by Casey Eanes
Isphet smiled. “I understand. You are not the first mortal that I’ve dealt with. You all are so very...fragile.”
Seam snarled at Isphet and spoke, his voice firm. “I will do as you say. As for what happens to the rest of your kin, I would gladly allow you to deal with them as you desire. As long as it buys me peace and security.”
“It will buy you more than that, King Seam, I assure you.” Isphet smiled, his brown eyes somehow glowing in the darkness. Suddenly, Seam recognized the man within the mirror. It was himself.
Seam opened his eyes and he was back within the confines of the titan’s chambers. A chill ran down his spine. He put the datalink up to his mouth and spoke another command to his assistant.
“Round up all the Baggers and Grogan soldiers in Zenith. I have a use for them. Use your contacts if you need help with the logistics. Pay what is necessary but see that it’s done.”
“Understood, my lord.”
Seam sat in his chair, the memory of Willyn’s broadcast distant and foreign. Something new was happening and he could feel it all around him. The thought of only having to contain one Serub eased Seam’s mind. If Isphet could deliver on his promise, he might finally be free of the Serubs’ tiresome attempts at mutiny. He stood and made his way to the Serubs, who were locked away within the back chambers of the titan.
As the chamber door slid open, Seam could not hide his smile. He plodded into the room and tilted his head as he grinned at the four deities. “It is time for me to let my dogs off the leash. You have proven yourselves to be efficient enough.” Seam strode deeper into the small cell. “Arakiel and Nyx. You will be going back to Zenith.”
“Why are you dividing us?” Abtren snapped. “I go with them.” Bastion stood silent in the corner, silently observing the king.
“No.” Seam pointed a finger at Abtren. “You and Bastion will stay with me. I enjoyed your brutality in the Groganlands and it will serve me well in Preost.”
“What do you want Nyx and me to do, Keeper?” Arakiel kept his eyes on the floor of the titan, scanning the rivets running down the floor beneath Seam’s feet.
Seam stepped within inches of Arakiel and peered up at the Serub. “I want you to purge any Bagger or Grogan you find within an inch of Zenith. As you get to the city, they should all be gathered and ready for you to process them.” Nyx’s eyes went dark and a wide grin grew on her face. Seam continued, “Push them out and command them to protect Zenith until we return. The Grogans have declared war on us and will be making their way to our city. Show them no mercy.”
Arakiel’s eyes flew open and a sinister spark twinkled within as he finally looked at Seam. “I am pleased that you would trust us to partake in this task.”
Seam smiled and nodded. “Don’t disappoint me. Zenith must remain safe from the Grogans. Do not let them through.”
Arakiel smiled and laughed. “You will be pleased in our work, Keeper. I assure you of that.”
Seam peered from the cockpit of the titan as the two rooks carrying Arakiel and Nyx screamed away from the convoy, throwing a plume of sandy dust in the air behind them. He reveled in satisfaction as he turned his attention to the tank’s displays.
“How far are we from Preost’s borders?”
“Two hours, sir. We’ve maintained a steady clip.” The captain fidgeted in his chair. “Any commands, my lord?”
“None for now. Alert me once we have visual on the border or see any potential targets.”
“Aye, sire.”
Seam retreated to his small cabin and drew his door shut. He sunk down into his chair and covered his face with shaking hands. “Just one hour of sleep. That is all I need.”
His body trembled, refusing to calm itself. He fought to quiet his mind but whenever he closed his eyes he was assaulted by dark visions. Memories that were not his own: faces and sounds all stemming from the power he drained from the Serubs and from the morel husks he commanded. All of them waited in the darkness, coiling around him like a cruel, ravished serpent. The mammoth burden of his powers weighed on his shoulders and pressed him into his chair, as if he were buried beneath the sea.
“All I desire is sleep.”
The bracer itched at his arm, as if it beckoned him to remove it to find the rest he so desperately desired. The idea was tempting, but Seam knew the Serubs were waiting for any opportunity to steal the Keys away. He had to be aware, connected, at all times.
