Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  Unable to look away, Seam saw the man’s long, pale fingers reach up to the skull mask. Slowly, the visage of bone was pulled away, and Seam fought back the panic that roared within him. The man’s face at first seemed normal, surprisingly handsome if you could look past the corpse-like pallor. Yet soon terrifying details came into focus. What he thought were wrinkles were something more, reflecting brightly in the harsh white light. Thin, vein-like wires embedded in Dyrn’s flesh scattered from his blood-red eyes. A mouth full of sharp, black dagger teeth smiled at him, hungrily, not unlike those of the Serubs. Slowly, Dyrn removed his outer layers, unwrapping his thick, black robe, making Seam wish he could look away. Instead, he saw the man’s true makeup as a complex mechanical body revealed itself beneath the thick outer garment. Mechanical, yet still fluid like flesh. The man’s constructed body defied logic as he stood before Seam proudly, an ungodly collage of both man and machine. Dyrn was both stunningly beautiful and horrific to take in at once and he boldly stood before Seam, completely naked without shame, radiating a sense of complete strength and control.

  “Look at me, Seam Panderean. Answer this question. What am I?”

  Seam could not find the words, wondering if his mind had finally shattered somewhere under the desert heat.

  The creature did not relent, “What am I?!”

  Seam stuttered as his eyes gushed a never-ending stream of hot tears. He desperately wished he could blink them under the hot white lights. “A machine. A machine!” he barked.

  Dyrn sneered, and his crimson eyes flared in anger. He walked over to him and hit a switch located somewhere below Seam’s vision. Seam felt the world fly as the table swung from his horizontal position to the vertical plane, throwing his face directly into Dyrn’s.

  “You are not correct, Seam Panderean. I am your ancestor. Yes, a man...just like yourself.”

  Seam’s body shook as he stuttered out a whisper, “What do you want with me? Why in all of Candor do you have me here?”

  “Seam Panderean, you have tipped the scales and broken the system. A system we have worked hard to create. After hundreds of years of planned execution, you alone have introduced a critical error into our plans. We must repair this.” Dyrn’s face took on a feeling of reverence as he stared at the broken High King. “We must restore you. We must bring you back into full optimization.”

  Seam was confused and terrified. “What are you talking about? Speak clearly to me!”

  Dyrn gave a small, cold smile. “For a fool, you’ve done exceedingly well, defying all our expectations and forecasts. Yet, you are an anomaly to us, Seam, and that makes you powerful, even though your particular variance is somewhat of a disappointment to us.”

  “Disappointment?” Again, Seam’s mind whirled with clouded confusion.

  “Oh, yes. You see, I’m afraid you left things in such a mess. You’ve allowed the system to break down where there should be order. Your shallow recklessness has done us much harm.”

  Seam growled, his fury growing larger than the fear within him. “You still haven’t told me who you are. What is this!?”

  The roaring red eyes flashed as a forest of sharp, black teeth unsheathed from thin, cracked lips. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Seam? I’m your new master. Now it is time to begin our work. We have many repairs to make on you.”

  Seam wrestled against his bindings as the sound of a large mechanical drill whirred to life and his platform lowered back into a horizontal position. Dyrn covered himself again and nodded as he placed the skull over his long, white hair. His red eyes met Seam’s gaze and Seam knew he was smiling behind the mask.

  Seam let out a terrified scream.

  “This will take a while, Seam. No need to struggle.”

  Bronson slowly exited his truck at the threshold of Vale’s outer ramparts, his hands held high. He took a cautious turn and exposed his palms to the five rifles fixed on him. He did not waver as he took four wobbly steps forward.

  “I said on the ground. NOW!” A Lottian soldier pressed forward and rammed the butt of his gun into Bronson’s gut, crumpling him to the ground. The young man pointed to the truck. “Get that thing out of here and search it. No surprises!”

