Keys of Candor: The Red Deaths

by Casey Eanes

  Wael then looked to the Red leader and spoke without a trace of judgment or anger in his voice, “You are a man of your word. I can see that. I will take you by your word. Show us the way to your Council.”

  He nodded and led them out into the Red City as it shook and smoked with the chaos of war.

  ***

  Kull blinked under the dim lights of the underground bunker. A Red soldier led them deep into a labyrinth of underground tunnels that snaked beneath the city. Despite being underground, the space was permeated with the electric smell of gunpowder, blood, and ash, a combination that made Kull feel dizzy with the memories of Cotswold burning. He leaned heavily on Wael’s staff, but the pain was long past unbearable. He did his best to keep up with Wael as they followed the soldier through the blind depths. A long sigh of relief fell from Kull’s lips when the party finally stopped at a bunker located off one of the tunnels.

  “This is the rendezvous point. I’ve been ordered to leave you here. The Council dogs will meet here shortly, once I get back to HQ. Our couriers will send word to them.”

  Wael nodded. “We will gladly wait for them. Thank you for leading us safely through the depths, soldier.”

  An earth-splitting eruption shook the bunker, and Kull could feel the ground above him quake. It’s going to cave in. We are going to die down here. Kull’s stomach flipped and he fell to the ground, hot tears pouring from his eyes, not from fear but from his crushed ankle.

  “The Council is shelling above. I know it might not seem like it, but rest assured you will be safe here. I have to leave.”

  Wael nodded, and the Red soldier left them in the dim light of the bunker chamber. Kull decided it best to stay on the ground. He stretched himself out on the cold metal floor and let out a low moan, the hot, dull pain of his ankle finally catching up with him.

  Other than the buzz of the subterranean lighting, the bunker was quiet. Kull thought about how far he had come over the last few days and all he encountered. I’ve come so far, but I’m still no closer to Dad.

  Wael’s voice interrupted Kull’s thoughts. “Kull, we have finally made it to Rhuddenhall. We should have several hours before the Council members meet with us, and I need to lay out a few ground rules about any interaction we have with them.”

  Kull opened his eyes. “Okay...I’m listening.”

  “We must be on the same page when it comes to talking to the Grogan Council members. It is extremely important that we correspond with them according to protocol, but before I go into that, let me see your ankle.” Wael leaned down next to Kull’s throbbing bandaged ankle. Kull gingerly rolled back the impromptu wrapping that Arik devised from the few supplies left in the transport.

  It was bad, and Wael’s face confirmed it.

  “It’s badly sprained, but not broken.” Wael slowly reapplied the bandages across the injury, causing Kull to wince.

  “Well, what are we going to do?”

  Wael looked at Kull and reached for a small satchel hanging below his right arm, “I will take care of the swelling and pain. You should be just fine.”

  The satchel was holding an assortment of small glass vials and tan parchments which Wael carefully inventoried before setting aside three of the containers. He handed a small black vial to Kull.

  “Drink this.”

  “Why didn’t you give this to me before?” Kull’s nostrils flared as a wind of vindictive rage blew threw him. “My foot’s been killing me this whole time, and now you think this is the time to give me some painkillers?!” He eyed the vial as he held it up to the dim lighting above.

  “You will understand once you take it.” Wael held out the small glass vial and smiled.

  Kull popped off the vial’s top and peered at its contents. Inside, he spied a viscous, vile-looking substance as dark as midnight. Kull gagged as the putrid aroma of rotten flesh filled the room.

  “Ugh, how do you expect me to down that?”

  Wael answered, “Do you trust me, Kull?”

  “Of course I trust you, Wael.” His anger diminished and he spoke, forcing himself to become calm. “Yes...I trust you. But are you sure this isn’t rotten? It smells awful.”

  Wael laughed. “That’s because it’s Death’s Balm. The sap harvested from the ironwood trees in Preost. Here. This will make things a bit more bearable.” Wael mixed the Death’s Balm with two other vials he pulled from his satchel.

  The monk continued. “It is rotten, in fact, but that is the point. From death, comes life. Now, hurry up and drink this quick!”

  Kull obeyed and slogged down the potion, which swirled with long ringlets of black. As soon as he swallowed the foul concoction he realized why Wael spared him the aid. The elixir went down fast, and Kull could feel the room start to spin beneath him. A cold sweat broke on his forehead. He looked over at Wael as his heart began to thump at double speed, his eyes desperate. “What is this?”

  “Lie down, Kull. The sensations will pass in a moment’s time.”

  Laying down only made things worse. The floor became fluid and sloshed him from side to side.

  He blinked and realized that he could hear his heart beating inside him. How can I hear my heart beat? Panic and fear bolted through him when he realized that the drumbeat within him was beginning to slow down, the beats in his chest lengthening.

  He stared up at Wael with desperation, the world before him spinning around like a carnival ride.

  “Don’t be afraid, Kull. I will see you on the other side.”

  Kull’s eyelids felt weighted like anchors. The rhythm of his heart dragged to a near halt and pulled him into the deepest sleep he ever knew.

