Keys of Candor: The Red Deaths

by Casey Eanes

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Vashti’s eyes sparkled with dark anticipation as the key, Seam’s most prized possession, tumbled between her fingers. Rubbing the key with her thumb, she leaned in toward him and placed her lips next to his ear.

  “We have much to do, my King. Greatness is waiting, and we can finally begin the reclamation process. This key is only the beginning to a new world, our new world.”

  Her words were light, breathy, and soft as satin. She brushed her cheek against Seam’s as she continued. The warmth of her skin pushed away the cold night air and left Seam’s skin electric and longing.

  She stared at him in the dim light. “You have done well, Seam. I always knew you were the one we have been waiting for. We must end the time of binding.”

  Vashti inched away from Seam, her eyes never leaving his. She took her time to stand, showcasing her warm and inviting figure to the young royal. Her smirk was intoxicating, and Seam would not look away as he spoke.

  “What a shame for you to have wasted your beauty with such a dreadful existence up here, Vashti. I certainly would not mind having your company at the High Hall.”

  Vashti’s smile broke into a stern grimace, and Seam felt the weight of her answer. “My time has been anything but dreadful, my King. Ever since I was enlightened and left the Alephian order, I made an oath to serve my mistress within the Crossroads until the time of binding ended.”

  Seam chuckled, his face a mix of shame and embarrassment.

  “Forgive me. I simply meant that I would have appreciated more of your company. I have always found our visits to be enjoyable in many different ways. I am just relieved to know we will be seeing much more of one another now.”

  Vashti’s twisted smile returned as she allowed her robe to slip over her left shoulder. She stood for a moment and bit her lower lip before responding. “I know exactly what you mean. Now, let’s not waste our time here. Follow me.”

  She led Seam down a long, dark hallway behind the temple altar. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a stairwell leading deeper into the darkness. The old marble stairs were well worn, slick, and beveled after years of use, forcing the young king to watch his footing as he descended.

  The two followed the stairs downward, plunging deeper into the shadows. Blackness wrapped tighter and tighter around, their footsteps making hollow echoes in the gloom. Vashti’s torch was swallowed in the darkness as Seam’s heart raced with each step. Silently they descended further and further into the labyrinth buried beneath the Crossroads. Seam had never been this far under the temple, and yet he felt no fear, no worry. Only anticipation. For years he had dreamt of this moment.

  It had not been a mistake that he found the ancient forbidden tomes. It was no coincidence that he met Vashti, who helped him discover the ancient truths hidden deep within the forbidden texts. It had been orchestrated. All of it had been orchestrated by an invisible hand. Their hands. Seam knew that he was claiming his place, for he alone was the one the stories foretold. He would lead the revolution that the world had suffered far too long without. He had the key to begin the process of unbinding, and he was holding the hand of the one person who would be able to ensure his success. That was all that mattered.

  The stairs poured out into a massive hallway stretching far beyond the reach of the faint torch. Seam felt his breath condense in the cold, subterranean air. Four doors lined the massive stone chamber, bearing deep etchings of ancient runes. The deep carvings coiled in waves, detailed patterns that resembled the rings of a felled tree, concentric circles that grew across the cold stone walls. Vashti tugged at Seam’s hand as he marveled at the intricate carvings.

  “These are nothing. Follow me. We are almost there.”

  Seam heard her voice tremble as she pulled him further down the hallway. He marveled at her as the pushed on. Years ago, Hosp arranged Seam and Vashti to meet. Hosp sent her as his ambassador, knowing he could not travel into Lotte without raising suspicion. Ever since that time she lived amidst the ruins of the Crossroads. Yet Seam could tell from Vashti’s behavior that this journey was as new to her as it was to him. Perhaps it is. Perhaps she’s never dared to come this far. The hallway came to an end, cut off by a wall engraved with a massive mural. Vashti stopped and latched her torch on a nearby wall. Her eyes were wide with excitement as she reached out and placed her hands on Seam’s chest.

  “This is it,” she whispered. “This is what we have been waiting for.” She pulled Seam and pressed her chest firmly against his as she looked up into his eyes and gently kissed him. Her smooth lips glided across his as she continued to pull Seam tighter. “Soon, Seam, and our new world will begin. Are you ready?”

