Keys of Candor: The Red Deaths

by Casey Eanes

  Mud bubbled up around Willyn’s chin and pressed in to swallow her lips. She took in a deep breath and unleashed the loudest scream she could muster, “LUKEN, please!” The slush seeped into her mouth, filling it with the putrid taste of salty mud and rotten leaves. She spit the sludge out and gasped for one last breath. But she lost the last gasp of air as a Morel smashed through the foliage in front of her and locked its terrible eyes on her. The constriction of the pit and the terrible sight of another Morel gloating over her made it impossible to breathe. Her mind tumbled the possibilities. She quickly decided that she would prefer to suffocate in her liquid coffin than have her last memory be being butchered by a morel.

  The large brute pressed forward as it stared at her. It was not a lowly drone, but rather a fighter, rippled with unnatural, pulsating muscles. It was the type that children told ghost stories about, stories that she thought, up until her recent two run-ins, were just stories. The fiend stared at her through the downpour. Flashes of lightning illuminated its sharp, outset teeth as its bloodshot eyes held her in its gaze. It flicked out its long, black tongue and took a resolute step into the mud.

  Willyn never feared conflict or even pain, but this was far from anything she had experienced before. She was like a netted animal waiting to be speared by its captor, staring into the eyes of whomever or whatever was about to end it all. She clamped her eyes shut, unable to look at the hulking brute that joined her in the hellish pit. She knew it would be over soon. The monster took its time as it carefully sloshed toward her, its long claws grasping out. Her heart quickened with each step it took.

  Only one question was asked behind her closed eyes. Where is Luken? Where is Luken?

  She could not open her eyes. She could feel the beast’s breath just inches from her face, sniffing at her, examining its next victim.

  A scream shot through the deluge, “NO!”

  Willyn’s eyes snapped open, only to catch Luken charging out of the woods from the corner of her vision. The Morel was face to face with her and turned as Luken pounced on him like a panther, swift and terrible. He grabbed the beast with his bare hands. In one swift motion he locked his arms around the creature’s head and dragged it out of the mud pit. The creature wailed in a low, guttural moan as it fought back, trying to pry loose from Luken’s barbaric grip. Luken threw his arms around the beast, wrenching down on it without mercy. He broke the brute’s neck in half and stared at the creatures that lurked in the bushes beyond the mud pit.

  Mud began to push up over Willyn’s nose as she tried to breathe in one last small breath. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes again as the mud seeped around her cheeks. Another wave of mud spilled over her lips and Willyn gagged. The bubbling cough made her think of Hagan and his terrible coughing spells.

  She had failed. Hagan was alone and dying in a Realm with no one to look over him. Hosp was pushing to eliminate their family’s line, and her family’s last hope was bound to the woman left to drown in a filthy bog. She failed in her quest to bring back the man with the answers to heal Hagan. She failed her family, her Realm. The pain of defeat collapsed in on her far harder than the bog that covered her, drowning her one cough at a time.

  “LEAVE US!” Luken screamed. Willyn could see nothing, and it was difficult to even hear Luken shouting. The screaming stopped and was followed by the sound of footsteps fading into the forest.

  What is he doing? Is he running? Is he leaving me? Gods. He’s too late…

  In a desperate attempt to escape the mud around her, Willyn threw a hand above her head and waved it, hoping to catch Luken’s eye. Through the rain she could hear his voice, calm and stern.

  “Go limp. Fighting it won’t help you. I have you now.”

  Willyn fought her instinct to try and thrash her way free one last time. She surrendered and relaxed her entire body. Luken grasped her and pulled her out up to her chest. She gasped, desperate for air as she splashed free and spit the horrid sludge from her lips. After a few additional tugs, she was finally free, breathless and sprawled out on the solid floor of the jungle. She clutched Luken’s shirt in her hands, refusing to let go, until her nerves settled and she was able to stand. All she wanted was to be close to him, to be safe.

  Willyn looked up at him as he sat next to her, panting for breath himself. He did not look the same. Despite the darkness of the jungle wrapping around them, there was enough light to notice that Luken appeared older, aged somehow.

  She croaked, her voice searching for strength, “What did you do, Luken? What happened?”

  Luken looked away from her eyes and answered. “Nothing. We have to go now. Now stay close! There isn’t much more time left.” He stood and set back toward the opening in the trees, leading to the beach.

  It did not take long for the cold, bitter wind to return Willyn to her senses as she followed behind him. How could anyone turn away a pack of Morels?

  Soon the two were clearing the trees and running across the beach toward Luken’s ship. Willyn ignored her earlier fear of water and splashed her way through the shallows back to the safety of the boat. Luken helped her make the swim and got her safely on board. Once on deck he directed her into the cabin to get warm.

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near the shoreline. If we can make it aboard in our condition, so can they. Lie down and rest. I will find somewhere safe to anchor.” The hatch snapped shut, leaving Willyn alone in the dark, cramped quarters of the little boat. As the engines fired to life she slid onto the cabin’s solitary cot and closed her eyes.

