by Casey Eanes
Kull scooted himself up further into the truck and pressed his back against the edge of the transport bed. Night brought with it an amazing spectacle as the bright red fissures glowed and illuminated the walls of smoke rising from them. The fields made the sky look draped with red, burning curtains. There were no signs of life, just fire and burnt reminders of the death of those who once lived along the Stretch when it had been a much happier place. Kull shuddered to himself when he realized that they had been gone for hours, and he had yet to see another living creature. The noxious fumes caused tears to roll from his stinging eyes, and the further they drove, the more the air seemed to press down on them. Kull soon began to cough violently, gasping for breath. He held a handkerchief to his mouth and chose to break the silence he shared with the monk.
“I have heard stories about this place since I was a boy. Is it really true what they say?”
Wael’s eyes flew open, and he responded without missing a beat, “What does who say?”
“That the ground is really on fire?” The obvious question sounded ridiculous as it left Kull’s mouth, and he shook his head at himself.
“You can see for yourself that it is.”
“Yes, I know. What I mean, is it true no one lives out here anymore? No one? Is it true that the Grogans somehow did this to the land? They say that Morels are the only thing that can live out here.”
Wael nodded his head and spoke. “It is true. Riht was once the most powerful Realm in all of Candor. They controlled most of the continent’s oil supply and held all of Candor under their grip, cutting off trade to the other Realms when it was to their advantage. When Riht went to war with the Grogans, they did not realize that their own oil would be their ultimate downfall.”
Kull did not understand. “What do you mean?”
Wael continued, “You see, Kull, the Grogans are not to be trifled with. Their culture does not allow for failure, and they do not back down from a challenge. It is not their way to simply win wars. Their ultimate objective is to bring about the utter destruction of their enemies, regardless of the cost. In Riht’s case, the Grogans’ desire was to render justice on their nation and destroy the Realm as payment for all it had done in Candor. The Grogan surge was swift and devastating. They swept into Riht and began to burn all their settlements. The Rihtians fought back bravely. They pushed the Grogans back to the cusp of the borders. But then the Grogans did something remarkable.”
“What did they do?” Kull was entranced.
“They set fire to Riht’s precious oil fields. With one spark, the Grogans set all of Candor back centuries, regardless of the consequences. Nearly all of Candor’s oil still burns under this very ground. Even after all these long years, the fire still burns and we have the Grogans to thank for it. If it weren’t for the few offshore pumps near Elum’s coast, Candor would be in a dark age.”
Kull struggled to understand how the Grogans could justify taking such extreme measures. The obvious question escaped from his lips, “But why? Couldn’t they have just taken the oil for themselves? Wouldn’t that have been more strategic? I mean, with all their machines it seems like they would have wanted to have access to all of Riht’s oil.”
Wael looked back down to Rot and shrugged his shoulders. He gently smoothed the hair on the beast’s head, then reached into his small bag and fed the dog a piece of jerky. Rot nuzzled his head against Wael’s leg and closed his eyes, just as the bed of the truck catapulted into the air and bounced furiously over a new stretch of potholes. Rot glared at his master and huffed in protest.
“Fearful men do not think rationally, Kull. Riht has long been feared by the other Realms due to their involvement in the Dominion War. During the most recent conflict with Riht, the Grogans thought it best to take it upon themselves to ensure that the Rihtians would never again rise to the heights of power they had hundreds of years ago. That is why they set the oil fields on fire.”
Kull cut in. “Wait. So you’re saying that the Grogans set fire to the oil fields during the Rihtian War because of another war that was fought three hundred years ago?” Kull shook his head. “That seems a bit ridiculous to me.”
“It might seem ridiculous to you, Kull, but the Dominion War was the darkest period of Candor’s history. My Order was led by Lucius then, the first Mastermonk. From our annals it seems that the entire continent was engulfed in war, and it was feared that all the free people of Candor would die under Riht’s might.” Wael’s eyes grew distant, as if he could see a world beyond the burning horizon. “The Five were in full power then, and the Grogans, along with Lotte, Elum, and Preost, were nearly destroyed by their Dominion rule.”
