by Casey Eanes
Exhausted, Grift slung the limp body of his attacker to the ground. He rested his face on the rook and took in a deep breath, doing his best to remind himself that the creature he had to kill was not, in fact, a young girl. He opened a bottle of water and poured it over his hands and his face, trying to wash away the guilt he felt, only to finally vomit in the brush. He stayed there, heaving for a long time, until standing and wiping his mouth. So much for this trip, he thought. He turned and looked at the rook, whispering a simple prayer. “Please. No more stalling. Just. Work.” He took one more breath and looked up to the starry night sky as he clicked in the starter.
The rook fired to life once more and lifted from the ground. Grift engaged the thrusters and rocketed away from Tindler as fast as the machine could carry him. He drove, the night streaming by his face like a blur, his mind haunted by the face of the young morel girl who stared at him with one mottled white eye. He shook his head, trying his best to let the tormented face go, but it held, burnt into his memory until the dawn came.
What is happening to Candor?
CHAPTER FIVE
The helm of Rodnim sat alone in a field of blood outside of Rhuddenhall. The ground was littered with the bodies of brothers and sisters that had slain one another just hours prior. The helmet’s golden faceplate was spattered with the red drops of its Realm’s citizens. The setting sun began to dip behind the horizon and cast its warm beams across the field of blood turning it into a burning, crimson ocean. The city was smoldering and the sounds of gunfire and screaming were still seeping from deep within its fortified walls. Willyn approached the lonely piece of armor and lifted it from the ground. She checked over her shoulder and began to clean the artifact. As she rubbed caked on dirt and blood away from the helmet, a voice startled her from behind.
“We can rule again, you know.”
Hagan’s voice was unmistakable. Willyn turned as quickly as she could and saw her brother standing behind her in his battle gear. He was full of life, and his stature exuded power. There was no sign of pain, no sign of death. Hagan was alive!
Willyn shook her head and blinked, but Hagan continued to stand before her. He stretched out his hand and took the helmet. He turned it over in his hands and studied its lines before gazing back to his sister. His eyes burnt hotter than the setting sun.
“Willyn. You know who caused this. We can fix this.”
Willyn took a deep breath before stammering a response. “But Hagan. You died. This is not...”
“Lies, sister! Did you ever see my corpse? Hosp betrayed me. Betrayed our family! He betrayed our Realm! No. I never died. Now that he has turned his attention from me, I am stronger than ever. His poison would only last so long.”
Willyn ran to hug her brother and wept into his shoulder. She did not want to let go of him for fear that he might be taken from her again.
“I should have never left your side. I was wrong. I thought Grift Shepherd had poisoned you. I was a fool.”
Hagan held his sister’s embrace and answered softly, “It is not your fault. This entire world was taken into the lie. But you have seen through it. It is time for you to join me and bring this Realm back into control; our control.”
Willyn drew in another deep breath and stepped back, but when she opened her eyes she was not in Rhuddenhall. She was back in Taluum. The dream was gone, but she could still smell the bloody battlefield. As she glanced around the dark room and gathered her thoughts, Hagan’s voice returned to her ears.
“We must fight. Find me.”
Willyn did her best to keep from gagging. The quarters that the Baggers kept were unlike anything she had ever encountered. The railcar was stuffed to the gills with the migrants, all of them pouring in, invading her precious space. The air was soon a dense fog of sweat, smoke, and the indescribable patina of odors wafting from the busy and hardworking laborers. Willyn felt like she would either pass out or suffocate.
Willyn sneered as she twisted her charcoal hair between her thumb and forefinger, the black dye still smearing her fingers. It was not enough for her to have to ride with the Baggers; Wael and Grift both insisted she blend in as well, forced to conform and look like the very remnant of the people her Realm had proudly fought and nearly extinguished several generations ago. Willyn knew in her heart that nothing good could came from Riht, and the vagabond Baggers were no exception. Her hair color was not the least of her worries, however. Her armor, her weapons—all of it had been taken away. Except for the datalink she secretly carried with her, everything else had been left behind in Preost. The beige, course linen clothing she wore felt baggy and vulnerable. Without her armor she felt naked and exposed.
