Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  A rough voice interrupted them, “They want you, my lady.” The scout spun in a flash, pistol raised.

  Ewing swatted at the butt of the gun with his cane and shook his head. “Easy, lad. I already have a hard-enough time walking. Shooting me wouldn’t do me much good, now would it?”

  Aleigha waved off her scout and turned to Ewing as he hobbled forward. “Things are too tenuous for me to assume the throne, and we still know nothing of Seam.” Aleigha’s face paled at the mention of her son. The mere sound of his name had grown more and more infrequent. A splotch of red grew over her neck, and she turned away from them, burying the emotion that refused to be dismissed.

  “What is it, my lady?” Ewing murmured, his ears perked.

  She spoke, her voice just above a whisper. “It’s just that...I fear that he is stronger than ever before.”

  “My queen?” Ewing stepped to her side and lowered his voice. “Do you have intel on him?”

  “No. Not any that would put my mind at rest, but my dreams have been torturous lately. I cannot sleep. I continue seeing his face and I hear...I can hear Camden calling out to me. It is just like before, but each night it grows stronger.”

  “They are but dreams, your majesty.” Ewing leaned over his cane and took a deep breath. “Perhaps the medics have something to help you rest?”

  Aleigha snapped around and spoke through clenched teeth. “These are no normal dreams, Ewing. They are the same as those I should have heeded before all this started. Back...back when I had a chance to stop it.”

  “No. No.” Ewing swung his head side to side, holding his cane like a tutor’s branch. “You cannot shoulder any blame for this. It was not your—”

  “I knew, Ewing!” Aleigha straightened her back and pointed out over Ewing’s shoulder in the direction of Vale. “I sat in that castle, petrified by fear and loss. Unable to lead. Unable to act. But I knew. I knew something was wrong with him and I acted too late. I had the power to stop this all...and now look.”

  Aleigha waved her hands across the horizon. “Our world is turned on its head all because of my...” The words stopped when the tears began and she turned away. “Because of my son, Ewing.”

  “Please,” Ewing pleaded. Gingerly and boldly, he reached for her small hand. It appeared dwarfed in the grasp of the old soldier. “My queen, you are not to blame. He made the choices that led our world down this path and many blindly followed, but you did not. You are still here fighting.”

  “Yes.” Aleigha took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “We all are still fighting, but the time has come to assess what threats are truly facing our world now, Ewing. Something is not right.”

  “Yes, my lady. I agree. I can feel it too.”

  Adley peered into the back of the jeep to find Cyric finally sleeping after nearly an hour of trying to wrench himself free from his binding. Confident that Cyric wasn’t a threat to escape, Adley walked into the nearby field and stretched out on a small sleeping bag, staring up at the stars overhead. The night was quiet, with little sound other than that of the fire crackling nearby. The red embers floated into the sky, drifting upward as if trying to join the glowing stars above. Adley pulled a blanket over her shoulders and looked out into the nearby field, scanning it for the two silhouettes sitting in the inky distance. She walked over to them and interrupted their discussion.

  “Kull?”

  Both Kull and Wael glanced at her. Kull smiled, and it disarmed Adley unexpectedly. “Yes?” he replied.

  “I’m…I’m sorry.” She struggled to find the words. “I’m sorry I lost my mind back there…before Cyric nearly killed us.”

  Kull could not stifle the laugh, but he paused as he saw Adley’s eyes brim with tears. He stood, and she embraced him. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I…”

  “Adley…easy.” Kull held her, and he struggled to find the words.

  Wael spoke, “Rest, dear Adley. The burden of this conflict is too great for all of us, but at least we have each other.” Adley nodded and broke away from Kull, a small smile on her face. “I’m glad you’re back. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “So am I,” Kull whispered.

  She turned and walked away from the warmth of the campfire toward her cot, trying to fight back all the questions bouncing in her mind, preventing her from a few moments of precious sleep.

  She could still hear Wael’s voice through the darkness, but it felt muted, muffled, as if he were speaking through a wall of thick blankets. “What was it like?”