Kull rolled all of this in his head, trying to make sense of it. “What did you mean when you said the Five were in power? What are you talking about?”
Wael nodded his head and for a brief second looked very grave, as if he had aged before Kull’s very eyes. He answered the question with a question of his own.
“Kull, what do you know of the Dominion War?”
Kull spoke, “I know that it’s mostly referred to as the Great War on the datalink files. It was the war that broke the Realms free from Rihtian control.”
“That term is not correct, I’m afraid.” Wael’s voice thudded like a heavy mallet. Kull stayed silent. “There has been a movement within the continent to rewrite Candor’s past, to remove facts that some would deem unacceptable to put in the annals of our history. The Five, the Dominion. All of these terms are words forsaken by the history written today, and with them we forsake the truth. Surely, your father told you about them, the Five?”
Kull shrugged. “He barely told me anything about his experience during the Rihtian war, much less the history of the Great War.” He smiled as he thought back. “Mom never liked talking about war or anything violent either.”
Wael nodded, but Kull read the displeasure that flared on the monk’s face. He spoke, his voice echoing through the darkening night, “The Five were the Serub warlords, the Rihtian Kings that created the Dominion, the empire that enslaved our ancestors.”
“The Dominion.” The word felt heavy as it left Kull’s mouth. Kull had heard of the term, but only in whispers in candlelight between his father and his subordinates, loose nuggets that fell from conversations he was not privy to growing up.
Wael continued, “The Dominion annexed the Realms and set their center of their power at Zenith, the capital of Riht. It lies in ruins now. The fact that five rulers could bind the people of Candor under one united regime is amazing. It is truly a feat in itself.” Wael’s eyes stared intently at Kull. “But now, Kull, it is time for me to hear what you know.”
The truck rumbled underneath them, and Kull shuddered at the growing chill in the air. “All I know is what I’ve read from the datalinks, Wael. The Great War, or as you put it the Dominion War, was a continental revolution that overthrew the Rihtian rule of Candor. It was initiated by the Grogans who came down from their mountain fortresses. They allied with Lotte, and then Elum. The Realm of Preost was then formed to serve as an arbiter to prevent any future conflicts in Candor.” Kull’s mouth felt dry as he spoke what he had read verbatim.
Wael spoke, “A fair, textbook answer.” Wael smiled, but his voice remained serious. “There is much more to tell. The Five Serubs were not just mere Rihts. They were the Exiled.”
“Exiled?” Kull had no idea what Wael meant.
Wael continued, “Yes. Exiled. They were the Divines who chose exile from Aether. To take their form, shape, and power in earthly vessels.” Wael rubbed his fingers together. “To take human shape and form. They worked wonders in Candor, and it led to our utter ruin. They bewitched our ancestors and brought realities into this world that should have never existed.”
Kull shook his head, confused. “Divines? Like Aleph?”
“Yes. For they are Aleph’s brothers and sisters who abandoned their stations, longing instead for earthly power and glory. Aleph was abandoned, but through his ob
edience to his charge, he alone inherited the throne of the Firmament, the Aether. His six siblings forsook their divine duties, and in rebellion made their homes in Candor.”
“Six? I thought you said there were five?” Kull’s head reeled trying to keep up with it all.
“Yes, Kull.” A wide smile grew on the monk’s face. “I’m glad to see you are paying attention. There is one who is unaccounted for in the Exile. He regretted his decision and sought the penance of Aleph, seeking to atone for his error, but that is a story for another time. The remaining Five, however, brought ruin on such a scale that it is a marvel Candor and the Realms still exist.”
“What did they do, Wael?” He could barely look into Wael’s piercing gaze in the low light of the burning fields. “All I ever heard growing up about these stories were that they were mostly mythical. Many say the truth about the war and the Serubs is much less…cosmic.” His throat went dry as the words left his tongue.
