by Casey Eanes
“NOW YOU KNOW THE TRUTH...NOW YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO I AM.”
Another movement surged in the waters beneath him. Luken tried to force himself back to the other side, but the fear was paralyzing for him. He was too far gone...he had taken too much of a risk, and now he would pay for it.
“YES, LUKEN. I WILL CONSUME YOU TOO. ALL OF THEM WILL BECOME A PART OF ME, IN TIME.”
Luken looked up and saw the blood-red eyes of the giant serpent ignite in the darkness like underwater volcanoes, as the titanic snake revealed itself, threatening to fill the sea with its uncanny girth and power.
“No! NO!”
Luken’s eyes flew open and he was back in the cave, his mind still echoing with the threat of his true enemy. The ocean roared on, unaware of the horrible truth that was now suddenly clear to him.
“Isphet is Ma’et...Isphet is Ma’et,” Luken kept repeating the words over and over until he thought he might go crazy. The truth of the Serubs was eclipsed now. Whatever Dyrn had done to them...to him, had created a bridge for this to happen. The work of Dyrn had inexplicably linked over two realities, allowing Ma’et, the world eater, to inhabit the being known as Isphet.
Luken walked out of the cave shaking, his mind still paralyzed by the fiery slitted eyes of the horrible black serpent that could swallow the sky.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An inky, black void stretched out from Kull in every direction. The ground beneath his feet shimmered and undulated like water but he remained above it, his feet solidly fixed beneath him. The sound of rushing torrents echoed in the distance as voices called out over the void, briefly piquing Kull’s attention before falling deaf. It was as if someone was whispering through a wall of darkness, trying to pass on some hidden knowledge in vain.
Kull drew in a deep breath and focused on the air flowing in and out of his lungs. Slowly, he released each breath, rhythmically following the pattern Wael had taught him.
Breathe in... Breathe out... Focus... Breathe in... Breathe out... Focu—
“YOU!”
Kull’s eyes flew open, searching for the intruding voice that thundered through his soul. He took three steps forward, moving in the direction he thought the voice had come from and paused. All his senses were on edge. He took two more steps and as he lifted his foot for another step he felt a warm puff of air roll down his back, followed by the snarl of something massive behind him.
“Ma’et.” Kull balled his fists and turned, his face coming just inches from the serpent’s massive fangs, arched in a treacherous smile. The creature’s mouth dripped with rancid black saliva as he opened his mouth to speak. He backed far enough away for Kull to meet his gaze, but remained threateningly close.
“You are quite brave to keep coming back to my realm, little essence. Foolish, but brave.” The dark leviathan circled Kull. Its long coils emerged from the dark waters and slowly tightened around him. Ma’et sneered with a wicked grin, and Kull’s face flashed with fear as the coils of the beast moved closer to him. “What do you think you will find here in this place? Do you really expect your god to give you direction or answers? You will be most disappointed.”
Ma’et snapped his massive jaw and hissed as he drew in a deep breath. “Where exactly is he, essence? Has he answered your feeble prayers?” Ma’et rose up, towering over Kull, his black armored scales shimmering as if under intense sunlight despite the darkness of the void.
“Why so silent, little essence? You don’t have to answer, because I already know the answer. Aleph has not helped you, nor has he spoken to you. This is my realm and everything in it is mine. Including you...” The beast’s eyes cut to the chain around Kull’s neck. “... and that Key.”
Ice shot through Kull’s veins and his heart raced as the words hit his ears. Ma’et opened his jaws and drew back to strike. Kull leapt over the beast’s coiled body and sprinted into the dark void around him, but Ma’et darted in front of him like a thunderbolt. Kull turned and ran the opposite direction, only to crash into Ma’et’s coils time and time again. Sweat ran from Kull’s brow as he struggled to find a way to free himself from this horrible trap, but nothing was working. Ma’et tightened his grip, and soon Kull felt the air leave his lungs. His bones quaked beneath the surface of his skin. He tried to scream but there was no air left within him.
