Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  “They are in Legion’s Teeth, Seam.”

  Seam’s hand grasped what he was searching for and in one swift motion he pulled it up from the desert floor. He stared into the hollow eyes of the bleached skull he unearthed, cocking his head at the skull’s face as sand poured out from its open sockets.

  “Well, at least you have them cornered. That should suit us well.” Seam stopped, threw the skull down to the ground, and turned his full attention to Hosp. “Fine. I will help you if only to get the next mirror. I would recommend you make yourself useful and gather what forces you have. I will be bringing in an army to take Legion’s Teeth.”

  Seam could tell that his words made Hosp wince. Seam continued, “Where will we make our rendezvous, my friend?”

  Hosp’s face strained as he tried to come up with solutions to a problem that would not be solved. “Meet me, High King, at the Hangman’s Pass in three days. I will be looking forward to your arrival.”

  “Be ready, Hosp.” Unwilling to continue the conversation, Seam ended the transmission. His eyes turned, gazing toward the empty eyes of the skull he had discarded, his mind again lost in dark thoughts.

  Where is Bronson?

  Bronson crept up the spiraling staircase in the center of the Spire, climbing to the pinnacle where he knew he would find the Synod. The edge of his most recent drink was wearing off, and it had been nearly two days since he had any pills or injectables to help calm his anxiety. Each step on the metallic staircase brought a sharp pain between his eyes. He needed to find something to drink, but he knew Seam would not entertain any delays. The steel stairs clanked beneath his heavy boots and the sound pinged off the walls, building an incessant ringing within Bronson’s ears.

  As he shoved open the doorway into the pinnacle complex, Bronson stumbled into one of the mercenaries he had paid the day before for Nyx’s feeding. The man’s scarred face churned the acid in Bronson’s stomach as a wave of nausea washed over him. He was able to compose himself until looking down at the small child chained to the thug’s arm.

  She was a young girl, no more than six or seven, with dirty matted brown hair and a face smudged with stains of poverty and destitution. The Bagger child stared up at Bronson, her eyes brimming with fear and questions. Bronson’s soul was pierced with a pain that overwhelmed him, and he buckled over and vomited.

  Her eyes. The thought forced Bronson to look away. They were the same eyes as his daughter’s. Bagger or not, she shared his youngest daughter’s eyes. The realization was too much, and Bronson fought just to stand and grab the man’s arm as he was starting to drag the girl toward Nyx’s chamber.

  “Not this one,” he growled. The mercenary paused and arched his eyebrows. Bronson did not relent, his eyes cutting a strong glare. “You heard me.” He wiped the bile from his lips. “Not this one.”

  The man jerked his arm away and tugged at the girl. “Already paid me, Donahue. Said it didn’t matter; boy or girl.”

  Bronson slammed his hand against the wall and forced himself up on limp legs. “I said not this one, you cur.” He glanced fearfully at the child who rendered him so helpless and back at the hired rogue. “She doesn’t want brown eyes. Not this time. Go and find another.”

  The mercenary looked nervously over his shoulder to Nyx’s room and sneered. “Should have said something earlier. Now I wasted all this time.” He jerked the girl away from the Serub’s door. “Come on, pretty. Time to put you back in the gutter I pulled you from.”

  Bronson said nothing as they left the chamber. He ran his hands over his face as he tried to catch his breath. As the two disappeared down the long hallway, Bronson fought the tears streaming in his eyes. One life. At least I can save one. The faces of the dozens of others broke through the wall of his mind, threatening to drown him. Oh, but the others! Bronson’s stomach threatened to overflow with vomit that was no longer there. He dry-heaved in the hall with no control.

  When the episode relented, his mind went back to his last real encounter with Seam. “Don’t fail me, Bronson,” Seam had said, “I want to make sure your family remains safe. But...”

