Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  Seam limped to the console, and Kull heard the large datalink display hum again with life. Hosp’s voice slithered through the cold room.

  “What happened, Seam? Where are all the prisoners?” Hosp’s voice was direct and irritated. “Where are the keys?”

  Seam huffed at the inquiry and pointed to Kull. “The keys are mine. We have all we need for now, Hosp. The others are of no consequence.” The High King held the bracer aloft, his face alight in the cold green hue of the screen.

  Hosp’s eyes narrowed and his face fell into a scowl, “How can you brush off losing these terrorists? This is no simple matter, Seam!”

  “Oh, but it is.” Seam slammed a button on his datalink. “Let me show you how simple all of it is, dear Hosp.” Seam leaned his head down to the device bound on his left arm. “Bronson, send in the guards assigned to guarding the mirror chamber.”

  A small electronic question cracked back, echoing through the room. “Sir?”

  Seam roared into the device like a madman. “You heard me! Do it now!”

  “Yes, sir.” Seam’s servant stammered under his master’s rage. The electronic voice shot back to the High King, “Beor and Kalam of the Groganlands were assigned. I’ll radio them both to report back to you immediately.” Seam nodded and closed his eyes, his bruised and broken face reflecting back from the two panes of glass that stood like monoliths in the pinnacle chamber.

  Kull grew restless, unable to stomach the stagecraft of the tyrant. He willed his body to stand and push through his pain. He threw himself weakly against his chains, crashing again to the floor.

  He coughed violently, his lungs screaming with protest, but he forced himself to speak. His voice trembled, but it grew with each word. “If you’re going to kill me, Seam, just go ahead and do it.” He threw his arms out against his bindings a second time. His voice grew like oncoming thunder. “You need guards to kill me?” He glanced at the face of the Surrogator. “You think you need him? Kill me yourself you COWARD; sacrifice me to your monsters in the mirrors! Do it yourself if you can.” Rage shook through him as he spoke, and the urge to fight again swelled within him.

  Seam kept his back to Kull, but raised his head and laughed. Hosp’s face was painted with confusion as he peered through the datalink connection.

  Hosp’s words whisked through the room, “What exactly are you doing, Seam?”

  Seam stared back at the huge face of the Grogan Surrogator on the screen and sneered. “I’m issuing a new age for Candor, Hosp.” Seam turned, pinning his blood-red eyes on Kull who stood trembling, filled with rage and fear on the metal platform in the center of the room.

  “You think I want to kill you, Kull Shepherd? Oh, you are sadly mistaken. You might wish I had killed you before the end, but now I have much more useful plans for you. Useful and extensive plans.”

  The chamber door opened and two guards stumbled in, their faces like ghosts. The men loafed toward Seam and offered a trembling salute. The taller one, the one who had been so coarse with Adley, spoke first.

  “Officer Beorn, reporting for duty.”

  The shorter stout soldier saluted the king a second time, his voice barely above a whisper. “Officer Kalam.”

  Beorn continued, “Your command, sir?”

  Seam smiled, his eyes flashing bright with sudden interest. “Yes, my friends, please come up to the platform. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Kull could not look away as the two men dutifully followed orders. He knew what was coming.

  Seam smiled widely, his face like a crocodile's. “You both were assigned to keep watch over the prisoners.” The two nodded in silent agreement as the signs of fear flared on their faces. “Then answer me this,” his finger shot out toward Kull, “how did he get out of his bindings?”

  The taller guard nodded. “Yes, sir. He was secure, sir, I assure you. We checked his bindings twice.” He glanced over at his fellow soldier who nodded, his face full of panic.

  Seam shook his head, his eyes like daggers. “How did he use this under your watch?” Seam tilted his head, motioning for an answer as he held up the lock pick Adley had slipped to Kull.

  Beorn stammered, searching for an answer, some explanation that would work, but he came up short. “I’m sorry sir, but... I... I don’t know.” Beorn glanced at Kalam, whose face remained stoic and disinterested.

  Seam spoke, shaking his head. “That’s a pity.” Seam’s black blade sliced through the air and severed Beorn’s head in one swift motion. An explosion of blood poured out of his lifeless body as it fell to the ground. His body’s red reservoir rushed out with each fading heartbeat to fill the troughs hewn in the metal floor.

