Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  Bri continued, “Landless, Riht destroyed, my ancestors search for a new...purpose in desert.” Bri’s eyes cut across the roughly hewn table, and he leaned in toward her. “My peoples’ gods...deceived us. Darkness, death, blood. All ruined. No land. No gods. No home to go.”

  Willyn had pressed up on the edge of her bench, completely silent. “What happened?”

  “He came.” Bri took a giant gulp of his last beer, put down the tankard, and belched.

  “Who?” Willyn’s eyes stared at the intricate ravens tattooed on Bri’s arm, the size of her thigh.

  Bri shook his head, his eyes distant. “The...six.”

  “Sixth?” Willyn guessed.

  “Yes, yes. Sixth. A Serub, not demon like those in glass like those we worshipped. This is good Serub. Fallen, but still good.” Bri shook his head. “He came to my people and spoke to them. Told them future. Told them to go deeper in desert. To make peace with Aleph.”

  “Aleph?” The name of the divine fell off her tongue before she could stop it.

  “Aye. This not easy. We told to curse Aleph. Taught to curse him, but...the sixth he came and help. Said Aleph who sent him to help us. Sent him to us, to find a new way in the desert.”

  Willyn took a bite of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. “What did he tell your people to do?”

  “The sixth lead us to…toto de rusim.” Bri broke into his Bagger language, straining to utilize the limits of his knowledge. “Restrain?”

  “What?” Willyn had no idea what the Bagger word meant.

  “To change.” Bri searched for the definition. “To better.”

  “Restore?”

  Bri slapped the table, which groaned under the giant’s force, his booming laughter filling the chamber. “Aye! This is it. Be restore says sixth. Ride the rails, he say. ‘Serve brothers and sisters in Realms. Work your restore out,’” Bri spoke, his face overcome with emotion, “and Aleph will give you new home. Make you mighty again.”

  A solemn silence grew between them. Willyn shook her head, taking everything in.

  “So that is why the Baggers ride the rails?” She sat stunned, taking a small sip from her drink. “And the prayer over the...demon? You never told me. What did it mean?”

  “We Baggers...we believe strange things, different from Realm people.” He shrugged. “Our prayers was for demon in glass. Maybe he can restores too like six.”

  Willyn shook her head, her eyes wide, her skin pin-pricked with strange energy. She did not know if she could believe everything she heard. She would not have believed in the Serubs, but her experiences had shattered her original thoughts on faith and religion. With all she had encountered over the past few months, she knew there had to be something to all of it. She threw a mischievous glance at her companion. “And what would our friend the Mastermonk think of this?”

  “Oh,” Bri smiled broadly. “The monk and I have much common, little one.” He held a monstrous hand over his barrel chest. “I am priest of my people, too. My...clothes, my words, my skin.” He showed off the tattoo of the ravens and arrows. “...they different, but we are same in spirit. Same in purpose. Monk is good friend. He follows the One; the same as I.”

  Willyn nodded and sighed. “The One will need to help me soon.” Her eyes cut over to him. “I have to meet with Rander, Bri. We need the Reds’ support. Maybe the One can help me tame that beast.”

  Bri nodded and ran his finger along the rim of his soup dish. “Yes. But that not easy.” He popped the greasy finger in his mouth and looked over Willyn’s shoulder. “But we will try.”

  Willyn stared at him, trying to get a read on him. “We have to figure out what we are doing. Viga was down in the Eastern shafts trying to dig that thing out for Seam. Once Seam finds out he is dead they will either storm this place or do something worse. We have to make sure Rander does not side with the Dominion. We have to...”

  The sound of marching filled through the mountain halls, cutting Willyn off. All talking ceased within the mess hall as a massive swell of Red soldiers poured into the cavern with weapons drawn. Willyn cursed under her breath and her eyes widened as a man stepped forward. He could only be Rander. Viga, she thought. They found Viga.

  Rander’s voice ripped through the hollow room.

  “Everyone silent. NOW!”

  The room fell quiet as Rander raised his voice. “There are traitors here. My loyal guardsman Viga was shot down, his body pulled out from the Eastern shafts. Who here knows anything about Viga?”

