Dark Sun Rising

by K M Martinez

  Then the slow ticking clock turned into two beats, like a heart.

  Boom. BOOM.

  Boom. BOOM.

  Boom. BOOM.

  Boom. BOOM.

  Mel felt the vibration in her chest and the thrumming through her body. A slow burn began inside her heart.

  The Kale kids started chanting in time to the beating drums.

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  After a measure, the people sitting in the tables joined in. Men, women, children, all as one:

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  “Assurgere!”

  Feeling someone’s eyes on her, Mel turned her head. Cori O’Shea sat two tables over, and was eyeing Mel with a speculative look. The Ferus woman wore an emerald-green dress that looked wonderful with her long, flaming hair and fair skin. Her blue eyes looked electric and alive. She looked so beautiful that Mel almost forgot that she and Cori were at odds. Almost.

  As Cori turned away from Mel, closed her eyes, and lost herself to the chanting, Mel turned her gaze to the man next to Cori: her brother, Killian. He had blue eyes like his sister, and red hair in a buzz cut, with a neatly trimmed beard and sideburns. His gray suit almost hid the green-and-gray sash tied around his waist. He, too, was lost in the chanting.

  Turning away from the O’Sheas, Mel saw Jonah looking around in wonder, and not a little concern. Mel smiled at him reassuringly, even though she herself was a little afraid as the burning sensation in her chest started to make itself at home in her heart. Or maybe it came from her heart? She never knew.

  She restrained the temptation to join in with the chanting—from past experience, she knew it would only make the feeling grow—and instead rubbed her hand over her chest in an effort to dissipate the heat, feeling her pendant slightly scratching her skin.

  “What does it mean?” Jonah whispered.

  “To achieve honor,” said Mel.

  The drums and chanting stopped, and one by one, seven flames lit on the platform. Grandma Mari and the other six Sapientis stepped onto the platform.

  “Those are the Sapientis, the Elders chosen to represent their clans,” Charlotte explained to Jonah in a hushed voice. “Each clan has their own way of selecting a Sapienti. Some vote, some fight, some talk it out between older Journeymen.”

  “How does your clan choose?” Jonah asked.

  “We have trials.”

  “What kind?”

  Mel looked over at Charlotte, caught her eye, and minutely shook her head.

  “Oh,” Charlotte said, rubbing Jonah’s arm. “It’s just a few tests, nothing major.”

  Trying to explain certain things to an outsider too soon could get messy. Mel knew that better than anyone. She was single for a reason.

  The Sapientis stood in a line.

  Clan Janso’s Hemanth Reddy wore a neat black suit with a purple-and-silver sash. At his hip he wore sabres, each sheathed in a black scabbard. He was tall and thin, with a full beard, a black turban, and hazel eyes below bushy eyebrows.

  Clan Mayme’s Sapienti was Janice Bartley, a matronly African-American woman, around Grandma Mari’s age, with blond hair and hazel eyes. She wore a white dress with intricate designs in brown thread.

  Next in line was Sean O’Shea of Clan Ferus. Sapienti O’Shea shared the same flaming-red hair as his offspring. He wore dark-gray slacks and a white shirt, with his sash tied around his waist.

  Grandma Mari stood at the center of the Sapientis. She looked sage-like and small compared to the other Sapientis.

  On Grandma Mari’s other side stood Zhu Li, a short, compact Asian man with long dark hair and a goatee that hung almost to mid-chest. The orange-and-black sash of Clan Tam was wrapped around his waist, and he also had a saber at one hip.

  To his left stood Stepan Wershall from Clan Ivor. Sapienti Wershall wore his blue-and-brown sash from shoulder to hip under a brown suit jacket. His dirty-blond hair sat carelessly on the top of his head. His lined face was like weathered stone, and his huge body reminded Mel of a brick wall.

  Last on the platform was Rudolph Kelser of Clan Moors. Sapienti Kelser was a tall, lanky man with short brown hair and green eyes. His thin face ended with a narrow, pointed chin. His head always reminded Mel of a crescent moon. His black suit featured a sash of red and gold.