Seam sat with his hands over his face, trying to still his mind in hope that he could at last achieve some form of rest. As he sat, trying to ignore everything around him, a quiet voice spoke from within.
Gods don’t sleep. The thought pricked Seam’s mind and catapulted him to the edge of his seat. Gods aren’t weak. A new voice, one that was fully Seam’s, but new and powerful rang in his mind.
I don’t sleep. I am not weak.
Seam stood and rubbed his hand on the bracer holding the Keys of Candor. He smiled as he examined the five relics that had granted him power known only to the gods. He drew in a deep, refreshing breath and smiled as he spoke softly to himself. “I am the Keeper. I am the one of destiny. I am...divinity.”
He paced to a small mirror and examined his face. His dark skin was smooth and perfect, without blemish, but his eyes bore the dark shade of exhaustion. Seam pried his eyes open and stared himself down. “This exhaustion is the last of my humanity being leached from my body. It is the price I have to pay for my destiny.”
Seam’s datalink blinked and the titan’s captain came over the line. “My king. We have arrived. I have no visual on any hostiles, but our reinforcements are standing by at the border ready to join our advance. We await your orders.”
Seam smiled and walked to the captain’s cabin. Staring through the cockpit, his eyes fell on the hundred-foot wall of tall pines that marked the border of Preost. Seam stared at the trees slowly rocking in the breeze. The border made the forest feel ancient and impenetrable.
“Have you located any roads or thoroughfares, captain?”
The captain furiously operated his datafeed on the console, which brought up a floating map of the territory, a thick swatch of green indicating the forest. There were no openings that could be seen. “I have been pinging some scouts that were sent in from Zenith weeks ago, but they are not getting back to me. It’s as if they’ve completely disappeared. I fear they might have been compromised.”
Seam growled, and the captain furiously began operating the titan's information console, his face despondent at the results.
“There are no roads here, sire. None that my maps indicate. The forest is just too thick.”
Seam nodded and gritted his teeth, frustration growing on his face. “We have to find a way in, captain. Send out some probes. The monks have roads to Taluum. We just need to find them. We must proceed as if our scouts have been compromised.”
“Aye, sire. I will release some probes.” The captain pressed a button on the titan’s console. Two white probes lifted from the machine and shot up above the tree canopy. The white spheres spun as the black shiny lenses covering their sides collected data from the canopy below.
The captain spoke, his voice hopeful. “We should have a better sense of the terrain in a few minutes.” Seam stared in silence at the live feed channeling in from the two hovering devices, watching as the machines analyzed the variations in the forest’s terrain. Everything was highlighted, from game trails, animal patterns, and breaks in the tree limbs. The probes moved with incredible speed, scanning miles of the forest border in mere minutes. Soon, an alarm sounded and the cameras leveled their gaze on a thin vein of what looked to be recent tracks leading into the forest.
“Sire, looks like we’ve found a trail.” The captain zoomed in on the feed to a small dirt trail, camouflaged by the dense forest. There, on the sandy, red dirt of the trail, were the shallow signs of hoof and footprints leading into the woodlands.
Seam stared at the opening and cursed. “We’ll never be able to get our
titans through that.”
The captain shook his head. “These are the only trails anywhere near us. Wide enough for a line of horses or pack-mules, but not much else. They are hard to find unless you know the terrain. I could have sworn this was the drop site provided by our intel, but I don’t see it. There should be a road near here.”
Seam nodded. “Can our rooks get through?”
“Yes, sir, but only one at a time, single file.” The young man dropped his gaze from Seam and scanned the images still beaming in from the egg-like orbs hovering overhead. He ran his hands through his blonde hair and beamed as he pointed to the glowing screen. “Looks like the trail opens up in about one hundred meters. We have enough firepower to clear some of these trees and push through. Maybe from there we can locate a village and have them lead us into Taluum.”
Seam stared at the captain and smiled. “A very good plan, captain. Very good indeed.” Seam read the moniker pinned to the captain’s uniform for the first time. “Captain Reed, which Realm do you hail from?”
