Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  Willyn laid her hand over her eyes and shook her head. “Tirna Re’? We’re further north than I had expected.”

  The lady dropped to her knees beside Willyn and ground the herbs, making a fine paste that she scooped into her palm. “This may burn, but it will help.”

  As the Rihtian spoke she smoothed the salve over Willyn’s right cheek and forehead before unwrapping her arm and applying the paste over Willyn’s ravaged arm. A tingling sensation quickly turned into a potent itch that eventually morphed into a dull, warm burn. Willyn grimaced and fought not to scratch at her face.

  “Just a few minutes. It will pass.” The Rihtian lady rose to her feet and turned to Luken. “She is very strong. I have never seen anyone recover quite like this.”

  Luken offered a polite smile and nodded. “Yes, she is quite special, I believe.”

  The healer turned back to Willyn and grinned. “I know you wish to leave, but you must regain your strength. Soon, but it will take time. You are safe here.”

  The lady made her way for the door and slipped away as Willyn called out, “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.” Luken peered out the door after the healer. “That is why we need to move. I have made some arrangements. I think we still have a little more time, but we will have to leave at nightfall.”

  “They’re in the Groganlands, barely. I can’t believe it, but Luken reached out.” Adley sat by a large cot, patting a cold, damp cloth on Wael’s forehead. Rot whimpered quietly by her feet as she tended to the ailing monk. His face was pale and dotted with beads of sweat, his eyes wide, unfocused. Adley glanced down at the floor and grimaced. “She is not in good shape though. They were attacked in the desert by the Serubs. Luken barely got her out alive. I was able to ping her location to Rander. He will be able to get her back to Rhuddenhall.”

  Adley dropped the cloth and laid her hand over Wael’s forehead. His skin was fevered, and she feared infection was setting in. She leaned forward and examined Wael’s pupils, checking them with a small light. “You’re still with me... I just wish you weren’t so quiet.”

  Rot let out a bark and pushed at Adley’s leg, as if speaking for his master. Adley reached down and rubbed at his matted head. “Well, I guess you are loud enough for the three of us, huh?”

  “Kull...” The name was faint but distinct as it crept from Wael’s parched lips.

  “What did you say?” Adley shot up and pulled herself within inches of Wael’s face.

  “Alive!” Wael’s eyes grew wide and his hand crept toward the ceiling, pointing out into space. Adley felt at Wael’s forehead again. His temperature felt as if it had doubled since she had last checked just moments before. She dipped her cloth into a basin of cool water and laid it back on Wael’s forehead.

  “It’s okay Wael, I am here...but Kull…Kull is gone.” Adley sighed and shook her head. The heaviness of everything felt unbearable. “Well, at least you are speaking.” She stood and made her way to the edge of the room where she whispered to herself, “I have to get some antibiotics…soon.”

  A sound like that of incoming thunder in the clear desert sky meant only one thing: a military platoon was coming. Tirna Re’s scant population panicked under the sound, and each villager rushed into their tents and shelters, if only to provide protection from the kicked-up sand and grit that would follow the unexpected arrival. Warkarwa stood facing the horizon, her bright yellow eyes locked with anticipation, waiting to see who was coming. It was only a few moments before she spied thirty black rooks thundering toward them, ripping the desert like a turbulent windstorm.

  Warkarwa’s face was grave. Luken stepped out of the hut where Willyn lay and joined her. “Do not worry. You’ve done a great service for the Sar. No harm will befall you.”

  Warkarwa nodded, silent for a moment. “It is not the Sar that I worry about.” She threw a sidelong glance at him, her eyes cutting straight through him. Luken blinked, his face full of unexpected questions. Warkarwa clarified, “I know who you are.”

  “And you would fear me?” Luken asked suspiciously.

  “Yes. You and all the rest of your kind. Your kin have only ravaged my people. Ravaged them in their blood sacrifices, their minds, and their ways. We have lost our true purpose because of what you and your kind have done to us.”

  Luken nodded, his face solemn. “I agree...but know that I am the Sixth.”