  The small skiff bobbed and swayed as it plunged out into the Endless Ocean. The waves slapped against its hull creating motion that would have normally nauseated her, but the exhaustion hanging over her was too much. It pushed away every sensation other than hunger.

  She tore into a box of dried fruit and quickly snapped up several handfuls before lying back down with her back against the hull of the boat. As the skiff started moving through the waves, Willyn surrendered to her exhaustion and crashed into a deep sleep with the rolling thoughts of Luken saving her drifting through her mind.

  ***

  The sound of a wave crashing jostled Willyn from her sleep. As she shook her head and glanced around the cargo hold, Luken was nowhere to be found. The small hatch to the hold was open as bright sunlight shone into the room.

  She crawled out of the hold and back onto the deck where she found Luken steering the boat over the calm, open waters of the ocean. He looked as fresh as when she had first met him.

  “Ah, you’re awake! How did you sleep? You went through a lot last night.”

  “Did you ever come down to sleep, or have we been sailing through the night? I never heard you.”

  Luken could not hide a wry grin as he answered. “Of course I slept. I would have to be a fool to try and steer this sorry ship through an ocean surge all night long.”

  Willyn stared at Luken, waiting for some further explanation, but he returned to steering the craft in silence. Willyn straightened out her tangled mass of hair and pulled it back into a tight ponytail as she walked to Luken’s side and checked the compass at his station.

  “East? I thought we still had a few more islands to the west? Plus, we found Grift’s tracks back on that island.”

  “Well, we did. But I don’t know that those were actually his tracks. It’s possible, but I think it is more likely our little houseguests last night had something to do with those.”

  “What about his jacket then?”

  “I never said he was not on the island, but I have a feeling he moved on. He very well may have stirred up the same Morel hive and decided to leave. Can’t say I blame him.” He flashed a stupid smile. “Plus, we never saw a boat anywhere. No chance he swam to that island, so he must have stolen a boat. If he did, we should have found it somewhere. I circled the island this morning but there was nothing. It’s a waste to go back.” He paused and then muttered as if to himself. “Plus, we have been called back inland.”
/>
  “What? Called back? We have three days! Filip gave us three days and we have only been out for two.”

  Luken’s eyes dropped and he cleared his throat. “There seems to be a problem. Normally I only take orders from him, but his son Evan contacted me. He said the agreement was off and we had to head back or they would send gunships after us.”

  “Gunships?”

  “I have no idea why. The only thing that I know is the fact that this boat will not be any use against gunships. Evan left me no choice.”

  “Since when did Elum threaten a two man skiff with warships? And how dare he threaten to fire on me?”

  Willyn turned and stared off the bow, straining her sight as if expecting to see one of the hulking gunships barreling over the horizon, firing in their direction.

  Luken revved the engine and they skipped across the waves. “I agree, something is not right. What is bothering me is my other radio lines are down and I can’t reach any of my spotters inland who were looking for Grift.”

  Spotters? Willyn was intrigued at Luken’s unspoken tactics.

  The long green coast of Elum peered over the horizon, and the palace grounds rose into view. The morning light set the palace walls aglow and it looked like a swelling fire as they grew closer.

  Luken’s radio crackled to life.

  “Inspector Luken, please bring your ship to a halt. We are sending a guard detail to give you clearance and escort you back to shore.”

  Luken responded, “Certainly, sir, but what is going on?”

  “Our guns are now sighted on your vessel. Avoid testing our patience. Do you copy?”

  Luken slammed the receiver into the console in front of him before picking it back up again and forcing a smile as he answered.

  “Understood. We copy.”

  Willyn looked at Luken, but his face revealed nothing. The only thing Willyn could find in Luken’s face was agitation. He was not worried or afraid, but it was obvious that he was exasperated by the ordeal.

  “What is this about, Luken?”

  “If I knew, I would tell you. Trust me.”

  A long, black dreadnaught rolled through the water toward their skiff, its guns pointed in their direction. A cold, electronic voice bolted out of a P/A system.

  “Drop your weapons and put your hands up, Willyn Kara of the Groganlands. You are hereby arrested for the conspiracy and murder of Filip Darian of Elum. Anything you say will be used against you in a fair trial. Come with us peacefully and we will see that no immediate harm is done to you.”

  Luken glanced at Willyn. “What did you do?”

  Willyn stood dumbfounded and mumbled. “I haven’t done anything. I have been with you from the moment Filip sent you to me.”

  Willyn looked out toward the oncoming warship, and her thoughts fell on Hagan. What am I going to do?

  She stared at Luken, searching for some insight. “Why would anyone kill Filip?”

  Luken’s eyes did not leave the mounted guns of the warship. He held up his hands in surrender. “I was wondering the same thing. So you don’t know anything?”

  Heat rushed to Willyn’s cheeks as she followed suit. “Of course not! I have one man I want to kill, and Filip is of no interest to me.”

  Luken rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to say...I mean. I meant maybe you had some intel of someone who would want to kill Filip.”