  Kull stared into the flames. “What do you mean?”

  “The other side. You were on the other side, were you not?”

  Kull looked up at the mass of glowing stars above them and nodded. “I guess I was...it feels...faded somehow. Like I might forget everything I experienced if I’m not careful.”

  “What did you see, Kull?”

  Kull’s mouth went dry. To put it into words was harder than he realized. “I awoke...in a vast ocean. An ocean of darkness.”

  Wael sat silent, hanging onto every word.

  “Somehow, I was pulled out of the ocean onto a ship of monsters. Of nightmares.”

  “Like the Serubs?”

  Kull rubbed his eyes, grimacing. “No...no, not exactly.” His mind flashed to The Hunt, the oars, the monstrous lords of the death galley: Rank and File.

  “They were horrible...horrible, miserable, and desperate.” Kull stared at Wael, trying to get a read on him, but the Mastermonk remained silent. He continued, “But they were not the only monsters in that place. There was something...something living in the sea.”

  “A serpent,” Wael whispered.

  “Yes...how did you know?” The question was earnest. Kull was not overly surprised that Wael would know about these things.

  “I, too, have seen him, though only as a distant shadow. There is a practice in the Order where we train our bodies to rest and allow our spirits to roam. We call it soul stretching, and it is how you saw me when you buried your father. My Order has been founded on what we have learned through the practice...that and the traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation.”

  Kull nodded, taking in all the times Wael had seemed to move with mystic powers. Kull had heard Wael’s voice in his head many times, though no words left his lips. Now it began to make sense, though he had never experienced Wael’s gift like he had when he buried Grift. Now is the time to bury your dead but remember: From death comes life.

  “So, you are saying that you were able to...soul stretch to the other side?” Kull asked.

  “Yes, sometimes. Though I rarely got so far as the sea.”

  “The Sea of Souls,” Kull whispered, drawing his cloak closer to him, shuddering. “That’s what they called it.” He looked up at Wael.

  “That’s what the serpent called it?”

  “Ma’et, that was his name. That was what Aleph called him anyway.”

  Wael’s eyes widened, and his jaw went slack with awe. He whispered, “What did you say?”

  “Ma’et...that is what Aleph called the serpent.”

  Wael’s hands shook in the dancing firelight.

  Kull, nervous at the reaction, asked, “What is it?”

  Wael shook his head, his words stumbling, awkward as if his mind could not focus. “Ma’et...the world eater…”

  “What?”

  Wael stared at Kull, his face full of dread. He shifted, as if trying to change the subject.

  “Would you like me to teach you to soul stretch, Kull? It may drive you to greater clarity. Your vision...your vision…”

  “Does it not seem right to you?” Kull waited to see the monk’s reaction.

  “Right isn’t the word I would say, but yes...I’m afraid we need more details. This practice could prove beneficial for you to reconnect with your experience, to recall it with greater clarity. If what you are saying is true, then we must learn all we can about Ma’et and how he is affecting the realities on Candor.”

/>   “I’m willing to try, Wael. How do you do it?”

  Wael spoke quickly, instructing his young ward to sit, crossing his legs with his arms out wide.

  “This is the lotus...a position that will help you focus your body’s energy.”

  Wael continued, “Now listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on the rhythm and cadence of the sound my voice makes.” Wael threw a finger full of hot ash into the air and hummed, the vibration of the tone small. The sound swelled until Kull found himself lost in it.

  The hum ceased. “What do you see, Kull?” The question seemed to come from far away.

  “Nothing. Only darkness.”

  “Then go deeper.” The hum returned, ushering with it greater focus.

  Kull willed himself to descend, allowing his mind, his essence, as Rank and File had called it, to plunge deeper into the darkness.

  The empty abyss swirled all around him like a constricting cloak, and it felt impenetrable. His body seemed to levitate in this place, this cold unknown world. Something shifted below him, and Kull focused his mind. As he pushed his mind forward he tried to release his physical presence, removing all constraints from his focus.

