Dark Sun Rising

by K M Martinez

  Cori paused. “But I think you and I should be all right. I doubt there are too many Eighth Clan here. I don’t know if you noticed in the clearing, but they were as afraid of the Malum as we were.”

  Mel remembered that night. Remembered the conversation between Anton and his master.

  “They aren’t aware that these gold blades work against the demons,” she said, pointing to the gold weapons along the wall. A full arsenal. Mel had already grabbed a few for herself, including a few knives and some wrist cuffs that contained hidden blades.

  “Yes,” Cori said. “Good thing you grabbed those swords from Sapienti Reddy.”

  “It was dumb luck.”

  Mel picked up one of the swords and scratched at the dried Malum blood. She remembered when Sapienti Reddy first showed these blades to her so proudly. And she remembered seeing her friend’s lifeless body, the light in him snuffed out.

  “He’d want you to have them,” Cori said quietly. “He’d have wanted you to use them as you have.”

  “Yes, he would.” Mel would do honor to her friend by using his swords to make sure the Eighth Clan was exposed and put to justice.

  She set the sword down. “You’ve told me a lot, but I still don’t know what happened to you that night at the clearing.” That horror was the one subject they hadn’t discussed. It was still difficult for Mel to even think about, much less voice aloud. And the real question she wanted to ask was: Why did you abandon us?

  Cori looked at Mel shrewdly, as if she could read her thoughts. “I tried to get to Anton. I thought if I could get to him, and get the stone, I could close the gateway. But a Malum got in between us, and ended up knocking me through the gate.”

  Mel nodded, but said nothing.

  “Did… did anyone survive the attack?” Cori asked quietly.

  Mel shook her head. “Just you, me, Charlotte, and Anton.”

  Cori blew air through her nose. “Anton. That dumb fuck. When I see him, I’m going to rip him apart.”

  “That’s if he’s still alive,” Mel said. “I don’t know what Victor and Gabe did when they got ahold of him.”

  “You think they got him?”

  “Oh, I know they did. I strung him up from a tree before I left,” Mel said, grinning.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Put the Traitor’s Mark on him too.”

  Cori smiled. “That’s the first good news I’ve heard in a while.”

  Mel got to her feet. “Well, we should get going.”

  Cori started to pick up her sword, but then stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Mel asked.

  “I knew Sapienti Reddy had the stone. I should’ve taken it from him when I had the chance.”

  “Cori, this isn’t your fault.”

  “That’s a lie. Clan Ferus fucked up. I fucked up! We collect the stones and store them for safekeeping. Not Clan Kale, or Janso, or Ivor, or any of the others. We do.”

  Mel shook her head. “No. You are not to blame. The blame lies with the Eighth Clan. They recruited weak-minded descendants to betray their clans, enticing them with righteous bullshit propaganda. You should’ve heard Anton talking about the power that was his ‘right,’ like you and every other loyal clansman are keeping them from having their celestial powers. The audacity—”

  “And you,” Cori interrupted.

  “What?”

  “You said ‘you and every other loyal clansman.’ You’re a loyal clansman too.”

  It was a slip of the tongue on Mel’s part, completely unconscious. Mel paused, unsure if she should speak her clan’s secrets.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?” Cori said.

  Mel sighed. “The Orb of Lasade.”

  “What’s the Orb of Lasade?”

  “It’s a crystal that Kale used to lock up her powers.”

  Cori waited for Mel to elaborate.

  “How does Clan Ferus teach the Exhaustus?” Mel asked instead. “How did the world get drained of celestial powers?”

  “The Originals got together and did a spell that drained the powers from them and all the descendants,” Cori said.

  “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” Mel said. “The Originals weren’t in agreement about the need for balance, or the need to drain the world of power.”

  “If they weren’t in agreement, how did the Exhaustus occur?”

  Mel took a breath. Time to divulge some clan business. “When the seven Originals fell to earth, something happened. They lost some of their power in the ground. It found its way into the soil, and they couldn’t reach it. And of course, they were no longer angels, but neither were they human.”