“Kull!” The voice was distinct and different but muffled like the earlier voices that had accompanied Kull in this place. The voice grew in intensity, volume, and proximity. “KULL!” The voice cried out, “Kull, breathe. Focus!”
There was a sudden flash of light, and Kull caught the glimpse of a body surrounded in bright light. Seconds crept by like years, and Kull saw Wael surrounded in light, his ironwood staff held out against the titanic enemy.
The vision ruptured and a strong breeze rushed over Kull as he felt his chest loosen. He sucked in a deep breath and fell back. Ma’et screamed a litany of curses, and Kull found himself slowly recognizing the surroundings of Ewing’s old apartment in Vale. He blinked, his eyes unfocused and dim. The strong, dark hands of Wael drew him in close, praying quiet prayers over him. He heard the monk whisper, “Breathe. Breathe.”
A sudden jolt of cold air filled his lungs and Kull stammered for breath, his mind swirling with pain.
Kull saw Ewing’s frame ease from tension. Everyone’s eyes were drilling into his.
“It…it was him,” Kull croaked. “Ma...Ma’et.”
“Yes, Kull…” Wael steadied him upright from the floor and dropped to a knee beside him. Wael seemed to have aged, his whole body taxed from the stretch they had both endured.
Kull’s eyes went wide as he scanned the room. “He was everywhere. He was everywhere...”
Ewing jaunted over to Kull, a wet washcloth in his hand. Without asking, he placed the rag over Kull’s brow, and Kull realized that Ewing’s hands were shaking terribly. “You seized up on us, boy. Went nearly black, like a noose was around your neck. I...thought…” Ewing didn’t finish the sentence.
Wael spoke, his face grave. “You are back, now. Breathe.” Wael tucked his knees beneath him as he positioned himself in front of Kull and searched Kull’s eyes. “Now I understand, Kull. I once thought that all soul stretching led to was visions of things that may occur. I was wrong. You stretched to see what few can see...that there is a place beyond understanding…a place that is as real as here. It took nearly all my energy to find you…in that place. Yet, somehow, we were always here, alone in this room.”
“No.” Kull stood up and glanced at the boarded window to the left of Wael. “We were there, and—” Kull paused and took time to pull in a few more breaths to steady himself. “He would have had me, if it hadn’t been for you, Wael. Thank you.”
Wael quietly nodded and dipped his head before looking back to Kull. “You will do no more stretching from this point on. Not alone. I will stay with you every step of the way, to guide and guard you.”
“No,” Kull quietly answered. “I have my answer now. The time for searching for answers is over, Wael.” Kull lifted his eyes, the look of determination painted over his tired face. “I know what I must do.”
Adley peered through the cracked windshield of the convoy as it bounced over the hills outside Cotswold. She stared out over the landscape in disbelief, glancing between the horizon and back to her driving, trying to confirm that Ewing was seeing the same thing she was.
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Ewing whispered, shifting in his seat as he attempted to hold his poise, his pipe filling the air with smoke.
“No,” Adley answered flatly. “At least, I hope not. Willyn’s actions were misguided, but since learning the truth she has been a steadfast ally.”
Ewing grunted and exhaled a long bit of dragon’s smoke. Cotswold was quickly approaching and Adley pumped the brakes. Ewing lurched forward and stared at her like she had gone mad, as the tires skidded on the rough gravel road. Adley scanned at the city just beyond the tree line. “Look, Ewing.” In the distance,
she could see Grogan men and women toiling, pulling down ruins and clearing the burned-out shells of buildings. At the edge of her hometown, Adley could see her now. Even at this distance, Willyn’s hair was unmistakable, and she could clearly see that she was directing the reconstruction.
Adley popped open her door, and her boots hit the gravel. “I’ll go on ahead, Ewing. You stay back. If they try anything order all our men to fall back.”
Ewing scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to count the shiny black rooks beyond the clean-up crew, all parked in perfect formation. “No, gal. I’m going with you. After all, the Lords assigned me as their representative, though I guess they thought me expendable should these negotiations go south.” Ewing flashed a wry smile and got out of the car, his chrome leg flashing in the sunlight.
