by Casey Eanes
Wael’s face fell and his eyes lost focus as he began to retreat back into his thoughts. He shook himself free to answer Kull.
“That, Kull, is what has haunted me this entire ride. I am afraid I know exactly who the source of information was.”
Kull straightened his back and set his gaze on Wael, “Who is it then?”
Wael shook his head and dropped his gaze, “I am not willing to accuse anyone at this point. I need closure, though, and must speak with someone once we enter Elum. But I will admit my suspicions are terrifying me.”
“You can tell me, Wael. Come on!”
Wael stiffened and took a deep breath before answering, “No, Kull. I am afraid I cannot. Not now.”
Frustration with the whole situation boiled to the surface of Kull’s skin as he groaned at Wael’s secrecy. All these secrets. Here I am stuck in the middle of this mess, and no one is willing to talk.
Kull huffed at the monk, “Can’t we just go back inside? This noise is driving me crazy and I can barely hear you.”
Kull reached for the handle to re-enter the train car, but Wael whisked it away.
“We will not speak a word of this around our Rihtian brothers inside. They, of all people, remember the truth behind the Serubs and would riot if the word left your lips. I am not going to cause a panic in there. We still have time, but we need to make haste once we arrive in Elum. I think I know where your father may have fled.”
“How much longer until we get there?”
Wael looked up at the desert sun, his mind calculating, “At this pace we have another day’s ride before we arrive.”
“What makes you so certain about the whole Serub thing? Was it something that Hosp guy said?”
“No, Kull. It was nothing he said. It is what he was wearing. His ring. It bore the serpent’s signet on it. No one wears the sign of the Serubs unknowingly. That ring was enough to cause me significant worry, but it was what the Reds revealed that worried me most. The Sar, Hagan, is dead. A Keeper. Willyn Kara has been convicted of killing the Elum dictator, Filip Darian; another Keeper. Camden, the High King of Lotte, is also dead.”
“But wouldn’t Camden’s son take on the mantle of Keeper?” Kull asked the question to help calm Wael’s concern.
Wael shook his head. “That does not give me comfort, Kull…I have often felt concerns with Seam’s fealty to Aleph and to the Order. He has a restless spirit, full of ambition and pain, and his father never settled on a new keeper to follow him. Even he did not trust his own son.”
Kull swallowed. “That leaves only you...and Dad.”
Wael nodded, “Precisely. We are in more danger than I thought, and we are running out of time.” Wael looked deep into Kull’s eyes, his face grim.
Kull tried to brush Wael’s warning away. “Danger? Wael, if it weren’t for you I would have been dead back on that truck when the Morels attacked. I’d rather be with you and take my chances. How can you say that?”
Wael placed his hand on Kull’s shoulder and measured his response.
“That man, Hosp, is behind these attacks. I sense he murdered Hagan and was behind the death of Camden and your father’s kidnapping. Don’t you see, Kull? They are rounding us up to take the things we bear in secret. This war is the cover they need to distract Candor from their true agenda.” Wael lowered his eyes, his face set like a grim stone. “These are Red Deaths, Kull. To murder a Keeper is a heinous crime; a Red Death is something that Aleph himself will not forgive. It is a precursor to dark days. Terrible things are coming; the Five are amassing their strength.” Wael shook his head and pinned his eyes on him. “Do not think that you are safe with me. I bear the most important piece of the Keys of Candor. I will be hunted down, and now Hosp knows where we are going.”
Wael slid back the right sleeve of his tunic, revealing an ancient steel arm brace that was intricately crafted with the weaving of iron ivy vines, serpents, and sunrays. The elaborate design of metal danced in the desert sunlight, the patterns moving and shimmering across the brace, as if it were alive. Nestled inside the living weave Kull could see a small key. Next to it were open slits just large enough to fit four additional keys. Kull’s heart beat fast, his breathing slowed, and his eyes filled with wonder.
‘This is the last Key of Candor, Kull. This is the only key that keeps the Serubs locked in their prisons, sealing away our world’s doom. If it falls into Hosp’s hands we will never again see joy in our lifetime, for the world as we know it will burn with the Serubs’ hate and malice for all mortal life...”
Kull’s mouth dried with fear. Seeing one of the keys filled his mind with a surge of panic he was not expecting. “I don’t understand. I mean, why can’t we just bury this key or just melt them down?”
“I wish it was that easy, Kull, but we have all been sworn to protect the keys with our lives, and they cannot be destroyed with any technology we have today. They were made by the Serubs, forged in another age, and the technology that could destroy such things has been lost to us.
“Why would the Serubs even make the keys? I mean, they keep them imprisoned, don’t they?”
“It was the Serubs’ folly that they made these keys, for it was Aleph himself who imprisoned them using their own creations. When the Five rebelled, they quickly conquered all of Candor, but their lust was not satiated. They wanted to reclaim the thrones that they left and destroy their brother who refused to fall with them. So they made portals to the Other Side. These keys were crafted in this world to serve as a bridge into the next. Remember when I said that the Serubs ushered in realities that should have never existed in Candor?”