Willyn sat back and tried to wipe the black stains from her fingers. As much as she hated it, she knew there was no other choice. She was wanted for treason, and the Baggers were the only souls in all of Candor that no one would bother to ask for help locating a fugitive. Still, as new sets of eyes gazed over her, she couldn’t help but feel that she needed to hide her face. She shifted and turned her back to the crowded rail car as she tried to focus on the mission: secure the mirror in Legion’s Teeth and rally the Reds.
Willyn struggled to focus as she tried to run through her plan. A woman two seats down from her held a small, shrieking child. This was only a distraction compared to the man who sat beside her. Willyn glanced over to him, pursing her lips with disgust. The Bagger was a mountain of a man, whose face bore a long, intricately braided mustache. He sat next to her rumbling, his snores echoing over the clanging din of people who were talking, sneezing, singing, smoking, and chanting; all unaware that the rightful heir to the Groganlands sat in their midst. Despite her inability to focus on her mission to locate the mirror, there was one thought, one face, that refused to leave her mind.
Hagan. The vision earlier seemed all too real. She tried to convince herself that it was just a desperate dream, but the phantom thought would not stop haunting her, pushing her to dare consider that possibly he had survived. If it was true, then she would have no choice but to find him. The idea of reuniting with Hagan warmed her, but her mind was clouded with rage for the one person who was responsible for all her misery. Hosp.
What has Hosp done since I’ve been gone? Hate filled her mind like molten lead as she thought about all that worm of a man had put her through.
A loud chant rang out within the cabin of the rail car, disrupting her dark thoughts. The Bagger’s language sounded like the twittering and tweets of the forest birds, sharp, but sweet.
“Ala, tro busim. Rey fell mey!” said a young Bagger as he made his way down the aisle of the cramped rail car. He held a large satchel of pinecones, each the size of grapefruit. He called out like a merchant at a festival, selling the strange product to his kinsfolk. He was tall, with a strong build, sharp eyes, and an unfortunate set of teeth. Willyn watched as the Baggers cornered him as he made his way through their car, inspecting his wares, shaking their head with a show of contempt, trying to haggle the price. The young man did not back down and was quick to point at them and argue loudly back at his customers. He was good at what he did, and soon many slipped him the credits in exchange for the pinecones. His customers slammed the cones on the ground, scrambling to feast on the roasted seeds within.
The young salesmen made his way to Willyn’s side, and his eyes peered directly into hers.
“Ala, tro busim?” he stared at her, expecting a response.
Willyn’s heartbeat ramped up with nervous energy. She did not know any of the Bagger language. She held up her hand and hid her eyes, hoping that the Bagger would leave her be. Don’t blow my cover. Don’t blow my cover.
“Eh treh fruh…” grumbled a deep voice next to her. The man next to her with the braided mustache had woken, and for the first time Willyn noticed the intricate tattoos he wore on his arms as he exchanged credits for the pinecone snack. Black ink. Crows flying behind a cloud of shooting arrows. The crows flew on the man’s flesh, and arrows surrounded th
e swarm. Willyn had never seen anything that compared to the artistry on his skin. The young merchant stood over them for a second longer, his eyes scanning over her once more. Willyn closed her eyes, wishing that the train would start. It felt like they had been docked on the borders of Preost for a century.
“No snack for you, miss?” The common tongue made Willyn gasp as her mind filled with curses. She looked up at the young man and shook her head, her face blushing, painted with anger.
“No.” It was short, quick, but Willyn could not risk any more exposure. It was obvious now that even with her disguise, she stuck out amidst the Baggers. Her skin was much too pale, and the contrast with her new, raven colored hair made her look like a phantom. Taking the hint, the young man left, but Willyn could still feel his eyes lingering behind her.
