Keys of Candor: The Red Deaths

by Casey Eanes

  “You’re awake too, eh?” Kull nodded but said nothing. He had to play this very carefully.

  He considered his words and spoke, “What do you think they are making us do?”

  “What, besides unearthing a bone yard? I know not, man. I know not.”

  “There has to be some purpose to it, don’t you think?” Kull’s mind began to spin at the sheer insanity of it all.

  “There is a purpose, ya. Must be, but I don’t know.” He shook his head with exhaustion. He looked at Kull and whispered, “What’s your name, ‘brother?’ We got to get through this; I should know your name.”

  “I’m Kull. You?”

  “Duncan. Nice to meet ya, Kull. Sorry ‘bout your friend.”

  Kull shifted in his seat and hung his head. “Me too. Thanks for your help when it happened.” Duncan’s help seemed so far off, as if years transpired in the days out in the bone pit.

  Duncan laughed and smiled a big toothy grin, “A lot a good a hundred credits is going to do me out here!”

  An old crone shuffled from behind them and whispered, “I tell you what they are a’doing, boys.”

  Duncan looked behind him, and Kull shifted in his seat. “Well, what is it, gran-ma?” said Duncan, raising an eyebrow.

  The old woman cackled like a dying dog and smiled wide, a hollow cave of gums. Kull could scarcely believe that this woman had survived the past few days. She cleared her throat and whispered, “Not so fast young-un. What’s me hear you say some-ting about one hundred credits?”

  “Oh, put a sock it in, gran-ma, I ain’t buying no stories off ya this day.” Duncan turned away, rolling his eyes. Kull blinked his eyes as questions rose in his mind but said nothing.

  “Suit ya self, but you’ll never know why the last thing you’ll do is dig up dese here bones. If this be our last days, I just thought you’d want an answer. I’ll tell you the answer fer only fifty, a real bargain since I know how much you got.” Her eyes squinted in a smile, but they were sharp like daggers. Kull could not help but smile at the crone’s bargaining, even now.

  Duncan huffed. “I’ll give you fifteen for your story, but that be it.”

  “Twenty and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Duncan looked at Kull, who shrugged.

  “Fine.” Duncan fetched the money and put it into her claw of a hand.

  “Such a good boy, such a wise boy,” she cooed as the money changed hands. “Thank ye. Thank ye.”

  Duncan huffed, “Well, go on, spill it. I want to know how foolish I am.”

  Kull forced down another laugh and looked carefully back outside at the workers. The past few minutes made him forget where he was, in a place where it seemed wrong to laugh at all. He stared at the crone, waiting for her answer.

  “Mark my words, boys; we are digging up a blood hex.” Kull looked at Duncan to try to catch the reference. Thankfully, Duncan was just as confused as he was.

  “What in Candor are you talking about, gran-ma?”

  “Boy, twearnt you ever told about de desert witches? They work blood hexes all up and down the Rihtian desert, making themselves powerful magic from the bones of their enemies. Mark me words, dis here be a blood hex. Made to ward others off, to keep people out, especially other witches. There’s something here that dese soldiers need, but they making us dig for it.”

  Kull spoke, “But what would a desert witch be hiding?”

  The crone laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know, boy, but it is something bad. The tales say the desert witches will hide powerful totems with a blood hex. Sometimes treasure too. But I ain’t ever heard or seen of one this big. I never seen the like of so many bones. Trust me, ‘dis is ill tidings. Ill tidings.”

  Kull whispered another question. “What will a blood hex do?”

  The crone whispered in the dark. “Terrible things for those who fall upon a blood hex. Some say the fools that step into one will go blind. Others say they will die right on the spot. Still others say that the hex only works on the true enemy of the witch, so it won’t hurt the innocent. Who knows what type a magic we are dealing with.”