  Warkarwa’s eyes went wide, and her body began to shake. Luken reached out to steady her, but she pulled away. She stammered, her body vibrating with anxiety. “Then why do I sense a darkness in you? Why do I sense a storm of fury building within you? How can this be?”

  Luken took a step back, at a loss for words. “Something happened before we found you…”

  Warkarwa broke through the admission, “Then you must get away. You must hide yourself away from the Old Ones. This darkness within you is a beacon; they already know where you are and are coming for you. Darkness only seeks darkness, and never the light. You must hide yourself from them if you value your existence,” she looked inside the adobe hut, where Willyn lay, “or the life of the one you protect.”

  “Her life is more important than mine.” Luken grabbed Warkarwa’s hands, his own hand trembling. “Pray for me...I never thought this could happen.”

  Warkarwa stared at him, her eyes wide. “I will do as you ask, but how does one pray for a god?”

  “I am no god, Warkarwa,” Luken whispered just as the wedge of the oncoming rooks stormed into Tirna Re’. A black rook in front of the force came to a halt. The cockpit opened, and a broad soldier wearing black body armor approached them, his face hidden behind a shielded helmet. He called to them, his voice metallic and cold, “I am here to secure the Sar.”

  Luken called back, “Your rank and name, soldier.”

  “General,” the soldier pulled off his helmet, “Rander of Legion’s Teeth. Where is she?”

  Luken pointed to the small hut behind him as Rander followed him to the door. “She is inside. We need to hurry.”

  “We?” Rander came to an abrupt halt and squared his shoulders to Luken.

  “Yes, we. I am not leaving her. I owe her my life and I will see to it that she finds safety.”

  Rander pushed past Luken, crossing into the hut. “No room, and I don’t know you. The Sar is in the care of her people now.”

  Luken grabbed Rander’s shoulder and swung him around, nearly toppling him to the ground. “You will make room, General.” Luken glared at Rander as he tightened his grip on his shoulder.

  Rander hesitated, his eyes tight with a scowl. “Fine.” He lifted the datalink on his arm and spoke, “Viper 5 make room in your transport. You have a stowaway now.” Rander shut down the comlink and stepped closer to Luken. “I don’t know you, but I know you aren’t Grogan.” Rander glanced at Warkarwa, making no attempt to hide his contempt. “You might as well be a Rihtian.”

  “This Rihtian saved your Sar, General Rander. Scowl at me, but you have Warkarwa to thank for Willyn’s life.”

  Rander grumbled and nodded at Warkarwa. “You have our thanks. Now we need to move.”

  Warkarwa said nothing, her eyes planted coldly on the General’s face.

  They extracted Willyn from her cot and laid her in the cargo hold of Rander’s rook where a Grogan medic was waiting. As soon as she was laid on the cold, metal floor of the vehicle, the young Grogan fed IVs and blood bags into Willyn’s veins. Luken eyed the blood as it ventured down the clear tube into Willyn’s forearm. He shuddered and turned to Rander. “Where is my ride?”

  “Well, you look better.” Luken stepped into the cold cement room. His voice was a welcome change from the murmuring doctors that had been clamoring over her for nearly four hours. “You got your color back.”

  Willyn offered a smile and nodded at the two nurses prepping new bandages at her bedside. “At ease, soldiers. Take leave please. Allow me and my friend privacy.”

  The young man and woman nodded in agreement
but kept their eyes locked on Luken as they slipped from the room, leaving the door open behind them as they left.

  “Any word?” Willyn sat up on her bed. “Do we know what has come of Isphet? Zenith? The Serubs?”

  “Nothing.” Luken shook his head as he sat beside her. “Well...” His eyes trailed off.

  “What? Luken, come on. If you know something I need to know.”

  Luken eyed the doorway and shook his head, leaning closer to Willyn. “Not here. Not now.” He looked back at the door. “I don’t know what exactly, but something...is happening.”

  Willyn dropped her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper and pulled close to Luken.

  “What is it? What have you heard?”

  Luken’s eyes spoke for him as he shook his head. “I don’t know, but since I came back in the desert, I hear them clearer than ever. Their voices are all over the place, but they are loud…desperate...chaotic.”