  Willyn’s mind whirled, adding up the score. First…Camden. Then Hagan. Now Filip.

  “Someone is attacking all of our leaders, Luken, and it would not surprise me if it was Grift. But why?”

  A shot rang out. A wall of water rushed up only ten yards away from Luken’s vessel. Willyn stood as the electronic voice boomed out over the waves again.

  “That was a warning shot. We will fire if necessary. Do not move. We are boarding now. You will be taken into custody immediately. Do not resist.”

  As the security boat pulled up, Luken spoke just loud enough for Willyn to hear.

  “Red Deaths.” He stared at her looking for recognition, but she looked at him blankly.

  “What?” Willyn had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Listen to me, Willyn. You must trust me now.”

  “Luken!” The soldiers were beginning to board.

  He whispered, barely audible. “Be patient. I have friends who can help. Just do as they say.”

  Five Elumite soldiers held their guns on the duo. One of them flashed metallic handcuffs around Willyn’s arms and led her off the ship. She glanced at Luken who stared back.

  A thought burned in her mind, a thought that sounded like Luken’s voice.

  Don’t make this situation any worse. Trust me. I’ll be there soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Every step was a new pang of torture. Kull’s ankle ignited with each movement he made as the party continued their monotonous march across the arid desert. His legs felt petrified as he willed them to keep up with Wael, Rot, and their driver, Arik, who were all walking steadily ahead of him.

  Wael called back, "We need to keep moving, Kull. We can't stop."

  All Kull wanted to do was stop. It took all of his willpower not to scream as the pain continued to ratchet up his leg. Nothing could sway Wael's firm resolve to keep moving through the shimmering heat of the Wasteland. He said nothing because in truth, he realized he had no choice. Stopping meant the possibility of another Morel swarm. That would be the death of them without the truck for protection, like falling into a barrel of spinning razor blades. The thought of them made him quicken his pace as much as he could. They had made steady progress during the morning hours, but with the heat of the afternoon Kull wondered how much he could keep going. The abandoned vehicle was miles behind them, and as the hours passed by, Kull could not shake the daydreams of riding in that dented, unloved rust bucket.

  The march was painful but uneventful. The landscape shifted in terrain as the day grew late. The desert dunes morphed into rolling rocky crags that pushed into a full valley of blistering red rock. Jagged walls of crimson rose around the road and shut out the wind and sun that had been beating down on them. Arik craned his neck up to gaze to the top of the canyon walls. His messy tangle of brown hair kept falling in his eyes as he spoke.

  “Always felt small in my truck. Now I feel like an ant. Welcome to King’s Canyon, kid. Almost there.”

  Kull forced a smile as he leaned in on his makeshift crutch. The ironwood staff he borrowed from Wael was an intricate totem of engraved symbols and runes etched deep into the dark grain of the wood. There was some sort of pattern to the pictures, but Kull could not begin to decipher their meaning. It was a wonder the old staff held up even after beating back the hoards of Morels that attacked them the previous night. Kull’s eyes darted across its carvings as he hobbled along. It was unbelievable to think any piece of wood could come out of the last night’s chaos without a scratch.

  “Hey Wael, how much farther?” Kull’s eyes mirrored Arik’s trailing up the high ridges of the canyon. “Not too crazy about being closed in. You know, just in case.”

  He took one last look over his shoulder worrying that the thought might bring them closer. He kept pressing forward, waiting on an answer.

  Rot bounded next to his master and looked back at Kull, but Wael did not answer. The party soon made their way through a winding valley, and Arik spoke to fill the void.

  “Don’t worry, kid. I promise we are almost there. I have driven this road a hundred times. We aren’t far.” Arik pointed at a distant ridge ahead. “Just look up there; it’s the Hangman’s Pass. We will be there soon.”

  Kull looked up at the cropping of rock that spread from one side of the canyon’s ridge to the other. Dozens of chains draped over the ridge, clinking in the breeze.

  “Hangman’s Pass?”

  “Yep. That’s the spot where the ol’ Grogans used to hang the prisoners of war they were finished with. Figured if someone wanted to invade they might think again after seeing their bud
dies hanging there. Pretty brutal, huh?”

  Kull’s eyes shot back to the rocks, his mind fearing what he would find there. Visions of his father flew in his mind, his body hanging there off the overpass, dead eyes staring blankly at Kull. A nightmarish scene shouting of his failure, his cowardice. His father's mangled body, swinging in the wind, and his mother’s cries of agony. He shook his head, trying to throw the thoughts out of his mind, but he could not help but to gaze up into the waterfall of nooses overhead, sighing to see that each of them was gratefully empty.

  I will not fail, he promised himself. They won’t take you, Dad; I’ll hang from that rock before you do. I won’t stop until I find you. His hand reached for his mother’s pendant, and he said a silent prayer for her. I hope Eva is taking good care of her. His mind flickered between his mother, Ewing, and Adley, but he ran from the homesickness that trailed him in the horizon of his mind.