  But. That word had held him in his personal hell for months. The king was using the people that Bronson loved the most to motivate him to commit these horrors on others. Nyx, too, had trapped him, threatening at any moment to reveal his true intentions to the High King should he be bold enough to displease her. As he stepped down the hallway to gather the Synod, he thought through his options. It would be his death or the death of his family. Either way there was no victory. If he were to die, his family would have no one to protect them. An honest question met him in the hallway.

  How much longer can you keep this up?

  Unable to answer, Bronson swallowed deep and stepped into Nyx’s room.

  Seam leaned against the rook he had used to travel through the desert and stared out over the rolling dunes. The heat of the white sands rippled the view of the horizon with a scorching wall of heat, making it difficult to distinguish the details of the oncoming convoy. Soon, Seam was able to spy the river of black transports hovering over the sandy landscape, swimming through the desert like dark ships on a sea of sand. The transports were escorted by a platoon of rooks that flashed up and down the line, constantly monitoring the formation. Two Grogan titans lumbered in the front and back of the formation, the hulking war machines pushing up pillars of sand and dust.

  The titan running point touched down a few yards from Seam, its base sending a shudder through the earth as it made contact with the ground. The act of landing sent out a blast of sand that surrounded Seam before drifting off into the dry valley below. The rear bay door lowered and Bronson exited, his eyes tightening in the intense light of the desert. The Synod followed closely behind. Abtren, Arakiel, and Nyx sauntered off the titan and took time to absorb the landscape. A dark smile was set on Arakiel’s lips as he stooped to the ground and sifted some of the sand through his fingers.

  “I take it you remember this place?” asked Seam.

  Arakiel stepped past Seam, his height mountainous in comparison to the High King. He looked out over the valley with his blood red eyes and breathed in the hot air.

  “Oh yes. I remember this place quite well.”

  Abtren and Nyx joined Arakiel at the edge of the dune. Abtren locked eyes with Nyx, who stole a quick glance at Seam. The two looked back out over the sunken field before Bronson broke the silence.

  “Sir, I brought them as asked and I also gathered together every support vehicle possible per your orders.” Bronson leaned in close to Seam’s ear with his face full of concern. He whispered, “Do you think it is safe to have them outside the Spire, sir?”

  “We are quite fine here, Bronson,” answered Nyx as she drew her eyes shut. “We are not dogs on a leash. We understand Seam’s powers. We will not try to defy him.”

  Arakiel shook his head and scowled, but said nothing. Abtren cut her eyes at her sister.

  Seam read their faces but remained unperturbed. “You are right to speak in truth, Nyx, though I know your kin bristle under my leadership.” He turned and walked down the steep dune, leaving the Synod and Bronson at the soft peak. “It doesn’t matter. I am more capable than any Serub. Be grateful that I am including you in my plans…”

  Arakiel growled and threw a sidelong glare at Abtren, whose face went grim. Nyx scowled at both of them, her eyes shifting from brown back to midnight black. Bronson stood at a distance from the Synod, but even at his vantage point he could read the body language. Nyx spoke up.

  “We are grateful, High King. We are grateful to be in Candor again, and we are grateful to serve your…” She paused, her black eyes flashing like unsheathed weapons. “…your Dominion.”

  Seam smiled but said nothing. Her outright showcase of loyalty did nothing more than confirm his suspicions. In any instant the outcast divines would turn on him like a pack of wolves, but as long as he held the Keys, none of it mattered.

  “Bronson.” Seam’s voice l
ifted with excitement. “You brought the supplies, yes?”

  Bronson’s right hand shook in a rapid burst of nervousness. “Yes, sir. They are held in the caravan awaiting your command.”

  “Good. Release them, and have them line up. It is time for a full display of my power.”

  Bronson nodded and threw a hand signal up to a soldier standing guard outside the titan. A whistle blew and the long line of transports opened their massive storage chambers.

  Seam’s eyes flew over the multitude of Baggers that emptied out into the desert. Nearly two thousand Baggers filled the desert floor, their faces a mixture of confusion and dread. Those expecting work were able to quickly recognize that there was no mining or constructions waiting for them in this cursed place. Seam stepped toward the three Serubs and pointed to the mass of Baggers.