  Kull looked at Duncan, who remained unimpressed. “Gran-ma, you are crazy. We are in the desert digging up bones when we should be in Elum picking peaches.” He looked out at the soldiers and shook his head. “These boys aim to work us to death or kill us first, whichever is easiest. It’s the baggers’ lot to suffer, and this new friendship between the Grogans and Lotte, well, it don’t think much of us. It don’t think much of us at all. Must be better for them to round us up and make us die.” A cloud fell over his face, vanishing when he turned back to the old woman. “The sun’s rattled what’s left of your brain, but you do tell a good story. I just wish it hadn’t taken me so many credits to hear it.”

  Kull winced at Duncan’s words as they stung at his heart and filled him with grief. As a boy he had not thought or cared much for the baggers. The past two days changed that, and it filled him with regret.

  The hag nodded and smiled, ignoring Duncan’s insult and slipped back into her seat. “Blessings upon ye both,” she whispered. “When we hit the marked bones, ye both will see the truth in my words.”

  A whistle blew out from the pit. The work shift would change again. Kull stood up with the other remnant of ragged diggers and cursed under his breath. He wasted whatever opportunity he had to conspire with Duncan. The crone’s distracting story made him lose his focus.

  Focus. You have to focus.

  Soon they were all corralled together, digging, scraping, and pulling the remains of bodies that had long been entombed below. The previous shift plunged the work another ten feet or so further into the earth, and still there was nothing but ragged, dry bones. Kull’s mind dissipated in the oncoming desert heat, and he realized that his dream of revolt was completely foolish. Another day of this and they would all be dead. Many could barely pick up their picks to swing, and those who couldn’t or refused received a bullet in their temple. There is no way to do this. There is no way out of this. He glanced around at the hundreds swarming in the pit, moving the layers and layers of the dead out from the earth.

  He looked and saw Duncan a few rows down from him, continuing to swing and break through the earth. Beside him was none other than ‘gran-ma.’ Her energy was fading fast. The shovel she held wavered in her weak arms, and she slowly pushed it into the chalky, white earth. Duncan whispered to her, and even though Kull could not tell what he was saying, he could see that he was trying to encourage her. It was painful to watch as Duncan kept trying to keep her going. Kull’s heart sank into his stomach as a soldier began to flow up through the rows of laborers, like a shark approaching his prey. Kull slid through the crowd toward Duncan and the old woman. Whatever was coming, he would be there to defend these two. He forced his exhausted body each step of the way through the mob.

  Don’t let him get there first. She can’t die. Not now. Move faster!

  Kull fell in line just a few feet from Gran-ma and Duncan as the guard made his approach. The man raised his face shield and barked orders at the old woman. Duncan continued to work but kept peering from the side of his eyes. After a failed swing of her shovel, Gran-ma dropped her shovel and fell to her knees.

  The soldier un-holstered his pistol. It was as if time slowed to a standstill. Kull had no time to think about what was coming next.

  First he looked at the guard, whose mouth, face, and eyes twisted up in a savage collage of power and hatred. The soldier reveled in holding his pistol to the head of this poor, weak woman.

  Kull’s mind went through the possibilities. A flickering thought flew within him. Let her die and live! He could not stomach it. He knew what he would have to do. Aleph, forgive me. It was his last thought before he made his choice.

  Kull pulled back his pick axe to take a swing at the ground, but at the last moment spun around, and his eyes met with Duncan’s for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity. He powered through his swing and rocketed th
e pick through the soldier. Kull’s mind flashed back to his father. A time will come when you have to use whatever weapon you have. The pick was bulky and awkward, but deadly efficient. As the pick nailed his enemy to the ground, the soldier held up his pistol and fired a single shot up into the air.