  ***

  Kull gasped.

  He shot up and looked around him. The metal, riveted walls that surrounded him reminded him of where he was. I’m in the bunker. The bunker under Rhuddenhall. I’m not dead.

  “You’re awake!”

  Kull spun around, fearful of who was there, only to see the kind face of Wael.

  “What happened to me?”

  “You were out for several hours. How do you feel?”

  “I feel fine, but what happened?!” For some unknown reason, Kull felt a rush of panic and paranoia in his mind. It was as if all his fears exploded in his mind in one fell swoop.

  Wael came over to him and laid his heavy hands on Kull’s shoulders. He stared deeply into his eyes. “Your leg. Tell me how your leg feels.”

  Kull had forgotten all about his leg. He looked down at his ankle. What had been a putrid playground of mottled blue and black was now a clear field of healed, white snow. Kull stared at what had once given him so much pain and then back up at Wael’s ashen face.

  “What did you do?” The awe and wonder could not be contained from Kull’s voice. “That is amazing.”

  Wael let a long smile escape from his lips, “I simply helped your body heal and accelerated its normal abilities. Now, don’t sit there staring at me with your mouth hanging open. I am no magician. Had it been broken there would have been little I could have done. Now stand up and test it out.”

  Kull popped up and walked around the room. At first he was afraid to step too hard on the ankle, but when he finally faced the fear he put his full weight on it. It was tight. Stiff in its motion, but not painful. Soon Kull paced from one side of the bunker to the other, enjoying his newfound freedom and relief. He laughed with delight but was stopped in his tracks by the sound of the loud, metallic click and grind from the bunker door. The Surrogate parties were coming.

  “Kull,” Wael shot a whisper as the door began to pry open. “All I need is for you to remain silent. You must remain silent. One misstep can end it all.”

  Kull blinked and nodded. “Okay. Easy enough.”

  “Good.”

  The dim light did little to reveal the strangers as they approached them. Four large shadows surrounded a shorter, thinner frame. As they came closer it was apparent the four larger men were soldiers, their lights glowing from their rifles as the
y swept them from one corner of the room to the next.

  The apparent dignitary in the middle bowed his head and spoke. A thin whisper pierced through the room, making Kull’s skin crawl with disgust. “Welcome, Mastermonk, to Rhuddenhall. I am Hosp, the newly elected Surrogate to the crown of the Groganlands. My apologies I cannot welcome you with the appropriate formalities. I presume you have been informed of our country’s recent loss.” The man’s smoky eyes held no grief as the last words slipped from his pale lips.

  Wael bowed his head and stepped forward with his hands spread open. “I come to you with empty hands. They carry no weapons, and I invite you to empty your hands as well. In the name of Aleph, I ask for you to extend peace to your brothers in Lotte.”

  “I am afraid Lotte has already decided that war is what it wants. When our beloved Hagan was poisoned and killed, they left us with no other option. We will not rest until their new king crawls to us and kisses our feet, begging for a truce. They struck us first, and we will not back down.”

  A thunderclap of mortar explosion shook the ceiling, and Wael pointed upward.

  “Is this what you want? A war with Lotte and with your own brothers and sisters? Your own people? This violence must stop. You have already killed countless men and women in Lotte. Innocents have been murdered and you have even taken hostages. This must be undone. All prisoners must be freed. Aleph takes no pleasure in such destruction.”

  Hosp’s eyes narrowed as he stepped within inches of Wael’s face.

  “I will have you know that one of those hostages, Grift Shepherd, helped Willyn orchestrate this entire fiasco! Now both have fled these lands into Elum!” The man’s words rang out against Wael, “No, Mastermonk, the only way I would release him to you is if I held his severed head in one hand and his limp body in the other.”

  Wael was unflinching as he stared down at the whisper of a man. Kull’s hands shook, but he kept his eyes lowered, stomaching the desire to slam his fists into the foul man’s face.

  Hosp continued, “Willyn wanted this war. It was her opportunity to showcase her potential, but she was greedy. Greedy and foolish. She would not stop her apparent conquest and is now rotting in Elum for the murder of Filip. Soon the Elumites will find her cursed Lottian accomplice.”

  Wael’s eyes flared, but he did not break his gaze from Hosp.

  Hosp continued, “Grift and Willyn are allies, you see? Together they wish to annex the Groganlands and Elum into Lotte’s territory! She is in league with that new Panderean king who sits up in Vale, and their schemes have sparked this horrible civil war! My people are killing one another, twisted by that red-headed witch’s lies!”

  Kull’s heart exploded in his chest. Grift has escaped. Willyn. The girl who captured him is with him. All of it began racing in his mind like an uncontrollable pack of wild horses. Is he is safe? Is he hurt? Before he could contain his speech, Kull stepped forward and locked eyes with Hosp.

  “How can we help you catch this man? We are trusted and we seek peace. It is obvious that his capture is what is needed to ensure peace resumes in Candor.”

