Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  A crack of white-hot light shot across the bed of the truck and tore through the green energy like paper. Ewing cursed and whipped his head behind him to stare through the rear windshield. There Kull stood, his eyes closed, surrounded by three glowing figures. Ewing could feel the radiant heat that surrounded him, but amazingly felt no pain. He turned to see the path before him, a bridge of light cutting straight into the path of the obelisk. Toward the serpent whose mouth stood open wide.

  “Okay,” Ewing whispered as he turned and pressed the accelerator down, pushing closer to the belly of the beast.

  Willyn pulled her elites back and screamed over the coms. “No, no, no! NO!”

  The morels fell over the truck, their claws ripping through the metal like paper. Willyn could hear the unnatural, guttural screams falling against the sound of popping and bending steel.

  Adley cut over the coms, her voice like a razor, “Total war! Total war!”

  Willyn held her datalink up to her mouth and bellowed, “DO IT! Burn them with all we have.” Her eyes flicked over to the map hovering from her console. The red dots of Elum’s jets were over him. She threw her finger over the map, vertical to Kull’s position.

  “LIGHT THEM UP, ELUM! NOW!”

  A payload of fire rained down overhead only moments before a cataclysmic green eruption, cutting through the dark sea of bodies and water like a green laser beam.

  Willyn pulled back her elites, making a hasty retreat as the heat emanating from the fiery, multi-colored billows triggered a robotic warning over her inner coms.

  “Warning. Warning. Internal circuitry will shut down from overheating in 10...9...8…”

  Willyn banged her rook’s controls and throttled back from the warzone, the red heat signatures dropping with each meter she pulled back.

  He’s dead. Dead again...and now we are all doomed.

  She stared through the dusty windshield of her vehicle, still seeing the looming shadow of the skyward serpent, and her gut rolled over with pangs of new dread.

  Her heart leapt as a bright shard of light pierced through the smoke and chaos. The light grew, overwhelming everything else, consuming what felt like the horizon.

  “Adley! What did you do?! What did you fire over to them?! I can’t see a thing!”

  The coms remained silent as the white fire swallowed all of the morels, the truck, the obsidian obelisk, and even the titanic serpent. The white light encompassed everything. The last thing Willyn heard was Adley in her helmet’s coms. “The light. The light isn’t us, Willyn.”

  “Aleph, above,” she whispered.

  “Get ready, Kull!” Ewing screamed. “I think this is it. Love ya, boy!”

  Kull glanced down through the rear window of the truck at Ewing. The old soldier had his gaze locked on Ma’et ahead, his hands cemented to the steering wheel, determined to get Kull to his mark regardless of the cost.

  “Love you too, Ewing. Thank you! For everything!” Kull cried out as he steadied his focus back on Ma’et above.

  Ma’et drew back and roared as he opened his maw, exposing his razor-sharp teeth. He locked his sight on Kull and the small truck rumbling toward him. “Come to me, Nameless. Join your cursed species and feed my thirst, you pitiful essence.”

  The leviathan crashed down over the truck, consuming it whole, his form smashing against the Rihtian sands like water, only to resurface and rise up over the dunes once again.

  Kull plunged into the cold darkness of a place he knew went on for eternity. The cruel darkness flushed through his brain, as if to remove whatever memories he held, but he resisted.

  “No,” he said to the darkness.

  “Nameless. Mine by right, and mine alone. Your cursed god has failed you for the last time. You have returned to my Sea.”

  Kull let the words pass through him, for he did not harbor them. His hands moved through the dark, freezing water, and he gripped the pendent. The rune of Aleph. He spoke, his voice small, but the words flowing from his lips like a river. “Wake up. From death comes life.”

  The Sea shifted with the words, and Kull felt a warm heat emit from the rune pendant. A pang of light fired, like a single spark in the darkness.

  “SILENCE. You cannot speak here, Nameless. You have no authority! No pow—”

  “Wake up!” Kull spoke, his voice growing. “From death comes life!”

  The spark that he held in his hand alit, the fire of white light inexplicably igniting below the dark surface of the water.

