by Casey Eanes
A voice interrupted Hosp’s thoughts at he glanced up at his defeated foes hanging overhead. “Sir. The men are in position.”
Hosp smiled and welcomed the news. “Very good. Ensure they understand that they are not to move until I give the signal.”
“Yes, sir.” The commander tightened his stance and lifted his head. “We will wait for your command.”
Hosp looked back overhead at Hangman’s Pass and sneered, his cold gray eyes glazing over. “High King Seam will soon learn that I am no lap dog and that my Realm bows to no one.”
The sun dipped beneath the horizon as Seam’s convoy arrived at Hangman’s Pass. The red rock burned with the glow of the setting sun as deep black shadows draped over the canyon pass. Seam glanced out of the titan cockpit at the silhouettes swaying from the rock overhead. A single armored personnel carrier was waiting in the center of the cannon. The black vehicle was nearly lost in the shadows settling at the bottom of the gorge.
Seam darted to the back of the titan and opened the heavy iron door locking the rear compartment. Inside, Abtren and Arakiel sat in silence over the withered body of Nyx. Seam had sapped much of her former strength after she completed her modifications to his morel army. She had to be punished for her display of defiance; there was no other recourse. Her two celestial kin offered no acknowledgement of Seam as he entered the chamber. All he got were several piercing gazes that threatened to tear holes through him.
Pouting like children. When will they ever understand the new reality? Seam glanced down at Nyx and spoke. “Oh...why the long faces? Do not fret, my friends.” He leaned down, leveling his eyes with the gods that so many men feared, daring not to mention their names louder than a muted whisper. His eyes were bold weapons, daring to peer within their horrific eyes, unashamed and unafraid. “Nyx will soon be restored. I give you my solemn oath. There will be enough blood for the three of you shortly, but for now, I need you to come with me.”
Arakiel growled and stood, his lips curling up to reveal a row of jagged white fangs. “I will not rest until I grind you into dust, King of Candor.”
Seam leaned his head back to gaze at the immortal being who stood three heads taller than him. Any normal man would have been petrified, but Seam held his ground. “I thought I had made this clear, Arakiel. I thought I had made everything so abundantly clear…”
His wrist bearing the Mastermonk’s gauntlet shot out like a viper, ratcheting down on Arakiel’s arm. The Keys locked in place burned with hot white fire as Seam’s grip crumpled the illuminated flesh of the immortal. Arakiel’s arm ignited and the god screamed in the chamber as flames swallowed him. Arakiel stood in Seam’s grip, his voice booming like an avalanche as he screamed. Seam stared at the burning god in his clutches, feeling the energy surge within him like a waterfall. It felt so good to take what was rightfully his.
The High King spoke, his voice resounding over the chaos. “I will not relent until you and all of your cursed kin submit to me. YOU ARE BOUND.”
Finally, Seam let go of Arakiel, throwing him to the floor of the titan across from his withered sister.
Seam’s eyes stared at Abtren, daring her to speak, waiting for a shred of resistance to show on her face. “What say you, Abtren the Defiler? Do you want to test my resolve? Or will I feast on another Serub today?”
Abtren’s mouth hung open in disbelief. She fell to her knees, her hands fluttering over her ruined brother and sister. “Please...Keeper of the Keys. Please...have mercy on us.” She stood, her beautiful face marred with fear as she spoke. “Mercy. Mercy on us. We yield.”
Gods who ask for mercy? “You will do much more than that.” Seam spat. “Get up. Now.”
Abtren stood, but her face was hesitant. Seam did not relent. “Leave your useless siblings here. They have an eternity to think on their choices. You would be wise not to follow their steps.” Seam’s eyes were filled with rage as he looked over the two he had siphoned. “Besides, we are going to meet your most beloved acolyte today. Hosp…”
Abtren’s eyes grew wide. “King Seam, you should know that Hosp means to betray you. He would have the Keys for himself.”
Seam cut a horrid glance at the Serub and laughed. “What is one more betrayer, Abtren? Did you think I did not already know of his plans?” He held up his gauntlet, the light of the Keys locked within slowly beginning to fade. “If he wants them, let him come and take them.”
