus they have Rot with ‘em. That nasty old beast is scarier than any gun toting thug I’ve ever seen.”

  Grift shook his head, his eyes distant and heavy. “I’m leaving her again, Ewing. I finally have my wife in my arms and I leave her again.”

  Ewing patted his friend’s arm. “This won’t take long. You have my word. We will slide in under the cover of night, have our meeting, and work our way out. The queen can probably help make sure you find your way back to Preost... with Rose.”

  A smile forced its way onto Grift’s tired face. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of that. I haven’t thought clearly since...you have always been a good friend, Arthur.”

  Ewing puffed at his pipe and waved the smoke from his face. “Bah. Don’t go blubbering about how wonderful I am.” He leaned forward and flashed his yellowed teeth. “I already know.” Ewing sat back and chuckled to himself as the truck continued to push through the growing darkness.

  The sun dipped behind the horizon, leaving the rolling hills dark and void. The logging truck carrying Ewing and Grift carefully lumbered toward a valley filled with small pinpricks of light. The hillsides sloped down to the tent city, and the fires burning below looked like tiny stars held in a large earthen bowl. The tents all rustled in the wind that was sweeping in from the west.

  The truck pulled up next to the first row of tents and Ewing stumbled from the truck bed. He wobbled to the driver’s door and leaned in to speak with the driver. “Keep the engines running. We won’t be long.”

  Grift hopped out and pulled his hood over his head. Too many people know my face. Grift cut his eyes across the rows of green emergency tents and the people strolling between them. None of the faces caught his attention, but he still pulled the hood further over his brow and followed behind Ewing who happily sauntered through the rows of tents whistling at a few friends as if it was just a casual stroll through town. As Ewing continued to bark out greetings to the refugees, Grift cursed and drifted back. Some cover you give, Arthur. As Ewing drifted further away, Grift pushed through the crowded alleyway marked with deep, muddy footprints. The mob he pushed through held desperation in their eyes, but Grift did his best not to linger on their faces. He was able to scan them, and relief washed over him. It was not obvious that he and Ewing were together. He slipped down a row and kept parallel to Ewing’s slow, relaxed gait until, at last, the two slipped into a small medical tent.

  Adley was sitting alone on a cot with a small wood stove burning in the middle of the dirt floor. She looked up and smiled at Ewing. “Cold night, huh? Trying to get it warmed up a bit in here.” Her eyes flashed as a hooded stranger entered the tent, and her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh. Aleph, am I glad to see you!” She ran to Grift and embraced him, her eyes brimming with tears and a genuine smile on her face. “How are you?”

  Grift forced a smile and nodded. “I’ve been better, dear. But we will get through all this.” The words came quickly and sounded hollow in Grift’s mouth. His eyes scanned the room. “Where is our guest?”

  Ewing lifted the tent’s cloth door and glanced outside. “Don’t worry. She will come, but we won’t
have long.”

  Grift bit at his lip. “Security will have a short leash, Arthur.” Ewing nodded as he relit his pipe and sat on a medical cot.

  After a few minutes, the tent door rustled and a teenage boy slipped in. He flipped his hood back and glanced around the room. His young face was littered with sparse stubble and his shaggy blonde hair hung loosely around his pale face. His eyes paused on Grift sitting in the corner before scanning over Adley and Ewing. Grift reached for the pistol at his side, but the boy flashed back out the door as quickly as he had entered.

  Ewing’s hand pounced on Grift’s arm and he flashed a smile to Adley. “Easy friend. That is Reuben, our queen’s scout. Nice kid. Put your weapon away.”

  Grift’s hands shook. Gods. He was more upset than he even realized. Coming back to Lotte, to Rose. All of it had been unsettling. The new reality had come with no warning. While he was fighting for his life, Seam’s machinations had taken nearly everything he had. Everything except for Rose. He swallowed, composed himself, and slid his pistol back into his holster as he grunted, “Could’ve let me know before he burst in here unexpected.”