  Grandma Mari began to speak. “We begin tonight’s Agora, as we have begun it every year for the last three millennia: with Hae.” She paused. “In the beginning, there was Man, and he was perfection. But then Man grew thirsty. He thirsted for knowledge, and opened his eyes and mind to the world. He thirsted for kin, and opened his heart to love. And for a while, Man was content with his world. But only for a short time. Soon there came a time when Man wanted more.

  “His thirst grew to hunger, and that hunger developed into a lust for power that opened the door to darkness. It wasn’t long before the darkness influenced Man to the point where Man stared into the abyss.

  “It was then that the Originals, our ancestors, first took notice. Angels in God’s army, for a time they watched from the heavens as Evil staked its claim on Man, influencing and twisting his mind, shifting his wants and breaking his soul. Our ancestors were content with doing nothing, as they believed Man had a choice, and if Man floundered in Evil, who were they to stop Man?

  “But Evil grew greedy, grew unsatisfied with just the power to influence. Evil decided to take the world as its own. Malum, evil demons, and other evil creatures crawled out of Hell, and in their desire and greed started to feast on Man.

  “It was then that the Seven approached God and asked Him to forgive them; they were abandoning heaven to fall to Earth. God did not offer them forgiveness; instead he gave his permission under one condition: When they arrived on Earth, they must rid themselves of their wings. They would keep their grace, but they would no longer be of His army, for they would pick up a new burden, a burden they would find much easier to bear without the weight of Heaven on their shoulders.

  “At this, the Seven bowed their heads and agreed.

  “Thousands of years ago, on a night as dark as ink is black, the Seven fell. One fell on yellow grass, another in green. One in a clearing surrounded by wood, another on a mountain. Two fell in the desert, one in a river. They stood on their feet, rid themselves of their wings, and took their stand against Darkness.

  “For thousands of years, they fought Evil, mostly isolated, but sometimes allied together or working alongside humans. In time, they came to understand humans, and they formed friendships.

  “Consilio Janso wedded first. The others soon followed. They had children that were just as powerful as they. Their children had children, and so on, and so began the clans. Each branched from an Original, each with the same desire to fight Evil and protect Man.

  “And so they warred. For years and years, they warred with Darkness, and although the Originals were immortal, their descendants were not, and many sons, daughters, and grandchildren were lost to the Continuous War.

  “Of all the Originals, Lasade Kale grew the most tired of burying her descendants, and sought a way to end the war. It was then that she discovered the balance: as long as the Originals and their descendants had their gifts, so would the evil that spewed out of Hell.

  “When she alerted the other Originals, and when they understood that there were no other options, the Exhaustus was performed. The Exhaustus drained the world of celestial powers, and Tenebrae Transeunt—the gate between our world and Hell—was shut, locking the Malum away from Man, and ending the Continuous War.

  “With the world drained of power, the Originals were no longer immortal, and they lived out their human lives unto their deaths. But their traditions were instilled in their descendants and passed down within each clan. That is why all of us are here today. That is why, for the next two weeks, we will celebrate our ancestors and our
heritage.

  “That is why we begin the Agora.”

  The people responded as one.

  “ASSURGERE!”

  Chapter Three

  Dinner was very good—roasted chicken with potatoes and mixed greens. Mel didn’t care much for the mixed greens, but she could eat potatoes every day of the week. She also thoroughly enjoyed the conversation, or rather the argument, which arose when Jonah jokingly—but not really jokingly, Mel thought gleefully—commented that he felt like he was at a cult meeting, and how he wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. As a result, Jonah became public enemy number one with Thrash, Gabe, and Victor, and was firmly in the doghouse with Charlotte. Mel was also greatly amused by Gabe’s diatribe about the decline of strong men in today’s society, a diatribe that devolved into some vague insults directed toward Jonah. There was a vein in Jonah’s forehead that throbbed just so, and Mel kept watching it to see if it would pop. All in all, she was having a grand time.

