Keys of Candor: The Red Deaths

by Casey Eanes

  ***

  Grift and Luken locked eyes as the sound of feet thundered above them. Grift took point with his pistol trained on the cabin door while Luken stood close behind. Willyn was lying behind her overturned cot with her rifle’s sights pointed and waiting.

  Grift flashed a smile in Willyn’s direction, “You have a gun, but it doesn’t give you license to shoot me in the back. I’m watching you.”

  Willyn rolled her eyes and spoke, “If I wanted you dead I would have shot you by now.”

  Grift chuckled as he brought his eyes back to the door, “Well, it’s settled then. I guess we are friends.”

  The three waited in silence, measuring the distance of their attackers as their footsteps surrendered their proximity to the hatch.

  The cabin became a vacuum as they waited until the hush was shattered by the cabin door exploding open. The wooden hatch hurdled through the room and smashed into the cot shielding Willyn. Soldiers poured into the room with their rifles raised.

  Grift wasted no time and shifted to the side ripping off a series of shots that leveled the first two intruders. The third man collapsed under a bullet from Willyn’s rifle.

  A grenade bounced into the room and exploded with blinding light. The flash bang forced Grift to fall back deeper within the small cabin. Luken pressed closer to the door, waiting.

  “I can’t see anything!” screamed Willyn.

  Grift pulled beside her as he wiped at his eyes. “Don’t move your rifle. Just shoot!”

  Willyn’s trigger finger fell and sent the rifle into a red hot fury as it spat bullets through the open hatch. Four lifeless bodies tumbled through the door, but two men managed to push in and charge for them. Luken, hiding by the portal, smashed a club against one soldier’s face while catching the other’s oncoming fist. He grappled with the second man while a third pushed in behind him with his rifle aimed at Luken’s spine. Luken spun in an instant and threw the soldier into the opening fire of this third attacker. With his other hand, Luken hammered the club into the man’s helmet, buckling him to his knees. The first soldier he had downed got back up and lunged for Luken, tackling him to the ground.

  ***

  The datalink on Seam’s wrist flickered to life as he stood upon Luken’s vessel, waiting for the chaos below deck to cease. An electronic intercom screeched in.

  “King Seam?” It was the sniveling admiral again.

  “Yes, Admiral?”

  “It appears that the onboarding crew is taking heavy losses. Should I intervene?”

  Seam smiled coolly and responded. “Not yet, Admiral. We still have other options.”

  ***

  As Grift’s eyes began to regain focus he ran and slammed his boot into the ribs of the soldier who had jumped on top of Luken. The man groaned and began to scream out, but Grift did not afford him the chance to finish his plea for help. One quick shot finished the man.

  Just then a small metal cylinder hit the floor.

  Grift’s eyes flared open. “Oh no.”

  The canister whirled like a dervish as white hot smoke billowed into the cabin. Attackers continued to pour into the room despite Willyn’s covering shots at the door. More smoking canisters were thrown in, followed by another round of flash grenades. Within seconds the cabin exploded into chaos.

  The dense fog of smoke and thunderous explosions made it impossible to see anything, but Willyn caught site of two grenades rolling next to Luken. She tried to call out, but was too slow. The first grenade ripped a hole in the side of the boat while the second explosion hurdled Luken’s charred body out to sea in a fiery blast. The salty ocean rushed into the vessel and mixed with the cloud of bullets, screams, fists, and blood.

  Willyn kept her hand on the trigger despite it all, but the sight of Luken being ripped from them destroyed her will and strength. Just like Hagan, Luken was gone. A chill ran through her bones as she cursed the fact that everyone she ever opened up to had been snatched away from her. She cursed madly, pushing away her despair. She would not stop fighting. She would die fighting.

  ***

  In Vale there was a tumultuous din of whooping and cheering as crowds ran to the nearest broadcast screen. Word had spread that the last of the traitors was about to be rounded up by none other than King Seam himself. The screens displayed an overhead view of the yacht while side bar screens showed a schematic of the ship as the commentators speculated which cabin the terrorists might try to hide in. The screen flashed between the overhead view and a view from a camera mounted on Seam’s shoulder.

  Ewing stepped into a cafe that had a small, public datalink flickering with the broadcast. His newfound companion, Rot, followed on his heels and lay at his feet. Nearly a dozen people clustered around the screen, clamoring for news about the capture. Ewing settled into a corner booth to observe the excitement from a distance. The banter filling the room orbited around one person, Grift Shepherd. It went back and forth as most attendants argued on how Grift was a murderer, a traitor, or whether he was innocent.

  Ewing’s heart dropped as he looked up at the screen and saw Grift’s face enlarged on the screen alongside all the charges brought against him. The list was almost too much to bear; treason, murder in the first degree, inciting rebellion, resisting arrest, trespassing, everything down to petty theft. Ewing fidgeted with a piece of peacetime propaganda that had been left on his cafe table. His eyes scanned the smiling faces of the men and women in uniform and the bold red letters reading, “For Unity.” As he turned the leaflet in his hands he muttered under his breath.