Adley chuckled. “Arthur Ewing, you aren’t afraid of anything, are you?” She smiled warmly at him. She had grown rather fond of the gruff old man over the past few months, thinking of him now as a grandfather.
“Adley,” Ewing said between a clenched pipe, “Fate should have closed around me long ago and sent me to the grave. But here I am.” He held out his hands dramatically and flashed a sly smile. “I figure I’ve been on borrowed time for about five years now.”
Adley nodded and started walking beside him.
“Look alive, young one,” Ewing whispered. “Snipers on the tops of the buildings unless my eyes are failing.”
Adley whispered quietly into the datalink mic hooked around her face. “Snipers ahead. Move in immediately if they engage. Do you copy?”
A small buzz in Adley’s ear responded, “We copy.”
Adley kept her eyes fixed on Willyn as she and Ewing pressed up the hillside towards her old home.
Willyn’s datalink chirped and she looked behind her over her shoulder. She glanced up, nodding at the snipers perched above. Silently, they nodded back, confirming their position. Willyn spoke over the coms, her voice calm, “Rander?”
“My Sar?”
“Wait until my signal.”
“Understood.”
Adley and Ewing walked slowly up the winding path. The grade of the climb was much steeper than it looked, but they knew it well. Adley held up her hand in the sign of peace as Willyn Kara herself approached them both, alone. The three met together just as the winds of a distant thunderstorm began to rumble over the plains.
Ewing was the first to speak. “Sar Kara, I presume?”
Willyn nodded, her face stoic, but her eyes alert and present. “Yes.”
Ewing tipped his head, as if he had taken off an invisible hat. “Arthur Ewing, colonel in the Lottian Guard, retired. I am the appointed arbiter for the Council of Lords. You must have heard the news?”
Willyn nodded, her frame shifting nervously with Ewing’s formalities. Her face briefly registered recognition of Adley, who remained silent next to him. “My sincere condolences on the loss of your queen, Arthur Ewing. Aleigha was a friend to our Realm, and was loved and respected by all Rodnim’s race and all of Candor. Please accept my heartfelt condolences toward your Realm, Colonel.”
Ewing nodded, his face holding the worries of a man who had wagered all he could, only to lose. His voice went grave. “Sar Kara, over the last twenty-four hours you have mobilized your squadron into our territory. You have requested an audience with Lotte, and the Lords have sent Adley Rainer and me to serve as arbiters and mediators.”
Willyn nodded, her face still held tight. “My people come in peace, Arthur Ewing. I have come to settle a debt to you and your people.” Willyn glanced back behind her at the ruins of Cotswold. “My choices have left many of your kinsmen dead and homeless. The debt of lives lost is one that I can never repay. My soldiers are here to rebuild what can be restored, but I plan to make amends for the blood on my hands.” Willyn held out her palms, her robotic hand mirroring its twin as a cool breeze whistled through the air.
Ewing coughed, shaking his head. “We were all deceived, Sar Kara. Deception is the first act of war. Your actions were reasonable given the circumstances…” Ewing’s reply fell short as Adley grabbed his hand and locked eyes with Willyn.
“How would you make amends, Willyn? How would you undo the work you’ve done here?” Adley’s question could barely contain her emotions, ringing with a strong, quiet rage.
Willyn glowered, and her voice went ice cold. Her robotic hand reached for Adley’s and she held it. She whispered, “I would find Seam Panderean and I would bring him to justice for all he has done to us…all of us.”
Adley nodded, her eyes uncontrollably brimming in hot tears.
Willyn drew Adley in so they stood face to face. The Sar whispered, “You just need to show me the way.”
Seam clamored through the desolate fields, his mind failing, fraught with fear, sorrow, and hatred. It felt now, despite everything that happened, that his world was collapsing in on itself.
Keep going. The only cognizant thought his brain could muster was to move. You can never stop. Blades of grass and brambles flew by Seam as he sprinted through the darkening fields. The cool of the evening was now all but upon him, and Seam could see his breath fogging in the twilight. He forced himself to keep running. Run from what you’ve done. Aleigha’s final moments flickered to life again, distant no more.