Beside her, the mustached strongman took the giant cone and crushed it between his fingers in an impressive feat of strength. Half of the rigid, spiky cone disintegrated in his palm, and his small black eyes looked to Willyn.
“Nut?”
Willyn shook her head as the giant man shrugged, picking out the nuts in his palm and crunching on them. “Name is Bri. Monk told me about you. Bri here to help.”
Willyn’s eyes went wide with anger, and she turned to look better at the once sleeping bear of a Bagger. “What did you say?”
The giant’s face looked confused, and he spoke louder. “I am Bri. Monk sent me…”
Willyn reached out to him whispered, “I heard you fine. Did you say that Wael sent you?”
“Yah. ‘Dat is truth. Monk sent me. I will help.”
Willyn shook her head in disbelief. Fury and confusion washed over her as she scrambled for her datalink. Her fingers hammered over the keys.
:This? This is the escort you mentioned? A Bagger? Anything else you want to tell me? Any more surprises?
---
:So Bri has met you then? Good. He will provide you with some additional protection. He might seem simple to you, but I assure you, there is more to him than you might suppose. He is a strong and loyal friend. He will serve you well.
Willyn’s mind exploded with hot anger as she typed back on the encrypted line.
:I NEVER ASKED FOR PROTECTION. I DO NOT NEED IT.
:That remains to be seen. Bri is more than just muscle. He is a Bagger. He will help you navigate to Legion’s Teeth undetected. There are many eyes searching for you. Follow his lead. We cannot risk your exposure. I will contact you soon, but we must cut this short. Do not waver in what you must do.
The screen went black. Wael had terminated the feed. Willyn quickly hid the datalink within her small bag as her mind fumed at the unexpected change in her plan.
Bri spoke as he continued crunching on the pine nuts. “What did monk say? Did he tell you that I am great warrior? This is true, you know.” Exasperated, Willyn leaned her head back on the thin, uncomfortable seat.
This is going to be a long ride.
Squealing brakes jostled Willyn from a light sleep as the rail car rumbled toward the Zenith station. Willyn rubbed at her tired eyes and focused in on the growing landscape of the ancient city. Despite the panic surging through her, it was remarkable. The last time Willyn had passed by Zenith it was nothing more than deserted ruins. Steel skeletons of what had once been mighty towers and tumbled stone walls littered the lonely desert just months earlier. The corpse of a city had been resurrected and pumped full of life.
Tall skyscrapers covered in glass glistened in the desert sun like torches. They shimmered, giving the city the appearance of being made of light. Tents had sprung up on the dunes surrounding the larger buildings, and men and women were bustling about at a frantic pace. The most noticeable change was the Spire. The tall central tower was repaired, an ebony obelisk covered in black shining glass. It shot into the sky in stark contrast to the other buildings surrounding it, its prominent silhouette silently declaring dominance over the sky line.
Bri grumbled as he woke from a deep slumber and glanced over Willyn’s shoulder.
“Different. Yes?” He sniffed and rubbed at his flowing mustache as he continued, “Stay very close, girl. Most danger here. People want you.”
Willyn tore her eyes from the outline of Zenith and looked to Bri. “Stay close? You mean we are stopping here?”
Bri nodded. “Yes. Always stop here. Very busy place. Good work found here.”
Willyn’s heart raced and she reached for the spot where she normally holstered a pistol, but there was nothing there. She spat curses under her breath and looked back to Bri, eyeing his dull, dim-witted face.
“So you’re really here to help?”
Bri smiled and bobbed his head. “Yes. Monk sent me to help. Stay with me and you are safe.”
The mammoth of a man flexed his arms and stretched before standing and stepping toward the rail car door. The other Baggers scurried away and gave Bri plenty of space to move. He craned his neck and motioned for Willyn to fall in behind him. As she came close to him, a middle-aged Bagger woman reached out for her and tried to hand her a bead necklace.
“Ga la tay droman!” the women called out as she tried to force the necklace into Willyn’s closed fists. “Tay droman,” she shouted with a look of disappointment on her face. Willyn jerked back her hand and pushed in closer to Bri.
