by Casey Eanes
Willyn stooped down and dropped Luken over on the gurney, face up. She looped his arms through the spider web of leather only to grab the handles of the javes and pull, dragging Luken’s feet through the mixture of desert sand and red clay. To her surprise the craft was bearable if she was careful to navigate her footsteps over a gentle path. She started out, pointed in the direction of the smoke plume.
Willyn felt as if she had trudged through an eternal night, dragging Luken behind her through the dark and lonely wasteland. Desert scrub brush and rocks were all that greeted her as she carefully followed the smoke trail above her. When the smoke let up, Willyn used the stars as a broad compass, their light giving her enough confidence of her general direction. Her arms and back ached from her toil, but her rigged gurney functioned well enough and she was grateful not to carry Luken on her back. She had taken her coat off and had covered him with it, hoping to keep him comfortable as her body smoked with heat in the cold air.
Finally, she caught up to the light. About a quarter mile away, Willyn could see figures moving around a desert bonfire in a valley below her, their shadows cast widely across the red stone arch where they had set up camp. Whoever these people were, they were not concerned with camouflaging their movements. Willyn was careful to lower Luken to the ground, and she twisted to grab her assault rifle, bringing its scope up to her eye. She rounded her sight to the fire, and then to the figures surrounding it.
Baggers. Quickly, she counted about twelve who huddled around the fire. Over the fire, her eyes confirmed what her nose had suspected. A large loin from a cattle beast roasted over a spit, making Willyn salivate. She lowered her scope and smiled. Warm food and friendly folk would be very welcome. She crouched down to pick up the gurney’s handle when a burst of light flashed across the horizon. She stood as a cold wind blew through her hair.
A rook. The vehicle’s lights where unmistakable, even from this distance. It tore through the desert like a hawk heading straight towards it prey. Willyn reached again for her scope as the rook slowed to a halt and the cockpit opened. The silence of the night erupted into a din of horror-laced screams. The men around the camp ran from the fire as two figures rushed them with inhuman speed. Willyn’s heart froze in her chest as she raised the scope toward the light.
Where there had once been fire, life, and activity there was only darkness. Blindly, Willyn scanned the horizon for any sign of what had just happened. The answer came in the pair of glowing eyes and the sound of snapping bones. Willyn’s hands shook as she caught a glimpse of green and the telltale flash of purple, gold, and crimson. Kaleidoscope eyes. Bastion and Abtren were here, and they were feeding.
Somehow the two Serubs had escaped Zenith. Willyn was frozen with fear as her situation went from dire to even worse. “Aleph above,” she whispered.
The two pairs of eyes careened and bore directly on her as soon as the first word left her mouth. Icy fear coiled around Willyn’s heart as the light from the warm campfire was suddenly doused into darkness. Even at such a distance Willyn knew her position was compromised, and her hands flew to her weapons, calculating the amount of time she had left. Defiantly, she looked at Luken who still lay on the ground unconscious. Her hands fingered the grenades strapped across her as she readied herself for the end. She would not run.
“Well, come at me, you dogs!” Willyn screamed, her voice echoing in the night. She lowered her rifle and aimed the crosshairs for the glowing predator eyes galloping toward her. The bullets ripped through the night, colliding with their targets. From the scope she could see Bastion briefly stumble under her shots. Willyn ran back toward Luken and lay prone as she readied herself for another volley of fire. She tore two of the grenades off her belt. “One for you both, and one for me.”
She continued to spend her weapon’s ammunition, knowing that whatever damage she could land, she would have to do now. She could hear them, their roars echoing like some hellish beasts from nightmares. She felt her conscious self step away as her survival instinct tore into high gear.
The automatic rifle had spewed all Willyn’s ammo, but the Serubs continued their advance, sprinting like hellhounds toward Willyn’s position. She could clearly see them, even in the dim moonlight. She stood, unlocking the pin from one of the grenades, lobbing it at Bastion as he scaled the bluff toward her. Her throw was precise, sending the Serub careening back down the valley with a triumphant explosion. Her hand found the second grenade as she scanned for Abtren. Where is she?
