Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  “Can you move, Grift?” Adley’s voice was stern and laced with fear as she helped him slowly up the stairs.

  “Yeah,” Grift said with his eyes pinched shut. He nodded his head. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Grift shook his head with his eyes still closed tight as he grasped at his head. “Ears won’t stop ringing.”

  Adley sat him down and reached into her satchel. She fished out a syringe that she loaded and plunged into Grift’s leg. The drug flashed through Grift’s veins like a cold bolt of lightning, sweeping away the darkness from his vision and dulling the pain pressing on his joints.

  Adley broke the silence and handed Grift a new rifle. “Come on. We need to get to the top floor. We don’t have much time.”

  “We’ll be sitting ducks up there, Adley,” Grift countered.

  “You’ll see.”

  Grift fought his wobbling legs and stumbled up the stairs behind her. He knew he had no choice. With each Dominion strike, the stairs shook under their feet, threatening to cave in. Grift fought to focus, following Adley as they hurried up the stairs.

  “We need to get to the fifth floor,” Adley called as they sprinted. “If I go down, don’t stop. On the top of the building you will see a console. It is Predecessor make.”

  Grift blinked as he lumbered behind her. “Predecessor?” Aleph above. “What is it?” Everything in Candor with a few minor exceptions came from the technology left by the Predecessors. Railcars, rooks, and the datalinks all had their origin in this ancient technology. If what Adley was telling him was true, then there could be no limits to what rested on the fifth floor.

  Adley gave Grift a knowing look. “Ewing. Ever since you told him about the true nature of Seam’s power he sent out an all call to his network of associates.” A thunderous blast hit the building, forcing Adley and Grift to pause in their ascent. It felt as if the building was swaying beneath them, and Grift kneeled down on the steps as Rot yelped at the echo of the blast. The building shook and mercifully settled. Adley continued, “One of his contacts said that he had discovered something from the Predecessors, a weapon of tremendous power. Found it deep in a mineshaft in Lotte.”

  Grift reached out and grabbed Adley’s arm, forcing her to stop climbing. “What does it do, Adley?”

  She recoiled for a moment, her face determined. “It's going to save us, Grift. We’re out of options now.”

  Grift said nothing, but followed her as she ran up the final staircase. On the top floor, there, as she had described, was the console. Next to it, connected by a long, thick wire was a canister. Adley approached the canister when her datalink chirped with life.

  “Adley? Adley—status report now!” The gruff voice bellowing on the other end of the line was unmistakable. Ewing roared again over the datalink as the sound of mortars fell all around them. With each shot, Grift could feel the building sway as if one more shot would topple the entire structure.

  “Grift.” Adley looked at him and pointed. “Get yourself on here with Rot now.” She pointed to a small metal platform attached to the base of the console. Adley slung her pack onto the ground and fished out a small black box as Grift and Rot made their way to the platform. Her fingers fumbled at the combination lock on its face before popping the small safe open. She pulled out a key that looked like a computer chip and slid it into the console, causing it to blink on with power.

  Adley flicked a switch and the console whirled with life, displaying images and runes from a bygone age. A few seconds went by and Adley pressed down on one of the runes on the console’s screen. Instantly, a large, translucent shield bubbled over them all, causing Rot to pant in full panic. Grift’s eyes opened wide.

  “What are you doing, Adley? What’s happening?” Ewing’s anger was still resonating over the open datalink channel when Adley whispered to him, “We are going to live to fight another day.”

  She slammed her thumb onto a green rune before her. The canister on the outside of the transparent purple shield opened and a smaller cylinder rose up out of the device. Inside the device Grift could see what looked like small black beads or pearls lined in neat little rows within the smallest canister. Grift quickly counted fifteen. Adley threw her hands down on the small screen behind the bubble shield and the black pearls were dispensed from the host, dropping out onto the ground, clanking like small balls of iron.