  The beast’s rage threatened to pierce Kull’s eardrums, but Kull kept chanting the mantra over and over again. Fires grew around Kull, the white light piercing the darkness, showcasing others who hung captive in the cursed Sea. The light erupted like starlight at the setting of the sun and grew more and more intense with each repetition of the mantra.

  “HOW? HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?! NAMELESS!”

  Kull opened his eyes and spoke, “My name is Kull. I am the key to this place. Aleph has sent me to open what has been closed. WAKE UP! FROM DEATH COMES LIFE!”

  Kull’s voice swelled to chant the mantra for one final time, only to be repeated by the thousands who hung in the balance of the scant darkness that remained. Kull could hear them answer the call. Thousands of voices crescendoed in his ears as he heard the essences awaken and cry out, seeking his voice—escaping Ma’et’s void.

  Cyric quickly dialed back his gauntlets and resumed his rapid firing, each blast merely knocking morels back like a sledgehammer, but failing to slow or destroy them. Cyric darted to his right while firing to his left, trying to distance himself from his worst nightmare. Despite his best efforts the morel hive closed in on him, and the one morel he couldn’t face was fast on his heels. A razor-sharp strike ripped across his back and he tumbled to the dirt. He rolled to his back and covered his face, waiting for the fury to rain down on him. As he rolled into a ball, a supersonic explosion rang out over the battlefield, drowning out the sounds of gunfire and screaming. As the explosion rang out, the morel bodies crashed over Cyric, their dead weight covering him as a wall of black water surged over.

  Adley held up her hands against her face as the light beam shooting at the serpent disappeared. Her vision was blurred from the bright flames, but she squinted back to the battlefield for some semblance of what had happened.

  Slowly, colors began to come back into view, and her heart fell at the sight of the ancient serpent standing more solid than ever, its massive girth scraping against the sky. The monster seemed to be fully formed, though the dark waters still poured from it like waterfalls.

  A thunderclap erupted, and Adley fell to her knees. The serpent roared, and suddenly its black scales began to ignite in pure hot light. The beast of darkness began to seize in pain, roaring like a lion being skinned alive, and Adley saw the morel hoards drop to the ground in a single instant, as if dead. The worm writhed in pain, as white stars of pure light emitted from its form, the heat and light burning through the reptile’s flesh. Adley watched as thousands, no tens of thousands of the lights sprang from the snake like a cloud of fireflies, only to descend on the individual bodies of the morels who lay scattered below.

  Her mouth hung open as the serpent’s flesh rolled back into ashes, its yellow eyes going as dark as coal. It left behind only the cavernous ribcage of a serpent, and beneath the high arching bones of Ma’et’s spine a deep river of cool, clear water erupted, flowing out over the undead bodies of the collapsed morels.

  “They’re down! All of ‘em.”

  “Did you see that? That thing just blew up. Ain’t nothin’ left!”

  “Oh Aleph, thank you!”

  “WOOOOO!”

  Voices rang out over the coms and flooded Willyn’s headset as she drew down the engines on her rook and made a wide pass to survey the field. Foot soldiers were jumping up and down, splashing through the waist deep waters flowing over the desert floor. Men and women were throwing their helmets and guns into the air, some splashing like children in a spring
puddle. Willyn blinked and shook her head. Her head felt clear and her soul clean. The stain and lingering presence she had felt ever since experiencing Isphet’s possession was gone. Her heart beat with a slow thump and she drew in a deep breath of what felt like the freshest air she had ever breathed. She pinched her eyes shut for a moment and exhaled, smiling as she looked out over the men and women of Candor.

  “We did it!” Willyn called out. “Candor is free! We are free!”

  A roar went out over the coms and Adley laughed as she sunk back into her seat and shook her head in disbelief.

  Adley jumped from the back of the truck and ran for the last place she had seen Cyric as the black waters rushed over him. She raked her arm from side to side, feeling for Cyric below the waters and jolted as a hand grasped her wrist. She pulled and Cyric burst from beneath the shallow waters, choking for breath. Cyric rose to his knees and wept as he drew in one choking breath after another.

