by K M Martinez
Victor had his traitor on his back, his axe handle crushing the man’s windpipe. Thrash had his traitor stumbling all over the pit, round and round, scrambling to get away from Thrash’s lethal sword, which had already sliced him several times over.
Justine’s opponent was down on his knees. She had used her two knives to cut his legs, arms, and face, and the man was a bloody mess, holding his hands out, entreating her. It made no difference; her eyes were cold as she drove her knife home.
Andrew sat on his haunches watching his sister stab her opponent. His opponent was long dead, having bled to death from a lethal wound. Gabe never saw Andrew land the cut that killed his opponent, but he did know it happened within the first few seconds of the fight. One second Drew’s opponent was standing, the next he was on the ground trying to stem the blood from the awful leg wound on his thigh.
Gabe brought his staff down, blade end swinging toward one of Sapienti Kelser’s nephews. What was his name again? Who cared—the kill was imminent.
Gabe’s blade was just about to strike his opponent’s head when a shimmer of energy hummed in the air, whisking sand into his eyes. His staff struck the sand harmlessly.
Everyone stopped to watch as a line appeared in midair, tearing the fabric of their world.
A gate.
It opened wide, and out burst several Malum. Not dead and steaming as Gabe had seen them before, but very much alive, with white gossamer eyes, dead flesh, and a putrid stink he could taste on his tongue. They gave a terrifying screech, high-pitched and grating, like nails on a chalkboard. They leapt into the crowd, striking down anyone within reach, making short work of the defenseless. The descendants ran, climbing over each other trying to get to safety.
“Gabe!”
Victor appeared beside him with an ornate gold axe in his right hand, and a staff with a gold blade on the end in his left. He tossed the staff to Gabe, who caught it cleanly.
The Wileys had switched to gold weapons as well, and were already charging to engage with the Malum before they could kill more innocents. Thrash was still pulling more gold weapons out of a bag and tossing them to every Kale he could; freshly armed, they all threw themselves into the fight.
Gabe followed his brother into the melee, swinging his new staff. They worked together to kill the Malum, their weapons cutting into the demons.
“Find Grandma!” Victor screamed. “I’m gonna get that gate closed!”
Gabe scanned the crowd for her. But another Malum came charging at him, screeching in anger. Gabe swung his staff, slicing first at the Malum’s legs, then its eyes, and finally its head. The Malum slumped to the ground. Gabe didn’t even have time to take a breath before another Malum was upon him. Get that goddamn gate closed! he thought as he fought for his life. Another Kale rushed in and cut off the Malum’s head while Gabe stabbed at its heart—or where he thought its heart would be.
“Nooo!”
Victor’s yell cut through the noise of battle. Gabe turned, heart in his throat, toward his brother. There weren’t many things in this world that would make Victor scream with such urgency and agony. But when he followed Victor’s gaze, he wanted to scream too.
Sapienti Wershall was dragging Grandma Mari through the gate. And on the other side of it stood two of the most broken-looking men he’d ever seen.
****
Mel’s blood froze in her veins, but her limbs moved of their own accord. She shot out of her hiding place and raced at breakneck speed toward the man who held her grandmother in his hands.
Traitor!
“A gift,” Sapienti Wershall was saying, motioning toward Grandma Mari. “For making you two wait.”
The anger that Mel had kept in check raged. She threw her body at Wershall as hard as she could. He was a giant of a man, and he felt like a brick wall when she struck him, but it was enough to make him release her grandmother as he tumbled to the ground. Mel pushed to her feet, grabbed her grandmother, and shoved her roughly back through the gate.
The two Lost Souls had watched Mel’s charge without moving—Mordred had even laughed in delight when Wershall’s body crashed to the ground. But now Aza unsheathed his sword, and Mordred grabbed Mel by the neck.
“We meet again, Kale. Now let’s see that face.” He ripped off her veil.
His touch sent pain crawling across her skin. But worse, the fire inside her, the flame that always burned… vanished. Snuffed out.
She fell to her knees. I don’t feel it! I don’t feel—
But the pain wouldn’t even let her think. Her hands scraped the ground frantically, trying to pull away. It was no use. Mordred's grip was too strong. He pulled her head back by her hair, and Mel’s eyes rolled up to meet his.
A spray of black blood hit her face. Mordred screamed, and Mel was released.
She fell to the ground, her body still aching, but the unbearable pain stopped once the Lost Soul’s touch was removed.
Cori was fighting somewhere nearby. She was screaming for Mel to get up. Mel tried to rise to her feet, tried to grab her swords, but she was so tired all of a sudden. Beyond tired. Her energy was completely drained.
Still, there was something she had to do. She had to close the gate. It was clear Wershall wasn’t going to.
With shaking hands, she pulled out her stone and whispered the words to close.
And the gate started to obey.
“Tend to your wound, Mordred,” Aza said.
Mel wanted to look around to see where Mordred was. To see where Cori and Wershall were. But all she could see were the booted feet that moved in front of her. Aza.
She tilted her head back and met his rust-colored eyes. Smiling, he raised his blood-red blade. Malum swarmed around them. Some spilled through the gate, even as it was closing; others clawed closer to her, but seemed to be repelled by the presence of the Lost Soul.
“Only human,” Aza said as his blade came down.
But it never touched her. A gold blade burst through his chest, and as Aza fell sideways to the ground, she saw that someone had speared him with a staff. His black blood spilled out, heavy and thick, and his life left him.
The gate closed, and the air went still.
There was a moment of complete quiet before the Malum screeched in fury.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Malum swarmed like bees, yet Mel still crawled to Aza’s body, grabbed the staff with both hands, and pressed it into him with her full weight. Just in case.