  “What about Isphet?” A vision of Hagan morphing into the mad god froze her veins, and her stump throbbed with pain.

  Luken looked away, weighing his words. “Isphet... Isphet is silent, but I can feel him. He is moving...gaining strength, formulating his next move.”

  “And what is his next move, Luken?” Willyn’s blue eyes locked on to his. “He’s got the Keys...what else does he want?”

  “Don’t you understand, Willyn?” Luken whispered. “The Keys were only his first play. Wherever there is power to be gained, he is moving to consume it. He absorbed Arakiel, something that has never been done by or to our kind. He has changed everything.” Luken turned away, his face strained with worry. “Isphet is hunting us. He will stop at nothing to consume us all and eliminate any threat to his power. That is why the others are so desperate…so frightened.”

  Willyn forced herself to sit up from the bed, wincing with each move. She held out her hand, her eyes calling for him, as her heart hammered in her chest. Without a word, his hand met hers. The gesture was small and tremendous all at the same time, and the energy of the small room went electric.

  Willyn broke the silence, “So what can we do, Luken?”

  Luken chuckled as he shook his head. “Find a place in Candor where no Serub can detect me. That would be a good start.”

  Willyn’s eyes went wide as a distant memory revealed itself in her mind.

  Green, piercing eyes in the dark. ‘I can’t hear my siblings very clearly in these depths. Whispers in the dark. The mountain...it shields me.’

  “I know of such a place, Luken.” Willyn’s mind erupted with relief. One last shred of hope for her to cling to, along with Luken’s hand.

  Green eyes pierced through the darkness. The figure’s broken body lay scattered across the rolling dunes, a broken idol beneath starlight. Bastion stared up at the rolling lights above him, enduring the tremendous pain that came with each shallow breath. Luken’s might had been unexpected. Abtren was foolish. Feeding him the blood of that…

  His thought was interrupted with the sound of footsteps. Bastion lay as still as he could, waiting, weighing the possibilities. A titanic weariness fell over him. His release from his mirror prison had brought him only humiliation. To think that a god could be reduced to such a state...

  Stop it. Focus.

  Bastion’s mind snapped back to the opportunity at hand. All you need to do is get the traveler close. You snatch him, drain him, and the game goes on. Bastion took in one more haggard breath, and stared up at the stars, straining to listen.

  Red, glowing eyes pierced the darkness, standing over him. “Bastion, how could our sister leave you like this? What justice or mercy is left for our kin in this world?” The drawl and cadence were unmistakable. Isphet.

  Bastion spoke, his voice trembling as cold pinpricks of sweat broke over him in a panic, “Brother...please. Help me. I will serve you. I have not been free for long…I’ve barely even gained my footing back in this world. Do not turn your hand against me. I am not your enemy.”

  Isphet stood over him, his red eyes glowing beneath a dark black hood. He pulled it away from his face and looked up at the sky. “It’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” He glanced back down. “The stars? Have you ever seen something more beautiful than these?”

  Bastion said nothing, but lay trembling.

  “You know, these stars have been burning for millions of years, brother. We are seeing the light of beacons that may have already burned out; extinguished.” The crimson eyes turned and locked on to Bastion. “Dead, yet their light persists. They are immortal to the hands of time, much like ourselves, don’t you agree?”

  Bastion’s mouth produced a shallow whisper, “Yes...Isphet.”

  “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? To go on and on for millennia, only ever feeling one thing. Hunger. I know that is what you feel, Bastion. Bone-gnawing, insatiable hunger. I have felt all of this myself.”

  Bastion nodded. “Yes, that is all I’ve ever felt. That’s all I ever feel...”

  Isphet leaned down and laid his hand over his broken brother’s body. “That can end today, brother. I can spare you the cruel march of time. The insatiable thirst you have, and the damned existence of our kind. I can give you peace, like I did for brother Arakiel.”

  “Peace, Isphet?” Bastion’s green eyes glowed with greater intensity. “You call what you did to Arakiel peace?”