Pain seared through her hand holding the explosive as Willyn saw razor-tipped fingers snap down on her like a deadly trap. She dropped to her knees and looked up. Abtren’s eyes flickered between purple, gold, and red in microseconds, petrifying Willyn with their rapid dance of colors. The Serub’s voice pierced into Willyn’s mind like a parasite, causing her to recoil with pure terror, her killer instinct evaporating in an instant. Abtren stepped closer, bringing her face to eye level, flashing a rage-filled smile of bloodied, serrated teeth.
“So here is the Grogan wench.” Abtren’s slicing grip tightened over Willyn’s hand, causing her to scream out, her voice echoing out over the hills. “Don’t waste all your screams, Willyn. I want to still hear you when I pick your bones clean.”
Willyn stared deep into Abtren’s eyes, transfixed on their oscillations and the dancing firelight within them. “Tell me, did you like it when Isphet enslaved your mind? Did you enjoy seeing your brother die, yet again?”
Even as Abtren’s grip tightened, the mention of Hagan made Willyn rise and spit in the Serub’s face. A million curses flooded Willyn’s mind, but it was all she could manage in the bear trap that was the Abtren’s grip.
Abtren laughed, her voice filling the desert night air. A long snake-like tongue wiped away Willyn’s insult, and her eyes went red. “Is that all you have, Willyn Kara? Is this all the strength you can muster?” Abtren yanked Willyn up from the desert floor as blood poured from her wounded hand. Willyn’s mind roared with indescribable pain as the Serub playfully drank from her bloodied hand. “It’s time you paid for your crimes. You...you have robbed us of everything. You destroyed my brother, Arakiel, by bringing in the traitor Isphet. You robbed me of my revenge over Seam Panderean. I will do to you all that I would have done to him.” Abtren’s eyes flickered toward Luken for the briefest of seconds, and Willyn’s mind went cold with fear.
Not Luken. Don’t hurt Luken.
As if reading her mind, Abtren’s burning red eyes locked on her. “Or perhaps, a more fitting punishment is for you to watch as I consume my brother. After all, you are an ant compared to him, and he has caused me much more...pain.” Abtren smiled as the monstrous face shifted, returning to that of a beautiful woman. “Yes. I see how much he means to you now. After all, why would you drag him out all this way from Zenith? Foolish girl. He could never love you.” Abtren stepped toward Luken and held Willyn over him. “The only use we have for your kind is this.” Abtren squeezed her bladed hands over Willyn’s fist as a river of blood poured out over Luken’s face. Willyn wailed as any glimmer of hope and rescue evaporated from her mind.
Abtren shrieked with laughter, her monstrous voice echoing through the cold desert night. “Yes, I’ll rip Luken apart and drink him down to the dregs. But before I do that, I’ll have Bastion rip off your eyelids so you can watch. Yes, I want you to watch it all.”
“Watch this,” Willyn growled. She swung her free hand up, plunging through Abtren’s grip into what was now her mangled fist. Deep inside the gore she found the pin of the grenade that was hidden inside. Without hesitation she ripped the pin out, as her sharp blue eyes locked onto the demon who held her. “See you in hell.”
The world erupted with a blinding light, followed by a black blanket of darkness that swallowed everything in sight.
CHAPTER FOUR
The crisp night air whipped through the railcar, blowing through the tattered shirt hanging over Kull’s shoulders. Bloodied and bruised, Kull sat silently with his ba
ck pressed against the wall of the rusty old car, staring down at his blistered and cracked hands. The melodic rhythm of the train fleeing from Zenith lulled Kull into a deep trance as he carefully ran his fingers over the new, swelling sores. The pinprick of pain reminded him of another time, another place, where digging had actually healed his hands. But that was long ago, he thought. You’re far from Mir now.
The pain brought Kull back to this reality. Candor. You’re back in Candor now. Kull’s gaze dropped back into a trance as he tried to bury the image of his father’s body lying in a pool of blood. In his mind’s eye, Kull could see himself dropping Seam’s bloodied ebony sword in disbelief. His return had only meant the end of his father. It’s as if I’m cursed to never see him again.
