by Casey Eanes
Gieman spoke, leveling his hard gaze on Evan. “Aleph is pronouncing judgement over you, Evan Darian. Your Realm’s reluctance to stand up against Seam Panderean and his rule in Zenith has brought to you the fruit of your labor. You did nothing to stop the jackal king from burning down the sacred groves of Preost. You did nothing to help the Grogans who have bled and died for freedom.” The monk held up his ironwood staff. “Your time for doing nothing is now over. Your choices have locked your fate and that of the Realm you rule.”
Evan threw up his hands dismissively. “Enough of the theatrics, Gieman. I don’t know why my father kept you in the court for as long as he did. It’s always doom and destruction coming out of your mouth.”
Crane’s back stiffened. “My liege, do you want me to put this man out?” His fingers flew over his datalink, readying the command.
Gieman pressed on, his voice booming, “Your father, Filip, was wiser than you. He was good to have kept my counsel as a check on his own flawed and carnal reasoning. He avoided much pain and suffering because of this, despite his imperfections. He would have never handed over the ceremonial Key of the people to Camden’s son…”
“Here he goes again, gods above.” Evan stood up and bellowed, “Enough, Gieman! I don’t see how any of this matters. Can’t you see that Seam is dead?” Evan threw his hands to the mounted datalink screen. “His black tower fell weeks ago, and that sacred Key you keep bleeding my ears about is buried under a metric ton of concrete, glass, and rebar. Now, if you don’t mind, if you have something useful to say, then by the gods say it!”
Gieman snarled and unleashed a titanic bellow. “Do not mention the gods to me! There is only one! I have no counsel, except for this. Run now, take all the people and get to the islands while you still have time. There is no hope for you or this Realm. That Key, young fool, was the only thing keeping us from the exiled enemies of our past…” Gieman’s eyes swelled with tears. “And you gave it away to a man who would send this world to its death.”
“Well, thank you for that bit of good news, Gieman.” Evan’s whole body shook with rage, and he stood over the old monk, his body threatening the holy man to issue another pronouncement. “It’s time for you to leave, now.”
Gieman stared at Evan Darian and shook his head before turning and leaving without another word.
“I cannot stand that monk,” Evan muttered. He turned to Crane. “Where were we, Crane?”
Crane opened his mouth to reply just as a deep, pulsating explosion resounded, shaking the foundation of the crystal palace. Evan stood, watching the shaking of the crystal chandeliers, his eyes wide with fear.
“Aleph above, what was that?”
Crane pulled his datalink up and projected the image on Evan’s screen. There, standing on the hillside above the city, was a man he had never seen before surrounded by what looked like a platoon of marching Baggers.
Something isn’t right about this. Crane and Evan squinted at the live feed.
“Zoom in, Crane. Zoom in on him.”
Crane obeyed, the picture of the man expanding. Now they could see that he stood with a smile on his face, and that his eyes were the color of blood. The Baggers flanking him marched by like stones in the river, their faces blank and mouths open wide, as if their minds had completely left them. Evan stared, stepping closer to the screen, his mind grasping for answers. He only understood when he saw the flies and maggots covering the Baggers’ faces.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Kull.” Adley’s voice was gentle but it jarred Kull from his trance. “You’ve been sitting out here by yourself for hours now. Are you okay?”
Kull nodded and stood to his feet, brushing off the seat of his pants and clearing his throat while trying to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, I’m um...I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
Kull turned and looked out over the horizon, eyeing the crimson sunset. He shook his head, let out a long sigh.
“Come on, Kull. You aren’t alone in this. Let us help you. Let me help you.” Adley’s words were firm, but the request was laced with the kindness. Kull dipped his head and took another deep breath, all while keeping his back to Adley.
“Adley. Did you ever take any classes at the Academy on battlefield strategy?”
Adley laughed and stepped beside Kull. “Kull, I went into the Academy to be a medic, not a general. I spent almost all my time on field dressing and triage. They wouldn’t let me into those classes. But classes don’t count for much now, do they? Why?”