Seam stepped out of the titan into the twilight painted desert. Abtren followed him and the two made their way to the armored personnel carrier parked underneath the Pass. A team of five soldiers surrounded the two as Hosp exited his transport and walked toward them, holding up his hand in a sign of peace. Even in the fading heat the Surrogator insisted on keeping his face hooded, shrouded in black. Despite his dress, Seam could still see that his ally’s eyes were locked on Abtren, dripping with lust and devotion.
Hosp stopped and bowed before them, his hands resting across his chest. “Thank you for coming, High King Seam. Your assistance with the Red rebellion is most appreciated.” Hosp chuckled as he nodded his head upward toward the bodies swinging in the wind. “As you can see I am making progress, but the Red contingent continues to swell in the mountains and we need a bigger knife to cut them out.” He then turned to face Abtren and kneeled. “Your presence, my lady. I have no words. I have long awaited your return.”
Abtren said nothing, but her face blossomed with pride. Hosp’s clear obsession with the Serubs disgusted Seam on a level that surprised even him. He stepped closer to his ally, his presence causing Hosp to stand back to his feet and face him. The High King’s mind clouded with anger. Let him adore the blood drinkers. Let the fool worship these dogs on my leash. Hosp’s devotion kept him in check, and for Seam, that was enough, or so he told himself. Yet something deep within his mind, something past his rote rationalization was incensed at Hosp’s devotion for the Five.
Seam looked up at the canyon ridge and examined the sheer rock walls. “So tell me, Hosp. Why are we meeting here if the trouble is within Legion’s Teeth?” He stared up, glancing at the mass of dead rebels swaying in the hot wind. “Do you think I am impressed by this?” Seam turned his back to Hosp and scanned the top of the canyon. “Tell me, friend. Do you have some other reason for meeting me here?”
Hosp swallowed hard and turned his glance to Abtren, searching her eyes for answers. Abtren’s voice rang within Hosp’s mind. This is not the time.
Seam sauntered and placed his hand on Abtren’s shoulder, turning again to face Hosp. The High King’s casual attitude toward Abtren made Hosp bristle, and Seam smiled as he saw the offense light like a fire in his colleague’s eyes. “You seem...tense, Hosp. Is there something bothering you, Surrogator? You still haven’t told me why you have brought me out here.”
A twitch revealed itself on Hosp’s pale face as his eyes darted across the ridgeline. He kept staring at Abtren but she would not hold his eye contact. Hosp relented, looked back at Seam, and held up his hand, the echo of his scream filling the canyon. “NOW!”
“No, you fool!” Abtren yelled, her face incensed with rage.
A bullet ripped through Seam’s shoulder as a barrage of gunshots erupted along the canyon ridge. The five soldiers that stood around the king and Abtren dropped, their bodies ruined in the bullet storm. Seam stumbled backward, his hold on Abtren unyielding. In one swift motion, he threw both of them inside the titan as bullets ricocheted off the mammoth vehicle’s armor. Hosp darted for cover inside his own transport.
Seam yelled to the drivers. “Fire on the ridge of the canyon. NOW.”
“Yes, sir,” the voices called back and the titan shook in recoil as the giant cannon unleashed a torrent force toward the incoming fire. The ridgeline erupted with fire and smoke.
“Oh, Hosp. You have forced my hand.” Seam stood talking to himself in a voice of mocking pity. “Now you will truly see who I am.” Seam closed his eyes and fought through the pain searing through his arm and up
his neck. Focus. His mind searched and he found them. The thousands of eyes waiting on him. It’s time to fight.
Hosp peered out from his carrier as it backed away from the explosive shots of Seam’s titan. He prayed that his snipers still held their ground. He glanced back at the convoy and saw Seam’s transports open up. Hosp screamed over his datalink. “Ground troops are entering the pass. Drop the mortars on my signal!” Hosp got a confirmation from one of his generals, and his eyes turned back to the army coming out of the transport. They were unlike anything he had ever seen. “What is that?”