The railcar jolted as it skidded over a rough piece of track, the rough swaying motion jarring Kull from his tortuous thoughts. He rubbed at his brow and shook his head before scanning the fearful faces filling the car around him. Men and women from every Realm were huddled together in a mass of panic, fleeing for safety, their voices laced with the news. The Spire had collapsed, and all of Zenith with it. Kull watched as more and more people packed into the railcar at each stop along the line, fleeing to another border and to another uncertain future.
Running...running away from me. The thought was chilling, but Kull knew it was true. He, or rather the power that now ran through him, had caused the Spire to fall.
His moments spent in Seam’s pinnacle were nearly unknown to him. His recollections were a rough patchwork of memories, each one feeling distant, like a hazy dream. He remembered Isphet’s foul face flicker in his mind, as well as...the place he had been. Mir...and with it...Aleph. Pictures of Isphet and Aleph scrambled his thoughts as if he were reading a book bound and pasted together from torn-out pages of two separate narratives.
Isphet. Isphet was an abrupt, horrific wound across his memories, second only to the sight of seeing Grift lying dead on the Spire floor. Kull’s eyes brimmed with tears at the thought, but he forced himself to recollect all that had happened. Think, Kull. Focus.
His hand flew, reaching for the rune that hung around his neck and for the Key that hung next to it. It was still there, and that was proof enough for him. The Key, a tangible reminder of his time with Aleph, had somehow crossed over with him from the other side back into Candor. It was a mystery to Kull, but it was impossible to refute. The object radiated with a warm, soothing heat that comforted him despite his doubts and questions. Even in front of the terror that was Isphet, Kull had felt no fear in the cursed god’s presence, and he had fought with such strength that it mirrored his enemy’s. Kull knew that the strength was not his own, because as he sat huddled in the railcar, he felt anything but strong. Exhaustion and weariness fell over him like a weighted blanket as the railcar rumbled down the ancient track.
Despite his exhaustion, Kull’s mind churned with unanswerable questions. What do I do now? He didn’t rush to find an answer because he knew that he held no answer. Don’t forget, he reminded himself, this was your choice. Aleph had only spoken truth to him:
“There are many consequences for the choice you will make, Kull, but the choice is yours, and yours alone.” Kull squinted out into the distant horizon rolling by the railcar in a state of silent contemplation. Only once did he allow himself to gaze up at the heavy canvas bag he carried, resting in the compartment above him.
“Excuse me.” The voice was quiet but firm. “Hello?” The voice continued and plucked Kull away from his silent meditations. He lifted his eyes and met the gaze of a young man about his age. His face was fair except for a large bandage wrapped around the crown of his head. Kull glanced down at his shirt, its pattern and colors were distinct of Zenith. Seam’s army.
“Oh!” The young man raised his hand as if to block Kull’s next thought. “I’m not part of the Dominion. I mean...”
Dominion. Kull marked the word, unsurprised at Seam’s term for his now collapsed kingdom. Kull shook his head and softly answered, “Wouldn’t expect Dominion deserters to be retreating on a railcar anyway.”
“Ha. Well yeah. Good point...None of that matters now.” The man shuffled and tilted his head to the side as he examined Kull’s face. “Anyways, I was just gonna ask you. You from Lotte? You look...familiar.”
“Me?” Lotte. The word had once meant so much to him. It had once been his home...hadn’t it? Cotswold? Yes, Cotswold was in Lotte. Kull looked at the soldier and shook his head.
Before he could speak the stranger continued, “I was part of the Academy, in Vale. In service of the Queen...and King Camden. You look like a cadet I saw in Vale before my deployment to Faylon after the Grogan attacks.”
Kull shook his head again and glanced around the car to see if anyone seemed to be listening to their conversation. The soldier seemed innocent enough, but in such a closed space Kull didn’t want to take any chances. “I wasn’t ever part of the Academy. Must just look like someone...” The words trailed off as the mention of Faylon collided with significance in Kull’s brain. He turned back to the young man and furrowed his brow.
“You said Faylon?”
“Yeah, it was one of my last missions before, well...” the soldier tugged at his uniform. “Before I traveled to Zenith.”