  “I know that part. They had to learn to trust their own thoughts and choices—they had to learn to be human. But they still flourished.”

  “They did,” Mel replied, “but not right away. They were quick learners, but it took some time. None took longer than Kale. She lost herself in her new emotions. She was all fire, burning, raging night and day. Living off of the blood of the Malum. That’s why our sigil is a sun—because of her burning. She took it and turned it into something positive. The sun gives life, and without the sun we can’t survive.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Of course you didn’t. Clan business. Anyway, after centuries of solitude, Kale found that when power was used, it never dissipated. It was everywhere—in the earth, in the air. And she could use it if she wanted to.”

  “You mean she could siphon it?”

  “Yes,” Mel said, pleased Cori was catching on. “And this ability kicked off a millennium of tension with the other Originals. Some, like Consilio Janso, thought she had turned to darkness, feeding on their scraps of power, and should be put to death.”

  “And that’s why they fought,” Cori said.

  Mel nodded. “Kale nearly killed a third of Clan Janso all by herself when they attacked her one morning. One of them was Janso’s son. It was not a good time.”

  “The books say Janso challenged her for Assurgere, but Kale fled because she was afraid of his eagle.”

  “More like he backed out after she shifted into the Kale beast,” Mel said. “But anyway, the point I’m trying to make is this: Of all Kale’s gifts, the most dangerous was her ability to siphon. Because she could siphon the gift from other descendants.”

  “Like… permanently?”

  Mel nodded. “Picture this. Years have passed, and all the clans are fully established. But resentments linger—particularly between the Kales and the Jansos. So let’s say you’re a Janso hell-bent on revenge because Lasade Kale killed a relative of yours years ago. Of course, since you’re a Janso, you conveniently ignore the fact that your own clan leader started that conflict. Anyway, you know you can’t touch Lasade, because she’s too powerful, so instead you take out your anger on her people. Maybe you rape a girl at a tavern, or cut off the tongue of a distant descendant of hers that doesn’t have the gift, because in your twisted mind it’s your right to do so. Assurgere and all that.

  “Well, what would happen? Clan Kale would hunt you down and drag you back to Lasade Kale herself. And while you were spilling your hatred and your talk about honor, she would rip the gift right out of you, painfully and suddenly, leaving you empty and hollow.”

  Cori looked horrified. “You’re shitting me.”

  “No, I’m not. And that brings us back to the Exhaustus. It was Kale who drained the world of celestial powers. Not the Originals, just Kale. She didn’t ask permission, either, she just ripped them out of everyone. In one night, in one spell. She pulled all that power into herself. And then she put it all in the Orb. She had to—she had to sacrifice herself. She had to drain herself, because Kale’s true power is in her blood, and the fire in her heart.”

  Cori’s eyes widened with understanding. “You have to drain the blood of a Kale to do the spell.”

  Mel shook her head. “Not just any Kale. You have to drain the blood of the Descendant of Lasade Kal
e—her true heir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “They can’t do this! This is going too far!” shouted Sapienti Kelser.

  In the pit were five Kales: Gabe and Victor, their cousin Thrash, and the Wiley siblings. They were dressed in gold, veils on their faces, unarmored, and each carrying one weapon of their choice. The rest of Clan Kale stood behind them, their expressions hard. The time for words was over. Now there was only action. This was what they were about. They weren’t a political people, but they knew how to fight. They had absorbed all the hate and accusations that had come their way, with no proof other than the word of a liar and cheat, and all it had done was made them even stronger. This was the result.

  The rest of the clans—apart from the children, who had been taken to the tents; they would not be allowed to watch—stood solemnly. No one intervened, and no one would. This wasn’t their fight. But it was their obligation to witness. Assurgere. It was every descendant’s right to demand respect and honor, and Clan Kale was demanding theirs.

  “They can do this. It is in accordance with The Ways,” said Sapienti Li.