Clad in black Dominion armor yet unarmed, they moved like a swarm of locusts, bodies flooding from the vehicles like a surging tidal wave. Soon they were stampeding toward him and Hosp’s mouth went dry. Seam’s titan did not relent from its assault, sending rocks crashing down from overhead, filling the canyon with a thick haze of smoke and red dust. Hosp sat paralyzed in his vehicle as Seam stepped out of the fog, his shoulder already healed.
“This ends now, Hosp,” Seam whispered.
A swarm of black clad bodies rushed through the canyon, climbing over one another. They made their way up the sides of the canyon, the throng rocketing its way toward the snipers overhead. The confused tangle of bodies frenzied up to the top like a swarm of bees. The remaining snipers tried desperately to pick them off one by one. The sound of their sniper rifles came to a quick stop. Hosp realized a horrible truth. Seam was in control of a morel hive.
“What is this!?” A panicked voice crackled over Hosp’s datalink. “What are those things? Are those people? What the...”
Static flashed over the lines and the signal died.
“Stop.” Seam’s voice was swelling with pride as he spoke through the datalink. “Cease fire.”
The titan’s guns eased and came to rest as the din of noise died down. Hosp’s armored transport was beginning to tear away. Seam chuckled as the worm tried to crawl to safety. His eyes narrowed and a sinister grin spread across his face. The whites of his eyes rolled up as he focused in again on the collective he controlled. “This will be fun.”
Hosp glanced from one of the small windows cut in the side of his transport, trying to glimpse Seam’s army. All he could make out was a swarm of black, a mass of bodies lining the canyon ridge. As the sun continued to set, their dark form was lost to the shadows.
“Go now!” Hosp screamed. “Get us out of here!” Stammering, he pulled up his datalink. “Fire the mortars. Fire them now!”
A regiment of rooks outside Hangman’s Pass received the orders. The mortars extended out of the black hovercrafts, erupting in unison.
The engine of Hosp’s transport fired to life. The tires spun, kicking up red rocks and a cloud of dust. Hosp glanced back out the window, only to find the shadows of the canyon wall pulsating and closing in on the transport. “Gods! How is this possible?” Hosp mumbled to himself.
The rocket fire from his rooks filled his ears and soon the canyon filled with fire, the impact pushing his military transport forward like a bullet in the chamber. Despite the firestorm, Seam’s force did not relent. Even as they burned, the morels leapt onto and under Hosp’s truck. They slammed into the vehicle like rabid animals, their faces horrid nightmares filling up the windshield of the transport. Their skin was still burning as they slammed their fists into the windshield and used their brutalized bodies to block the driver’s sight. The sound of them threshing against the machine sent Hosp into a panic as he scanned the walls of his transport for some type of weapon.
His transport drummed with the sound of screams and snapping bones as the vehicle was covered by a multitude of Seam’s undead army. Soon, the sound of them clawing against the vehicle’s armor swelled as the vehicle began to rock from side to side.
The truck jolted to the left and made a hard jerking motion back to the right as the driver screamed back to Hosp. “I have lost all steering and brakes. Those things must have jammed up the wheel wells.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a massive force struck the left side of the transport and sent it tumbling end over end before smashing into the canyon wall. Hosp flipped inside the carrier like a rag doll before crashing face first into the truck’s metal wall. Once the chaos had silenced and the truck came to rest on its side, Hosp wiped the fresh blood running from his broken face and shook his head, trying to gather his wits. A memory jostled out of his mind. He had handed Seam two of the Keys so many months ago so that he could make his sacrifice to Abtren. He had handed him this power, unaware of the cost. A tide of regret and storm of fear swelled within him.
“Come out, you worm.” Seam’s smirk was audible, hanging off his every word. “Quit hiding and come out NOW.”
The doors on the back of the carrier were ripped from their hinges and a sea of shambling figures flooded into the transport bay, grabbing Hosp and dragging him to Seam’s feet.
Hosp’s entire body was seized with tremors as he fought to compose himself. He could not make sense of Seam’s newfound power. Dumbfounded by his defeat, he shook with the realization that he was surrounded. Thousands of black clad bodies lined the canyon walls, standing at attention, while several dozen others made a tight circle around Seam and Hosp, constricting any escape. They wore the faces of men, women, and children, but all humanity had been purged from their eyes. Like feral dogs, they growled in service to the High King.