  “Corporal Wiggins, you don’t remember me?” Bronson coughed and spat on the ground as he rose to one knee. “I was headmaster of your graduating class. I instructed you in field tactics.”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing when you’re wearing those colors,” the soldier growled. As three of the other soldiers swarmed over Bronson’s truck, Corporal Wiggins and another young cadet yanked Bronson back to his feet. Wiggins squared up to Bronson nose-to-nose and stared into his eyes. The young man’s gaze was boiling over in a tempest of rage. “We have ways to get the truth outta people, Captain Donahue. Why would you dare to show up in Vale again this close to the royal grounds? I don’t care if you look like a trampled piece of crap either. I take any trespassing as a threat to the queen.”

  “Aw, lighten up, young one.” A heavy hand landed on the corporal’s shoulder, spinning him around. “I have known this old soul since long before you were a dirty thought in your daddy’s mind.”

  Arthur Ewing’s face was hidden behind a cloud of smoke that swirled from the glowing embers within his pipe. He pulled down the pipe and leaned in close to the soldier and chuckled. “Let me escort him to her Highness. He won’t mess with me.”

  Corporal Wiggins rolled his eyes and jerked at Bronson’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Ewing’s face twisted as he tilted his head to the side and huffed. Wiggins shook his head and pointed at the insignia on Bronson’s shoulder. “As long as there is a one percent chance he is loyal to this symbol, I am walking with you.”

  Ewing bit at his pipe, took a quick puff and nodded. “Fair enough, lad. Let’s go.”

  Seam writhed with every cut, pinprick, prod, snap of bone, and jolt of agony doled out by Dyrn and his terrible machines. He lay helpless as Dyrn toiled over his tortured body. Seam’s screams were continuous until it reached the point that no sound escaped his throat, just a low moan that would only cease momentarily when he could take in a ragged breath. The sound of buzzing, gnawing machines filled the space with their horrible grinding sounds before they stopped abruptly.

  The table holding Seam came back to a vertical position and slammed forward. Dyrn stepped forward from a flood of white light and loosened the restraint on Seam’s forehead, allowing his head to fall forward. Droplets of blood splattered against the floor at Seam’s feet. He tried to close his eyes, but they refused to shut, and he could feel the warmth of blood running from their sockets.

  “Hel... help me,” Seam muttered. “Help me.”

  Dyrn chuckled and settled his hand on Seam’s upper arm. “That is exactly what I am doing, Seam,” he hissed. “Can’t you feel it? Don’t you understand yet?”

  In a fog of blurred vision, Seam realized Dyrn’s touch rested on a hand that should no longer be there. His mind rushed to make sense of this, but the pain was too overwhelming.

  “No,” Seam stammered. “Please stop.”

  Dyrn clicked his tongue and shook his head, the large stag’s skull staring him down like an ancient demon. “Oh no. I can’t stop now. I have far more work to do. We are far from finished. I just needed to reposition you for what’s next.”

  Seam licked at his chapped and broken lips, but his tongue was dry. He attempted to swallow, but his throat clenched shut with lack of moisture and he gagged. He tried again to wet his mouth, but all he could taste was his own blood.

  “Water?” Seam asked.

  “Ha. No need. The body is quite remarkable, young king. However, it needs help, yes, but not just water, much more.” Dyrn raised a saw blade to Seam’s scalp. “You will be just fine. We just have to make it through a few more improvements.”

  A dull ripping pain shot across Seam’s scalp, and a rush of warm blood rushed down his neck and shoulders. Seam tried to pull his head away from the attack, b
ut Dyrn had managed to re-secure the restraint. “Why?” Seam whimpered.

  The simple question caused Dyrn to jerk back and nod. He wiped at the bloody saw blade and set it to the side. “Why?” He paced to the middle of the floor where the floodlights swallowed him in a warm glow. “Because you need to fix all you have broken, Seam. Don’t you want to right your wrongs?”

  “What have I done?” Seam muttered, flittering near unconsciousness. “Why?”

  Dyrn stepped forward and squinted his red eyes. “You truly don’t understand yet, do you? Unbelievable. After all I have shown you already? Incredible!”