Kull’s heart quickened as his mind remembered her. The girl. Adley. Adley had been sent to Faylon in events that seemed a lifetime ago. He took a quick breath and leveled his question as cool as possible.
“Did you know a cadet named Rainer?”
The stranger’s brow furrowed. “First name, Rainer?”
“No...no, her first name was Adley. She was supposed to be deployed for Faylon around that same time. In the medical convoy, I’d imagine.”
The mention of Adley brought a look of instant recognition across the cadet’s face.
“From Cotswold?” the young soldier questioned.
Kull nodded.
“Last I heard of her...she went rogue. Part of the Resistance now. Tried to stage a coup within Zenith...broke out prisoners from the Spire and is still working against the High King.” The man’s tone was tense. Kull could sense that his words were veiled and careful, as a check to see where loyalties fell.
Kull stared at the man and said nothing, but instead offered a small place for him to sit down. “What’s your name, soldier?”
The man sat next to Kull and his shoulders relaxed, if only slightly. “Bates. Callin Bates.”
Kull nodded his head toward him, “Well met, Callin. I’m Kull...so it seems that you are without a job for the time being. Perhaps Cadet Rainer was right to defect?”
The question was good-natured, but Kull braced himself for conflict.
The soldier shook his head, wiping his ash-stained face with disbelief. “Seam Panderean’s reign was bright and brief, like a falling star. It’s hard to believe it would end this way. So fast...so sudden.”
Kull’s stomach lurched at the comparison, but his face revealed nothing. “You mention the Resistance...I’ve been occupied for a while now and haven’t heard the news. Who are they?”
The soldier glared at him as if he were a dolt. “How in Candor does one live in Zenith and not know what the Resistance is? Can’t you see what has happened?”
Kull nodded and tried to break eye contact as he responded. “Yeah...I see it. I’ve seen all of it.”
“I would say so,” the young cadet replied. “I mean look at you, all bloody and beat up. Why were you in Zenith anyway? You’re not a solider. Did you find work there, or did you have family there?”
The last question sent a stabbing pain through Kull’s chest as he stared down at his blood-stained hands. His voice broke as his grief again resurfaced. “I was there with family,” he said as he slowly nodded. The weight of what he carried in the canvas bag above him threatened to collapse around him.
“Oh!” Callin stammered and turned away from Kull’s face. “I’m...I’m sorry.”
Kull tried to scrape the dried bl
ood, his own father’s blood, from his fingernails.
“Think nothing of it....”
Kull stood and stepped toward a small window that was cut in the side of the railcar, trying to take in a deep breath of the cold air rushing by them. Hoping it would push out the choking knot that was twisting in his throat as he tried his hardest not to think about what he had done. About what had happened to him.
Callin shook his head and furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry for your loss. I was just going to ask where you are headed. You know, since you are from Lotte and all. Headed back there, perhaps?”
Kull sucked in another deep breath and wiped his face. “I don’t know. To be honest, I was just trying to get as far from Zenith as possible. When that tower came down, I knew I needed to leave. Fast.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like that. I don’t know what could have caused it. Most of the fighting was on the periphery of the city. The Grogans or Resistance must have planted some charges at the Spire’s base.” Callin chuckled nervously and shook his head before letting out a short whistle. A smile crept over his face as he muttered, “Personally I didn’t mind seeing the old thing fall, but there is still no word on what happened to the High King. He may still live, yet.”
The tenor in the soldier’s voice as he mentioned the Resistance seemed to finally surrender his true loyalties and helped tamp down the grief that had been swelling in Kull’s chest. His pulse quickened as Kull decided he had to make a move.
“Didn’t mind it?” Kull stared at the rank stitched on first lieutenant Bates’s sleeve. “Why would a lieutenant in the Dominion guard not mind seeing the Spire fall? Shouldn’t you be digging through the rubble looking for your king? And why would you have knowledge of Resistance infiltrators? Whose side are you on?”
Bates’s countenance hardened and he scanned Kull’s expression. He glanced around the railcar and coughed into his hand before whispering within inches of Kull’s face. Kull noticed as Bates’s hand went slowly to his sidearm. “I will answer your question if you answer mine. Who is the rightful High King?”