  Seam stared at the remaining officer as he wiped his blade clean. “Now. Officer…what was your name again?”

  Shock kept the soldier’s feet nailed to the ground.

  “Kalam…sir.”

  “Yes. Officer Kalam. I want you to think very hard. It is of critical importance that I learn how Kull Shepherd received this lock pick.”

  Kalam’s wild eyes stared at the blade in Seam's grasp. His life depended on his statement, and his mind exploded with dread. Out of the chaos, the answer revealed itself. The nurse.

  “The nurse, sir. The nurse you ordered for the prisoners must have slipped it to him.”

  Seam threw the pick across the room, balled his fists and screamed, “I…ordered…no nurse! What was her name? I want it now!”

  Kalam stuttered as he labored to remember the girl’s name, her clearance code, anything that would help him.

  He spoke, his words fumbling with cowardice, “I…I don’t know, sir, but she was young. She had brown hair.”

  Seam’s brow creased in fury as he grasped Kalam’s shoulder. He lifted the blade to Kalam’s throat as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “That is of no use to me, Kalam. Do you know how many young brunettes are running around Candor?” His blood red eyes broke from the soldier’s. “I have no time for this. You have failed me.” He looked into Kalam’s face and his face softened. Pity replaced the look of rage. “You’ll have only one more chance to serve me well.”

  Relief washed over Kalam for a moment. He exhaled with joy, but as he lifted his eyes, Seam drove the ebony sword through his chest. Kalam wheezed for breath and grasped at the blade’s hilt before falling to the floor, joining his comrade at the king’s feet.

  Seam wrenched the sword from Kalam’s chest, wiped the blade clean and returned it to his side. He was careful not to sully his boots as he stepped over the bodies beneath him and made his way back to the datalink screen. Hosp’s voice droned through the speakers.

  “This is what you wanted to show me, Seam? That you can slaughter my soldiers at your whim?”

  Seam shook his head. “Failure will no longer be accepted under our rule, Hosp. These two paid for their errors. So will all who choose to idly serve us.”

  Hosp sneered, “Killing them does not bring us any closer to capturing those who have escaped!”

  Seam chuckled, “The terrorists who escaped are of no consequence. We are in possession of the keys. All the keys! And we have two of the five celestials. Those fools are powerless. Let them run and hide.” Seam glanced at the river of red flowing into the etched troughs. “Killing your soldiers has other uses though.”

  Hosp shifted forward in his seat and gazed past Seam. Kull followed the Surrogator’s eyes toward Arakiel’s mirror. The blood of the two soldiers had begun to pool at the feet of both the mirrors. They sizzled with an inferno of white fire as the sacrifices were absorbed into the nightmarish glass. Kull pried his swollen eyes open wider, forcing himself to look.

  A frail figure of a stooped old man appeared within the second mirror. As the portal took in more and more blood, the man’s tangled and matted white hair became as black as night. Thin arms grew and swelled with strength, and the man’s frame magnified. Soon his figure filled the entire pane of glass. He sighed, stretching and flexing his arms as
he leveled his red eyes with Seam. His voice exploded through the room like a thunderclap, making Kull’s mouth go dry with fear.

  “Who has awoken me?”

  Aleph above. Kull’s mind raced with the image of the skeletal serpent in the desert pit. That voice. The voice of the beast and the man standing in the mirror were the same. That was him. The realization brought a new onset of agonizing fear.

  Seam smiled and stepped forward, bowing his head before speaking.

  “Arakiel, first of the Dominion. I, High King Seam Panderean, have woken you, and I welcome you to join me.”

  The giant behind the glass sneered, pointed at Seam and balked. The whole room rumbled, and Seam felt the pinnacle beneath him sway from its height.

  Seam fell to his knees as Arakiel’s voice exploded with absolute authority, each utterance from the deity ripping through the entire room like a bomb. It forced Seam to cover his ears and grit his teeth in pain. “You welcome me? Then you are clearly a fool. King or not, I join no one. No mortal dare commands me."