  The Baggers and Reds in the common area all shared worried glances. No one moved or spoke. The entire congregation of bodies was mute.

  Something within Willyn pushed her forward. She glanced over at Bri, whose eyes were locked onto her. Willyn whispered to him, “Now?”

  Bri nodded.

  The nod encouraged her and soon Willyn found herself stepping into the circle that had formed between Rander and his Red bodyguards. Her voice filled the silence and commanded all eyes on her. “I did it. I killed Viga in the Eastern Shafts. He was allied with Seam Panderean and that snake, Hospsadda Gran.” She stepped on top of a table and shouted out, “Reds, hear me! I am Willyn Kara!”

  With that one statement, the room erupted into chaos. A massive fight broke out and Rander screamed to his men, “Seize her!”

  Willyn fired a shot into the air as Bri crumpled those who dared approach her. She leveled her pistol toward Rander’s face and screamed, “You will not touch your Sar!”

  Rander’s men stopped in their tracks and turned questioning gazes back to their leader. He stormed toward Willyn and pulled out his own pistol, unfazed by her drawn weapon. He threw back the hammer on the revolver, leveling it at Willyn’s chest.

  “Stand down!” shouted Willyn. A mad rage of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she hurled her pistol at Rander’s feet. “Put down your gun and face me! I am the same Sar you swear to serve. Here I am in the flesh, and yet you deny my reign. Now stand down!”

  For a moment, Willyn could see Rander waver in his resolve. He lowered his pistol and threw it to the side. He stepped within an inch of her face and spoke, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

  “If you are the Sar then no doubt you will meet me in the dueling ring. Prove to me your martial prowess. Show me your combat training. Any Sar worth their mettle would not shrink back from a fight to the death.” Rander cut her a glance. “Or are you what I fear, a dirty Bagger with dreams of glory? I would hate to have another Bagger sully up my boots.”

  Willyn’s lungs heaved with rage. “I gladly accept your challenge, fool. I will rip you into shreds, and all the Reds will see me for who I am.”

  Rander laughed and the Reds screamed with delight.

  Bri whispered in her ear, “You sure this okay? Monk said we must unite the Reds, not fight leader.”

  Willyn threw a sly glance at the giant Bagger. “Bri, there is much you don’t know about Grogans.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Seam sat with his eyes closed, his head bent forward as the subtle motion of the titan carrying him pressed on toward Hangman’s Pass. By all accounts, it looked as if the High King had fallen asleep, but it was a charade, just a secret game that Seam played trying to induce his body toward a state of rest. If only he put his body in the right position and mimicked the motions of what he most desired, perhaps then he could drift off, leaving Candor for just a little while.

  Yet the dark horizon of dreams ever eluded him. Instead of darkness, all Seam could see were the others, the hive mind of newly made morels that rode behind him, crafted by the dark architect he had enslaved. Seam sat up, his face worn and his mind full of bitterness.

  If this is the cost of power, so be it. He assured himself that he was not tired, and that much was true. He had never felt such energy in all his life. Yet, something within him cried for release, for rest, if not from his body, from his mind.

  In an effort to distract himself, he stood up and inspected the metallic chamber of
the Grogan titan. It was an impressive war machine, a physical expression of Seam’s growing respect and appreciation for the Grogans since the truce that had been brokered between his nation and Hosp’s. The Grogans were such a hardy people, and their technology in warfare knew no equal. Over the months since beginning his rule in Zenith, Seam had taken to assimilating many of the Grogan practices. He abandoned the production of Lotte’s military vehicles in favor of adopting the Grogan rooks and titans. He also abandoned his regal dress of Lotte for the Spartan uniform of his allies in Rhuddenhall.

  Rhuddenhall. A curious thought flickered across the High King’s mind. You could quell the Reds, murder Hosp, and secure the mantle of Sar for yourself. The thought oscillated in his mind, and he weighed it carefully. It was an interesting idea; one he had danced with many times over.