Bri leaned down and laughed as he answered the women. “Es la frehnan trume.” The woman’s look of insult faded, and she turned away to look for someone else to buy her beads.
“What was that all about?” whispered Willyn.
Bri chuckled, his voice booming. “She want to sell. You always look yes. Even if you don’t buy.” Bri leaned in and continued laughing. “No worries. I told her you can’t speak. I told her you are quite dumb.”
Willyn could not believe that a man who could hardly speak complete sentences in the common tongue was calling her dumb. The excuse for her awkward presence could be better, but if it kept people from asking questions she would go along with it.
The rail car swayed as it lumbered up to a new pristine platform and slid to a stop. The brakes hissed, and the doors slid open. Bri lumbered out the door into the swarm of bodies, and Willyn dutifully followed. The station’s platform was buzzing with activity. Baggers were bartering with one another and yelling back and forth, laughing, singing and carrying on, creating another swell of noise. Foremen were positioned at the platform to recruit fresh arms and legs to assist with the continual rebuilding efforts for the city.
Guards clad in black and gold armor stood on the catwalks overhead. They paced, scanning the crowds with rifles in hand. The sight of their rifles made Willyn wish she had at least some weapon with her. She pushed in close to Bri and tried to use his massive frame to shield her face.
“Where are we going, Bri? Why are we here?”
Bri turned back and yelled over his shoulder, “Gonna get us some work in the Teeth.” He leaned down and looked in her eyes. “Monk told me to get you to the Teeth, and you’d do the rest.”
Willyn nodded, thankful that Wael had not revealed everything to Bri. She did not know how the giant would react to the knowledge of her searching for a Serub.
Bri continued, “I am good miner. Have to talk to a man over there.” He pointed across the platform to another grouping of foremen that were distinctly Grogan.
As Willyn and Bri approached the Grogan work tables, a hand grasped Willyn’s arm. She spun around to see a young Grogan man holding a finger to his lips. She did not recognize him, but the look in his eyes let her know that he knew exactly who she was. A knot rose in her throat as she waited on him to alert one of the nearby guards. Instead, he pulled close to her ear and whispered.
His voice was hard to hear over the din of noise surrounding them, but once the words registered they cut through the noise like a knife. “Come with me. Hagan sent me.”
The mention of Hagan made Willyn go numb. This is impossible.
In a flash the man took off, threading himself throug
h jumbles of laborers. Willyn rushed forward, pushing through the crowds, leaving Bri behind. She threw herself into a full sprint after the young Grogan. Every few feet the man would turn and motion for her to keep up.
The crowds thinned out, and Willyn finally approached the stranger on a desolate alleyway.
“What did you say to me?” Willyn said, staring down the Grogan. “What did you say?!” Her eyes tightened, scanning the man. He was Grogan. He wore the black body armor of her people, and his stature and dialect were enough to confirm his origin.
“I think you heard me quite well, Willyn Kara. Your brother, the Sar, sends his regards.”
Pain seared through her, but Willyn’s face remained as cold as stone. Could this be true? How could this be true? Willyn’s mind strained to put it all together. The dream, the helm of her forefathers, all of it poured over her, but she held her composure, unwilling to flinch.
“Prove it.” Willyn sneered, her face flaring with rage and revulsion. All of this charade had the scent of Seam. Nothing would please that roach of a king more than to see her lured into a trap of lies. She scanned the alley, preparing herself for an ambush.
The man threw a sheathed blade her way. It landed in the dry dust that caked the dirt road. Her eyes fell on it, and her mouth fell open. The foot-long dagger was none other than her brother’s, bearing the mark of the Sar. The lion wrestling the wolf. Aleph above.
“Consider this your proof.” The man’s eyes gleamed in the desert light. “Your brother lives, Willyn. He is in hiding deep within the Groganlands. Deep within Legion’s Teeth. He and his followers have made camp in the Eastern Caverns of the mines.”