  “Oh Adley, girl, I don’t know why you ever signed up with these people. This is a mess and a rotten lot.” He glanced down at Rot and tousled the hair on his head, “In fact, Rot, this peacetime talk smells worse than you.” Rot whimpered and laid down underneath the table.

  Ewing fired another glance at the screen before lighting up his pipe. He grunted, exhaled, and shifted in his seat. He flipped open his datalink and skimmed through several pages but nothing matched what he was looking for. There was not a single feed related to Kull or Wael. Despite Seam calling for Wael’s capture, there was nothing showing up about him. It was as if they vanished. All he knew was Arik arrived a few days earlier with Rot and told him that the two were to meet with the Groganlands Council.

  A loud explosion ripped Ewing’s attention away from his search. The attack party breached the doors and thrown in flash bangs and what appeared to be some type of gas grenades. Even Seam’s shoulder-mounted camera was of no use as the haze of gas obscured the view, but the sound of gunfire, screaming, and pounding feet rang out from the loudspeakers. The sound of the conflict sent the hair on the back of Rot’s neck on end, and he let out a low, rumbling growl.

  Soon the sight Ewing feared was before him. Grift’s bloodied face was on the screen as Seam was holding him by the shoulders, yelling at him that he was being arrested for the murder of his father. The announcement brought a roar from the people on the square watching as they screamed in approval. Seam then turned to Willyn and announced that she too was to be tried for assisting in the murder of her own brother and for conspiring with Grift.

  The cameras then pulled away to show the raiding party abandoning the sinking ship, dragging out Willyn and Grift, and then throwing fire bombs deep into the ship’s belly, sending a gush of flames pouring out of the door. Seam appeared back in front of the cameras, his face full of gleeful pride, addressing all who gathered to watch.

  “To my brothers in Lotte, Groganlands, Riht, and Elum and the covenant group of Preost. We have seized and captured the traitors. Willyn Kara of the Groganlands and Grift Shepherd of Lotte are now in our custody. They will be held captive and tried for their crimes. Just as Lotte and the Groganlands have partnered to end our war, we will partner in bringing these criminals to justice.” Ewing shook his head as Seam exclaimed his pronouncements to the world. “We stand together as we fight against terrorist tyranny. We will have justice for those who attempt to bring ab
out war through division. My friends, this is a time for unity and we will make an example of those determined to destroy our continent. I will work with the leaders of each Realm to ensure that the proper judgment is rendered to these who have sought to destroy us. This is a new day for all of Candor, and I am honored to be your king.”

  Seam then held up his hand and saluted the camera before signing off the broadcast, “For Unity.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You must unlock Arakiel first, High King.” A kaleidoscope of deep golds, greens, purples, and oranges danced within Abtren’s eyes as she stared out from her glass prison.

  “Why?” Seam could feel himself being pulled, drawn into the hypnotic fire that channeled out of Abtren’s presence. He willed himself to force his eyes away from her so he could gather his wits and channel his own mind into order.

  “It is the way it must be. Arakiel is the first, I am second. We are essential in unlocking the others. You must have faith in us.” She blinked and laid her hand on the back panel of the mirror, the form of her body pressed as close to the glass as possible. All the beauty of the world seemed to pour out of her. “You must have faith in me.”

  Waves of energy swept through Seam. A furnace of heat and desire washed over him. It took everything in him to squelch it, to bury it, and destroy it.

  “The only faith I have, Abtren, is in myself and the destiny I have been called to fulfill.” Seam let out a low sigh, briefly allowing his eyes to fall on her again. “But I will do as you say.” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal an intricately sculpted iron bracer. Snakes and ivy were threaded over it, only broken by sunbeams. “I am the Keeper of the Keys now, Abtren. I am your rightful Lord and Master, and I will lead your kin. Your allegiance is to me and me alone.”

  Abtren bowed her head, but said nothing.

  Seam ushered an order through his datalink.

  “Bring me Arakiel’s mirror.”

  Soldiers wheeled in the pane of glass, recently unearthed from the dry desert outside Zenith. Seam looked at it, his reflection off the glass still dirty with fresh earth, his mind filling with a fever of maddening thoughts.

  “Bring in the sacrifices.” He looked at Abtren and smiled.

  “It will soon be time to feed Arakiel.”

  ***

  The ancient streets of Zenith had been revived. The corpse of the former city had found new life as trainloads of soldiers, citizens, and servants arrived day by day. Kull’s earlier revolt in the King’s Pit had been quieted and forgotten. The riot was squelched, and those who opposed the work detail were quickly addressed and buried in a mass grave. A quiet and hushed determination pushed back into the city. Free men and women from all of Candor flowed into Zenith, happily toiling for its reclamation. The Groganlands and Lottian alliance’s new nexus would be here, and after hundreds of years of abandonment, life once again filled the alleyways, courtyards, and plazas of the once-forgotten metropolis. Abandoned wells were reclaimed, and water flowed through the city’s aqueducts. Black and gold decor adorned the signs and screens erected throughout the city directing new settlers and laborers throughout. There was little silence. Excitement filled the desert with hope for a new peace, a peace that called for all the citizens of Candor to take up the honor of rebuilding the city. Only the most skilled laborers and soldiers had been hired through a massive public selection process, broadcasted via datalink, while baggers were piped in by rail line to fill in the roles less desirable.