  In that instant the world within the pit erupted. The baggers who saw Kull’s brave act turned and poured out of their prison, pulling, clawing, and scraping their way up toward their captors, fighting for their freedom. The soldiers, slow to respond to the mad rush, began to rain a lethal spray of bullets down on the pit. Kull fell to the ground and covered his head. The soldier he struck lay beside him breathing weak, hollow breaths on the bed of bones beneath him. He stared at Kull as the light left his eyes. The soldier was Lottian, and Kull was filled with remorse as he saw the life leave him. Instincts took over and Kull swept up both the rifle and pistol of his fallen enemy and took aim at the pit’s ridge. His finger flickered over the rifle’s trigger five times and he watched as three more guards fell to the ground. The soldiers posted to the train abandoned their positions and flooded toward the pit.

  Several baggers managed to get hold of the sentries’ rifles and began trading fire with the remaining guards. The men trying to wield the guns were sporadic and firing in no particular direction, but it drew the attention of the majority of the soldiers lining the dig site.

  Kull scrambled to find Duncan. He was huddled over Gran-ma, who was trembling and heaving for breath. He covered her, shielding her with his broad shoulders.

  “Duncan! Is she shot?”

  “No, but she needs help. She’s having a panic attack, a bad one.”

  Kull flashed a glance back to the perimeter of the pit where the baggers were clearing out and fighting the remaining guards. There was a wide opening on the near side of the crater where he sniped the guards. As far as he could tell there was a clear line to the looming skyscrapers not far beyond the pit.

  “Duncan. Have you ever fired a gun?”

  Duncan screamed over the chaos, “No, man! Never!”

  “Well, you will today. You keep her safe. I will see you again.”

  Kull handed the rifle to Duncan, who took it and tried to hide the terror in his eyes.

  Kull scrambled for the ridge when he heard Duncan calling back for him. He turned back and saw him standing, shouldering the rifle.

  “Why did you do this? No one fights for baggers!”

  Kull’s mouth opened and words flew out faster than he could comprehend. “That changes today. Aleph fights for you, and I with Him.”

  Kull offered a nod before running as fast as possible to the lip of the crater. As he crested the ridge he was greeted by the boot of a Grogan guard. The kick sent him rolling back down the side of the rocky bone pit. He caught himself and sprung to his feet.

  The guard was bleeding from his shoulder. Kull’s earlier shot had not finished him off. The soldier had a club in hand and lunged for him. Kull ducked and kicked his feet out from under him. The man thumped to the ground and lay in the mix of bones and blood. As he tried to gather his feet, Kull shoved him to the ground and tried to grab the club. As he reached for the weapon, the soldier slammed the club against Kull’s face, and he fell to the earth like a load of bricks. He forced his eyes open as the soldier pulled him up by the shirt and landed a heavy punch in Kull’s stomach. Kull lurched, heaving for air. The soldier then hammered Kull’s head back up against the earthen wall and pulled out a long combat knife. He held it to Kull’s throat.

  “You think you can start a riot and live, boy? Huh? Not so big now, are you? Now I am going to gut you...slowly.”

  Kull threw his head into the soldier’s face. The crack of Kull’s head butt sent the soldier sprawling. The trooper reached out and grabbed for Kull, but only grasped the chain around his neck as he fell. The chain snapped, and the key tumbled to the ground and fell into the pit. Kull’s stomach dropped, and his hand reached for the broken chain. Kull breathed a slight sigh of relief when he realized he still had his mother’s pendant. The relief evaporated as his eyes swung back to the key. He had to get it back. He could not lose it.

  Get the key. Get the key.

  As soon as the key hit the bones, the pit quaked, and all the bones began to rattle with some unseen energy, releasing the sound of a thousand hollow drums clanking together in eerie unison. Kull shook his head, trying to fight the new vision as he questioned his sanity. The fighting ceased and the conflict stood still. Everywhere, each and every single bone joined in the chorus of percussion until it became deafening. A skull emerged from the pit, hovering off the ground right above where the key was laying. The skull floated as more bones began to join it, forming a mosaic of white death. Kull fell to his knees and tried to close his eyes to fight the onset of madness. He was certain that the heat and exhaustion had finally broken his mind’s last stronghold, but even as he fought to focus, the chorus of bones continued.