  “We won, Cyric! They’re gone,” cried Adley. “You’re okay!”

  “I don’t care! I don’t care!” Cyric screamed. “They took her!”

  Cyric doubled over and pounded his fist into the waters coursing around him. The black tide was giving way to clear, nearly luminescent water.

  Adley gasped and fell back, nearly fainting, as one figure after another rose from the clearing waters. Men and women, bewildered and stunned, glanced across the flooded field of battle.

  “Daddy?” a small voice called out, pricking Cyric’s ears. Cyric stood up, his face as white as a sheet. “No! Don’t torture me,” Cyric yelled, refusing to turn to the call.

  “Daddy?” The voice broke into tears. Adley watched, stunned as a little girl reached out with her small hands for Cyric. “Daddy, please!”

  Cyric turned and gasped, a raking breath rattled his body and he sprang forward, wrapping his arms around the small girl, his sweet Livvy. Tears rolled down Cyric’s cheeks as he sobbed. He pulled himself away from his embrace to look over his girl and make sure it was not a mirage, some twisted illusion cast upon him in his despair.

  “It’s me,” Livvy said as she looked up at Cyric. “What happened, Daddy?”

  “You’re okay, girl,” Cyric choked out as he kissed his daughter’s forehead. “We’re all okay.”

  Near the ruins of the obelisk a lone figure crawled from beneath the rubble and debris of Ewing’s decimated truck. Kull blinked in the afternoon sun as he drew in shallow breaths and choked out the water that had filled his lungs. Kull steadied himself and rose to his feet, scanning the battlefield beyond him.

  The dunes were filled with sounds of laughter as men from every Realm embraced one another, laughing and cheering. Celebratory gunfire rang out and people clamored on top of the titans, trucks, and rooks, dancing and shouting as the obelisk crumbled in the near distance, collapsing over parts of the leviathan’s skeleton, shattering its fragile remains.

  Kull glanced around him, but his earlier escorts, the Desolate, his loved ones were gone. His parents, his loyal mentor and friend, Arthur Ewing, was nowhere to be found. Yet despite his lonely state, standing on the dunes of Riht, Kull could feel their presence and a peaceful spirit of unity as he looked out over the men and women of Candor celebrating their final stand. Kull smiled and glanced up into the clear blue skies.

  “Thank you!”

  EPILOGUE

  Willyn glanced out over the rolling, dark blue river that cut through the Rihtian landscape. The winding river ran from the crumbled remains of the broken obelisk beneath the bleached ivory rib cage of the leviathan, the two lasting reminders of the horrors experienced just one year prior by all those living in Candor. Willyn drew in a deep breath and let her mind wander for a moment as she inhaled the intoxicating aroma of the desert lilies that lined the young river. The breeze shifted and blew out over the rolling hills and their transformed beauty. The raw sand had given way to fields of greens, oranges, and browns that followed the river to the horizon.

  Men and women diligently toiled at the soil, breaking their stride only to wipe the sweat from their brow or sip from a canteen. These people were servants and vagabonds no longer. Freed from riding the railcars and hunting seasonal work, they now owned their land again, and with Aleph’s provision the new river quickly yielded abundant crops from the once barren hills of the desert. Willyn smiled as she turned back to the town center of Candor’s newest city, an oasis in the desert. Wellspring.

  The city of Wellspring was humble, yet vibrant, and in this particular time it was alive with life as men and women from all edges of Candor had gathered to commemorate Candor’s victory. Where there weren’t crops growing, tents had been erected for the multitude of visitors that made the journey.

  Willyn meandered through gravel streets, making her way to the primary building that had been constructed. An adobe dwelling with open windows and doors sat beyond the town’s market, situated next to a small thatched temple. As Willyn neared the building a boy, no more than eight years old, ran to her, his eyes wide, his braided hair bouncing with beads and stones twisted into each strand. The young boy lifted his left hand, its sharp, serrated fingers a reminder of his past suffering under Nyx’s experimentation and Isphet’s rule. The bouncing child held his mutilated hand up proudly for Willyn to see and grinned from ear to ear.