  A screen enveloped the shield, and Grift realized he was seeing a heat map of Henshaw. Adley threw up her hands and gestured, marking the three remaining rooks, the transport, and the Dominion troops that were quickly surrounding the building. The figures became enveloped in red, and the projected screen flashed with a box filled with the runic language. Despite not being able to read the characters, Grift knew that Adley was being asked for confirmation. She flicked her wrists onto the affirmative, and Grift stood with his mouth agape.

  The metallic spheres shot out from the floor and seared through the walls of the structure in a flash. Grift watched the screen. The spheres were colored in a yellow pattern over the display. They flew around the building like hornets protecting their nest before coming into formation, one behind the other. The projectiles arched up high in the sky at an uncalculated speed before swooping down to tear through the marching soldiers, ripping through them like dominoes. Grift stared blankly as he saw thirty soldiers go down in seconds, their heat signatures slowly beginning to cool on the screen.

  The three rooks veered back, hammering down on their thrusters to back away from the flying weapons that were pitching back up into the air for another pass. On the screen, each of the rooks took shots at the formation of pearls flying through the air, before unleashing their taze nets in quick succession. The nets hit and covered them, binding the formation, causing them to fall to the ground. The black pearls split, and then split again. What had once been fifteen projectiles were now sixty smaller but no less deadly weapons. The mass tore through the nets that had briefly bound them and then congealed into one huge sphere. The sphere rocketed toward the first rook like a boulder, crushing the war machine.

  Grift glanced at Adley and whispered, “Did you know that it could do this?”

  Adley said nothing and crossed her arms, engrossed in the devastating display. The sphere that had crushed the rook divided in mid-air into two and flew at the two remaining rooks that were retreating. The Predecessors weapons ripped through them like a hot knife in butter, only to turn and slam through the last remaining Dominion transport.

  Grift shook his head and swallowed as he realized that the Predecessor’s weapon had leveled a small army in less than a minute. He knelt down, his face transfixed on the screen as the enemies Adley had painted with red on the display were now the mottled purple color of everything else. Adley brought up a menu and motioned her hands. The weapons fractured into the original denomination of fifteen and landed back within the canister. The lid shut, and the console powered off.

  Speechless, Grift sat down on the platform, his hand resting on Rot’s panting head. He had never seen anything like it in all his years of serving Lotte as guardsmen. Even the horrors of the Serubs had not showcased such an effective and powerful weapon. Aleph above. This could turn the war. We might actually have a chance.

  Ewing’s voice crackled over Adley’s datalink again.

  “Adley. Please come in, girl. Please.”

  Adley held her datalink to her face and responded. “We’re here, Ewing.”

  “Aleph above, girl, what happened down there?” Grift looked at her, wondering what she would say. Her response surprised him.

  “We’ve lost Henshaw, Ewing. We need to pull our forces into Preost. HQ has been compromised.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Willyn took her first step onto the dark, sandy floor of the arena. Grogan cities were known throughout all of Candor for their marvelous, sweeping amphitheaters. The glorious structures filled the entire Realm, serving as the nexus for all Grogan life, centers for both entertainment and justice. All dispu
tes that could not be settled civilly between two parties were settled in the arena, often to the death. There were no courts in the Groganlands, with the exception of the Sar’s.

  Other Realms cringed at such practices, calling it barbarism, but to Willyn, the arena served as a symbol of peace and unity for her people, threatening those who could not make amends with their fellow brother or sister with the swift and public display of martial judgment. It kept her people strong and unified, which was more than she could say about the other Realms.

  Legion’s Teeth was no different from the other Grogan cities, other than the fact that its arena had been completely carved out from an open cave in the depths of the mountain range. Huge electric lights illuminated the large carved bowl of the stone colosseum. The entire city had poured into the gigantic subterranean chamber, and the crowd shook the mountain with its excitement.

  As Willyn stepped further inside the sandy circle, the crowd erupted with cheers. The lights poured over her, enveloping her with a blinding intensity. All she wore was the light linen clothes Wael had provided her. The bright illumination forced her to shield her eyes. She tied her faux raven hair back and glanced at the arena’s end.