  Darkness began to cloud Seam’s vision as he fought to focus on the crimson eyes hiding behind the stag mask. Dyrn produced a needle and pressed it into the side of Seam’s neck. Energy that burned like liquid sulfur coursed through Seam’s veins and brought a mix of vigor and a new awareness to his body’s tortured state. Pain and relief mixed in an ambiguous cloud inside his body, and a feeling of razor blades danced over his skin. Dyrn offered another smile behind his mask and picked up the saw blade. He grasped Seam’s scalp with his left hand and leaned in, focusing on his next cut.

  “Are you sure he is dead?” The question was stern, but Aleigha, even with her years of regal training could not mask all the sorrow loaded in the one question. Bronson could see that time had aged her. Loose gray hairs dangled wildly from beneath her crown. Her face bore a tired expression of a mother who had lost her son already, but her dark brown eyes did not break from Bronson’s gaze. They ran through him like arrows.

  Bronson dipped his head. “Yes, your Highness. I will accept your punishment for an attack on your family. I abandoned him in the northern wastelands of Riht. No food, no water, just a gun with one bullet.”

  Aleigha stood from her throne and quickly approached Bronson. He was a shell of his former self, his body wracked and ruined from his brief time serving as Seam’s Captain of the Guard. Aleigha stared at him, unflinching, her mouth taut in firm silence. The words she spoke made Bronson shutter.

  “Your punishment, Captain Donahue, will come only because you did not put my son down for the traitor he is. You have failed your country, and you have failed me. By whose authority, and by what madness would you ever think to spare his life?”

  Bronson’s gaze would not lift from the ground. He cleared his throat, searching for the words he could say before the desperate woman before him. He spoke, barely above a whisper, “Forgive me, your Highness. There have been many times that I considered engaging in this act. I know already that my soul is damned for the things I have done under the Dominion regime. I know that I have nothing to lose in committing such an act. But to kill him...” He gazed up at her, his face full of sincerity. “I held the gun to his head, my queen. I held it cocked, inches from his face, ready to do the deed, but every time I had a chance, I saw the face of a child. A child I had chased in these same halls, a child beloved by my queen, and by Camden, may he rest in peace.”

  Aleigha’s face fumed with rage. “That child is already dead, Captain Donahue. He was murdered by the same madness that murdered my husband.” Aleigha gazed at him, her face grave.

  Arthur Ewing rose, taking his hat off before the queen. “Your Highness, forgive my interruption, but Bronson has served our resistance to Seam’s rule in Zenith since the beginning. Weigh your punishment with the fact that this man has served as our only true conduit to the inside of the Dominion and our only monitor of Seam’s activities. Captain Donahue engaged in these activities at great risk of his own life, despite his failure in destroying our enemy.”

  Aleigha’s gaze did not relent from Bronson’s face. She spoke, “Yes...you are very lucky, Captain Donahue. I’m surprised that Seam did not kill you already. The Keys inevitably dulled his mind. He should have smelled you from a mile away had he not been so drunk off his power. Spies, it seems, are much more frequent for the royals as of late and must be dealt with appropriately.”

  “Appropriately, your majesty?” Bronson inquired.

  “Yes. Appropriately. I take no pleasure in sentencing young men to death for treachery, but that is the weight of the crown; of power.”

  Bronson nodded as his mind pieced together what was unsaid. Reuben, the queen’s scout, was dead, obviously found out to be working for Seam.

  “Do you suspect more agents of intrigue, my queen?” Bronson asked. The question was sincere.

  Aleigha ascended to her throne and sat down, her every movement communicating her station and power. “Yes. I suspect many things, Bronson Donahue. For now, you must understand that you will be kept in custody until I pass my judgement over you and your actions. My son has ripped my heart apart, and there is no love left for him, yet...I still remember him as he once was...”

  “May I be so bold as to make one request, your highness?” Bronson’s voice rose, but his eyes were locked to the reflective tile floor.

  “What is your request, Bronson?”

  Bronson started to speak but winced as he caught sight of his own sunken face in the floor’s dull reflection. His shoulders sunk and he took a deep breath.