Wael did not respond with anger, but with firmness, “The Morels. Let’s consider them, Kull. They are a perfect example of a reality that should have never existed on Candor; a reality that the Five brought upon us. So you say that what you’ve read or heard about the Five is judged as mostly mythical?”
Kull nodded solemnly.
“Well, tell me. What have you been taught about the Morels?”
Kull cleared his throat, trying to piece together Wael’s logic. “I’ve been taught that they are the humans who caught the Shambling Plague. Their brains died long ago, and yet their bodies still live. No one can explain why exactly this happens, though it has been thought that there is a virus that controls the plague. The virus controls these dead bodies only to spread the plague further.”
“It is a fine explanation from a scientific standpoint.” Kull had not expected Wael’s response to be affirmative. He listened with piqued interest as the monk continued.
“I doubt you would believe the real truth about them, however. The Exiled in their very natures can render realities that did not and should not exist on Candor. The Morels are just one of their works. Tell me, how can the dead live, Kull? It was not always so that the dead could rise, but only after the Five came into power. And let me ask you something. Have you ever seen the dead rise?”
Kull tried his best to control his smirk, but Wael’s serious face checked him.
“Well, have you?”
“No.” Kull felt his hands twitch with nervous energy. “No, I haven’t.”
“Precisely. And as Aleph reigns, I pray you will never see it in your lifetime. That is because the Exiles have been bound. They no longer work their nightmares on this plane, though there are still remnants of their work left in Candor. Leftover ranks of the mindless Morel armies that they once controlled.”
Kull lay back against the back of the truck bed and pushed against the log with his feet to steady himself from the jarring ride. This is going to be a long ride. He tried to find the most comfortable position he could as he listened to Wael explain to him the “truth” of the Exiles. After several minutes of being lectured to, Kull’s attention drifted towards the eerie dance of firelight on the horizon. He buttoned his jacket as the cool air continued to envelope the convoy. He thought of the events of the past few days.
I can’t believe this. I’m sitting in a logging truck with the Mastermonk debating history.
Kull turned back, only to hear Wael still talking. Frustrated, he broke in, “It just doesn’t make sense to me! You claim that the Morels are the remnant of the Exiled army, but I seriously doubt it. Why would anyone want to bury this truth from us? Where is the gain?”
Wael did not answer, but Kull could feel a sudden rift grow between them. The monk simply leveled his gaze out over the open tailgate of the truck and was silent. He lifted his finger and tapped at his ear and then held it to his closed mouth.
Quiet, the motion spoke.
Kull chose to ignore the gesture, “Well? It still makes no sense.”
Wael laid back and rested his head on the truck bed and closed his eyes. It was as if a door had been slammed in Kull’s face.
Kull’s mind danced as he tried to avoid any further thought about the Morels and Wael’s unwillingness to discuss them further. Every kid grew up with horror stories of the monsters and was warned not to venture out alone, especially at night. No one he knew had ever seen a Morel, but then again, he never really asked too much about them back home. They just didn’t seem plausible to him. He imagined if someone did see one they would probably just keep quiet in hopes they were having a hallucination. It would be preferable to be crazy than to live in a world where the wretched things actually existed.
The truck slowed and turned off the road as it tried to avoid a terribly broken stretch of shattered pavement. Kull reached out to brace himself as the truck’s loose suspension did little to dampen the impact, jostling his teeth until he felt they would jump out of his mouth. The driver crudely down-shifted the vehicle, causing it to release a painful grunt within the transmission. The gears reengaged with a loud clank, and they were back on the main road, the diesel engine roaring as if it were cursing about the reckless steering. Kull wondered how long it would take until he could finally get out of the old truck. His whole journey had been one long truck ride, and between the choking smog hanging in the air and the eerie burning landscape, Kull decided he had enough truck rides for one lifetime.