  “I have kept you well fed for months. It is now time that you earn your keep.”

  The Three said nothing, but the heat of the desert seemed to dissipate in an instant. Bronson felt a cold chill envelope him, and he took a step back away from the King and his puppets.

  Seam stretched his hand out toward the crowd. “I know what you are capable of. I know what you can do. Even with only three of you, you can and will create my desire.”

  Arakiel’s voice boomed over the dunes. “What is it that the Keeper of the Keys would ask of us?” He sneered at the King as he lowered his gaze to Seam’s level. “For he need only to ask, and it shall be done.”

  “Provide me an army, Arakiel.” Seam’s face twisted with a swell of insanity. “A willing and loyal army! Push out all their essences, and leave me the frames.”

  Arakiel nodded and glanced over to his sisters. Abtren nodded, and Nyx’s face grew into a cruel smile.

  Seam walked toward her and laid his hand on her pale, cold face. “Nyx...I want you to show me your skills as an architect. Build me a masterpiece. Do not hold back in what you can create.”

  Nyx’s eyes delved into the deepest black that Seam had ever seen, and her face changed before him, its likeness like that of a hawk. The monster breathed heavily, enraptured and intoxicated with desire at the High King’s request. She spoke, her voice like a hundred men, as the clear desert sky grew black with rippling thunderclouds, bringing with it a rush of sudden darkness.

  “I will make them strong for you, Keeper. I will build you an army that will shake the foundations of Candor.”

  Bronson collapsed from the realization of Seam’s plan with the Baggers and from the terrible sight of the Serubs’ transformations. His body quaked with both fear and remorse.

  Seam stood like a statue. From the edge of darkness, he could see the other two creatures he controlled. A ravenous wolf and a powerful lion, all monstrous assemblages of animal and human. The hawkish monstrosity that was once a beautiful woman looked at him and somehow smiled.

  Peace comes at such a high price. It will continue to cost. It will always cost…

  Arakiel knelt and placed a hand into the sand. A low, inaudible pulse pushed out from him, rippling through the ground. The Serub’s frame appeared to swell as he drew in a continuous breath. Arakiel’s eyes rolled back into his skull, revealing the smoky whites that hid behind his blood red pupils. The desert continued to quake as shockwaves pushed out from Arakiel and swept toward the helpless Baggers assembled in the valley below.

  As the waves of sand swelled and rolled toward the crowd, many turned to run, but Abtren stepped forward, raising her hands. A wall of flames surrounded the Baggers. Seam smiled as he watched them screaming, attempting to find some escape. Men and women alike, surrounded by flames, with no choice but to await their new fate. Their new purpose. His purpose.

  Arakiel’s wave of energy flashed through the walls of flame and swept over the Baggers. The screaming ceased and Abtren’s walls of flame disappeared beneath the desert floor. The thousands of once panicked men and women stood like ashen pillars. No one moved, no one blinked. They simply stood, waiting.

  Nyx let out a loud screech and began to hover above the ground. She looked to Seam as she pointed her palms at the fresh new army. “Remember. It will cost.”

  Seam nodded. She focused back onto the swarm of bodies and smiled. Her powers had no visible display, accompanied by no tremors or thunderclaps. However, within moments the entire field of bodies came alive with rage, their frames reverberating with an invisible energy. The men and women each made small movements, turning to face the High King, and every hollowed eye held the unmistakable look of rage.

  The husks of what had once been Baggers stood still for a moment before stampeding up the dune toward Seam. The sound of the mass running thundered and shook the ground. The Serubs’ new creations had one purpose and goal, to overthrow the king.

  Seam grit his teeth and leapt, taking hold of Nyx, grasping around her legs in mid-flight. His rage held her as a lightning bolt of energy shot through his arm, rattling his body. The keys locked in his arm grew hot with unholy fire. Seam felt an overwhelming instinct to close his eyes, as Nyx screamed. He slammed his eyes shut and focused. The physical touch allowed him to feel Nyx’s mind and within he found the others. In that strange dark place, the keys bridged through the Serub and into the hive. He could feel them, all of them. Nyx’s voice cut through his mind as a surge of electric current coursed over his entire body. “What are you doing, you fool? Let go! You cannot control them!”