  Slowly, Wael’s chant dissipated, his instructions melting into the sound of wind. The wind blew over Kull, wrapping around his entire being. The breeze was slight but noticeable as it seemed to lift Kull in his suspended state, pulling him to a new place. Kull continued to focus, making every effort to allow this moment to carry him.

  The wind increased and swirled about Kull with a wild fury, but no sound accompanied the movement. The silent whirlwind pulsed around Kull, pushing into him until all movement stopped and a gentle whisper broke through the void.

  “Kull.”

  He heard nothing but his name, but it carried with it a calming assurance. The voice that spoke his name was that like no other. Muted in tone and volume, but violently powerful in presence. Aleph’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Yes?” Kull muttered into the space, eagerly awaiting a response, but Wael’s voice called from a distance, distracting him.

  “What did you see, Kull?”

  A single light shining forth, no bigger than that of a wax candle. In the dim, Kull could see a visible arm appear out of the darkness and light another candle, revealing an immense wooden table. On it, Kull saw a feast, a huge banquet full of fine meat and drink. Kull’s mouth salivated at the smell. Kull took a step toward the table, longing to be closer to the voice and the meal, to join in the feast. With each step, the table seemed to move away from him. A candle on its stand burned out suddenly, and Kull felt the darkness grow cold. A single light still shone, but it seemed further away than before. Still he pressed on, pushing his spirit forward to the dimming light.

  “Where are you going?” said a voice that Kull did not recognize.

  A roll of movement undulated in the darkness. The dim light burned out, only to reemerge as a giant, slitted eye surrounded by dark scales. A terrible voice thundered in the deep, causing Kull’s body to shake with terror.

  “NAMELESS. THERE YOU ARE.”

  Kull screamed, throwing himself out of the trance as his body erupted in earthquakes of fear. Wael’s face pressed in on him, his firm hands grasping his shoulders. The Mastermonk met his eyes.

  “Who did you see, Kull? Who did you see?”

  Kull could barely catch his breath to whisper,” The serpent...Ma’et.”

  “That is enough for tonight. You went much further than I would have thought.” Wael eyed Kull suspiciously.

  Adley stirred, her eyes ratcheting open upon hearing Kull’s scream. “What is it? Are you alright?!”

  Wael answered, not letting go of Kull’s shoulders. “We’re fine, Adley. Just a bad dream. It’s time we all get some sleep.”

  Wael laid down next to Rot who lay silently by his side, while Kull eased himself into his cot. His heart hammered in his chest, refusing to slow its pace.

  It was a long time before he could go to sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The golden blades of prairie grass swayed against the push of the cool breeze. The wind flew down the valley like an unseen waterfall, stirring the land awake. The fields of Lotte were beautifully alive and pleased with themselves in their display. Deep purple and fire red dotted the golden landscape as the sweet aroma of wildflowers drifted in the cool breeze. A raucous chorus of crickets filled the air, only to be heard in the gaps of sound left by the clamorous cicadas. A doe bent her graceful neck down to nuzzle her fawn, while a gigantic stag stood watch, his dark, cavernous eyes ever reading his surroundings.

  It was through this landscape that Seam Panderean returned to his native land, unsung and without awareness of this full world vibrating with life around him. The natural world was quite foreign to him, none more so than that of his native country. As a child, he had never taken the opportunity to fill his hours with the space of the open plains. It was a void to him, as the city of Vale offered him all he would ever want.

  He trudged across the landscape, wading through the tall grass with all the grace of a drowning man, high stepping his legs, his clothes drenched with sweat and clinging. He stalked through the tall grass, searching for his prey, but unlike a natural predator he did not bother to try and hide himself as he plunged forward. A hawk screeched overhead, announcing Seam’s presence, but he offered it no pause. He continued to trudge, listening.

  “Where are you?” Seam’s words were hardly audible over the sounds of the wilderness, but he knew she could hear him so he repeated himself. “Where are you? You can’t hide. I can hear you...I can feel you.”