  Isphet smiled and pulled back from Bastion. “Yes. For that is all the peace our kind will ever receive. Look inside yourself, Bastion. You know this is true. Even if you consumed everything on Candor all you would have is the ache of an empty stomach, and a dry throat still thirsty of blood. We don’t thirst for blood; we thirst for power, and this world doesn’t have enough to spare.” Isphet leaned, pressing his face only inches from Bastion’s. “I have found another way, Bastion. I have found another power, a never-ending power that quenches even our great thirsts. Would you like me to share it with you?”

  Bastion strained to sit up and leaned his mouth toward Isphet’s ear. Between gasps he worked out a whisper, “Just make it quick.”

  Isphet smiled. “With pleasure.”

  A single star fell from the sky, its trail burning green in the desert night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cyric stared at the flickering screen on the older datapad resting on his jeep’s console. The static-riddled connection faded in and out as the datalink tried to reach the identity number he had programed. The screen buzzed with static until securing the connection. The face of an elderly man came on the screen, his face scarred deeply. He scratched at his thin white hair and looked into the screen.

  “Cyric. What can I do for you?”

  Cyric turned the ignition and began to drive, his voice rambling with nervous energy. “Parker, I need you to help me on this one.” With one hand, Cyric uncorked a bottle and took a swig of whiskey. “The world erupts in a spontaneous war around Zenith, and the Spire comes tumbling down. I saw it with my own eyes, Parker.”

  “What did you see?” Parker took a long draw of a cigarette, the smoke clouding his face in the screen’s glow.

  Cryic continued, “It wasn’t knocked down…it imploded. From a lightning strike on the inside. After it collapses, I see this kid and a man climb out from under the wreckage, unscathed. Does any of this mean something to you?”

  Parker murmured to himself and shook his head before clicking his teeth and taking a deep breath. “You said you got some of it on a vid, right? From your binocular scanners?”

  “Yeah, sending them now.” Cyric slid a memory chip into the datapad from his headset and clicked a few prompts. “I need to know what I am dealing with. Are there any bids on them?”

  “Got it!” Parker exclaimed as he leaned in toward the datapad camera, examining his own screen. He furrowed his brow and looped the short video, examining each moment while drawing from his shortening cigarette, pacing the floor of his room.

  “Anything? Let’s set a mark and I will move.”

  “The boy.” Parker�
��s voice was firm. “Capture the boy. Several bids have come in for him. Large hauls.” He threw a knowing glance at the screen. “Grift Shepherd’s son, ninety eight percent sure. I’ve got some pred tech waiting on you at the drop.”

  “Where did the bid come from, Parker?” Something about the way Parker spoke made the hair stand on the back of his neck.

  “Cyric, let’s keep this professional. You know I can’t tell you that. They are offering a large haul…do you want it or not?” The scarred face stared at him, awaiting his response.

  “What about the other one…the freak?” Cyric slowed the jeep to a stop and loaded his pistol.

  Parker’s jaw locked as he stared at Cyric over the datalink. “The boy. Unless you want to take a dirt nap don’t even think about the other one...”

  Kull stood in disbelief, his arms dangling limp at his sides as he tried to ignore the shock of the scene before him. The grove of mighty ironwood trees stood like ghosts of their former selves. Massive charred trunks stood like pillared gravestones, lining a dark trail that ripped its way through the Preost forest like a long, jagged wound.

  “Unbelievable.” Kull muttered to himself as he took his first step onto the burned-out ground. The ground crunched underfoot as each step kicked up a small cloud of ashen dust. Kull could still feel the heat of the faded fire as stray embers littered the path as if they were pebbles. Kull made his way to the middle of the corridor and pushed forward several hundred meters before turning to look back at the point he had last seen the Baggers. As kind as they were to guide him to this path, they had refused to join him any further, swearing the ground was cursed.

  Gone. The word bounced around Kull’s mind as he walked. The Baggers were convinced Taluum had been destroyed. They warned him not to hope to find survivors. Kull shuttered at what he may find at the end of the path.

  So much was gone. As Kull passed the burned stumps surrounding him, he could not help but think of Cotswold. His mind conjured memories of his mother and father. Of Ewing and Wael. Since returning it was as if everything and everyone was gone.