At this rate, I could have walked to the Groganlands faster. He looked up from the truck bed, hoping to see some glimpse of stars in the night air, some brief burst of light to help him take his mind off of how terrible he felt. Dense, smoky fog was all that greeted him, hiding the night sky. Frustrated, Kull held his knees to his chest and shivered, praying for an end to this leg of the journey. He thought of his father, and then his mother. His hands reached for the pendent she had given him. He sighed and closed his eyes. Soon he felt his consciousness loosen, and he drifted off to sleep as the desert night overtook them.
***
The truck jolted and sent Kull face first into the timber across from him. Pain thundered him awake, and he felt sick due to the small amount of deep sleep he earned. He lifted his head and glanced over at Wael to see if he was asleep, but Wael was not sleeping. Wael was not even sitting down. Wael was crouched, looking out the back of the truck, with wild, wide eyes that registered only one thing: fear. Not a sulking, hand-wringing type of fear, but the primal type that rushed from the gut in order to keep you alive. Kull’s groggy mind struggled to make sense of the sight of the monk gripping his ironwood staff, accompanied by Rot’s vicious barking, the ridge of his back arched up like a banner, his white long fangs tearing into the night.
What...
Kull’s head snapped back to the edge of the tailgate. Out in the midnight were the red pinpricks of light, reflecting the truck’s red tail-lights. It was what Kull could only have guessed was some pack of wild animals; their eyes glowing like red, dancing flames. The number of dots grew with each passing second. They were being chased. Hunted. Wael banged his staff on the back of the truck and yelled at the driver in a panic.
“MORELS!” Wael ran the length of the truck bed with quick strides and slammed his hand on the back of the truck’s rear window. The driver shot a furious glance at Wael in his rearview mirror, but soon realized the desperate situation. He sent a violent jerk through the truck as he hammered down on the gas, forcing Kull to grab Wael by the shoulder. The truck began to shake as it smashed over ditches and shattered pavement. Wael yelled through the chaos, “Whatever happens, stay near me!” His eyes tightened. “Now you can decide whether the Morels are real or not.” Wael loosed his grip and made a move that Kull did not expect. The monk pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut through the thick ropes holding the massive lumber to the truck bed.
SNAP. One rope dangled in the wind.
Kull held his breath as he forced himself to look back out at the pack of savage creatures chasing them. The creatures
were barely humanoid, sunken faces painted in the red of the tail-lights, and even over the din of the engine Kull could hear their labored, jagged gasps for air. Their elongated arms swiped broken, jagged claws through the night air as they tried to grab hold of the truck.
SNAP. The massive rope was now loose and flew off into the darkness. Wael ran to the front of the truck bed and screamed at Kull.
“Kull! Help me!” Without thinking, Kull joined the monk in pushing against the gigantic timbers. “Kull, help me push them out!”
Instinct and a raw surge of adrenaline propelled Kull as he threw his shoulder into the back of the giant log, pushing against the truck cabin with his legs. At first, the mountainous log would not budge, but a quick jolt from a pothole seemed to loosen it. With another heave between them the log slid an inch, then another. Inch by inch they fought to move it, until finally it crashed out into the night, trampling over several of the Morels pursuing them at an unbelievable pace.
Kull could hear the cracking sound of the wretched creatures’ bones as the log bounced on top of them and rolled off to the side of the road. They writhed in pain, clawing at one another, screaming in agony. Fear filled Kull’s heart as he stood dumbfounded at the sight. They are real. Gods above. They are real. Wael called out to him.
“KULL! Focus!”
Kull’s mind snapped back, and he moved in place behind the second log. A hulking Morel lunged for the bed of the truck and Wael’s ironwood staff smashed against its jaw in quick succession. The blow sent the creature spinning to the pavement, but as soon as it hit the ground it rebounded, continuing its dogged pursuit. Its jaw was shattered, hanging uselessly from its battered maw, but still it ran after the truck with its blood red eyes glued on the monk.