  Seam knelt and placed his hand to the ground, feeling and absorbing the slightest vibrations as he scanned the horizon, his head barely sticking out over the amber stalks swaying around him. There. A splash of color exposed itself from the grasses as a gray-skinned morel leapt from its hiding place before being quickly slit at the belly as Seam swiped, his arm shifting into a double-edged blade. The creature crashed at Seam’s feet, a lifeless heap. Its putrid blood poured out, pooling out on the dry ground. Seam stared at it, the dark crimson flow mesmerizing him, beckoning him to step forward. Come and drink, it said.

  No. His back stiffened, and he forced himself to turn away from the gore and back to the hunt.

  Ten minutes passed without a movement. The insects happily chirped in ignorance, unaware of the alien presence intruding on their hillside. Seam huffed and took a step forward. Suddenly, the sounds of wildlife went quiet. Seam felt the pause in the din, and he read the dancing of the tall prairie grass. Five shapes burst from each side, rushing toward him with incredible speed. A pack of scouts barreled toward him, their ragged shrieks echoing through the valley.

  Seam sprang up and ran headlong toward his attackers. He slammed his fist against the leader of the pack only to spin through the hit and catch another morel by the throat. Flashes of ragged teeth and sharp claws flew within inches of his face. In one swift motion he slammed his beastly enemy to the ground, the hit followed by a loud snap as its neck broke. A second later, Seam’s mind erupted in pain. He felt claws slash over his back, clamoring desperately to land a rip or puncture that would deliver a kill.

  Seam’s ears were filled with inhuman shrieks and snapping of teeth. He arched his spine and threw his head back, landing his head heavy on his opponent's forehead. The pain of the hit was followed by a clawed hand slashing across Seam’s face. Seam let out a cry as he flipped the morel from his back, sending it crashing into one of its kin. He spun to his right and hammered the third morel to the ground, slamming his fist repeatedly against its jaw with dozens of strikes in mere seconds. It twitched violently on the ground like an insect, its humanoid features rendered unrecognizable.

  The two remaining morels spread their formation and circled Seam, who casually wiped away the blood pouring from the deep wounds on his face. They snapped their jaws, howling and letting out their piercing cries every few seconds. They are calling for other
s...more are coming from her hive. Seam did not wait for the oncoming attack and charged at the morel to his left, landing a shattering blow. He spun on his heels and shifted his arm into a blade, dissecting through the second morel he knew was leaping to attack behind him. The monster hung in mid-air, dying under its own weight impaled on the spear that was Seam’s hand. Seam watched as the being’s unholy life left it, and he flung the useless husk to the ground. He doubled back toward the fifth and final morel whose jaw had shattered under his fist. He grabbed the creature by the neck, lifting its feet from the ground.

  The beast thrashed in Seam’s grasp, ripping at the skin on his mechanical arm, which regenerated instantly upon each fresh wound. Seam could feel a pulsing in his mind and stared into the morel’s deep, putrefied eyes. I see you. He pushed himself forward, his essence crashing against a firm wall of electric resistance. An energy as bright and powerful as lightning raged through him, but Seam embraced the pain, using it to summon all his concentration. He spoke, hearing his words echo out over the field, released from three hundred different mouths.

  “They’re mine now.”

  Seam felt an explosion of energy as his soul was thrown back to his body. His body tumbled back ten feet, and Seam felt the world fly by. He hit the ground, the breath forced from him to the sound of Nyx’s booming voice.

  “Never!” Nyx’s voice roared out over the plain, and the field erupted with the screams of hundreds of morels. Nyx lifted herself, hovering above the wheat stalks, her midnight eyes locked on Seam as she pointed her finger forward, commanding her army to attack.

  The hive pushed in rapidly, swarming over Seam in a wave of bodies. Seam had only seconds to react. His arm shot out from his body like a lance, surgically slicing through the flanks of the horde like a surgeon. Seam could feel the toll of holding the wall of morels away from him, his mind spinning to calculate the flanking positions of Nyx’s horde. The fight was exhausting, but each attack pushed a new drop of adrenaline through his veins. Each kill confirmed his superiority as he pressed closer and closer toward his quarry.