Keys of Candor: Trilogy

by Casey Eanes

  “No more.” A resolve quickened in Bronson’s soul as he composed himself. “This has to end. You have to end.”

  Bronson wiped his face and opened his datalink. His heart stopped as his eyes fell over Seam. The High King spoke, his voice thin and tinny over the small speaker. “Bronson. I will be arriving within twenty-four hours. Ready the guard and assemble a full military force. We are heading for Preost. Make the appropriate preparations.”

  “Preost, my lord?” Bronson tried to steady his trembling fists.

  “The monks hold the last treasure that I seek.”

  Bronson nodded, fearing to hold eye contact with the king. “Anything else, my lord?”

  “Yes. Check in with our mercenaries. I want a report on the targets. Let them know if they can’t locate and capture within seventy-two hours all deals are off. I’ll just have to do it myself.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bronson dipped his head again and began to close the datalink before he was interrupted by his master.

  “And Bronson. Clean yourself up. You look terrible. If you can’t handle your affairs and this post, then I have no reason for you.” The hollow eyes on the screen nailed him in his place. “Don’t put me in that position, Bronson. There always needs to be a reason.”

  Bronson nodded without a word before terminating his connection. He wiped his calloused palm across his face and tried to breathe as he started to pull up Cyric’s channel. His finger hovered over the final confirmation. He could not force himself to comply. He swiped away the protocol, only to pull a new channel up again.

  His datalink blinked and chirped as Bronson waited, staring down into the glare of the small machine’s screen, trying to avoid eye contact with his own reflection. The screen lit up and Adley’s face greeted Bronson. The sight of his secret ally brought a bit of momentary relief to him, and he sighed as he saluted her.

  “Adley. I am glad to see you.” Bronson took in a deep breath and checked his office doors. “Is everything okay?”

  Adley shook her head and responded. “Bronson, is this a secured line? Why are you contacting me?”

  “I have news. It can’t wait.” Bronson checked the line source and nodded. “And yes, this line is secure. How are your efforts in Lotte going?”

  “I don’t really know. We have secured some new weapons and our numbers are growing, but we are losing ground. Seam’s forces just destroyed Henshaw. If not for the...tech, we would have died.” Bronson’s eyes grew at Adley’s aside. She continued, “We need help, Captain. What is the news of the resistance in Zenith? Have you taken any ground?”

  Bronson swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fact that he had completely failed to connect with any cells of resistors in Zenith while playing the errand boy to Seam. He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

  “Grift? How is Grift?” Bronson’s hands shook as he mentioned his old friend, threatening to drop his datalink onto the cold floor below. “Is he okay?”

  Adley’s countenance dropped and she whispered over the line. “Not good.” She leaned in and whispered, “Rose is dead. They killed her in Henshaw, too. He’s on the edge. It’s not good.”

  The two sat in silence on the line when Adley spoke up again. “You said you had news?”

  “Yes.” Bronson shook his head, nodding. “But it’s not good. Seam has secured another mirror. He is making for Zenith as we speak, but his eye is set on Preost. He says that the last mirror is there. Is that true?”

  Adley’s eyes went distant, and her lips tightened. She nodded, her face washed in disappointment. “Was Willyn...?”

  “Killed? I don’t know.” Bronson stared at the floor. “Seam mentioned nothing of her. I just know Seam got what he wanted. She was going for the mirror too, wasn’t she?”

  Bronson continued, “He also wanted me to round up the mercenaries.”

  Adley ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. “That’s okay. We intercepted the merc chasing Wael. The Mastermonk is secure.”

  “That’s not the issue,” blurted Bronson. “He is about to call all the hunters off. It won’t matter anymore, Adley, if Seam can get his hands on the last mirror. He knows that nothing can stop him. He’s not worried about Wael or Grift any longer.”

  Adley cursed under her breath. “How much time do we have?”

  “Seventy-two hours.” Bronson’s answer was quick, certain. “He will be here within the day and I have a feeling he won’t waste any time moving on his last target.”