  “Can you please hide me from my wife and children? Please don’t let them know I have returned. They must not see me like this…”

  Agony raced through Seam’s veins. It felt as if fire were raging beneath his skin and pouring from his eyes and ears. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils as a torrential pain coursed through his body with unrelenting fury. There was no subsiding, only a constant electric shock that drowned out all sight and sound. Seam screamed to no avail as his body seized under Dyrn’s cruel sessions. Seam could feel his mind thinning, like layers being slowly stripped away, his resolve was weakening and would soon be teetering on the edge of insanity. He could hear the voice of the pit calling for him to release his grasp on reality and allow the pain to shove him over the edge.

  Seam’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, slightly dulling the lights that blared overhead, and he took a shallow breath, ready to collapse into himself and finally release his soul. The sound of cold ocean waves filled his ears, as he felt the weight of a distant sea start to collapse around and over him. You can let go. He opened his eyes and he hung floating in dark, cold water. Let go. If he gave into this place he would be gone, rushing to whatever final destiny awaited him away from Dyrn’s horrors.

  No.

  Whatever will Seam had left kicked in, and he was back in the room of pain and horror. The lights had dimmed, and a cool breeze rushed over his skin. The slight wind brought an instant and amazing relief. Beads of sweat rolled down Seam’s arm, back, and neck as he shivered beneath this new, cool sensation. Seam chuckled at first before breaking into a deep laugh, one that shook him against his constraints.

  “Why am I laughing?” Seam questioned himself out loud.

  “Is something funny, young Seam?” With the voice came a chilling reality. “I am honestly surprised you lasted that long. You have remarkable strength...few have been able to withstand crossing over when I push them to the boundary.”

  Dyrn’s figure never came into Seam’s line of sight, but he could hear him shuffling to his left. Seam continued laughing despite his efforts to stop and focus on Dyrn’s voice.

  “Don’t fear, Seam. Your nervous system is simply trying to determine the proper course of action. This is normal. You are still tightly bound to this body, but its grip is loosening, one step at a time.” Dyrn ran a long, jagged fingernail down Seam’s scalp and tapped at his temple. “Not too much longer and I will have you ready for what’s next.”

  “Wha... what is ne...ne...next?” Seam sputtered between chattering teeth as his shivering continued to intensify.

  Dyrn stepped away and tinkered with a touchscreen, adjusting a few sliders before smiling and looking back over Seam. “What is next?”

  “Yes,” Seam spat. “What do you want?”

  Dyrn shook his head and stepped over Seam, his large skull mask drawing within an inch of Se
am’s face. His crimson eyes bore deep into Seam’s own pupils, never blinking.

  “I am afraid there is still too much of you left. Not enough connections have been lost. But soon...soon you will wake up.”

  Dyrn flipped a switch and a new sensation skipped across Seam’s skin as the terror of a thousand volts coursed through his body. His nails clawed at the metal gurney beneath him as he tried to fight off the torture, but the pain would not relent.

  Seam’s heart quickened its pace and his lungs pounded inside his chest as his breathing rushed to the lightning quick pace of a panicked animal. He could feel the oxygen levels dropping, and his mind felt distant and detached. His vision swayed, tinged with a heavy black halo squeezing in on him.

  Now is my chance. I just have to let go and it is finished.

  Seam forced his breathing to slow so he could take in one more breath of air. He tried to pinch his eyes shut to no avail and then readied himself for the plunge into oblivion when his own voice crashed through his mind like a cymbal.

  You are NOT finished!

  Dyrn’s voice continued, but his words were indistinguishable amid the crackling and buzzing sounds smashing against Seam’s eardrums as the electric current continued. A loud crack rang out and everything went black.

  A light came on, and Seam’s eyelids fluttered open. There was no pain, no terror, no noise. A simple calm came over Seam as he lifted his hand in front of his eyes to shield the invasive light. Seam sat up and rubbed at his scalp, his fingers recoiling from the rough gauze wrapped over the crown of his head. Seam draped his legs over the side of the gurney and took in a slow, deep breath. The cool air refreshed him as he sat silently.

  I’m free. Seam peered down at his hands and turned them over, examining his wrists and forearms. It took a moment, but Seam froze as he peered down at his left arm. Am I dreaming? This is not possible. Seam poked at the skin on his left palm and jumped at the sensation that occurred within the hand that he had lost. How? What happened?