  As Ewing hobbled next to the fire the tent door pushed open again, but instead of a young boy, it was none other than Queen Aleigha. A long black gown washed over her thin frame, and her face looked as hard as the Asban mountain. She removed her hood, and on top of her head was a silver circlet that caught the light of the fire. Grift’s heart panged in his chest. He dropped to a knee and lowered his head. She was all that was left of his fallen lord, Camden. The world had changed so quickly, and somehow his heart softened in her presence.

  She stooped down and picked him up. “No pleasantries needed, Grift Shepherd. Not here. Not now.” The queen’s voice was tired as she addressed him. “Please stand, we don’t have long.”

  Ewing snuffed the pipe he had been puffing and tipped his head to Aleigha. “My dear queen, I thank you for taking time to meet. I am afraid we have unfortunate news.”

  The queen’s lips pursed. “Speak. What news do you bring me?”

  Grift stood to his feet and stepped closer to the queen. “Your son. He is collecting the mirrors. Mirrors that have long held the Serub fallen. The Five. He is working to free them.”

  Aleigha’s face went pale, and she stared into the flickering flames of the fire at her feet.

  Grift continued, “He holds all of the Keys of Candor, my queen. The keys have the power to release them. Do you understand?”

  The small fire reflected the ember of strength smoldering inside and shining within her eyes.

  “I have feared this day.” She looked back at Grift, to Ewing, and even to Adley who stood near the back of the tent. “This was his plan. I have had nightmares forewarning me of these events.” She shook her head. “But I did not want to believe them...I even saw the first mirror.” Anger flared on her face. “I should have had it destroyed that night!” Aleigha ground her teeth and stared into the fire, her rage electrifying the room.

  Adley stepped forward and spoke. “There is still a chance, my queen. When I was in the tower, I saw that he had only two of the portals, though we have word he may have a third. With your help we can slow him down and destroy the mirrors that are left, before he can gather them all.”

  Ewing shot Grift a glance, his eyes wide open searching for confirmation.

  Realization poured over Grift’s tired mind. It flashed with memories of Isphet and the image of the demon’s mirror healing before his very eyes. He remembered the intel gathered from Bronson Donahue, Seam’s Captain of the Guard. He had three. Aleph above, he has three of the five. Rage threatened to overtake him, but Grift regained his composure and ran his hands through his hair. “No... it won’t work.”

  Adley scrunched her face and shot a glance at Grift as he stared down into the fire. “What do you mean, no?”

  Grift never broke his eyes from the flames. “I mean what I said. You can’t destroy these things. The mirrors cannot be destroyed by anything we have on Candor. They have to be moved and hidden again. It is our only option.”

  Aleigha placed a soft hand on Grift’s shoulder. Her eyes were gentle but resolute. “You saw one, didn’t you? Where is it?”

  After glancing back to the tent door, Grift whispered. “Locked under the protection of Preost. I have to get back to it. We have other allies at work, my queen. As we speak, Willyn Kara of the Groganlands is heading to secure another mirror, but we know your son has secured three of the five. We don’t have time to waste.”

  The mention of Seam washed the life from Aleigha’s face. She slumped her shoulders before shaking herself from her own personal terror.

  “Don’t...” Aleigha paused. “Don’t call him that.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Grift.

  “Don’t call him my son.” The room went silent, with only the sound of the crackling fire filling the void. “Now. What do you need? How can I help?”

  Grift gave a stunned response, “We need safe passage to Preost, and if you have any datalinks that haven’t been tampered with, that would be helpful.”

  Aleigha nodded, her mind awash with thought. She turned, glancing at the three of them.

  “In three days I am sending a convoy of medical aid and healers to the border town of Henshaw. Preost lies just over the border. Make sure you are on that convoy. This is an aid mission, so you must be discrete. I can’t say that I trust all of them. From there you will be on your own.”