  Wael let out a small sigh, throwing a sharp glare at Kull.

  Hosp snapped his head to the side and shot a glance back to Wael as he placed a cold palm on Kull’s cheek, making his skin crawl.

  “I like this boy, Mastermonk. He seems to be particularly wise on foreign affairs.”

  Wael placed a hand on Kull’s chest and ushered him back behind him. Kull rubbed his cheek, trying to wipe away the feel of the man’s touch. His eyes looked back at the dirty hand that just touched him. There, on Hosp’s finger, was a prominent gold ring. Even from this distance, the pattern was undeniable. It was a snake eating its own tail. Something about it made Kull’s stomach reel.

  “He has spoken without permission, Surrogate. Please forgive his interruption. We will not seek further violence even if you offer peace in return.”

  A smile slithered back across Hosp’s face as he stepped back and started to turn for the door.

  “But didn’t I just overhear you telling the boy that from death comes life? Eh?”

  Kull’s heart sank. They had been listening. Monitoring them.

  Hosp began to slide toward the exit and barely looked over his shoulder to address Wael one last time.

  “Don’t be too stubborn, Mastermonk. If you have half a mind like this boy here you might actually be of some use. I will let you think things over. Call for me if you change your mind. Otherwise, I believe we are done here.”

  The men disappeared back through the doorway, and Kull and Wael stood in silence.

  As soon as the doors closed behind the men Wael grabbed Kull’s arm and whispered into his ear.

  “This is much bigger than the wars we can see, Kull. There are powers at work that I did not foresee.”

  “What do you mean?” Kull mind buzzed with questions.

  “Not now. We must leave Rhuddenhall as soon as we can.”

  “But Wael, where are we going to go?”

  “To Elum. We need to get to your father.” Wael turned and sprinted out of the bunker, following the winding pathway back up towards the surface.

  “Follow me!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Seam paced the floor, his heels threatening to dig a trench down the middle of the room. His eyes were fixated on the tall, plain mirror hanging on his chamber wall.

  “Appear to me, goddess in the glass.” He stood proud, studying his own reflection. His eyes unfocused, scanning past his own reflection, drilling deep into the mirror. He stood waiting for her to appear. His mind refused to rest during his long journey home from the Crossroads. Instead it swelled like a flooding river with visions of glory, chronicling his rise to power. Soon his many questions would have answers.

  The Serubs will secure my place as the ruler of all Candor, he thought to himself. They will be my rod and my scepter, and soon all will look on me with fear and wonder, as all the prophecies come to fruition. Seam of Lotte. The Keeper of the Keys. The inner monologue continued to swell like a rising tide. The world would once again come under order.

  His order.

  Seam stood at the glass’s edge, lost in his thoughts. Time gave way, and Seam became conscious of his idleness. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Thirty minutes passed and still she did not appear to him. A firestorm of anger ignited within him as he stood staring at himself in the mirror, unable to understand why she did not show herself when he beckoned. His fists balled in over themselves, and he shouted as an avalanche of rage exploded inside of him.

  “APPEAR TO ME, GODDESS IN THE GLASS!” He stood shaking as newfound mania washed over him. Had he somehow broken the mirror as he transported it back to Vale? No. His mind whirled back, replaying the events that transpired at the Crossroads. Back to Bronson. To the catacombs. To Vashti.

  Vashti. He slid his hand from its black leather glove and held out his bare palm to the mirror. He drew out his knife and cut the tip of his finger. He winced at the bite of the blade where the small bead of blood grew.

  He flicked it onto the mirror, and the small, crimson drip sizzled as it hit the glass face.

  She appeared in an instant, causing a pang of fear to hammer in Seam’s heart. Her long, regal face stared down upon him, her eyes shifting colors until setting on the orange-red of twilight. These twilight eyes set deep onto Seam like daggers, causing fear to overtake him.

  “Know this, King Seam of Vale. I and my kin are subject to no one, not even you. If you want to commune with us, there will be a cost.”

  His response came faster and more assured than he expected. “So I take it that I am to barter with you in drops of blood?”

  The woman’s face fell into a scowl. “You are a fool if that is what you think, for surely you have no understanding of what you speak. I will drink rivers of blood, for no one in Candor can satisfy my thirst. No sacrifice can meet the obligation owed to me and my kin.” She placed her long hand up to the mirror’s edge and gla
red at him. “This mirror is the only thing that protects you from me. You would be wise to know to whom you speak.”

  Seam slipped his glove back over his bleeding hand and pressed his palm back to the mirror. He stared coldly into the dagger eyes that attempted to pierce him.

  “Abtren, I understand the prophecy’s truth and I know very well the appetite and obligations that must be fulfilled.”

  “So you do know my name,” she glared at him through the glass, her yellow-red eyes glowing like stoked furnaces. “You think yourself very wise don’t you, High King? Do not fool yourself into thinking that I am utterly powerless in this prison.” Her face grew in the glass, filling the whole mirror. “You do not know power. You do not know strength. You do not know fear. You are but a boy.”