Seam stopped, his lungs like hot fire. He tore at his hair and fell to his knees. Kill yourself. Unthinking, his hand morphed before him into a wild serrated blade. Hold it up to your throat and do it. He shuddered as the cold evening enveloped him. In the tall pine trees, the uncanny sound of a barred owl echoed in the darkness. Seam stayed there, looking at the blade for a long time. It glinted in the rising moonlight that shone behind him. Slowly, he lowered it as the blade made its miraculous transformation back into his hand. Not my hand...no...this is not who I am.
A branch snapped behind him and Seam stood up, nostrils flared. Behind him he could hear something large moving in the darkness. A deep, undulating growl grew, and Seam’s hand transformed.
“Who’s out there? Show yourself!”
Two bright purple lights broke out from the darkness. A voice spoke, soft and lurid with untold desire.
“What are you running from, Seam?”
Seam’s eyes narrowed. I know this voice. A figure stepped out into the white moonlight, and Seam’s eyes connected with the twisting kaleidoscopic eyes of an old enemy. Abtren stood erect, her face proud and haughty.
“What kind of king runs from his own kingdom?” Abtren’s eyes cut into him like daggers.
Seam did not break from her kaleidoscopic eyes. She smiled, gleefully answering her own riddle. “One who has been made low.”
Seam bit back without pause. “You don’t have much room to talk to me, Defiler. You were once on my leash, and I had you begging me for mercy. You were a god made low by man. I am, at least, only a man.”
Abtren smiled at Seam’s defiance. “Impressive, Seam. Your spirit and resolve remain unbending, though if I had not come, I fear it would have collapsed under its own weight.”
Seam’s vision pulled back, and he saw himself on his knees, swinging his bladed arm through his own skull. He shook, blinking through the hallucination, reorienting himself back to reality.
Seam growled, “Why are you here, Abtren? Don’t you know that Dyrn sent me to hunt you and your cursed kin? Are you here for me to finish the job?!”
Abtren shot out at him, throwing her clawed hand around Seam’s neck. His head collided into a pine tree with a sickening thud. She flashed her long, growing fangs inches from his face and spoke slowly to him, almost tenderly.
“All this time and you have never seen me for who I am. You hid behind those damnable Keys.” A long-bladed claw emerged from Abtren’s index finger. She twisted it playfully through Seam’s hair as her eyes exploded in unholy starlight. “Where are they now, Seam? Oh...that’s right. They’re gone, just like all your power.”
Seam flung his bladed hand up through Abtren with
out a second thought, but he failed to land a blow. Abtren moved like a vaporous mirage. He swung his blade again, swinging wide and fast through the air, but again it failed to meet his mark. An arm that felt like steel hammered against his throat, causing him to stumble back. She caught him and locked him in a crushing headlock. Abtren’s lips brushed against Seam’s ear, and he could smell the blood on her breath as she whispered, only allowing the smallest thread of air to pass to keep him conscious.
“We’ve all been brought low, Seam. We’ve all tasted the bitter drink that is our own destruction. I tasted it first when you wielded the Keys.” She wrung his neck with rage. “You tortured us without mercy. How strange it is to see that now. Now you are just like us...a divine puppet on a string.”
Seam gasped, fighting to breathe, much less speak. “What…do...you...want?”
Abtren shot back, “I come to you with a gift, if you can believe that. The enemy of my enemy today is my friend. Though it would give me unceasing pleasure to rip your head off your body, it must wait until another day. We are in trouble, Seam.”
She let him go, and he gulped for air. His face went from purple to beet red. He croaked, rubbing his neck in pain, “Trouble?”
Abtren took a step closer to him, ignoring the pain she had inflicted. “We are but two pawns in a chess game with many masters. You and I serve two masters, Seam, and the game...the game is rigged.”
For the first time in his life, Seam saw Abtren in a new light. Was she afraid? Seam nodded, unable to coax his voice much above a whisper. “Dyrn...and Isphet?”
“Yes,” Abtren nodded. “Both will see us dead before the end. They’ve already seen to the others. You were the only one left I had to turn to.”