  “The healer! He comes here today.” The boy swayed his hand from side to side. “Do you think it will be my turn?”

  Willyn nodded and knelt to the boy’s level. “What is your name, young man?”

  “Zerah!” The boy beamed as Willyn held his attention.

  “Well then, Zerah. I will speak to the healer and let him know you will be first in line. It’s been long enough now, hasn’t it?”

  Zerah jumped and shouted and ran away, shouting as he went in the native tongue of the Rihtians, calling out for his Baba to let her know his time was at hand.

  Willyn glanced down at her arm, the metal covered with a long, tight-fitting glove up to her elbow. She then reached into a small satchel hanging at her waist and pulled out a six-inch curved piece of metal that once held a razor-sharp edge. A tear escaped Willyn’s eye as she turned over the memento Cyric offered to her following his daughter’s encounter with the healer shortly after the battle of Wellspring.

  The once grizzled and aloof bounty hunter had quickly become one of Willyn’s most trusted advisors as he helped lead the rebuilding efforts in Elum and the southern reaches of Preost. Willyn marveled at the transformation in Cyric’s life in such a short time. The man that, for years, had chased after profit, killing or maiming without thought now refused payment for his assistance as he helped rebuild and restore the once proud cities and sanctuaries, partnering with the religious Preost monks he had so long avoided. A chill ran up the back of Willyn’s neck as she examined the bladed talon and glanced at her arm. She thought of the words that accompanied the gift as Cyric tearfully thanked her almost a year prior.

  “None of us will be the same, but I think that is a good thing. We all lost a piece of ourselves, our humanity, but I feel like something better is coming. Ya know? This wouldn’t have been possible without you...you helped guide us. Don’t stop. Don’t stop leading. Please. We still need you...all of us.” The thought brought a swelling sense of pride and the crushing weight of responsibility.

  “High Master Kara!” A teenage Lottian girl rushed to Willyn and stopped ten feet back, panting and trying to catch her breath. “He is here. Should I call an assembly?”

  “Not yet, Gabriella. I would like a few moments together alone with him if I could.” Willyn stepped to the window and heard the sound of voices rising. A tempest of energy was building, the clamoring of the crowd announcing the visitor. Willyn stepped out of the town center and into the humble square as men, women, and children rushed past her. A small child crashed against her calf and fell to the ground. The young lad popped up, brushed himself off, and bowed at the waist while apologizing.

  “So sorry, Sar Kara.”
<
br />   Willyn waved off the minor collision and offered a smile. “Go. Go and see.”

  Willyn’s eyes followed the boy as he darted through the crowd, bouncing left and right to press in closer to the epicenter of the commotion. Willyn pressed through the crowd of men and women, who bowed their heads and stepped back as they realized who was trying to move past.

  There, in the center of the crowd, kneeling next to a young boy was Kull, with Rot sitting by his side. Kull was crouched on one knee, his hands held out, palms up to the young man standing before him. Willyn scanned the boy’s face and realized it was none other than Zerah, whom she met earlier. It was as if Kull knew she made Zerah a promise.

  Kull’s head was hidden beneath a heavy cowl and his shoulders and frame fully covered, making it hard for Willyn to fully recognize him at first, but Rot made it unmistakable. The beast sat and drooled, his stumped tail wagging, as several toddlers scratched at his back and under his chin, their curiosity completely undeterred by his massive size and scarred skin.

  Willyn watched as Kull motioned for Zerah to hold out his arm. Zerah sheepishly offered his hand and pulled it back, whimpering. Kull rolled back his hood and smiled as he rubbed his hand over his closely shaven head.

  “It’s okay, young one. Your time has come.” He held out his hand once again and smiled. “Are you ready?”

  “It will hurt!” Zerah exclaimed. “Pick someone else.”

  “Your pain is in the past. This is a new beginning.” Kull smiled as Zerah relented. “I promise it will not hurt.”

  The young man laid his mangled hand into Kull’s, his arm tensing and his teeth gritting as Kull lightly took hold of his hand. Zerah pinched his eyes shut and turned his head as Kull drew in a deep breath and let out a low droning note as he clasped his eyes shut.