  With each passing day, Zenith was being resurrected for all to see. The former bones of skyscrapers began to shine once again in the desert sun, pillars that served as symbols of the continent’s growing power and privilege. The city’s central building, known as the Spire, was the High King’s primary focus. The king had begun work before the announcement of peace, making way to a new order and coalition between the Realms, as it would serve as the perfect backdrop for his announcement. In that time, work crews managed to restore the majority of the tower’s outer windows and support beams. Soon, the monolith of glass and mirror twisted into the desert sun and gleamed with a brilliance that was matched only by the excitement of the people working tirelessly below.

  Kull’s eyes flickered open. His head pounded with a thumping wave of pain that swelled from ear to ear. He tried to lift his head to take in his surroundings. As his blurred vision came together he felt his hands locked in place. He was shackled in the center of a large round room. Troughs ran from where he was chained to five different platforms; two of which held long, tall mirrors.

  Kull was bound too tightly to move his head, and his swollen eye cut his peripheral vision, but he could feel that he was not alone. Someone else was bound in this place with him. He could not see them, but he could feel their presence and hear them breathing, heaving, fighting for air. Kull’s heart quickened its pace as he whispered.

  “Wael?”

  There was no response, only heavy breathing and a stirring of the chains.

  “Wael, is that you?”

  Kull’s second question was followed by more groans and a stirring, but no coherent answer. A loud voice shot out from the back of the room.

  “Shut up, worm! If you so as much say one more word, I will personally wipe you off this floor.”

  The sound of heavy boots fell against the metal floor and a burly guard came into Kull’s line of sight. He unsheathed a baton, lifting it toward Kull’s chin.

  “Your face could bloody up this here club very nicely. Now shut your mouth or I will shut it for you. I had fun convincing your friend here to keep his mouth shut.” He glared down at him; his face was a foul mixture of pride and sick pleasure.

  Kull dipped his head, “Yes, sir.”

  The guard spun around with a wide smirk inching across his plump face, “That’s what I thought.”

  Kull’s whole body ached from the labor and from the beatings he endured over the past few days. He forced himself to stand, the bindings around his arm and neck tightening with his movements. He passed the time watching the shadows shift on the floor as the sun paced across the sky. The view from the panoramic window was breathtaking. Whatever building he was in, it was surely the tallest on the continent. It was as if all of Candor gathered under this one spot to be evaluated and observed, bowing before the tower. To the north he could barely see the Asban Mountain with its clear blue river flowing out from Lotte. He knew Vale was there, and below that, Cotswold. Kull took in a deep breath as he thought of his mother and the fact that he failed to bring his father back to her. Now he would most likely die, leaving his mother sick and alone and his father still missing. It felt like a lifetime passed since he had been captured by the Grogans. The pain of it all fell on him like lead weight, and Kull pushed his eyes away from the distant horizon that he knew held Cotswold. To the west he could see the desert borderlands of Riht and the Dagger Mountains of the Groganlands. Rhuddenhall, despite its vastness, seemed like a miniscule dot from this vantage point, a blot of blood on a dry brown canvas.

  Where in the world am I?

  He thought over what he and Wael discussed during their time on the hedgehog. He had only heard a few stories about the Serubs, the Kings, all of which he dismissed, if not mocked, growing up in Cotswold. But there was a tale that Ewing told that he could never, ever forget. A tale that now revealed a horrible truth.

  He could still hear Ewing’s low, droning voice by the fireplace in his old shop.

  “You’ve heard tales of the Five, haven’t you lad?”

  “Oh come on, Ewing. Not another Serub tale.”

  The fire crackled and popped, the sparks filling Ewing’s dark, old eyes with amber. “So you don’t believe in the Serubs, do ye? That’s what many people used to think, until they died by the Serubs’ hands.”

  Kull had rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

  “Do you know how the Serubs stayed alive, Kull?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “So you’ve never considered how the S
erubs remained on Candor? What sustained them on our plane of existence?”

  “Can’t say that I have…but I’ll bite. How?” Kull flashed a smile to prove to Ewing his bravery.

  “Human blood.” Ewing stared deep into Kull’s eyes. There was no smile on his face, and his stare was so intense that it made Kull’s gaze retreat into the fire.

  “You see, Kull, the Serubs cannot stay in their physical form on Candor. They weren’t made for this world. So when they left the Aether and made their dominion here they had to find a way to sustain them. The only way to stay in their physical form was through sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?”

  “Aye. Sacrifice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean precisely what you think I mean. Legions of folks, Grogan, Lottian, Rihtian, and Elumite were slaughtered to keep the Five Kings alive. To keep them on this plane of reality.”

  Kull had sat in silence. He went to bed that night deciding it didn’t make sense to believe in such nonsense. He sighed as he realized that Ewing was trying to prepare him all along. For the key he would one day inherit. Despite the fact that his father never mentioned the keys to him, Ewing was trying to drop breadcrumbs to bring Kull to the truth. Those were the early warning signs, the ones he failed to give much attention. The platforms, the troughs. Kull could add it all up. Sacrifice.