“Lotte, sir. It is an honor and privilege to serve you.” The captain saluted the High King, who quickly followed suit.
“Well met, kinsman. Call for all artillery to focus on blasting our way in and mobilize the troops. I want them all in formation by the hour’s end, ready to march.”
The officer nodded and saluted one more time. “Yes, sir.”
Wael sat alone in the sanctuary of Taluum, his head bowed in the dim candlelight of the sacred place. His mind was a storm of frustration, refusing to focus during his meditation. Luken, Grift, Adley, and he had safely made their way into Preost and prepared in haste for the High King’s invasion.
Wael opened his eyes and sighed. His mind whirred and clicked with an endless cycle of checklists. No matter how many times he went over what needed to be done, he feared he might have missed something. They had prepared in every way he knew how for a coming conflict, but none of his strategies comforted him.
Informing the other leaders in the Order had been easy enough, but the plans changed when Willyn had given him additional intel on what was heading their way. Seam was moving to Preost not just with titans and rooks, but also with a horde of vicious, newly made morels. Wael shuddered at the thought of fighting the creatures again and grieved at what it would mean for the Forest Enclave, whose only real defense was in the martial trainings of their Order. In addition, it did not even account for the fact that Seam would be guarded by the Serubs he had already unlocked.
Focus. Do not give into fear. Wael’s own conscience checked him into further meditation over what was left to be done. What else? Adley had prepped the Predecessor technology as the last defense. Even though the technology made the Mastermonk uneasy, he had pressed in on the Resistance leaders to dig it up and reactivate it. His monks, his brothers had been essential for rebuilding the war machine, but he was at a loss on what choice he really had. How could he ever fight what was coming?
All of these things swirled within the Mastermonk’s mind, but nothing was so troubling as what he had encountered on the border of his very own Realm. The Desolate. The Desolate had reawakened and Wael sat paralyzed at this new and unexpected turn of events. Their coming was a dreaded sign, a sign of Aleph’s coming judgment. Aleph has made his presence known again.
Wael stood and walked slowly to a cabinet bearing the tomes of the monks who had gone before him, located just to the side of the main altar within the Sanctuary. The candlelight that burned from the seven lampstands barely cast enough light as he scanned the ancient manuscripts. Wael paused for a moment and fetched a small tome. He blew the dust off the book and read its title, Signs in the Night.
Carefully, he thumbed through the pages, scanning the dark, intricate text that swayed under the guiding of a forgotten hand, long ago.
Aleph’s eyes are open, scanning, watching all
Lofty hands, strong and steady, waiting for the call
Exacting judgment, mighty; piercing through the fog
Pitch black of night is vanquished; His power shown to all
Watch the stars as they tumble, marvel as they fall
White fury burning from the sky, obeying Master’s call
Desolate will awaken, shaking through the timbers,
Their power known, their fury hot, burning with white embers,
Listen faithful, listen; heed this warning song,
Once Desolate awaken, judgment will soon fall.
Wael’s hand trembled as he closed the ancient book and kneeled to pray at the room’s altar. His face rested on the cold timber floor as he tried to calm his soul, but it refused to be tamed. His heart slammed at the walls of his chest, growing with unrelenting pressure, squeezing out his breath. Tears fell and soaked into the wooden floor, adding to the stained altar as Wael moaned out in desperation. There were no spoken words, only the groaning of his soul as he pleaded with Aleph, who still remained silent.
Please, Aleph. My Lord. Help.
Pine trees buckled as mortars and cannon fire ripped through the forest. The twelve titans in Seam’s company let out a relentless barrage of fire, shredding the canopy lying between them and Preost. The chorus of trees cracking, snapping, and falling joined the drumbeat of mortar fire as the mighty Preost forest buckled under the weight of Seam’s war machines. As the attack pressed on, titans and rooks hovered over burning tree stumps and downed pines, still smoldering from their assault. The sweet smell of boiling tree sap permeated the air and mixed with the smoke that rolled through the underbrush.