  After the meal was cleared, Mel finally got a chance to speak to Sapienti Reddy. He of course asked about her stone, and it was just her luck that Thrash was nowhere to be found, so she couldn’t show him that she did indeed still have it. He probably didn’t even believe that she’d kept it, but he covered it well, and contented himself with showing her another stone he’d found. It looked a lot like hers except it was smaller, blue and brown, and its glyph was of a triangle within a circle.

  “Were you ever able to find out what they were rumored to do?” Mel asked. She was fascinated by the artifacts that were said to have been used by the descendants of old.

  “Rumored? This stone, and the one I gave you, are very powerful,” said Sapienti Reddy, dropping the tiny stone onto Mel’s hand.

  “How powerful were they… supposedly?” Mel asked, still feeling skeptical.

  “Don’t use past tense!” he said, exasperated. “They are very powerful. Although I don’t know how powerful, or what the power was used for.”

  Mel held the stone up to her eye. It glimmered a little in the light.

  Sapienti Reddy’s eyes twinkled. “You should never use it, but if you did have to use it, make sure it’s for a good cause—never for ill will! And of course, never during a blood moon, or a crescent moon, or… well, any moon. And not while the sun is up either!”

  Mel laughed. “When would be the most appropriate time to use it then?”

  “Never. Well, except if you really have to.” And then with great solemnity, he added, “In your hour of great need.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Mel smiled as she handed him back his stone. “If I’m of sound mind to think of such things in my hour of great need.”

  Sapienti Reddy smiled. “I am looking into the glyphs, though,” he said seriously. “It’s obvious these stones are connected, since the glyphs are similar.”

  Mel gazed curiously at the black scabbards on his hips. “Those are beautiful,” she said.

  “Oh, these? Yes, they’re an interesting find. Take a closer look.” He removed one of the scabbards and handed it to her.

  She withdrew the blade just an inch. It was crescent shaped, around three feet long, its handle wrapped in leather. A small sun was engraved near the hilt.

  “That’s a Kale sun,” she said, amazed.

  “Indeed,” he said, smiling. He withdrew the blade fully, and Mel was instantly disappointed. It was made of gold. It was beautiful, but everyone knew gold made for weak blades.

  Sapienti Reddy laughed at the look on her face. “Beautiful, yet useless.”

  A voice behind her spoke. “That’s something that sword and you have in common, Mel.”

  Mel turned around to find Cori O’Shea just a few feet away. She must’ve been eavesdropping on our whole conversation.

  Cori closed the distance between them, and Mel tried not to stare at how she moved in that emerald dress.

  “Sapienti Reddy,” Cori said. “What a gorgeous blade. May I?”

  Mel couldn’t help but notice how her Irish brogue lowered to a warm timbre. Not that she cared if Cori ever spoke that way to her.

  Cori took a few experimental swings of the sword. She moved it up and around her head, then down her body before reversing and bringing it up in a wide-angled swipe, as if parrying with an imaginary foe. She was impressive to watch.

  “It’s got amazing balance,” she said.

  “Something else me and that sword have in common,” said Mel.

  “Your balance? I’ve never seen it, but I do believe you’re just as useless as the blade,” said Cori, handing the sword back to Sapienti Reddy.

  “Don’t forget just as beautiful,” Mel said with a wink. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Cori opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped her jaw shut.

  “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you ladies to it,” said Sapienti Reddy, giving them both a cheeky smile before disappearing.

  Mel watched him go in disappointment.

  “I hear you’re going to be Charlotte’s Second for Ambulant Laboriosum.”

  Boy, news travels fast.

  “Yes, I am,” said Mel.

  She started to walk away, but Cori fell into step beside her.

  “Surprise, surprise. Mel Mendez has slid off that high pedestal of hers to represent her clan. Come to get dirty with the rest of us finally?”

  “I’m just her Second. It’s not like I’m going to be bleeding in the pit.”

  “I’d like to see you bleed.”

  “I bet you would.” Mel stopped and turned to face Cori. “I bet that’s the sort of thing that turns you on.”

  Cori’s eyes went cold, and Mel was annoyed at herself for feeling regret.