  An epiphany struck Seam and he opened his eyes. I can control them. Just as I can control you. It was inexplicable but Seam could feel the control, the unseen mechanisms that puppeteered the hive mind of the hollow bodies rushing toward him. He forced himself to think beyond the pain hammering through his veins. His vision went black, changed, and then opened anew. Spinning views sprouted in Seam’s mind, slowing and locking into place. From this altered perspective he could see himself, he could see Nyx, and through a splintered web of viewpoints, he could see through the eyes of each and every man and woman swarming up the hill. Nyx screamed once again.

  “What are you doing?! Stop!”

  Seam pulled himself close to Nyx and spoke through clenched teeth.

  “You hold no power over me, you false god.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The captive was surrounded by impenetrable darkness from all sides. He could not make out where he began and where the midnight ended. It was as if there were no limits, no borders, nothing to separate him from the dark water that held him in an immovable stasis. He was part of the void.

  His senses were a maze unto themselves, with inputs to his mind that made no sense; scrambled, disjointed, and nauseating. He could taste the blackness and hear the salty brine that enveloped him. Underneath the titanic weight of the water that pinned him down, his mind was drowning with questions. Questions that had at one point been self-evident and obvious, but now were as murky as the depths that pressed in on him.

  Where am I?

  How long have I been here?

  Who am I?

  There were no answers. The questions bubbled in his mind and the darkness swallowed them without a single response. The questions were his only possession, and what little energy remained within him, he used to keep them in the forefront of his consciousness. He knew that to quit asking questions was to give into the darkness. He could not give in to the dark, he could not join the void, he could not become nothingness. The emptiness of the place pressed in on him like an endless horizon, a titanic weight threatening to absorb him if he would only give in. He did not know how much longer he could keep his silent resistance. Whatever this place was, it went on forever. An eternity for fighting against the dark, fighting only to ask the questions that seemed so vital to his existence. So he kept fighting.

  An eon went by, and then something changed. A sensation stirred within the depths. He opened his eyes to be greeted by a familiar wall of black, but he felt something moving. The water around him shook and stirred until he heard a thunderous eruption of voices screaming, howling for mercy. />
  A rush of movement swept in behind him, filling his mind with untold fear. The thought of sharing this space with another was no comfort. He panicked. His eyes strained to see, to see something other than the inky gloom that had kept him imprisoned for so long. A shift in the water brought forth the other. Massive and moving with amazing speed, the large serpentine body circled around him. There was no light except for the dark glow of a pair of massive eyes with pupils slit like a cat’s. In that dim light, he could barely make out the full figure of the beast, the enormity of its body, accompanied by long rows of black, sharp teeth. Silver scales covering the other came into view as the circling beast closed in tighter and tighter, constricting the space between him and it with its terrible presence. A low, steady voice called out through the deep, unencumbered by the waters.

  “Who are you?” The question wrapped around him tighter than the depths, causing him to struggle with his very existence. The being continued to ask in a threatening yet playful manner. “I have seen you before. She knows who you are but won’t tell me.”

  The circling stopped and the creature’s eye pushed closer toward him, never blinking.

  “You were the first to disturb my depths in a very long time and now more follow you.” The eye rolled up and down, scanning him like a curious predator, slightly amused at the small life before him. “No matter. I will learn your secrets in time.”

  With a snap of the creature’s jaws silence returned and the monstrous beast disappeared, merging with the darkness. There were no more visions of that terrible eye and the feeling of its presence dissipated in the depths of the water much to the relief of the captive.

  More time passed and the captive fought the urge to give in and disappear, melting into the nothingness around him. The unexpected visitor had at least interrupted the torture of solitude for a moment, but the emptiness pressed in harder on him than ever before. After countless unknown increments of eternity passed, the waters stirred again.