  Sapienti Kelser shook his head. He’d been trying to have the challenge thrown out for any reason he could think of. But The Ways were final. “Mari, please,” he begged. “Speak to him.”

  “I can’t,” Grandma Mari said. “And even if I could, it would not stop him. He has made his decision. The other four have made their decisions. It cannot be stopped.”

  Everyone understood why Sapienti Kelser was so concerned. In the time since Gabe had made his challenge, the word had spread that two of the five Moors, Avery and Jensen, were Sapienti Kelser’s nephews. And neither was a good fighter. It seemed almost certain that they would be killed.

  “This is crazy!”

  “Rudolph,” Sandeep Reddy said. “You must be careful.”

  “Yeah, Rudolph,” Gabe said. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds. ’Cause we all know it wasn’t crazy for you to call for my sister to be arrested and sentenced in accordance with The Ways.” He tightened his grip on his staff. “Or do you live according to The Ways only when it’s convenient to you?”

  Kelser looked at Gabe with anger. “If you kill my family—”

  “When I kill your family,” Gabe said.

  Rudolph Kelser froze, a look of utter devastation on his face.

  “Now get out of the way, old man,” Gabe said, spinning his staff in circles. “I’ve got an honor killing to do.”

  Sapienti Wershall grabbed Sapienti Kelser by the arm and led him away, leaving the five black-clad Moors to their fate.

  “Got anything to say before we start?” Gabe asked.

  The five Moors didn’t utter a word.

  “Nothing?” Gabe said. He looked each descendant in the eye, stopping on Avery. “Good.”

  And with that, the Kales charged.

  ****

  Tenebrae Transeunt.

  Mel had seen it growing larger and larger as they ran, eventually encompassing the entire horizon—but to see the blue gate right before her, shimmering with power, electric and alive, cracking the night with thunder and lightning… it was at the very least intimidating.

  Equally intimidating was the sight of thousands of Malum and hundreds of Lost Souls sitting on their decayed steads, blood-red swords in their hands, all of them awaiting the gate’s opening.

  “There are so many, and we are only two,” Mel said. “How are we going to do this?”

  Cori took a deep breath. “Very carefully.” She pointed. “Look, they all stay clear of the building.”

  The building she pointed to looked out of place in this dead world. It was bright with ethereal light, and its reflective stone looked immaculate. It had no windows, no markings, and no door—just a clean, flat surface. Totems encircled its base, glowing like stars in the night.

  “Looks like those totems are working overtime,” Mel said.

  “Come on, let’s get closer,” Cori said.

  Keeping pace with Cori wasn’t easy. When Cori stopped, Mel stopped. When Cori knelt and lay flat on her belly, Mel did the same. Mel was learning to trust the Ferus, and so far, the red-haired woman hadn’t steered her wrong.

  Before she knew it, she and Cori were lying just outside the totems, hidden in the brush, and far from the amassed demons. Far from all the demons… but two.

  Two Lost Souls rode from the horde toward the building, and stopped before the line of totems. Their red eyes searched the structure as their decomposing steeds stomped the ground. Mel recognized them as the two that had confronted her at the sanctuary. Mordred and the bald one, whose name she didn’t know.

  They stood for long moments, waiting.

  “What are they doing?” Mel asked.

  Cori only shrugged.

  Finally, movement. A crack formed in the building. A door appeared in its plain surface. It opened slowly, and four figures stepped out, all dressed in black.

  They stopped before the line of totems, opposite the two Lost Souls, and Mel got a good look at their faces.

  Humans.

  The Eighth Clan.

  The oldest were a male and female. The man had gray eyes that were sunken but sharp; the rest of his face was covered in a thick, unkempt beard that grew down to his chest. The woman was whip-thin and all edges. Her green eyes were cold and unblinking. The other two humans were young, maybe even younger than Mel, and Mel was sure they were brothers.

  Mel had never seen any of them before. Perhaps they had grown up as Eighth Clan all their lives. She spent a second wondering what that would entail. What kind of Hae would be told? What kind of truths? What kind of lies?