  Seam flicked back the robe hanging over the bracer on his arm and held it toward the mirror as he growled, “That changes today, Serub. I am the Keeper of the Keys, and you and all your kin are now under my authority. You are bound to me.” Seam’s face twisted in ecstasy at his own display of power as he continued, “Now, you are welcome to join me, Arakiel. Will you leave your mirror, or will I leave you to rot?”

  Arakiel’s chiseled face remained stoic. “Rot? You use strange words when speaking to a god.” The warrior’s face filled the mirror, morphing its countenance to that of a hideous boar. When the beast spoke, it felt to Kull that the entire Spire would collapse beneath them. “I WILL NEVER ROT, FOOLISH KING. A THOUSAND YEARS ARE NOTHING TO ME. I WILL NOT SERVE YOU, EVEN IF I STAY LOCKED IN HERE FOR MILLENIA.”

  Kull glanced at Seam, who continued facing the beast in the glass, unfazed. He stood proud like a pillar, and for a moment Kull found himself amazed at Seam’s prowess.

  Seam narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips tightly. “Oh, you will serve, Serub. I will see to that.”

  Seam bolted for the mirror and thrust his right hand, gilded with the keys, into the glass. The glass gave way, rippling like water, and Seam made contact on the other side. Seam’s eyes widened as his fingers quickly wrapped and locked down onto Arakiel’s throat. The glass portal shimmered as the king tightened his grasp on the god that dared to oppose him. Arakiel bellowed in agony as Seam growled through gritted teeth.

  “You will serve. Either we can work together or you will force me to display the power that has been destined to me. The choice is yours, Serub.”

  Kull could not turn back his gaze as the once massive man began to shrivel beneath Seam’s grasp. As Arakiel’s strength waned under Seam’s grip, the king’s countenance began to change. He was flushed with new strength. His visible cuts and bruises from Kull’s previous attack healed in an instant, and his skin became fresh and radiant with an unnatural light. Seam hurled the spirit to the floor behind the glass portal and pulled his arm back from the mirror, staring down at the bracer, shocked in the realization of its newfound potential. Seam stood in silence, captivated by his glorious keys. Hosp’s face froze with a dumbfounded look of confusion as he muttered to himself, observing Seam’s meteoric rise.

  Abtren’s beautiful form filled the vacant mirror next to Arakiel’s and her voice cut into the room, “High King. My brother and I understand your power. We have long awaited our awakening, but we thirst for freedom, and we know that you are the only one who can grant it. Please forgive my brother’s boldness and allow us to work together.”

  Seam sneered and kept his back to Abtren as he gloated over Arakiel’s thin and wilted frame.

  “Diplomatic words, Abtren, but I want to hear a promise of allegiance from Arakiel’s own lips.”

  The ragged and ruined body of Arakiel glanced up, his lips quivering as he strained to speak, his once triumphant voice whittled down to a whisper, “Let it be.”

  Seam clasped his hands and smiled. He turned to face Kull and glory in the fear that grew on his face. Seam basked in it as if Kull’s anxiety were the shining sun, allowing his steps to linger. Kull fought the chains binding him, desperate for escape, but there was nowhere to run.

  Kull spoke, his voice defiant despite the fear that locked around his heart, “I should have cut you down when I had the chance. You are insane.”

  Seam shook his head and clicked his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Call me insane if you wish. You will barely matter after I’m done with you. You too will serve me, despite your rebellion.” He glanced back at the dead soldiers' bodies. “All will serve me, in the end.”

  His fist smashed against Kull’s face. The blow sent Kull to his knees. He fought to regain his footing and set his eyes level with Seam again.

  Seam snatched Kull’s chains and unlocked him from the floor. He jerked the chain hanging from Kull’s neck and forced him to the ground as if he were a dog. Kull wheezed and gasped in desperation as Seam kicked him in the gut. Blood poured from Kull’s face, blurring his vision as he fought his way back to his feet but his damaged body refused to obey.

  The king dragged Kull across the blood-soaked floor by the chain shackled to his throat. Kull scratched at the chain, and his feet flailed as Seam hurled him to the foot of Arakiel’s mirror. He pressed Kull’s cheek to the cold glass and leaned in next to his ear. Kull’s heart threatened to hammer through his chest. He could feel a dark, famished energy seeping from the Serub’s portal.