Kull nodded.
“These keys are a prime example of that. They form a bridge to the other side. The Serubs’ ambition and desire was to destroy Aleph and reclaim the thrones that hold this very universe together. Their lust for power and worship was not quenched when they trampled our planet. But we must not lose hope.” Wael stared into Kull’s eyes and continued. “There is a prophecy. It has been prophesied that the Serubs would one day return so they could finally be destroyed, though I never thought it would be in my lifetime.” Wael held out his wrist for Kull to inspect.
“This key, Kull, I have kept bound to me since it was last handed down by the Order to me. This, I fear, is all they need now. We need to try and find your father as soon as we arrive in Elum and ensure that he is not only safe but that he also still holds his key.”
Kull’s mind throbbed as he tried to piece everything together.
“Why didn’t Hosp just attack us then? I mean, if that is what he was after he could have just had us arrested right then and there.”
Wael reached for the door handle to re-enter the train car.
“He might yet, Kull. The machinations that move that mind are greater than our own, I fear. Mark my words, he has something planned. I can only assume that he wants us to go to Elum. So when we arrive we must be cautious, but we need to regroup with your father and come up with a plan. We must move quickly.”
He held his hand on the door and looked back at Kull.
“Let’s get back into the car. We cannot discuss this further, but we must make every effort to rest. What lies ahead of us, I cannot see, but I know that we will both need to save our strength. So rest and wait. We will discuss this further when we arrive in Elum.”
Kull nodded and entered the train. He sat back down in the seat that the two had occupied and let out a long sigh. As the hours rolled by he saw the sun run its circuit in the sky and disappear beyond the horizon. The stars blinked into existence across the dark blanket of the night sky. It was clear, and it was beautiful, but to Kull, all of this seemed as distant as his mother and father. Wael was asleep and had been for hours, but Kull would not rest. Rest was impossible after learning the truth. The truth about his father. The truth about Wael. The truth about the Serubs. He kept feeling if he could take one deep breath the anxiety would subside, but nothing brought relief.
Are they re
ally real?
The question burned in Kull’s mind as he weighed out the possibility of what Wael had told him. If it was real, then the entire cosmos was in flux and he was in the middle of a war that was about to be waged. In the same hand he weighed out whether Wael was insane. Those two choices seemed to be the only rational options.
Wael is not insane. Kull knew Wael was coherent and honest. That only means that the Serubs are...
“Real.” He whispered to himself, staring out into the deep desert darkness that covered the world outside the hedgehog’s window. How did I ever find myself here? Kull thought to himself as he tried to close his eyes.
The desert night swept by them, and the blanket of stars continued its rotation, unaware that their existence and the powers that kept them spinning were in danger.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Seam’s gaze locked onto the acute gray eyes of the man approaching him. For many months they carefully calculated their moves, surgically plotting within the Realms they both influenced. Their plans had worked, each move confirmed by destiny.
It is meant to be, Seam thought to himself. My path is clear.
“I hope your journey was pleasant, Surrogator.” This first meeting felt disjointed, awkward. It was the first time Seam met with Hosp face to face. The Surrogator of the Groganlands had an unassuming if not diminutive look to him, a slight build, and wore a simple black robe that shimmered in the hot desert wind. His robe flapped in unison with the thin waterfall of hair that clung to his forehead. He was enveloped by a legion of Grogan bodyguards, whose eyes swept over the horizon.
Hosp bowed his head, showing the respect due to a High King. “My journey was long, High King, but I came as soon as you summoned. I am glad to see our two Realms can begin the peace talks. It is long overdue.” Seam’s skin bristled knowing that their charade would soon bear marvelous fruit. Seam walked in tandem with the Grogans toward a tent that had been pitched on the outside of the ruined city of Zenith, the long abandoned capital of Riht. The sight of the desert metropolis was breathtaking. Even the bones of the abandoned city skyline caused the men to stand in awe. The city’s broken buildings towered higher than anything ever constructed in the other Realms. They stood proud, still penetrating the heavens with boldness, refusing to be swallowed by the desert, refusing to let time forget the glory and the power of what was once the Rihtian empire.
The two autocrats stared out over the empty city sprawl in silence, the desert wind whipping around them like a hot, dry river. Bronson exited the tent and saluted the two leaders, “Welcome to Zenith, Master Hosp. King Seam, the tent is clear to enter.” Hosp spoke as he waved off his bodyguards, “At ease, men. I must talk to the High King privately. You are dismissed until further notice.”
The two plunged into the tent, leaving the guards to deal with the rushing desert heat. In a checked whisper Hosp spoke, “You’ve brought her, yes?” Seam’s skin crawled at the sound of Hosp’s voice as he mentioned the Serub. Such unquestioning adoration.
“I would very much like to see her.” An unashamed, hungry statement.
This sudden shift in Hosp’s conversation grated Seam. Here was the new sovereign of the Groganlands asking to see the goddess in the glass as if she were a treat to be doled out to a child. Fool. You have no idea what you are dealing with. Seam pointed to the dark inner chamber of the tent.
