by Casey Eanes
“Don’t speak of my father!” Kull lunged at the king, but the bindings snapped him back to the wall. “You call me a murderer? After all you have done and conspire to do?”
Seam blinked. What does this whelp know?
Kull smiled madly, allowing the truth finally to reveal itself. “I know what you want, Seam. I know your secrets. I know what you did to your father, and I know what you seek to do.” Kull looked at the guards standing next to the High King. “He wants to free the ancient Serubs for his own power. These wars, these deaths across the Realms; everything we have experienced is his doing.” The guards shot uneasy glances at one another, but remained mute. Kull continued, “I know you conspired with...”
Seam’s fist smashed against Kull’s cheek and reopened the gash under his eye. Kull’s head bobbed back and he opened his mouth to speak again before Seam landed another blow across his face. Kull slumped over as Seam reached and grabbed his face. The High King’s eyes simmered with hatred.
“Don’t you dare accuse me of warmongering! You are a fool and have no idea what you speak of. If you ever speak to me that way again, I will personally end your life.”
Seam tossed Kull’s head back as his eyes began to flicker back with consciousness.
Seam spoke, brushing himself off, “That monk seems to have been quite effective in brainwashing you with his religious nonsense.” He drew in a deep breath and motioned for the guards. “No matter. You and your lot are precisely those who would want to keep us straddled in this dark age, where division takes root. Your petty religion shuts out our only hope for true salvation; ourselves. Your kind would keep us in a world of war. But your time left on Candor is short.” He barked his commands to the guards, “Take him to the Spire’s pinnacle. I want to make sure he witnesses Candor’s bright new future before he dies for his crimes.”
The guards stooped down and unlocked Kull’s bindings from the wall. Each of the hulking soldiers locked a binding to their belt before standing him to his feet. Kull fought to lift his aching head and spat at Seam’s feet.
“Wael was right about you.”
Seam lunged and grasped Kull’s neck. Slowly, he began to squeeze. As Kull coughed and sputtered Seam leaned in next to his ear and whispered.
“The Mastermonk is a fool, and his little charade with you has failed. I think you will enjoy getting to see him again. Please, when you do, be sure to tell him how you could not keep his little secret safe.”
Seam released his grasp and drew out the thin chain hanging from Kull’s neck. He grasped the key and held it in front of Kull’s face. The corners of his mouth curled up in a sneer as his eyes slid from the key back to Kull.
“You failed, Shepherd. Just like your father. You failed.”
With one quick swing he snapped the key from the chain and tucked it away in his pocket. His mother’s emblem and the broken chain fell to the floor, but all Kull could do was stare at the key with agonizing rage. He jumped for it but was thrown back to the cold floor by the soldiers chained to him.
“NO! Give that back!”
A heavy hand slammed down on the back of Kull’s neck, sending him face first into the cement floor. Through the fog of his swollen eye and aching head, Kull glimpsed his mother’s emblem. At least he could hold onto the memory of her, even if he was destined to die at the hands of Seam. He slid his hands to steady himself and clasped the necklace before making one more lunge for Seam. The guards hurled him back to the ground and laughed at his desperate attempts.
“Take him upstairs, men. I will return shortly.”
Kull was pulled back and dragged down the hallway. Seam looked back over his shoulder as Kull was taken away. All Grift Shepherd’s son could do was scream for his release.
Kull’s rage felt incredibly distant to the High King, whose hands shook as he held another Key of Candor. He tried to calm himself from falling into a panic of sheer joy.
Breathe, Seam. Breathe. It is almost time. Mankind has been waiting for this moment. The hour is near. Human weakness will be broken and order and perfection will soon be within reach. Breathe. Just breathe. This is your moment.
There was only one key left. The one that eluded him the longest. The one he thought would have been the easiest to possess, even easier than the key he received from his father’s unfortunate end. The one held by Grift Shepherd.
He pressed his datalink and it came to life with a crackle.
“Yes, sir?”
“Bronson, I want a report on Grift Shepherd’s whereabouts immediately. Have you found any trace of him in Elum?”
“Sir, I just received word that Shepherd has...well...it appears he has freed Willyn Kara from Filip’s palace. They have escaped by sea. I’ve called in a small fleet of cruisers for pursuit.”
“Excellent, Bronson. Route them and hold them in position. I want you to send an extra detail of soldiers to reinforce the Elumite navy. I want to capture them alive.”
“Understood, sir.”
“I also want to ensure that you take a recording team. I want all of Candor to witness this final capture. Lotte will watch me bring this traitor in myself.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the datalink. “Come again, sir?”
“You heard me, Bronson. I’m going to Elum. Make sure an airlift is ready for me within the hour. I plan to land on the lead cruiser. I will deal with Grift myself.”