  Adley leaned in and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Bronson. Gather who you can. We are going to need as much help as possible. We don’t have time to waste. Thanks for checking in.”

  The datalink went blank and Bronson stood in the shadows of his room hunched over his datalink. He stared at its blank screen, allowing himself to finally glimpse at his pale, sunken face. He no longer recognized the ghost staring back at him, the loose skin hanging from his frame and dark black bags beneath his eyes. In mere months, he had wasted into a living corpse, a shroud of death fitting for the dead soul that hid within his body.

  Bronson paced to the bookcase and snatched up his pistol. He stepped over the broken glass littering the floor and flipped over the picture. His family’s eyes were normal again, thank Aleph. He spoke to them, his voice trembling, “I’m sorry. I won’t fail again. I promise.”

  Seam’s convoy barreled through the streets of Zenith as if they were part of a triumphant parade within the metropolis. Soldiers and citizens gathered to witness the procession, stopping to salute the brigade as it passed by, traveling to the black, shining Spire that stood proudly within the city center. The rooks accompanying the convoy swept from front to back of the formation while the transports barreled over the freshly poured asphalt streets. The desert heat pounded on the proud city as it simmered in the midday sun.

  Seam growled, staring at his datalink. Bronson had quit responding to his calls. Cursing under his breath, he snapped the datalink shut and leapt from the titan as it came to rest underneath the shadow of the Spire.

  “The worthless old drunk, he probably finally offed himself...” Begrudgingly, the High King contacted another aid. A cherub-faced young man answered the call immediately.

  “My king?” The advisor saluted and held, waiting for the order.

  “Open up a universal broadcast.” Seam began to shut his datalink connection as the assistant stammered a follow-up question.

  “Is tomorrow morning the best time?” The self-assured follower smiled as he waited for a response.

  “Now, you fool.” Seam slammed the line shut and opened the back of the titan.

  Every screen in Candor lit up as an alarm screeched over each of the datalink screens. From smoky taverns to city squares, men and women gathered around the transmission filling every screen on the continent. The insignia of the Dominion, the black and gold shield surrounded by burning flames, held the screen for several minutes before cutting to the High King standing on a stage with the Synod standing behind him. Arakiel, Abtren, Nyx, and Bastion towered behind the High King, covered with long black robes trimmed with golden threads, their faces covered by cowls draped over their heads. Seam’s chest was wrapped in golden silk, and his long brown hair flowed over his shoulders, blending with the black cape hanging from his broad frame.

  He stepped forward and stared into the cameras. “Candor. The time has come to stand united. For months, we have worked together to unite, binding the deep wounds of our infighting, rebuilding the five Realms into the splendid nation we have always longed to be.”

  Seam glanced behind him at the Synod and continued. “Yet there are those among us who would destroy us, wolves in sheep skins. These have sown strife and fighting between us and despite my best efforts to unite the last of mankind on this world, their tactics are working. Terrorists continue to destroy our unification, our attempts to establish a secure and long-lasting peace with a never-ending chain of violence.” Seam paused, his face somb
er. “It brings me great pains to report to you that rebels in the Groganlands have unleashed a vicious coup within the Realm, and have succeeded in assassinating the Surrogator, Hospsadda Gran, our ally. Because of this, to all my loyal Grogan allies: I now stand not just as your Sar, but as the High King of Candor. We are all one, and I will die uniting us if necessary! The contingent, identified only as the Reds, will stop at nothing to try to weaken our resolve; our Dominion.”

  Seam stepped closer to the camera, crowding the screen. “I want to make myself very clear, Candor. This Dominion will not be opposed. It will not be challenged. If any man, woman, or child makes an attempt to create discord within our continent, they will be dealt with swiftly. Rebellion and resistance will not be tolerated, for peace and security must be enforced at all times.” Again, Seam paused, his eyes never blinking. “It is my duty as High King to protect us all from this growing threat of rebellious upstarts, these wolves who would threaten our flock. They come for blood, but I come for justice and order, and I will not flinch in my resolve.”