  Rander was there, wearing a pair of military pants, but otherwise shirtless. The Red leader’s body was a testament to his prowess as a warrior. Long scars left their mark over mountains of muscle, and though the man was small in stature for a Grogan, he lacked no strength. He strutted into the arena and spoke, his boisterous voice causing the crowd of Grogans and Baggers to hush.

  “Legion’s Teeth. Today we fight to avenge the loss of Viga, my honorable guardsman.” He pointed to Willyn and screamed, “The murderer stands before you, her own words accusing her of the crime.”

  A colossal wave of curses and insults flew through the air at Willyn, but her face remained stoic, as hard as flint.

  “This would have been enough for me to kill her on the spot, but then this murderer threatened my own life and had the audacity to claim that she is the Sar.” He spat onto the dirt floor. “Bagger scum. How dare you?” The crowd erupted with praise, and he turned to face them. “So, my brothers. My sisters. Today you will see us practice our ancient custom. Let this fraud prove her claims, and may Aleph have mercy on me if I am wrong.”

  The crowd began to chant Rander’s name in unison, causing the whole dome to echo. He looked at Willyn and spoke, “Do you have any last words, Sar?”

  Willyn lifted her head and spoke, her voice ringing out over the chanting crowd. “Grogans, I have traveled far and wide to get back to you. After Hagan...died, I knew that there would be many who would try to claim the Sardom from my family. Hospadda Gran, the snake of the Grogan council, poisoned my brother and effectively banished me from my homeland. My brother died in dishonor, but I have returned to avenge his death. You, the Reds, swear fealty to me. Now let me prove to you who I am.”

  A chorus of boos echoed from the arena walls as the crowd hissed with disapproval. Willyn looked out into the crowd and caught a glimpse of Bri’s face. The giant sat solemnly with his head bowed, a look of concern painted on his face as he wrung his hands. Willyn took in a deep breath and locked her eyes on Rander.

  A voice roared over the loudspeakers, silencing the dome. May Aleph’s justice be granted today. A low pulse of sound buzzed over the loudspeaker, indicating that the fight would begin.

  Focus, Willyn. Willyn continued to draw in deep breaths and could feel her heart slowing. Focus on your mark. She stalked forward and gauged Rander’s reach. Though he was stout and built like an anvil, his arms were compact and his legs offered him no clear advantage other than sheer power.

  Willyn bounced from side to side as she edged closer to Rander. He lumbered forward with his cold blue eyes focused her. Willyn had seen this face before, the cold brutality that falls on a person ready to take another’s life. Rander charged toward her. He dipped his head as he attempted to tackle Willyn, but she was able to slip to her left and land a quick kick at Rander’s knee. The blow was hardly enough to cause Rander to notice as he stumbled past her, catching himself before tumbling to the arena floor under his own weight.

  He cursed as he pulled himself from the floor, grabbing a handful of sand. He spun on his heels and threw a fistful into Willyn’s eyes. “Bagger witch,” he shouted as he threw his knuckles into the bridge of Willyn’s nose. The shot sent Willyn reeling and she fell back, landing on her elbows. A warm gush of blood flowed from her nose and she fought to see through the sand that was burning and scratching her eyes.

  Rander lunged for her, but Willyn rolled to her right and scurried to her feet as she continued to swipe at her eyes. The sand was unbearable and her face welled with tears, trying to clear her vision. In the confusion she could feel him coming. Rander charged again, ready to pin Willyn and end the fight. As he pushed forward, Willyn dropped to the ground and shot her right foot into the air, connecting with Rander’s chin. The force of the collision threw them both back in opposite directions. Willyn rolled back head over heels as Rander crumpled and fell on his back.

  Willyn used the slight separation to wipe her eyes clean before popping back to her feet. Her nose continued to drip red, hot blood, soaking her linen shirt. Rander scrambled to his feet and took a wide swing. As Willyn sidestepped the blow, she grasped his left wrist and used her opposite arm to slam an elbow into the back of Rander’s neck. She used the force of the shot to spin Rander to the ground, where she straddled over her foe and landed three punches to his face as she used her left arm to lock and close in on his throat.