***
Grift peered over the broadside of Luken's ship, squinting against the glare of the sun bouncing off the waves. He sighed and hung his head.
"The horizon is clear, Luken. No sign."
Luken shook his head. "They are coming, Grift."
Grift threw his hands down on the handrails of the vessel, squeezed them, and walked away.
Luken spoke, his voice void of emotion. "We have to make a decision. We don't have the firepower to stop an entire fleet. We don't have the speed to evade them either.” He glanced down to the cabin beneath them. “Willyn is too weak to be any aid to us. What were you expecting us to do? I tried to tell you we needed to stay close to the coast.”
Grift ran his hand through his shaggy, graying hair and breathed in the salty air.
"We have to outrun them, Luken. We have to try to make it to Preost. It's our only hope."
***
The Endless Ocean stretched out below Seam’s transport, and he could make out the shape of Luken’s skiff on the horizon. It was being followed by over twenty-five mammoth warships. As the plane made its descent to the lead vessel’s deck, Seam reactivated his datalink and dialed in a new contact. Hosp’s pale face filled the screen. His recovery was ongoing but slow, and his glossed over eyes gave evidence to his pitiful state.
"I have them, Hosp. They should be in my hands upon the hour's end."
"See that you bring them in alive, Seam." Hosp’s head bobbed as he struggled to keep his head lifted.
"Of course." The sight of Hosp’s pathetic physique provided Seam with a burgeoning sense of power. He labored to produce a façade of concern, “Hosp, your condition looks poor. Are you sure you are well?”
"I am fine. Contact me as soon as you have the terrorists in your hands." Hosp coughed.
“Understood. How is the conflict with the Red resistance?”
“Tumultuous, to say the least, but that thorn will soon be plucked from our side, given enough time. My forces still hold Rhuddenhall and are pressing into the Reds’ territory.”
“Keep it quiet. The last thing needed is word to spread of a civil war during this time of peace.”
“It is handled, Seam,” spat Hosp as he broke into a fit of coughing.
“See that it is.” Seam shut the datalink screen as the plane landed on the carrier’s runway.
A torrent of Elum navy officers spilled out onto the deck of the warship to greet Seam. As his plane landed, Seam saw the crew line the landing zone and salute. As soon as the plane stopped Seam slid back the plane door and stepped onto the deck. An Elum
ite admiral bobbled over to him. He was a slim, sickly looking man with a weasel face. Seam read him in an instant. Subservient. Manipulative. His small, squeaky voice only sealed Seam's opinion of him.
"King Seam, we have the terrorist vessel in our sights. If it would please His Royal Highness, we can commence to firing on them immediately."
Seam snapped his head back and laughed.
"Absolutely not, Admiral. These are not mere terrorists who deserve death. They are terrorists who must be tried in the court of law. After all, how can we legitimize our continent’s new peace if we do not honor even our enemies? Prepare your men to board their vessel. I want them all taken alive."
The admiral saluted the king with an awestruck stupor. "Very good, your highness."
Seam could feel the warship’s rotors engage as it jettisoned toward his prize. He smiled and sealed his thoughts with a nearly silent whisper.
"I have you now, Grift."
***
Grift peered through a pair of binoculars to scan the ocean’s choppy horizon. Grift cursed at the site of the ships growing on the horizon and called out to Luken, "How many rounds do we have?"
Luken was fumbling beneath him in the cabin of the ship, causing a racket underneath. He called back sarcastically. "Do you really want to know, Grift?"
Willyn stood by Grift's side, her arm bound in a sling. She stared at him, the man she chased all over Candor. He evaded her against impossible odds. She allowed herself to look out into the sea. The armada presented itself over the horizon and the distance between the vessels was shrinking by the minute. In front of them were the taunting tides of the Endless Ocean. The question that burned in her heart could not be silenced anymore.
She spoke, "Grift, how long will you let this go on?"
She was met only with a hot glare and cold silence. She stared at him and shook her head.
"Grift, you know we can't win this. We will be surrounded!”
His eyes burned as he stood up straight and pointed to the ships coming from the horizon. "They are planning to make a spectacle of us, Willyn."
Willyn threw her hands in the air. “So what are we supposed to do?"
"I don’t know!” He stood looking over the water at the oncoming ships, his mind piecing together a plan. “Well, if it's a show that they want, let's give them a show." Grift called below deck. "Luken!"
A muffled reply from below reverberated beneath them.
“LUKEN!”
"What!?"
"Get back up to the helm. Bring the ship about. Let's force their hand. Let’s see how peaceful their alliance really is. Let’s have all of Candor witness this new peace that Seam and Hosp offer our people.”
Luken climbed back up to the deck and shook his head as he chuckled.