Seam’s titan pressed into the opened pass first, snapping down a few smaller pines that had somehow survived the shelling. The transport door was open, and the High King hung out the side, his eyes dancing in the firelight. A squadron of thirty rooks hung behind him, spread out in a fan of cover, ready to mow down any who would dare oppose them.
A hover drone flew, capturing Seam as they rode through the forest. They had cut nearly ten miles into the dense foliage, without a single sight of any of Preost’s forces. Seam stared into the camera, his eyes alight with pride and fervor.
“Candor, I come before you today with a heavy heart. The alliance the Surrogator and I worked so hard to establish between Lotte and the Groganlands has crumbled. The unity of our Dominion threatens to fracture under the events that have unfolded recently. It pains me to tell you the truth. Hospsadda Gran, the mighty Surrogator of the Groganlands, is dead, falling under the traitorous hand of Willyn Kara. She has retaken the Groganlands with this final Red Death, continuing her family’s reign and bloodthirsty rule. Willyn Kara has declared war on us, on all of us.”
Seam paused, his eyes locking with the camera before he spoke again. “But that is not the only reason I am here today, dear Candor, for there are many traitors in our midst, even those who we have long trusted. The Enclave of Alephian monks in the forest Realm of Preost has secretly been harboring Willyn Kara’s allies, Grift Shepherd and the fallen Mastermonk. The neutral and peaceful Realm has become a hotbed of terrorism, networking with other cells of dissidents within the continent in a covert network that threatens to destroy our unity. I don’t know how else to say this, but the monks want our land broken and divided again. They would rather have us engaged in the petty skirmishes and wars that mark our sordid history than to find and secure our own peace. Our enemies abound like wolves in sheep's clothing, waiting to devour us like lambs.”
Seam roared into the camera, his eyes wide and full of fury. “No more. I will not sit idly by and see our world fall back into a second dark age. We must rally, Candor. Rally and protect all that we have built. Clandestine tactics and secret alliances will never avail against the mighty unification we have established! It gives me little choice but to declare a full-scale war on the brothers in Preost who have betrayed not only our continent, our alliance, but the very god they claim to serve. We will root out the poison in our body and build within this Realm a true spirituality founded on the bedrock of peace. May Aleph he
lp me as we march to this task. For unity!”
The feed cut, and Seam heard a low, hideous growl within the titan. He turned, his eyes locking with kaleidoscopic eyes that flashed with rage. Abtren sneered, revealing rows of serrated teeth. Seam’s heart froze at the sight as she spoke, “Why do you insist on saying his name? It is not wise...in this place.” Bastion who stood next to her shuddered, his green eyes burning with hatred. Seam stood momentarily speechless and he furrowed his brow in mock sympathy.
“I’m so sorry, my dear friends, but how can the name of a god who does nothing terrify you? If Aleph does exist, then he abandoned Candor long ago.” The two Serubs roared at the sound of the name, shaking as if hot coals had fallen over them.
“STOP! STOP IT!” Abtren’s face morphed between wolf and woman, and Bastion fell to the ground seizing, his hands curled around his head as he shook with fury. Abtren locked her gaze on the High King, her eyes spinning with accelerated madness. “If you want our loyalty, then you should not speak the name of the false god in our presence.”
Seam did not break his stare. “You’ve told me this before, Abtren. Let me remind you that you are bound. I’ll do as I please.”
Abtren’s face broke away from the High King’s gaze and she whispered, “The false god is crueler than even you, High King. More powerful than you could imagine. His invisible hand hides within his very name so to speak it is to invite him here. Do not do this.” Bastion stood up from the titan floor, a trickle of blood pouring from his nose.
Seam stood, shocked. “Bastion…I…”
Abtren lashed out as she ran to her brother’s aid. “He is not nearly as strong as me, for he has not fed enough.” She cut her horrific colorful eyes at him. “You see. I’m not wasting my words with you. If you wish success, then listen to us. You know nothing of the other side.”