Kull’s jaw clenched as he turned his thoughts over in his mind, recalling Aleph’s words during his last soul stretching session with Wael. “Have you ever heard of a no-win situation? As if any move you make is flawed before you make it?”
“I would say the closest thing to that is what we’re living now. Why? Is that what has been bothering you?”
Kull nodded and finally brought his full attention back to his friend. His bloodshot eyes revealed his fatigue. “Yes.”
Alarms blared in the metallic chamber holding Dyrn’s laboratory. Red lights danced on the walls and a shrill horn announced a perimeter breach. Dyrn lifted the visor covering his eyes and scurried to the nearest datalink console. He brought up the motion sensor cameras, as frustration marked his pale face. Nothing was registering. He checked the logs for the source of the alarm and only one sensor in the outer eastern quadrant of the upper dunes had been tripped due to a brief seismic tremor.
Dyrn grumbled over the annoyance, cleared the systems and reset all sensors. The datalink’s screen cleared and all the red lights flipped back to a light green hue. The horn subsided and Dyrn turned back to the console connected to his visor. He grasped the helmed virtual display and checked to ensure his connection with Seam was still intact. There was interference in the connection, and it troubled him. Something had happened to Seam in Lotte. But what? He slid the visor back over his head and reached for the command console.
A cold, smooth hand covered his throat and a familiar voice filled his left ear. “Hello...father.”
Dyrn’s heart leapt in his chest as he ripped the visor from his eyes and turned to face his intruder. Her kaleidoscopic eyes filled him with dread.
“Abtren. What are you doing here?”
Kull and Adley stood, eyes fixed on the datalink screen mounted on Ewing’s wall. Ewing and Wael sat quietly to the side, staring at the same screen as Rot lay at his master’s feet panting heavily, sensing the weight and worry filling the room. Cyric was also there, handcuffed to the large table beside Wael and Ewing.
“What are we looking at, Wael?” Adley asked.
“Morels,” Kull answered for the monk. “But these are...different.”
Wael stood to place his face close to the screen and nodded before turning back to Kull and Adley. “Yes. Kull is correct. These are quite different.” Wael paused. “New.”
Adley stepped closer to the screen, watching the swarm of bodies burst through and swarm over the outer walls of Elu’Qua. The hovering camera’s view caught the terror as innocent residents—women and children, elderly and able alike—were caught by surprise and slaughtered by the mindless monsters rampaging through the streets. Posted guards and infantry fired back on the crowd of beasts, but were quickly overcome by the sheer numbers of the Shambling.
The jade streets were soon mired with crimson pools of blood. A barrage of bombs buckled the city, raining fire down on enemy and civilian alike. The group watched as the Elumite army marched toward the growing horde, scrambling jets overhead to contain the threat. It was all in vain.
Everyone watched the spectacle until Cyric cried out and jerked at the handcuffs binding his wrists. “No! Not there! Not there!” Cyric struggled against the shackles digging into his wrists, drawing a stream of blood that dripped to the floor. “Let me go! Now! I have to go. I have to go!”
Cyric’s cries broke through the shock of the grisly images. Adley shook her head and turned back to Cyric. “Calm down!”
She rushed to Cyric’s side and examined his bloodied wrists. “You could have really hurt yourself. Calm down!”
“NO!” Cyric pulled at his bindings like an animal, lunging for Adley. “Now let me go! You have no reason to keep me. I gotta get to her!”
Kull broke away from the screens and knelt by Adley’s side. He quietly stared into Cyric’s panicked eyes.
“Release him,” said Kull. His words were quiet but firm.
“Thank you,” Cyric muttered, his face instantly grateful. “Now. I have to...”
Cyric’s words trailed off and his jaw hung open as he stared at the screen.
“What is that?” asked Ewing, his mouth dry with fear.
Kull looked back to the screen as the cameras captured jets being ripped from the sky. Hovering above the carnage was a single figure, levitating high in the air. He brought down the jets with lassos of light and energy stemming from his fingertips.