  Adley exchanged glances with Grift and Ewing. “I will make sure the nurses have you ready for the trip.” She bowed her head to the queen. “Thank you. We are indebted to you for your help.”

  Aleigha offered a faint smile and nodded. “May Aleph help us all.” She lifted her hood back over her head and slipped back into the night.

  Grift leveled his eyes with Ewing. “I’m going for her now. I will be back in the morning to prepare for the convoy.”

  Ewing lit his pipe again and took a draw before shaking his head. “I know. Be safe. And don’t wreck my truck.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The ramshackle chorus of the railcar’s metallic wheels clattered beneath Willyn as she sped away from the towering desert skyline of Zenith. Bri sat next to her, his eyes snapped shut. The quick swaying of the railcar had soothed the gentle giant to sleep so quickly that it startled Willyn as his titanic snores ripped through the cabin. She glanced around, doing her best to silence the peals of thunder coming from Bri’s nostrils.

  What was Wael thinking? Willyn could not believe Wael had not bothered to get her approval on the inclusion of Bri in her journey. He had insisted she have an escort; he could have at least let her have input in the matter.

  She glanced around the cramped quarters she shared with the thirty other passengers, and her thoughts drifted. Disguised or not, she found it hard to relax in the presence of so many Baggers. Anxiety stemming from Seam’s assassin in Zenith still made her heart twist in her chest.

  Had it been Seam’s assassin? Or could Hagan still be alive? She shook her head, clearing the doubt from her mind. It didn’t matter. None of what the messenger said mattered. It had to be a trap; nothing else made sense. Hagan’s supposed emissary was dead now. Dead and lying in an abandoned alley of Zenith, and she still had no one to trust. No one. If the mission to stop Seam was going to be successful, she knew she would have to be careful and make it happen on her own.

  Focus. Her mind locked onto Legion’s Teeth, onto the cursed mirror that she had to locate, and onto the Reds that she would rally.

  Focus.

  Willyn woke from a restless slumber just in time to see the pink hue of the easternmost point of Candor darken in the twilight. The jagged outcrops of rocky peaks shot up into the sky, their tops ripping through the clouds, standing crooked and perilous. Behind the Teeth lay only the other side of the Endless Ocean, as if the continent had sheared away from some cataclysm lost in time.

  The railcar began to elevate in its grade, causing Willy
n’s ears to pop under the pressure. The ragged railway that weaved through the outcrops of the thin mountain pillars was the end of the line, and Willyn could feel it as the railcar struggled to navigate infrastructure that was long past due for maintenance.

  Legion’s Teeth was the original capital of the Groganland Realm, but had long since been abandoned for a more accessible and heavily fortified position against the Grogans’ old enemy, the Rihtians. Rhuddenhall arose from the endless fortifications that were necessary to keep the Rihtians in check, leaving behind the ancient trappings of the warrior customs and architecture in Legion’s Teeth.

  The thin mountain pillars jutting into the sky still held cutout dwellings that housed a large number of Grogans. Willyn examined the outermost crop of pillars that the railcar passed. Up on the top of the cliffs she noted the bell keepers who looked down on the railcar like hawks. They still keep the sentry. The sentry keepers scanned any movement that dared to approach the Teeth, detecting allies and foes miles away from their vantage point. Her eyes scanned the rickety platforms that housed the faithful of her kinfolk, their rickety structures bolted to the tops of the world. Ancient bronze bells hung still in the cold mountain air. The last time she had traveled to the Teeth had been with Hagan and their father. She had been a little girl then.

  The railcar reached the end of the railway, and Willyn observed the once proud colony that fought to cling to life. The wide rocky streets were filled with miners, laborers, and outcasts. Willyn watched the faces of the poor mining families flashed by as they peered out the fronts of their dugout, cave-like homes, watching the railcar pass by.

  Willyn’s mind filled with a mixture of both pity and disgust. No wonder the Baggers fit in so well here. These Grogans have lost their hope. They have no pride.