  Seam whispered in Kull’s ear, “Believe me. I would enjoy letting every last drop of your precious blood feed the beast inside, but I have decided to make you far more useful.”

  A fire sprung from Kull’s shoulder as Seam dipped his blade into Kull’s flesh. The piercing pain silenced the aches that had paralyzed Kull’s body before. Black shadows squeezed into his vision and white-hot stars shot across his mind. In one swift motion, Seam lifted Kull to his feet and slammed his face back into the mirror.

  “Watch what your blood has awoken.”

  The intense heat of the mirror burned and Kull could feel what little strength he had being siphoned away as the withered form of Arakiel blossomed again to full strength within the glass prison. Ice shot through Kull’s veins as the Serub’s horrible eyes met his own. The being rushed the mirror’s edge like a rabid boar.

  Seam jerked Kull from the mirror and threw him into the floor in a heap. There was no more fight left in Kull, no strength or energy remaining. He helplessly lay there, waiting to see what would unfold.

  Seam growled with vile ambition, “Now. It is time to claim my destiny. Candor is mine. Come first, Arakiel, Lord of the Five! Come first and usher in the New Dominion of the Keeper of the Keys!”

  Kull watched as Seam slammed his bracer through the mirror, which gave way like water. The keys bound on his wrist lit with unnatural colors, shades and pigments that Kull had never seen before. Kull opened his mouth to scream, but no sound dared retreat from his lips. As the Serub stepped out of the mirror and onto Candor’s soil, Seam could feel the heavy hand of destiny upon him. The king held his arm between the two realities waiting to withdraw it until the red-eyed terror emerged on the other side. When he did, the mirror once again became solid, reflecting the room like any ordinary looking glass. Kull’s mouth went dry with fear as the two leveled their eyes toward him and Seam spoke again, his voice laced with despotic rage.

  Seam extended his index finger toward Kull like a weapon and glared upon him with a sick, twisted glee. “I command you, Arakiel, as your Keeper to expel him.”

  Arakiel, who stood two heads above the High King, glared down at Seam with consternation chiseled on his face. A long black snake of a tongue licked his lips as he spoke, his voice echoing through the chamber, “No mortal has dared asked for this upon another, on this world or any other. This is a judgment reserved for the enemies of my kin.”

  Arakiel glanced at the second mirror
where Abtren was standing. Her ivory skin gleamed like the sun and her eyes filled with a blossoming of kaleidoscopic colors. “Does this one,” Arakiel glanced to Kull, “deserve this fate, sister?”

  Abtren nodded and paced the mirror’s edges like a ravenous wolf. “If the High King wills it, it must be so, Arakiel. He is the Keeper! Do not tarry any longer! I wish to be free.”

  Seam spat his words at the Serub, “Listen to your dear sister, Serub, if you wish your stay on Candor to be a pleasant one! Expel him, or you will go back into your mirror.”

  Arakiel gritted his teeth, his eyes burning like embers toward his new master. He growled and stepped forward to Kull. Kull’s soul quaked within. What is he going to do with me?

  “Know this, Seam Panderean of Lotte. Once this punishment is finished, it cannot be undone.”

  Seam laughed, “I would not want it any other way, Arakiel. Now do it.”

  The Serub stretched out his hand, and Kull felt an invisible turbulence shake through his body. It was as if an earthquake channeled through Arakiel’s hand, its full force directed at Kull. Like a ship caught in a hurricane, Kull felt something within him collapse under the weight of the storm. He felt himself being blown far away and he gasped at what he saw through the chaos. He could still see the Serub standing over him, as his broken body lay on the ground. Kull realized he was seeing himself lying on the floor, along with Seam who stood gloating over him. He saw his body whisked away, and Kull’s perception soared up and away from that place and time.

  What is happening to me? Kull felt like he was falling, but instead of going down, he was falling up and out. His perception left his body, the Serubs, and Seam in the Spire. He felt a flurry of substances and places move past him, but he could only absorb brief glimpses of what was happening. He saw a bird’s-eye view of Zenith, alight in the desert night. He saw the Continent, all of Candor lying before him; a broken landscape shattered across an orb, floating in the darkness of space. Then there was only darkness. The darkness filled with screams, crying out for justice and restoration.