“Isphet,” Kull and Wael answered simultaneously.
Isphet orchestrated the chaos below with stunning ease, all while fighting back the advances of the Elumite airmen above and the army below. His body radiated with an aura of sunlight, as if a new celestial object had been created over the Realm. Kull stared at the levitating nightmare, who hovered over the city wearing a stark black uniform and cloak. He pulled at invisible strings, crashing the incoming jets to the ground below. In a matter of seconds, Isphet brought down a total of eight jets. They fell like screaming avalanches, forcing men, women, and children to run for shelter. No one knew where to run, and there was nowhere to hide as the swarm of morels swallowed them from every corner, their numbers continuously growing with each new victim.
A lone jet broke from formation and made a wide loop, first appearing to try to escape to the east. But the fighter quickly switched back and dipped quickly, nearly hugging the ground. A burst of flame lit from each of its wings as it released a bevy of small missiles, all aimed at Isphet’s back. The jet peeled back as its bombardment bore down on Isphet and screamed to the north, moving to lay fire on the morels below.
The cameras capturing the action were sporadic, hardly capturing one angle for more than a few seconds, but one managed to capture the moment the missiles met its mark. A fireball erupted in the sky and a small black body hurdled to the ground, smashing into the earth below.
Ewing let out a loud chuckle and clapped his hands at the sight, only to stumble backward. He could not believe what he was seeing. The downed figure emerged from the fog of rubble and ruin and lifted himself back from the dirt, his clothes singed, his cloak still burning. Isphet let out a scream of rage, his arms extended at his sides, his hands balled into tight fists. The cameras shook, and within seconds nothing but static filled the screen.
“Wha...what did I just see?” Ewing stammered. “That was...”
“A god? An actual god?” Cyric’s words were cold, yet carried traces of awe.
“That is our world’s greatest threat now,” answered Wael, his head dipping as he drew in a deep breath. “Isphet is the most dangerous of all the Serubs. It appears his mastery of the Keys are growing with every moment.”
“But why Elu’Qua?” asked Adley. “What does he have against Elum?”
“Nothing,” Kull answered. “He just wanted what was there.”
Adley tilted her head and squinted a bit as she tried to figure out what Isphet could be searching for. “Oil?”
“No.” Kull’s hands were shaking. “An army...like the Baggers. Morels.”
“We gotta do something.” Cyric’s voice had regained its normal temper. “And I got a few people and tools that might help—” His voice softened again. “If they are still around, that is.”
Kull nodded in agreement and motioned for Adley to unlock Cyric’s bindings. Wael affirmed the decision and Adley moved to Cyric’s side, sliding the shackles from his wrists.
“Let me at least bandage that before you go. No need to bleed out before you get where you’re going.”
Cyric shook his wrist, his eyes distant. “Ah. This is nothing. I don’t have time to waste. Now, if I can have my truck back…” Cyric held out an open palm and curled his fingers in, calling for his keys. Adley tossed them to him and turned to look back at the screen, only to find it still filled with static.
Ewing rose back to his feet and scurried to a nearby cedar hutch, digging in one of the top drawers as he waved his hand for Cyric to join him.
Cyric stepped over as Ewing turned back around with a small datalink in hand. “Secure lines, not open. I don’t know what difference it will make after what we saw. If you plan to help, stay in contact, but it looks like we will need to go deeper underground. An army like that…” Ewing’s voice trailed off.
“Go with Aleph’s speed and guidance,” said Wael. “We will need all the help you can muster. I don’t know who you lost, but you have my condolences and my prayers.”
“Keep your prayers to yourself, monk,” said Cyric gruffly. “Ain’t no number of prayers gonna bring ‘em back if they’re gone.”
Wael laid a large hand on Cyric’s shoulder and offered a quick blessing. “Perhaps not, but I will pray for your soul’s peace and your safety. We need your help.”
Cyric’s eyes went moist and he swallowed, speechless for once. He whispered, nodding over at Kull, “Stay close to that kid. I still don’t know what he is, but I know I saw him square up with that monster, and he’s still standing.”