  Seam cleared his throat as a map of Candor came up on the screen. “Intelligence has been gathered around the rebel factions that have been meeting in secret within our Realms. Rest assured, all of the cells of rebels have been identified and will be extinguished swiftly. Yet, to my dismay, it has wounded me to learn that the trusted Convent Order housed within the Forest Realm of Preost has been fanning the flames of insurgency against the Dominion. My friends, though it might be hard to believe, the monks want only to see our Dominion crumble. Undoubtedly, they seek my own death. I have evidence today that the Alephian Order has aided the Reds multiple times within the Groganlands. Rest assured, they are aiding other conspirators. Because of these crimes, I have no choice but to declare war on the Realm of Preost, only so I can extinguish the flames of rebellion. Tomorrow, the Forest Realm will rejoin our Dominion and our nation as a conquered province.” Seam held up his fist, as his voice swelled behind a crescendo of powerful, swelling music. “For a new tomorrow. For a lasting peace. For unity.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The sound of songbirds woke Kull from a deep sleep. Slowly he yawned, stretching as he sat up on the edge of his small cot, enjoying the melodic rise and fall of the birds’ chorus. Bright, yellow sunlight flowed through the opening of the cave. Kull expected to step out and descend the mountain to cut more wood, but as he stepped from the mouth of the cave, his feet sunk into hot, soft sand.

  Kull spun on his heels, his eyes wide with confusion. The cave opening was still behind him, but the lush mountain range had disappeared. Instead, he was surrounded by rolling sand dunes. The amber, windswept dunes simmered with a dry heat. Kull pressed out over the hills, searching for the stranger that had sheltered him. As he slogged through the soft sand, his mind pondered on his host. The man was impossible to understand, from his tattoo-covered skin to the guardian beasts he kept. Everything about him was at odds, much like this ever-shifting place called Mir.

  What is his name? The questions plagued Kull’s thoughts as he pressed on, pushing himself up a massive dune.

  “Kull!” The stranger’s familiar voice called out from behind him. “Come help me with this!”

  Kull turned and blinked, trying to discern how he passed without noticing the man. The stranger was no more than twenty feet away. He stood with a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other. He held out the shovel and offered it to Kull.

  “Ready to dig today?”

  Kull looked at the sand beneath his feet and kicked at the golden granules. “I thought we were gathering honey or cutting wood.”

  “The plan has changed, friend.”

  Kull nodded, squinting under the blazing morning sun. “What are we digging for?”

  The stranger lifted the bucket and smiled. “Water.”

  Kull grimaced, trying to comprehend as he stared up at the blazing sun. “Out here? Water?”

  The stranger handed over the long-handled shovel to Kull and nodded, his bright eyes covered under the cowl of robe. “Yes. Out here.”

  The two went to work on the sand, scooping it away one shovel at a time, tossing it to the side. The deeper they dug, the harder the work became as the hole caved in from its sides, erasing their progress. The sun stretched higher in the sky and soaked the two in an immense, consuming heat. Kull could feel sweat dripping from his entire body as he fought to move the shifting sand.

  Kull’s host scooped dirt silently, never breaking a sweat. Kull paused and leaned on the handle of his shovel, panting. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, sir.” He wiped away the sweat pouring from his brow. “What is your name?”

  The stranger continued to dig, but glanced up from his work. “You don’t know?”

  Kull shook his head and dipped his shovel back into the sand. “No, sir. Never thought to ask. Been too busy I guess.”

  The man smiled and bobbed his head as he chuckled. “Busy indeed. You’ve been a great help to me here, Kull. Do not worry. You’ll remember my name soon enough.”

  Kull furrowed his brow. The promise of “soon enough” did little to quell Kull’s curiosity. Instead, he decided to focus on the task at hand: digging. Silence settled over the two as they continued to dig deeper into the desert, searching for water. The hole grew around the men as they struck deeper and deeper into the ground. After a while, Kull marveled at their progress. His mouth dropped open as he realized they had created a small crater and the rim of the hole was several feet over their head.

  “How long have we been digging?” Kull scanned the hole, turning in a full circle.