  It was impossible for Seam to hide his joy. “I have been ready for far too long.”

  Vashti spun around and slid her fingers across the stone wall. A pang of disappointment surged through Seam as he reached for Vashti. His eyes lingered on her as she examined the dead-end wall.

  Seam finally tore his gaze from Vashti and realized that the wall was not a dead end but another door. Its carvings rippled in the firelight. He examined the etchings, and within the ripple of circles, he noticed that there was an intricate design carved deep within the pattern. Serpents. What had, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more than thin carved lines in the stone, on closer inspection, revealed miniscule artistry. The brood of snakes etched in the wall wrapped around one another in a never-ending knot. Vashti’s fingers traveled over the pattern, exploring the wall. Her hand came to rest upon one particular viper whose mouth was open, baring long fangs.

  “This is it. Are you ready?”

  Seam’s hands scrambled for the key, only to realize that Vashti had never given it back to him. A bolt of anger struck him, but he relented. Not now.

  “I’m ready.”

  Seam watched as she slid the key between the snake’s fangs and slowly turned it. The door let out a noisy crack as it opened. A stale draft of air rushed by them, assaulting them with its odor. The chamber had been shut for a very long time. Vashti handed the key back to Seam and pushed at the wall. The door’s weight stood in protest until Seam leaned into it, pushing the massive slab open.

  The two stumbled into a dark void and squinted to allow their eyes to adjust to their new surroundings. Light flickered from the hallway behind them, and Seam’s heart quickened its pace as he realized exactly where he was. He was standing in the chamber of the Forgotten. No one had been in the room for centuries and now he stood, ready to complete the first task to put him in his rightful place. Seam snatched the burning torch from Vashti and took the first steps deeper into the room.

  Seam bounded into the room, leaving Vashti behind. Abandoned sconces with their ancient candlesticks long snuffed out lined the walls. Seam was careful to light them again and turned his eyes towards the room’s central podium. The candlelight grew, swelling to reveal a single pane of glass fixed to the floor, in the middle of the sprawling pedestal. A mirror. Aside from it, the room was empty. The mirror reflected the flames of the candles as they danced across its surface. The room stood silent and as both Vashti and Seam gazed at the glass.

  Seam stared at the mirror. Then he looked back to Vashti who was frozen, her eyes locked on the same fixture. Something was not right, and Vashti was not giving him any clues.

  Seam’s whisper crept through the room, “Where is she, Vashti?”

  But Vashti stood silent. Her lips twitched as she spoke to herself but she would not respond.

  Seam’s whisper grew, “Where is she?”

  Vashti did not turn her gaze. She continued to stare, fixated on the mirror.

  Seam threw the torch on the ground, and shook Vashti by her arm. “Where is she?!”

  She pointed at the lonely pane of glass that mirrored the candlelight and spoke with a whisper.

  “It’s empty. Why is it empty? That is the portal.”

  Seam tightened his grip on her arm as he looked back to the glass.

  �
��The prophecy does not lie! It says, ‘We wait immortal, locked in glass.’ She should be here!”

  Disappointment ripped through Seam. The portal was dead, and there was nothing to see. There was no one waiting on the other side. The glass mocked him as he continued to recite the prophecies to himself.

  There has to be more. I am missing something. The prophecy does not lie.

  Seam released Vashti’s arm and charged from one step to the next. I will pull the wretched god from the glass if I must. Each step brought Seam inches closer to the dead, black glass, and each step brought a new pang of rage. Seam’s foot slammed to the platform and as soon as he lifted himself to the apex of the podium he fell backward with a scream and tumbled down the stairs.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Vashti ran for him as he gathered himself. The color washed from Seam’s face, and he would not look away.

  Seam stared ahead and then back to the empty pane of glass and murmured to himself, “The prophecy is true. ‘We wait immortal locked in glass. Descend, rise, and free our hands.’”

  Confusion twisted across Vashti’s face as she glanced back at the glass.