Everyone turned to look at Kull, who kept his gaze locked on the static screen, barely acknowledging the statement.
Kull sat on the roof of Ewing’s flat, enveloped by the crisp fall night air. Above, a dazzling display of stars smattered the roof of the heavens, and Kull sat almost fully illuminated in the full moon’s glow. From this high vantage point, he could see Lotte extended to its furthest reaches, the small towns outlying the walls of Vale like paint brushed beacons of light. Despite the sight, the beauty of his native land seemed dull to Kull. He held out the Key looped around his neck. Next to it was the small rune of Aleph that his mother had given him so long ago.
“Mind if I join you?”
Kull smiled at the Mastermonk’s voice.
“Of course. I’m in dire need of a friend tonight.”
The Mastermonk’s strong hand fell on Kull’s shoulder as he sat next to him, his face painted with a small smile. He looked up at the stars, his eyes wide with wonder.
“You seem worried, Kull. Your spirit is heavy.”
Kull nodded. “I feel like the weight of the world is set on my shoulders. I mourn for what I saw today in Elum, and I know that this is only a taste of what is to come.” He turned and faced his friend. “I want to fight Isphet, Wael. I want to destroy him and make him pay for all he has done. What he has done to us.” Flashes of his father and mother, of Cotswold burning leapt to his mind. “Yet...something holds me back from this. I feel very restless. Very confused. I’m struggling to understand what Aleph would have me do.”
Wael nodded. “Do you remember our journey to the Groganlands, when we first set out to find your father?”
Kull chuckled, his mind filling with the distant memory of an ancient logging truck, bouncing its way down the Devil’s Stretch. “How could I forget that trip?” A pang of longing blossomed in his stomach as he remembered the hollow feeling of chasing after his father. His eyes brimmed with tears. Now his dad was truly gone.
Wael stared at Kull, his knowing eyes piercing through all that was left unsaid. He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “You may remember that before we defended ourselves against the morel attack that I was silent in meditation during most of the journey.”
“Yes, and you were quite rude,” Kull chided sarcastically.
Wael flashed a long smile. “You’ve seen for yourself that the ways of the Alephian monks have always been perceived as odd to outsiders.”
Kull nodded. “I’ve thought many times about our conversation, however. I wish that I could say that I
remained ignorant of the truths you shared with me. The Serubs and the morels. All of it real…”
“Men do not get to choose what their fates will be, Kull,” Wael said solemnly. “Aleph alone knows the paths that we will walk, and he walks them beside us.”
Kull nodded, wanting to speak but letting his questions fade in the night air.
Wael continued, “You should know by now that while we were riding in that truck, I was soul stretching. Since I first encountered you in Vale with Ewing, I knew there was something special about you. To put it bluntly, there was something about your presence...it caused a disturbance within me.”
“A disturbance?”
Wael nodded. “One that I could not easily ignore. I was soul stretching during that ride to seek clarity.”
Kull felt his arms prickle with gooseflesh. “What clarity did you find, Wael?”
Wael breathed in, and he weighed his words. “When I first saw you, Kull, I heard Aleph’s voice within me. It was the first time I had heard his voice in a long time.”
Kull stared at Wael. “And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘You will give him your Key when the time is right.’ That was it, and it was given. I pondered and worried and prayed over that statement for that entire trip, but I received no extra clarity. It was only when we made our way to Elum and were waylaid by Seam’s forces that I then understood.”
“When you were captured?”
“Precisely. You should know that I would have never given you my Key otherwise. Never. To give up one’s Key is to break the solemn oath of the Keepers, but Aleph...Aleph had other plans for me...and for you.”
Kull nodded, his mind swirling with this new information.
“Why are you telling me this, Wael?”
Wael stared up into the sky and took a deep breath in, savoring the cool night air. “I say this to you so that you have hope. I do not know what journey Aleph has set before you, but you should know that it is wise to trust his words. To trust his commands.”