  “How long?” The stranger shrugged. “I haven’t really kept up with the time.”

  Kull wrung the sweat from his shirt and stopped to think that despite the heat and effort he was not fatigued. Then he saw his hands. They were whole, no longer ragged tatters of broken flesh, but whole and healthy. Kull stared at the fresh, smooth skin of his hands and stared back up at the sun. The elder smiled at him and they both continued shoveling.

  A strong wind swept over the dunes and swirled in the pit. Kull felt the sands shift, and he glanced at his companion. “Are we safe here?” A river of loose sand slid down the sides of the pit.

  “No, but we must find water.” Outside the crater, the wind picked up until the steepest wall of the crater broke free, releasing a rush of sand that threatened to bury them. It crashed down around Kull and the sound of the rushing wave of sand unhinged a new memory within his mind. The memory flooded Kull’s vision like the sand that collapsed over him.

  He was still in a pit of sand, tool in hand, tasked with the duty to dig. However, he was not alone. He was surrounded by hundreds of baggers. Baggers. Yes. That’s what they were called. The beleaguered servants were bent over, broken and beaten down by the heat as they tried not to wither from exhaustion. They were being forced to work until they died. Their dirty faces and tattered clothing blended in with the sandy soil that surrounded them like a tomb. Kull continued shoveling and scanned the crowd. A woman shrieked and was soon joined with a chorus of cries.

  Kull looked down and was greeted by the hollow stare of a dirty skull resting at his feet. The truth of the place hit him like a lightning bolt. The whole crew was digging through a pit of bones. The sand had long since disappeared and morphed into the chalky grime of brittle bone. The baggers sank into the skeletal void, gurgling and screaming as they drowned in the broken pit of death, leaving Kull alone at the center of the cursed crater. The bones rattled, as a thousand skulls pushed through the sandy walls of the crater and gathered into a great serpent.

  The beast rose thirty feet in the air and glared down at Kull, its thousand faces each flashing him a hollow smile. The monster snapped its jaws and circled Kull, tightening its cold, hard coils around him. The thousands of skulls all opened their mouths and a chorus of screams washed over him, thundering in his ears. “Know this, young one. You are dead, and you are Mine.”

  The bone coils hinged over h
im, closing in on his body tighter and tighter until Kull felt the air being pushed out of his lungs. He lifted his shovel and slammed its blade into the ground at his feet. “Never!”

  Kull’s scream shattered the memory. The coils of bone exploded and evaporated like a mirage.

  Kull screamed, kicking up sheets of sand. He blinked madly, unable to tell where he was and what he was doing until the stranger’s gaze leveled on him. Kull exhaled a trembling breath and stabbed the shovel between them, fighting to gather his composure after the terrifying vision. He took heaving breaths as a bubbling noise filled his ears. He stared behind his host as he witnessed a stream of water flowing out and around the shovel’s blade. The water level grew with great speed, quickly covering over Kull’s toes. Every scrap of energy he had felt was depleted. The memory, the horror of remembering the labor camp and the death that once surrounded him was exhausting. Death. Gods...

  “Kull.” The hooded man’s voice was calm. “Take deep breaths. You are okay. I am here.”

  “Is it true?” Kull’s question landed between heavy breaths. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

  Kull’s guide placed a strong hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Do you feel dead?”

  Kull took a deep breath and felt his heart beat. He looked up to the sun blazing above him and felt the comforting grip of the elder’s hand on his shoulder. “No.”

  “Then there is your answer. You are very much alive.”

  The stranger looked down at the water that was up to their calves and smiled. “Now help me.” He handed Kull a bucket. “Good job. You found our water.”

  Kull dipped the bucket into the clear, cool water, relishing the feeling of it surrounding him. The water smelled crisp and sweet, its presence and aroma intoxicating. Kull felt as if he had drunk gallons of it just by looking at it. He shouldered the overflowing bucket and climbed up the side of the crater. The ground rumbled beneath his feet as Kull crested the pit’s edge. The small pool of water at the base rushed behind him, only to fill the entire void before surging forward, chasing at Kull’s heels.