  “Where is the one you call master?” said the bald Lost Soul. “Our Mistress wishes to know where he is.”

  The four figures in black ignored him for a long moment. The Lost Souls grew agitated, their steeds nervous.

  Finally, the bearded man spoke. “Our master does not tell us his comings and goings.”

  “He is supposed to be preparing the girl,” said the bald Lost Soul. “And yet he’s in your world playing games.”

  “As I said, demon, our master does not hold confidence with us.”

  “Demon! Demon he calls us, Aza!” said Mordred. “The little human thinks he’s better than us.” His laugh rang through the air. “The betrayer. The liar. It’s a good thing you didn’t tear these totems down as promised. I would skin you and your little human family alive, and eat the meat off your bones while you’re still screaming.”

  Family? An entire family of Eighth Clan?

  “You’d meet the edge of my blade first, demon,” replied the bearded man.

  Mordred’s laugh rang out again, this time louder and more menacing. “You think you have the weapons to defeat us? Your iron and your steel are useless. You humans are useless and weak. Thirty of you humans were cut down by our Malum, and our Malum are merely pawns. Yet you believe you can defeat me.”

  “I don’t fear you, demon.”

  “Good,” said Mordred, jumping off his steed. “Now cross the boundary and prove it.” He stepped up to the very edge of the boundary and drew his blood-red sword.

  The bearded man walked up to face him, but did not cross. “You think I’m foolish? I step across this boundary, and you and your demon friend will kill me.”

  “No,” said Mordred. “Just I.”

  They stood for a long moment, staring each other in the eye.

  “Kiss him already,” whispered Cori, and Mel had to hold back a snort. Instead she put a hand on Cori’s knee and shook her head. The last thing she needed was for them to give away their position.

  “I’m no fool,” said the bearded man, turning around.

  Mel couldn’t help but disagree, and the Lost Soul proved her correct. The man had walked only two steps before Mordred pulled a knife and threw it. It stuck hilt-deep in the bearded man’s back, the point bursting through his chest.

  The large man fell to his knees, catching blood on hi
s hands as it dripped off the blade’s edge. He looked up at his family, wide-eyed, gasping for breath, and opened his mouth—but no words came out. Just blood, so dark it looked black in the night.

  No one moved. Not his sons, not his wife, and not the Lost Souls. Mordred just smiled, eyes riveted on his soon-to-be kill.

  The bearded man fell onto his side and tried to crawl. Where he meant to go, Mel didn’t know. He reached out for the woman, looked up at her beseechingly.

  She looked away.

  He slumped to the ground. His eyes turned glassy and lifeless, and his breathing ceased.

  Mel felt nothing for his death, felt nothing for these cold people. They had no honor. No love. No loyalty.

  “Now,” said Aza. “Where is your master?”

  The woman moved backward toward the door. “As my husband said, we don’t keep his confidence.”

  The other two backed away as well, none showing their backs.

  “Where are you going?” said Mordred, furious. “We aren’t done speaking to you!”

  “We don’t have anything further to say,” said the woman. The three backed into the building, and the door shut.

  Mordred turned to Aza. “I hate humans.”

  “As do I,” said the bald Lost Soul. He got off his steed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a red crystal. “Let’s show them how much their master is a master.”

  The crystal shone red in the darkness, pulsing in Aza’s hand. The Malum pressed forward toward the totems, screeching, and the gate opened in the darkness, swirling blue, bright, blinding.

  ****

  Gabe swung his staff over his head. The traitor he’d been toying with all night was at his feet, begging for his life. Squealing like the little pig he was. Screaming for his mommy and daddy, tears and snot streaming down his face.

  Ohhh, it was beautiful. These pissants. These fucking bullies that just a day ago were threatening to stick a knife in him. They were going to turn him over to their master like a sacrificial lamb. They weren’t sorry then. They weren’t thinking about the consequences then— which, by the way, were pretty fucking brutal.