  Yes, his inner voice pressed, but now you are actually heading to the Groganlands with an army. An army that cannot be stopped. Seam stood, his lips pursed as his mind sought clarity. His army, the multitude, had added to his perpetual state of consciousness. The keys had more power, by far, than he once supposed. These strange objects extended further than just merely leashing the false gods. He now knew that he could absorb their power as his own.

  Since unlocking Nyx he had felt this, a burst of new influence, a rapid energy soaring through him, yet he did not know how to wield it. His actions against Nyx in the desert were made under an impulse, a powerful act of survival that forced his mind to make the connection to the others. It was as if the Keys had directed him to his newfound power. He had kept his rabid dogs in check. The Serubs themselves seemed perplexed that he could link with the Bagger husks, championing them all into submission. He knew that the possibility of this power existed, but he didn’t know if he could actually control them all until now. Yes, now you know the truth. You can check the Serubs into submission and control untold armies with your thoughts.

  Seam glanced up to the dark corner in the back of the titan. There, stowed with the supplies and weapons, stood the shadow, rigid and still in the darkness.

  The body of his enemy had long healed from its wounds and stood with open, vacant eyes. The shell of Kull Shepherd served as the High King’s secret training ground for his newfound abilities, confirming the immense powers that the Keys actually bestowed upon him. At first the living, soulless body of Grift Shepherd’s son served as some sort of sick trophy, a cold, tangible reminder of what he could and would do to anyone who dared to oppose him.

  This was before he realized he could make him move. The oddness of standing by a living corpse did not keep Seam’s inquisitive mind away. There was something magnetic about being near the morel form of his fallen enemy. Something that was confirming and intoxicating. The High King felt drawn to Kull’s shell in a similar way that he had felt drawn to the forbidden tomes he stole from the royal archives. It was an emotion that felt like a well-worn path that he had walked down long ago. Destiny. It was destiny, and it made his body shake with excitement and secret longing. Something about the vacant body of Kull Shepherd was full of purpose, and even though this mystery eluded him for many months, he could feel the weight of power orbiting it. Then one night, he looked at the silent, mute body and spoke to it.

  “Stand here.” With his arm brandishing the Keys of Candor, he pointed and the morel servant obeyed without question. He closed his eyes, and like a child learning to use his voice for the first time, Seam’s mind reached out and found another vessel that he could control.

  For weeks, he tested and honed his abilities with Grift Shepherd’s son, realizing his full potential. Only weeks later he controlled an army of newly created morels. On the periphery of his vision, he could feel their perspectives, their visions shifting into his mind, the kaleidoscopic mass of the hive-mind riding behind him in the convoy. Thankfully, with none of these new powers were there voices to contend with. No additional mindscapes to sort through, no psychic strain. Yet every time he closed his eyes and attempted to feign the rest he so sorely desired, all he could see were the viewpoints of thousands of vacant eyes that filled his dark transports, waiting to wage war in the Groganlands.

  It was more than Seam could truly comprehend. If he could mimic the abilities and even supplant Nyx’s powers, what other secrets did her kin have to offer? This new mystery tantalized him, but his thoughts were clouded with images of the restless deities and their continual attempts to overpower, seduce, and defeat him. It made his mind fill with rage and a fire burn behind his eyes. “They won’t stop,” he whispered to himself. “And as I unlock the remaining two they will continue to strive for power. My power.”

  Seam clenched his eyes shut and marveled at his ability to observe and control the thousands of husks tucked away within his convoy. He smiled and thought to himself, his mind as fractured as the vision he saw behind closed eyes. They may try, but I will be waiting. I will drain them down to the dregs. I will crush them under my boots and smear them across the lands they once ruled. He ground his teeth. I am the Lord of Candor.

  Seam stood silent, searching the depths of his mind, plunging down in his memories in an effort to remember the details of the ancient forbidden scriptures he had poured over what felt like eons ago. There has to be something I am forgetting. Something I’ve overlooked. There had to be an answer to keep the Serubs in check, something that only the Keeper of the Keys could do to remain in power and keep the deities at bay. Lost in thought, the datalink on his wrist blinked with life. He flicked open the screen and glanced down at the young face staring back at him.