  A heavy elbow slammed into Willyn’s side, colliding with her kidney. The blow knocked the breath from her, but she harnessed the pain to ratchet down on her foe, continuing to constrict his windpipe and hammer at his face with her free hand. Rander’s massive hands grasped for Willyn, clamping around her waist and hurling her to the side. She tumbled through the dirt, landing face down in the middle of the arena. Her face had become an unrecognizable mixture of blood, sand, and bruises as she pushed herself back to her feet and spit blood and dirt from her lips.

  Rander squared back up and wiped at his swollen cheek. “You can’t win, you little piece of trash. I am going to crush you,” he roared. The crowd erupted with cheers. The arena had grown to a feverish pitch over the scuffle. With each counter and every new blow, the din grew louder.

  Willyn slowly backed her way to the arena wall as Rander stalked her. He had the look of a hungry dog as he mimicked her movements and mocked her retreat. As her back pressed against the concrete wall, a spark lit in Rander’s eye. She had nowhere to run. A fist slammed into her stomach like a sledgehammer and another followed, crashing against her ear. The sound of the crowd was lost to a constant ringing as Willyn covered and blocked the next punch and slid to the side.

  As Rander reared back for another heavy blow, Willyn sent a lightning quick kick to the side of his knee. A loud pop announced the disjointing of his kneecap and Willyn followed with another kick to the same leg. Rander buckled and stumbled to the ground, landing on the disabled leg. He screamed as Willyn stomped on the back of his broken joint. Willyn stepped back before leveling another heavy kick to the side of Rander’s head.

  The brute crumpled and wilted into a worthless husk. Rander panted and wheezed as Willyn scrambled to lock his arms behind his back. She wrenched at his arms and used all her weight to pin him into place as she shouted into his ear, careful to focus all her weight and strength on the broken joint of her enemy.

  “Tell them who I am, Rander.”

  Rander spit and grunted his response. “Bagger trash.”

  Willyn whipped her head back and head-butted Rander in the back of his skull while tightening her grip on his arms. Rander’s writhing stopped with the blow, but he puffed and grunted beneath Willyn’s weight.

  “Tell them who I am,” she commanded. “NOW!”

  Rander made one final push and wrenched himself free from Willyn, hurling her to the side. He fis
hed into his pockets and drew out a blade. He took three lazy swipes while hobbling on one leg. Willyn buffeted the attempts, ripping the knife from Rander’s grasp before plunging it into his one good leg.

  Rander howled as he fell to the dirt and grasped at his new wound. Willyn locked one of his arms behind him while holding Rander’s own knife to his throat.

  “Tell them who I AM!” Willyn shouted as she pressed the blade to the side of Rander’s neck.

  “You’ll have to kill me first, Bagger filth.”

  Clarity buoyed in her mind, and she spoke. “I can tell I am fighting with a true Grogan. Very well.” She slung the blade into the ground and wrenched her arm around Rander’s neck. Using her legs, she stood, as Rander’s injured legs flopped uselessly in the sand. He desperately kicked his legs, trying to find leverage against the constricting hold, but she would not give in. His face turned red, and then crimson, only to settle into a deep purple. Willyn released her grip for a half second, and Rander took a whisper of a breath.

  “Tell them who I am, Rander.” Willyn spoke softly into his ear.

  Rander’s eyes cut her down and he whispered, “Never.”

  “Very well.” Willyn wrenched her hold across his throat, shutting off all the air to his brain. He struggled, flopping like a mouse in the coils of a serpent. She held him in that painful place, straddling his consciousness with the darkness that threatened to swallow him, only allowing him to gasp for breath in brief, terribly short microseconds.

  “Tell them, Rander. You know who I am. I have bested you. Surely you do not want to die today. We are allies, you and I.” Willyn did not honestly know if that was true, but something within her told her to stay a killing blow. Willyn’s heart quickened as she knew there was little time to waste. She either had to kill Rander or risk being viewed as weak.