  Seam whispered, his breath clouding the frigid air, “We are not alone, Vashti. Rise onto the platform and you will see.”

  Vashti crept one step at a time until she was standing on the platform. She gasped and covered her mouth. Seam stepped back onto the platform behind her to see the image of a shriveled old woman in the reflection of the glass. The same old woman whose image startled him just moments earlier brought a new surge of adrenaline and excitement.

  The apparition sat on her knees with her head bent downward. Long gray and brown hair hung loosely, obscuring the prisoner’s face. An icy whisper filled the empty air, “Come closer, my children. My saviors.”

  Seam and Vashti stepped closer to the mirror. With each step they took, the woman before them rose her head until she peered out from behind her hair. Her eyes were wild and her mouth hung agape as she stared blankly ahead. The same icy whisper crept throughout the room.

  “You are who we have awaited. The Keeper has come, the letting can begin, and the unbinding can commence.”

  Vashti reached out and took Seam’s hand between her fingers. She squeezed his hand and pulled it towards her.

  “This is it, Seam. Get the key. She needs the key.” Her voice trembled as she tried to whisper. She released his hand and stepped back.

  ***

  Vashti’s mind was a volcano of curses when Seam burst into the dark room. He is so bold, the fool. It was a miscalculation. A foolish mistake. Seam’s unexpected rush into the portico robbed her of her chance, saving him from a dagger in the back.

  No matter, she thought, her mind instantly springing for another plan. She feigned ignorance as she descended deep into the chamber with the young king. Vashti could feel him, his desires swelling for her, his mind becoming putty in her hands. She played a convincing role as seductress, and he was buying it.

  As Seam stood confused at the empty mirror she too stared into the darkness wearing a convincing mask of confusion and fear, buying more time. She knew Seam would fall for it, happily rushing in to fill the role of protector and champion. He came close to her, and she grabbed his hand.

  She baited him with another line. “She needs the key.”

  As he plunged his hand beneath his shirt, Vashti gripped the hilt of her dagger. This was it! As she threw the blade at the young king, one thought filled her mind.

  Hosp would be pleased.

  ***

  A hush hung in the air as Seam stood looking at the wretched old woman in the mirror. Her gaze was dead, but he could hear her speaking within him, “Now, do it now.”

  Seam spun on his heels and caught Vashti’s wrist as her arm came crashing toward him. Her fingers were locked around a small dagger. She screamed as his grasp clamped around her arm with no mercy. His face twisted into a rage of clenched teeth and demonic eyes. He stared into Vashti’s face, forcing her to look away.

  He spat the words at her. “You are not the first yellow-eyed assassin to make an attempt on my life. Did you think that I am a fool?” Vashti butted her head at him, but Seam, in one fluid motion, pinned her to the ground.

  “No, no, no, my dear. We read the very same tomes, and we both know exactly what is needed now. I see now that you had no intention to allow me to savor the unbinding. You never intended to continue together.”

  Vashti thrashed as pure panic pulsed within her. She screamed, her shriek only echoing off the carved walls of the dank room. She fought to pull herself away from the king’s heavy grip, but Seam was too much for her. She clawed at his face as he threw her against the pane of glass and held her against its cold surface. As Vashti pressed against the glass, the mirror woman stood to her feet. She pressed her hands against the pane of glass, grasping for Vashti like a caged panther. Terror flooded Vashti’s eyes as she glanced at the woman pawing at her through the glass and then back again at Seam. His cold stare tore through her. He forced the dagger from her hand and held it in the air as he looked back to her.

  “You are beautiful, Vashti, but your beauty is nothing but a cloak to cover your sinister schemes. Don’t think I could not see through your intentions. I am no fool!” He bellowed at her, “I AM THE KEEPER! Now serve your purpose.”

  Hot tears stung her eyes as she pleaded for her life. “No! Please! No! I swear I will do anything, my king! Please! NO!”

  The whisper that invaded the room roared with rage.

  “NOW! DO IT NOW.”

  Seam put his hand across Vashti’s mouth to muffle her screams and leaned in next to her ear.

  “Your lies won’t help you now. Attempting to betray me is the last mistake you will ever make. Now it is time to go to sleep so others can be awakened.”