  “My High King. I have news to report on Grift Shepherd.”

  The name Shepherd stood up the hairs on Seam’s neck. “Speak, Reuben. Is he still alive?”

  Reuben glanced over his shoulder before addressing the High King. “I am uncertain, sire. He was caught attempting to flee from Henshaw. The last communication I received was that he had taken out one of our armored personnel carriers but that his vehicle was disabled in the firefight.”

  Queen Aleigha’s scout had made a most excellent spy for Seam. “Did you notify Cyric or one of the others?”

  “The bounty hunters? No sir. I thought you would like...”

  Seam ground his teeth and hissed, “So you are bothering me to tell me you don’t know if this terrorist is dead and that you have not notified the hunters?”

  The young man dipped his head and swallowed before stammering out an answer. “No, sir. I am actually contacting you about the queen. I was simply providing a brief on Shepherd.”

  Seam sat forward and cocked his neck to the side. “What about my mother?”

  Reuben paused as he weighed his words. He stared at the High King and whispered, “Sire, she was behind the fight in Henshaw. She is arming an active resistance, trying to help Shepherd and other sympathizers.”

  Seam bristled at the words and leaned into the screen, his bloodshot eyes glowing with the light of the diodes. “Reuben, you understand the cost that will be inflicted if the words you are speaking are false? I will happily cut out your lying tongue if you are trying to deceive me.”

  Reuben stared at the king, unwavering, as if the words that his king had just said were a commentary of the weather. “I understand very well what I am telling you, sir. I heard her speak with Shepherd. She met with him in the industrial district only days ago. A resistance cell has set up shop, busily planning their strategy. I heard it all. They had planned to take over Henshaw and set up a base on the borders of Preost.” Reuben was shaking, but he refused to break his eyes away from Seam.

  The thought of his own mother betraying him twisted in the pit of Seam’s stomach like a viper. The poisonous accusation gave birth to a strong rage and Seam could feel his blood boil beneath his skin.

  “Reuben.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want proof, and whether you provide evidence or not I want you and my mother in Zenith within twenty-four hours. Do you understand?”

  The words trembled fr
om Reuben’s lips. “Yes, my lord.”

  Seam held the datalink open as he spat one more sentence, “And bring me definitive news on Shepherd. No excuses.”

  Seam snapped his datalink shut, his face painted with rage. He ran up to the cockpit of the titan. Two Dominion drivers sat with their hands on the controls observing the barren desert filling the horizon before them.

  “How much longer until we are at the Pass?”

  The co-pilot, startled by the High King’s sudden presence, pulled up a map on one of the titan’s screens. Seam stared at the blue topographic map. The blue desert was filled with a long line of red convoy vehicles.

  “By my estimate, sire, we will be there in a matter of hours.”

  “Speed it up, soldiers. I am growing restless.”

  “Of course, sir.” The soldiers glanced at each other and put their hands on the thruster. Both pushed at the device, and Seam felt the huge hovercraft pitch forward. The pilot called over his datalink, “Convoy, increase thrust. Match point speed.”

  Twenty affirmatives chanted over the datalink and Seam smiled, his eyes full of malice.

  I’m coming, Hosp.

  Hosp stood, shrouded underneath the shade cast by the thick outcrop of red stone that soared above him. Hangman’s Pass had long been empty, but all that had changed since the Red Rebellion. It had been so long since the Grogans had needed to hang their enemies on the borders of their territory, but these were dark days. Hundreds of Red rebel bodies swung in the hot desert wind, suspended by the rusted chains hammered into the rock ages ago. Hosp raised his face up to them and smiled, his gray eyes shining beneath the dark shade of the Pass. The carrion birds had come to feast on his enemies. They filled the arch, shrieking and shaking the chains of those Hosp had slaughtered.

  Let the High King see my work and fear. Hosp was under no illusion that Seam had underestimated him. In fact, he had meticulously counted on Seam to believe that he actually needed his help. Let him underestimate me, Hosp thought to himself. He is bringing my strongest weapon and has no clue. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the fool would make a fatal mistake.