“Of course I brought the portal. The first of the five. I would have been unwise to leave it behind. There are already others hoping for its destruction.”
Hosp’s eyes grew wide as he pressed past Seam toward the inner chamber. Seam reached out an arm to block Hosp’s path and stepped in front of him.
“You will meet her in due time, my friend. But first, we must discuss how we will obtain the final keys. Our business is not yet complete.”
Hosp pushed past Seam’s blockade. “Our business can wait, High King. For hundreds of years my people have been denied our sacred practices.” He stared at Seam and sneered, “Have I not done enough for you?” Shameful venom began to drip freely from Hosp’s lips. “After all, didn’t I set the chain of events into motion that put you in your current station as High King?”
Seam threw out a small tense smile. “I am very grateful to you, Hosp, but what we must continue to focus on…”
“NO. No.” Hosp pointed a thin, crooked finger in his face. “Seam Panderean, you owe me this after all I’ve done for you. You at least owe me this opportunity.”
Seam shifted and looked away from the eyes boring into him, swallowing the fire roaring in his chest. “Fine. You have done much, Hosp, to help me, but the mirror is mine. I will allow you to enter…” Hosp smiled like starving dog. “…if you give me what I most desire.”
“Only name your price, High King.”
Seam’s mind whirled, and he forced himself to remain calm and cordial, burying his excitement. “Your keys.” Seam knew that Hosp held not only the Key of the Grogans, but also the Key of Elum. Filip Darian hadn’t bothered to instruct his son of the Order’s importance. It was a duty that could wait until tomorrow, washed away with the never-ending bottles of liquor that Filip loved. That tomorrow never came for Filip, and Seam had it on good authority that Elum’s priceless heirloom had been given over to Hosp without a second thought from Evan upon his father’s death.
Hosp scowled, his eyes drawn into daggers. “So, this is how it is then?” Seam did not break his stare, but only held out his hand.
“Fine. If this is your cost, I gladly pay it.” Hosp handed over two small keys, one as red as Rhuddenhall, the other shimmering with a translucent blue-green of the ocean waves. Seam could not believe it. Hosp handed over the two keys as if they were nothing. He looked down at the objects, his heart stoked with joy.
He turned to Hosp and asked, “I take it that you know how to summon her, then?”
Hosp let out a low chuckle. “Of course. I come prepared to make an offering on behalf of my people.” His hand fell down to a dagger housed on his belt.
Seam nodded, but his eyes locked on the dagger’s hilt. It was the same in appearance as that of his attempted assassin. “Well, then I will leave you with her. I will wait outside the tent, but we must soon discuss the details of the remaining keys. We are running out of time.”
“I understand. Thank you, High King. You are most generous.” Hosp’s voice trailed off as he let himself into the back chamber of the tent, leaving Seam alone with his thoughts.
Seam stood outside the entryway and weighed his options. I do not trust him. His grip tightened on the two new keys. A kinder voice came into his mind. Let him look in the mirror. What can he do?
Yet, he still was not convinced. No. Hosp could not be trusted. Even though he handed over the keys without hesitation, Seam long understood that to deal with Hosp was like taming a cobra. A skillful dance of checks and balances that, in the end, might lead to death. Not my death. With that one thought, Seam slipped between the layers of the inner tent and positioned himself in a dark, far corner of the inner room where he could observe Hosp’s true intentions. Hidden in the darkness, he observed his cunning ally.
Despite the heat of the desert invading the outer chambers of the tent, the inner chamber was unnaturally cold. The portal sat at the back wall of the room, inviting Hosp to penetrate deeper into the shadows. Hosp took his time approaching the mirror pane, sliding his dagger from its sheath. His breathing deepened with each step. His eyes were locked on the mirror. It was the only thing separating him from his god.
He reached the portal and ran his hand down the glass, looking into the clear reflection. Even in the darkness Seam could not help but notice the grin that crept across his countenance. Hosp reached for his heart and could feel it pounding as he leaned in and placed his cheek against the shimmering pane.
“I have come, my Queen. I am here,” he said. His whispered tone was so quiet he could barely hear himself, “I knew you had to be the first. I have dreamt of this day. You have my full
loyalty and service. I give myself to you and your cause.”
Hosp grasped the blade of his dagger in his hand and sliced his palm. Blood flowed from his open hand and dripped to the desert earth. He pressed the wound to the mirror. The mirror clouded and sizzled with violent energy. The mist of the mirror gathered into a shroud that encased the form of Abtren, hiding her pure countenance from his vision. Her form stood stoically as Hosp bowed his head, keeping his palm pressed to the glass in silence.
Her words cut through the darkness. “I know who you are, Hosp of Intryll. I know your journey. I now know your pain. Why have you awakened me?”
Hosp lifted his head and stared at the vaporous form on the other side of the portal. He strained to see past the mirage for a glimpse of Abtren herself.
“Abtren, my Queen. I come as your humble servant. A servant of the coming Dominion. Your Dominion. I have come to free you.”