  The skeletal pillar stood ten feet high, and the original skull was swallowed within a flood of white faces that vibrated and undulated in unison as a hollow-socketed terror. Beneath the skulls came femurs, ribs, and vertebrae that connected and fused into one nightmarish body. As it moved it took the shape, form, and movement of a serpent. The beast roared with unnatural life, its many jaws moved in unison, speaking with a thousand voices.

  “THE KEY. RELEASE ME. COME, KEEPER, AND UNLOCK MY PRISON.”

  Kull snatched the key from the ground and held it up to the face of the bone serpent. He could feel himself being lifted by an unexplainable energy. He took a step toward the behemoth and shouted, “I will die before I release this key. You will not be awakened as long as I live!”

  The hundreds of jaws opened and closed as the serpent circled Kull, a chorus of clicking and popping bone. The thousand voices began crying out to one another, screaming with rage. Kull tightened his grasp on the key as the white-boned beast constricted in around him.

  “THEN DIE AND JOIN THIS PIT OF BONES. JOIN THE ONES I HAVE SLAIN.”

  The beast began to spin around him, sending waves of death over him, trapping him beneath its coils. It’s going to bury me! Kull pressed against the walls of bones, forcing himself through the sea of death. A strange instinct took over, and Kull held up both the Key and the emblem of Aleph. He screamed.

  “Release me! By Aleph’s name, release me!” Kull heard the words leave his mouth, but it was as if someone else was speaking through him. The bone beast let out a horrific scream and began to lose its form. Its once unified body began to disintegrate, and Kull held onto both the key and emblem with everything he had. The living nightmare rattled and collapsed to the ground with one last deafening scream, sending up a huge cloud of white dust within the pit.

  Kull stood, shaking all over, as the dust cleared. The sound of the dead was replaced by the chaos and violence of the living still fighting for their lives. Kull was motionless, his mind still trying to process what he witnessed there at the bottom of the crater. He could not move. All he could do was clutch the key and emblem to his chest. In an instant a battalion of reinforcements crested the ridge, the barrels of their rifles lowered directly at him.

  They called out, “You there! Lay down your arms! You are charged with inciting rebellion! Do not resist!”

  Surrender was the only option. Kull lifted his hands up, still holding his precious items as the soldiers swarmed over him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The lights lining a lonely hallway flickered to life as Seam and two of his guards approached a solid iron door at the corridor’s end. One of the guards popped a key into the door’s lock and clicked the bolt open, squealing its rust-caked hinges. Kull was chained in the corner of the room. The thin stream of light from the open door was enough to illuminate the anger on his face. His cheek bore a deep gash and his left eye was welted in a sickening hue of purple and black. As Seam paced into the room Kull’s one good eye bore into him with the look of a beaten dog ready to retaliate
. The two guards squeezed into the quarters and placed themselves between them as they continued to stare holes through one another.

  Kull fidgeted with the bindings around his wrists and grunted as he tugged at the wall. Seam smiled and chuckled.

  “Well, now I meet Kull, the son of Grift Shepherd. You have your father’s features, that’s for sure. No doubt you would love to kill me, just like he would.” Seam’s lips uncurled in a mocking smile. “That is what you would like to do, isn’t it? You Shepherds seem to revel in murder. The families of the guards you killed in the work camp will be happy to know that you will pay for your crimes. Justice will be rendered very soon.”

  Kull could not contain his anger. “Justice? You come to me to talk about justice? Where is the justice of putting women and children in work camps under gunpoint? Where is the justice for the baggers who lost their lives in the desert? You and your soldiers are monsters!”

  Seam stiffened, “Monsters, now? Bold words for a murderer. The men and women watching guard over that work detail knew it was filled with dangerous criminals such as yourself and that monk. The work provided was to be paid, but proper precautions had to be taken. Our guard detail proved to be most prudent seeing that you attempted to start a mindless rebellion with those baggers. If there are truly monsters in this world it is none other than people like you and your father.”