  Seam thumped the dagger deep into Vashti’s chest without hesitation and fought to hold her still as she whipped from side to side. He muffled the howls of pain that attempted to escape from her lips. He kept his hand clasped around her mouth as her cries morphed into a morbid gurgling. In a few quick moments the struggle was over and Vashti’s body slumped over onto Seam. He pushed her to the side and watched as her blood flowed out, sizzling on the platform below him, the aroma of hot iron permeating the cold air, her body’s essence smoking in the cold room. The blood smeared on the pane of glass simmered with heat and then evaporated.

  The metamorphosis of the trapped visage happened in mere seconds. The old woman in the mirror stood upright before him, invigorated and renewed. Her loose, wrinkled skin tightened in an instant. The haggard façade gave way to a beautiful face of a woman in the vigor of her youth. Her vibrant blue eyes pierced Seam and filled him with an explosion of awe.

  She spoke with an authority that caused Seam to shake. “Take me back to Vale, Keeper.”

  “As you wish, my lady. As you wish.”

  ***

  Bronson's hands shook as he drove in silence back toward Vale. His king was resting in the back of the vehicle, his face hidden in the darkness. Bronson pushed on, reassuring himself every few minutes, but his mind whirled like a hurricane. He could not understand how Seam could be so close to the...thing he was transporting back to the capital. How could he even stand to sit so close to it? Whatever transpired between the new High King and the mysterious woman here at the Crossroads was now over, and to Bronson, it really didn't matter compared to the abomination that now shared space with them. How can I take this to Vale? Aleph above, what should I do? The entire night had been so unorthodox, first with the woman at the temple, and now this. Bronson knew something felt wrong when Seam came out of the temple.

  It felt like nothing at the time, just a pinprick of doubt in his mind, like a short blunt splinter that refuses to be wedged out of the finger it’s lodged in. It smelt of trouble, and Bronson’s intuition blazed with hot caution as Seam emerged from the shadowy ruin. What had it been that bothered him so much?

  He was smiling. That
was it. Seam came out of that dank dungeon with a smile on his face, as if he were in Aleph's gardens. He had been nearly giddy, in fact, laughing like a child who fooled his teacher. He spoke in rapid, short bursts, which were hard for him to follow. Then he heard his king’s command.

  "There's a mirror I need help fetching, Bronson! Follow me!"

  A mirror? From this place? What madness is this? What happened to the woman?

  He had been wise enough to hold his tongue as they descended deep into the dark, failing to mention that he sat for nearly three hours while Seam was occupied with the mysterious woman. Must be a lover, Bronson guessed. But where is she now? And now he wants me to fetch him a mirror in a cursed temple dedicated to the Old Ones. He would sooner fetch all the stars in the sky than to set one foot into that foul place. He shut his eyes in an effort to compose himself and followed his king without a word.

  After passing by the altar and main meeting room, Bronson followed Seam to a door obscured by the temple’s main platform.

  "The catacombs are down here. Watch your footing." Bronson plodded down the slick stairs into the hallway of carved doors. It was nothing Bronson had ever seen before. The etchings forced him to stop dead in his tracks in a potent mixture of awe and dread. Shadows danced in manic forms from the light of Seam's torch. Each carving seemed to vibrate and pulsate with malice and glee, and to Bronson it felt as if the walls were alive, breathing and beating with unnatural life.

  This place is cursed. The overpowering stench of mold and rot hung in the place, and the light of Seam's torch was an unwelcome visitor in the dungeon. Bronson’s mind whirled around another grave thought. The girl. Where was the Preost girl?

  All of it made Bronson's head ache with panic. Years of dutiful military service kicked in, forcing him to tamper down his emotions as he followed his king deeper into the darkness.

  The vibrating hallway fell into a small portico. A swift sound cracked in the darkness and Bronson saw something move. His hand shot down to his holster for his pistol. He pulled his weapon and threw the sights right on the stranger, only to realize that they too had pulled a gun. Seam unleashed a flurry of curses and screamed at Bronson before he could squeeze the trigger. The deep bellow echoed off the wet stone walls.