Seam slowly stepped forward before throwing his foot into Hosp’s face. Seam smiled as his heavy boot cracked against Hosp’s jaw.
“Get up.” Seam’s voice was cold. “Get up and look at me.”
Blood poured from Hosp’s opened lip and cheek, pooling on the red rock floor. The Surrogator fought to stand and face Seam, but his body would not cooperate. As he tried to straighten his knees Seam’s fist smashed across Hosp’s face, crumpling him again to the canyon floor.
“I said GET UP.”
Hosp scurried back several feet, trying to distance himself enough to stand without being assaulted, but as he tried to stand, Seam kicked his legs out from under him. Hosp reached out, head bowed as he crawled toward Seam and tried to pull himself up using Seam’s leg as a brace. Seam’s knee hammered into his nose, sending him to the rock floor again.
Two of the morels darted in to pick Hosp up from the ground and force him close to the king. The Surrogator’s legs wobbled beneath him, unable to support his weight as Seam strolled forward. He clasped Hosp’s face in his hands and forced the Surrogator to look him in the eyes. Hosp’s face was swollen and bloody, his skin taking on deep purple and black tones.
“Look at me, you fool. Did you think that you could dare challenge me? Your precious gods serve me. Soon your beloved Realm will be mine, and all of Candor will be mine. Did you honestly think that a few mortar rounds could quell me? A few snipers?”
Seam turned Hosp’s face to look toward the thousands of morels lining the canyon walls.
“And tell me, Hosp, are you able to command a legion with nothing more than your thoughts?” Seam shoved Hosp’s face to the side. “You worship bound gods, nightmares who serve only me.”
“Pl... please. Mercy...High King.” Hosp’s words shook from his bloody mouth. “I will serve you fully.”
Seam growled at the request. “No. There will be no mercy. After all, Hosp, we both realize that Candor in its new unity will not tolerate sedition. But you are right, Hosp.” Hosp’s bloodied face broke with a pinprick of hope as he stared at Seam, his life hanging in the balance. Seam smiled, his eyes like graves. “You will serve me fully, Hosp. You will do exactly as I say from now on. Welcome to my legion.”
Hosp screamed as he felt his consciousness being ripped from him, the thundering force somehow being channeled from Seam’s extended hand. The darkness edged around his vision before finally caving in over him as everything went mute and disappeared.
Abtren quietly watched from a safe distance as Seam dispatched Hosp’s consciousness, surrounded by his new multitude of soldiers. Never in
her eternity of existence did she feel so powerless. Arakiel and Nyx slowly exited the transport, their eyes full of scorn. Nyx was the first to speak, baring a haggard mouth full of fangs.
“Your plan has failed us, dear sister.” Nyx’s face flowed from her human disguise into her true, hawk-faced form, her full eyes filled to the brim with midnight. The hawk beast lumbered over to the closest fallen body. In one swift motion, she plunged her beak, the sound of ribs cracking through the desert wind. She stood over him, lapping up the crimson drink that she most treasured. Arakiel, wearing the face of a lion did the same without a word, tearing through the body of another fallen soldier to feed, and Abtren stood watching her kin feast.
Refreshed, Nyx stood, her hawkish face fading but her eyes remaining the color of dead stars. She then turned on her brother, her voice no less threatening. “And you, mighty brother. You too have failed us.”
Arakiel stood, his face again that of a warrior as he cut his red eyes at her. His hand struck Nyx, sending her to the desert floor. “I will not hear such talks from you, Nyx. Not to the one who so clearly clamors for the High King’s favor.”
Nyx screeched at him, “I mean to live, Arakiel! For too long have I been sapped to the dregs. I will not fall back to that again, brother. If I have to garner the favor of him, I will, so long as I get my food. I do not see the point of challenging someone you cannot defeat.”
Arakiel stood, towering over her, threatening to fall over her in one sudden, swift motion. “How dare you. I would push you to the darkest ends…”
Nyx interrupted, spitting her words at him, “Except you can’t, mighty Serub. You are bound. You can’t lead us anywhere. Not anymore.”