  “You would think that.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “It’s just a joke, Cori.”

  Once again she tried to walk away, but this time Cori stepped in front of her.

  “Oh really?”

  “Quit it, Cori. You always do this. You dish it out, but then when I dish back, you get all pissy.”

  “Do you know why I’m always on you?”

  Mel thought back to their first confrontation, all those years ago, and the hurtful words that couldn’t be taken back. It had been so different before that. Before she completed the trials and ascended to Journeyman. Before the rumors first started circling about her “dishonor,” and about Cori, who had always been a presence.

  Cori had always been a friend to Kale… but not a friend to Mel. It was Killian who had been Mel’s friend; Cori was just his older sister who never paid Mel any mind. Then one summer Mel noticed a change in Cori. The Ferus girl’s eyes would follow her. At times, Mel thought she caught Cori’s cold blue eyes stirring with softness, even warmth, and Mel imagined she felt that warmth infusing her skin…

  But those days were gone.

  “Yes,” Mel said. “Because you think I’m a waste.”

  Cori’s gaze roamed across Mel’s face. “That’s not what I said,” she said quietly.

  “Yes. You did,” said Mel angrily.

  She remembered well the day things got out of hand. The stirring of rumors had invaded the clans. Mel Mendez is a coward. Mel Mendez dishonored herself and her clan by refusing to compete. Then Cori had had the gall to try to shame Mel into a fight.

  Mel recalled the feeling of cold metal as the Ferus woman put a sword to her throat, daring Mel to prove them wrong. But Mel refused, proving everyone right—in Cori’s eyes, anyway. That was when the angry words spilled out of Cori’s mouth.

  Mel thought of all of this as she pushed past Cori. “That’s precisely what you told me.”

  Cori grabbed Mel’s arm to stop her. Mel glared at Cori’s hand, and the Ferus pulled it back quickly. Several emotions flitted across Cori’s face, ending with anger.

  “Why do you even come here?” Cori said. “Why even show your face if you don’t believe? If you don’t compete?”

  “Why is it so important to you?”

  “Because this is my fucking worl
d… and you’re just visiting.”

  Bull fucking shit, Cori.

  Mel put on a condescending smile. “It does me so good to see you, Cori. These conversations always make my heart smile.” And she walked away with a swift suddenness that Cori couldn’t keep up with.

  Fuming, Mel walked straight to the bar. Thank the Lord the committee had set it up, because if there was a time to indulge, that time was now. She ordered a vodka sour.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  Gabe strolled up with Thrash and a younger man with a purple-and-silver sash Mel didn’t recognize. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes that looked incandescent against his pale skin. Gabe was holding a beer, and Mel could tell from the redness around his eyes that he’d had a few already.

  “Saw you talking to Corrrrriiiiii,” Gabe said, smiling. “When you gonna hit that shit out the park?”

  “Shut up, Gabe.”

  “You having trouble with the curve? Come on, Ace. You can hit it. I believe in ya.”

  Mel snorted. She grabbed her drink and thanked the bartender. “Who’s this?” she asked, nodding toward Gabe’s companion.

  “This is Smeagol. It’s his first Agora,” said Gabe.

  “Smeagol,” Mel soon learned, was actually twenty-four-year-old Calvin Smith, but he went by Smitty. He was a “basket baby”—someone who’d been separated from their mother or father when it was discovered they were a descendant practicing The Ways. He’d learned The Ways in his late teens when he reunited with his father, Joseph Smith. The name rang a bell for Mel, but she couldn’t put a face with the name.

  Smitty was concerned that being a first-timer, he might have some issues with those descendants who had attended most of their lives. Mel explained that with most things, there would be some who wouldn’t accept him, but most would be welcoming—and she for one certainly didn’t care that this was his first attendance.

  Thrash was unusually quiet throughout the discussion, which Mel thought was rude until she realized why: Thrash harbored a crush on Smitty. Knowing that her cousin was slower than molasses, she decided to do some digging.

  “So, Smitty—you got a girlfriend or boyfriend?”