by Casey Eanes
Gasping, Kull banged on the outer window of the truck, causing hot pinpricks of light to stream across his vision.
“Cut the engine! I SAID CUT THE ENGINE.”
The driver glanced back at Kull. His eyes scanned the truck bed, and he slammed his foot on the brake. He careened the vehicle around and pushed back down the road, shining his headlights on Rot and Wael. The driver brought the truck to a stop, idled for a minute in disbelief only to scramble out of the vehicle in utter amazement.
“Did...did you...jump off the back or fall off? I mean, I saw the way you were chopping those things down. It was, it was, um. I mean. Wow!”
Wael walked up towards the driver and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry about your cargo, my friend.”
The scruffy driver stared up at Wael and smiled. The smile grew wider and wider until he broke into a string of laughter. Trying desperately to breathe, he looked back up at Wael and croaked, “Cargo. Ha. I’m just glad to be alive! I’ve driven this road dozens of times and have never seen a swarm like that. Something ain’t right. Never in my years have I seen a swarm that big.”
Kull was still lying in the back of the truck as he strained to hear the conversation happening between the two men outside. He tried to look from his position, but after losing his rush of adrenaline, the pain in his foot surged
How am I ever going to get to Dad now? The thought sent him careening into a panic. He had seen his dad! He shot up and looked around the truck bed. It made no sense. He had seen him, heard him speak…but yet.
He showed me my rifle. His mind whirled, mixed with both hope and terror when Rot jumped up into the truck bed and began to cover him with slobbery licks and intrusive sniffs, his stump of a tail wagging. The dog’s pungent odor hit Kull like a batch of dead fish. Kull gagged and screamed, pushing the dog off of him.
“Get off me, Rot! You smell awful.”
The dog panted and bellowed up a howl into the night sky before sitting down on the truck bed. A nasty waterfall of drool puddled onto the truck floor, and the dog happily panted, as if nothing had happened. Kull could not help but laugh at the paradox of the dog’s nature. One moment he was dismembering freakish monsters and wagging his mangy tail the next.
“I’m glad at least one monster likes me,” Kull said out loud. He could not help but have new respect for the dog that had alone killed five morels in such quick succession. Kull sat up and slowly slid himself to the back of the truck. As he slung his legs over the tailgate, pain rolled up like fireworks and he stopped, lying back down.
“It’s broken. Oh, it’s broken.”
Wael ran up to the truck with the driver and looked at Kull. “There is nothing we can do right now, Kull.” He looked at the driver. “Do you have any medicine?”
The driver shrugged. “We don’t keep many medical supplies on the convoy. I might have some bandages, though.”
“Go get them. Now.” Wael pulled a small satchel from his robe. Kull tried to pick up his head to see what he was doing.
“Lie down, Kull.”
Kull obeyed, but he watched as Wael pulled out some herbs and leaves. He began to chew it and then he spat the contents out onto Kull’s ankle. Relief from the pain flooded over him like a cold wave of water.
Kull wanted to get up and look at his ankle, but Wael held him down on the truck bed.
“You can’t move. You need to stay still until we get to a safer place.” Wael bound up the ankle with gauze.
“Kull, you did what most young men would not have been able to stomach back there. You have my thanks.” The comment was earnest, and Kull could see that Wael was sincere. “How is your leg feeling now?”
“Well, it feels broken, but I’ve never broken my ankle before, so I can’t know for sure. It’s busted up pretty good; I mean you saw all that blood.”
Kull’s mind thought back to Adley. She had been worried that Kull would get himself killed and in less than two days it looked like her worries had almost been confirmed. Kull vowed he would never tell her about this if he ever saw her again.
“We will take a look at it when we get into the Groganlands.” Wael spoke to the driver, “We will take a few minutes to rest and collect ourselves, but we will need to start moving soon if we want to avoid being ambushed again.”
Anxiety rushed over Kull. He continued to think about the first one he shot down, the female. He never killed anything in his life except for the animals he hunted. The thought that he had just killed what had once been a human overwhelmed him. He coughed violently as his anxiety made way to sickness. An explosion of vomit came from him, slapping out onto the side of the road.
Wael placed his hand on his back and leaned down next to him.
“It is okay, Kull.” Wael spoke as if reading his mind. “They are not human. You did what you had to do. If you had not acted we would all most likely be dead right now. We needed your help.”
Kull wiped his mouth and looked up at Wael. He spit the remaining filth from his mouth, trying to collect himself.
“They sure look enough like us.” He stared at Wael, reading his face. He could tell that he was exhausted and just as undone as everyone else. “I want to get as far from this place as possible. I’ve had enough.”
“Me too, Kull. For this day at least.”
Kull let his head fall down on the truck bed where he hoped it would stay for the rest the trip; all the way to Rhuddenhall. His eyelids were heavy, but he feared that if he closed them all he would see were more morels. Sleep won as the truck rambled on through the night, and Kull soon found himself drifting off; dreamless.
He awoke to the first light of dawn. They made it through the nightmare, and Kull could hardly believe his luck. It was a short lived victory as a loud pop and hiss sounded from below the truck, followed by the unmistakable flapping sound of a fresh flat tire.
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 they 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 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.