"I did always like your style, Grift.” Luken looked at Grift and Willyn. His hands flew over the ship’s controls, setting the course. In one swift movement, the ship changed directions, turning to face the oncoming fleet of the Elum navy. “Our course is set. We will make our last stand below deck! Let them come down to meet us!”
The three made their way below deck and braced themselves for what was to come.
***
Seam stood at the bow of the lead battle cruiser and from a distance he could begin to make out the shape of Luken, Grift, and Willyn moving from the cabin to the deck and back again on their small craft. Adrenaline charged through his body, surging down his arms as he gripped the bow. The small yacht only sat out about half a league in front of them, and they were pushing forward.
Soon all the Keys of Candor would be his. He would be the Keeper of the Keys. He would command the power of the Serubs and control his destiny. He would control the world’s destiny.
In a flash, Seam saw Luken’s small ship's boom fly across the deck as its sails quickly emptied out of the wind and then refilled, rocketing the small vessel as it turned around. The ship's stern leaned precariously as it swung into its bold maneuver.
What are they doing? The bold decision to charge caught Seam off guard. After all, there were over twenty-five vessels in their fleet. What could possibly compel them to make such a foolish move?
"Sir." The squeaky mouse admiral appeared, awaiting instruction. "The targets are heading straight to us. I await your orders."
Seam’s composure remained stone cold. "Very good, Admiral. Command your men to batter into their vessel. You and your troops will come aboard and disarm them. My detail will then personally escort me onto their ship, and I will apprehend these terrorists myself."
A flash of shock flew over his face, "But sir, are you sure..."
Seam cut him off. "You have your orders, Admiral."
The admiral’s mouth hung open until delivering an affirmative, “Yes, sir.”
The yacht bounced across the water and quickly approached the cruiser.
“Now, Admiral, measure your approach accordingly. Grift is known to be quite crafty. Disable their engines and do what you can to put holes in their sail. I don’t want to smash through their vessel. I do not want them dead. The people of Candor need to see the bloodied faces of those who started this whole conflict, but I don’t want it to be messy, understood? Now, cut their engines.”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral scurried away from Seam and began chirping commands to the gunners overhead. The metal artillery chutes groaned to life as they positioned to fire on the renegade boat challenging the king’s fleet. Seam looked up to see the barrels of the large guns swing into position. The ship’s deck began to vibrate softly underfoot. A high-pitched ringing sound rolled out of the cannons that began to charge, their barrels glowing a dark blue.
Gunners on large machine guns unleashed a torrent of gunfire that ripped through the small vessel’s sails, tearing it into a shredded collection of rags.
A low thump blasted Seam’s eardrums as six cannons fired simultaneously, sending their payloads over the waters. Four of the six electric EMP charges hit the waters around the yacht, sending bolts of energy flying across the water, skipping over the waves like a glowing blue sea serpent. Two of the shots registered, slamming into the boat, cascading blue arching energy from bow to stern. The yacht showed no sign of structural damage, but the rounds met their mark. The ship’s pace abruptly slowed, leaving the vessel helplessly bobbing in the waters, waiting to be overtaken.
There was no movement on the deck, and the small boat sat splashing and rocking in the water like a child’s toy. Twelve armed guards assembled behind Seam awaiting orders to board.
The fleet surrounded the yacht with their cannons trained on it, ready to annihilate anything or anyone that dared challenge the oncoming capture. Four small vessels carrying a dozen soldiers dropped in off the side of the lead battleship. Soldiers clad in black swarmed over the side of Luken’s boat and onto its deck. They slid effortlessly across the vessel and positioned themselves around the cabin door.
“Hold. Hold.” Seam cried out. “I need to board. I want to ensure they are taken alive.”
The soldiers shuffled around the door as they waited for the next set of orders. One of the men in the unit broke off formation and took a vessel back to Seam’s ship to allow him to board. As he climbed down into the black raft, the soldier dipped his head and addressed his leader.
“My apologies, sir, but we were under the understanding that we were to clear the boat, apprehend the suspects, and then allow your entry. We don’t desire any injury to the king.”
Seam rebutted, “I understand, Lieutenant, but I believe that now more than ever the people of Candor need to see their leaders are not afraid of punishing those who wish to harm them. I will allow your men to go ahead of me, but I need to be on that boat as we make the capture.”
The soldier saluted and answered, “Yes, sir. We will breach, enter, and call once all clear.”
Seam nodded, “Very good.”
The skiff bounced against the side of Luken’s yacht and Seam pulled himself aboard. The
media drones hovered overhead as Seam climbed on deck, the terrorists still alive and armed on the boat with him. Seam’s heart raced knowing the entire continent was about to see his bravery. After the capture of Grift and Willyn, no one would be able to question his authority. This one act would cement his standing as the true head of the new alliance.