Cori grabbed her then, dragged her toward the totem line, brandishing her sword and cutting any Malum that got close. Mel had hung on to the staff, and she tried to help defend, but in truth it was all the Ferus who got them across the boundary.
The Malum toppled over each other in an effort to get to the two women. Many even attempted to cross the totem line, only to burn from the energy it possessed. Wershall was nowhere in sight. Mordred stared daggers at them from the other side of the boundary, a deep gash in his side.
Mel turned her eyes away from the demons and focused on her companion. Cori was bloodied, half her face was swollen, and she was favoring her right side.
“Tell me, ‘You should see the other guy,’” Mel said tiredly, clinging to Cori’s side.
“I am the other guy,” said Cori.
“Where’s Wershall?”
“Ran inside when he saw Aza get speared,” Cori said, sitting Mel down. “I’m gonna kiss Gabe when I see him.”
Of course that was Gabe, Mel thought. Best brother ever.
“Me too,” Mel said. She hoped her family was okay on the other side. Hoped they were killing the Malum before they ran off into the wider world. Hoped things were going better for them than they were for her and Cori. Mel could barely move, and Cori looked like the walking dead. How were they going to fight?
“Cori,” Mel said, “I think we’re screwed.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Cori kneeled beside her. “I mean, you’re right, Wershall appears to have super-human
strength—a gift from the Mistress, no doubt—and who knows how many Eighth Clan there are inside that building ready to fight…”
“And we’ve lost the element of surprise,” Mel added.
“Yes, we blew that saving your grandmother.”
“It was worth it,” said Mel, starting to feel a little better.
“Yes,” said Cori. “It was.” She wiped off some of the blood on her face. To Mel’s surprise, she saw no wounds.
“Your face doesn’t look so swollen anymore.”
“And you’re getting your color back,” Cori replied.
Mel looked at her hands. They were steady. She made to get up, but Cori put a hand on her shoulder.
“Give it a moment.”
So Mel just sat and watched Cori’s face. Watched the swelling shrink, gradually but visibly, until her face looked completely normal, and those two bright blue eyes were staring right back at her.
Kiss her already.
The thought came unbidden to her mind. But it wasn’t the time. She still needed to get her cousin. There had to be a reason Wershall had left in such a hurry.
“You don’t seem surprised about this… super-fast healing,” Mel said.
“I’ve seen it before,” Cori said. “When you slaughtered that entire horde, you were pretty badly wounded.”
“I don’t remember being wounded.”
“Exactly. You healed up before you could notice.”
Mel blinked. It didn’t make sense, but she didn’t care. She felt better now, and that was what mattered. Though she still didn’t feel the fire burning in her veins.
“You ready?” Cori asked.
“I’m ready,” Mel said.
They stood and turned toward the building. The door was open. Mel unsheathed her swords. Cori held hers aloft. Mel let herself feel the dread spreading through her bones for just a moment before she stepped forward.
As soon as they stepped inside, she felt the hum of power, just like what she’d felt in the bunker. But it was stronger here. It thrummed through her hands and feet, even tickled the insides of her ears.
She scanned the huge entrance area. It was wide with high ceilings, and it was all Kale. A sun was carved into the stone on each wall. They would have looked beautiful if not for the debasement. Someone had painted the Traitor’s Mark on each one. But there was another sun on the high ceiling, and it was untouched. It shone brightly, golden, even in the dim light, and Mel felt pride flood through her.
“Mel.”
Cori was standing by a closed door. Mel sensed that on the other side of that door was the Orb, Charlotte, and who knew how many of the Eighth Clan. But there was no choice to be made here—there was only one way forward. And it would be midnight soon; they needed to hurry.
Mel stepped forward to open the door, but Cori put a hand on her shoulder.
“Is this the only way in?” Cori asked.
“I don’t see any other doors.”
Cori shook her head. “I don’t like it. They could just be waiting on the other side to pick us off.”
“What do you want to do instead? I need to get in there. We’re running out of time.”
Cori looked at the door again. “I want help,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Just get ready, I’ll go—”
Cori stopped at the sound of stone sliding on stone. The door behind them closed, and the door in front of them opened.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thirty-some odd figures walked through the door, dirty and disheveled. All wore black, all had cold eyes and colder faces. They were armed with knives and swords of steel or bronze.
Mel recognized the thin woman from earlier. Her green eyes looked from Cori to Mel without expression. Mel wondered if she even cared enough to hate. It was clear she didn’t love. Her husband had died on the ground, reaching for her, and the woman had done nothing but turn away from him. Even now, less than an hour since his passing, she looked untouched by his death. Her husband’s cooling body was on the sands outside, and she was here, standing before Mel like it was nothing. Everything about the woman screamed cold. Her graying hair, her dark clothes, her countenance.
“Is this all the Great Seven sent to prevent the end of the world?” the woman said. “You’re not even of the same clan.”
Cori turned her head up and sniffed the air. Then a wolfish smile spread on her lips. “Better than the piss-poor group you’ve got here,” she said.
The woman’s eyes flashed. “You think you’re better than us?”
“No, no,” Mel said instinctively, but then remembered the woman was a traitor. “Actually—yeah, we are.”
Mel stabbed the man nearest her. Red blood spurted out, and she nearly dropped her sword in shock. This was not like killing Malum.
She shoved that thought away as another man took the first man’s place. She parried him easily, then sliced his face open. He fell down, clutching his eye. The next clansman fell when Mel slashed him from hip to collar bone. And Mel still had not a mark on her.
She felt like she was fighting children, for these were certainly not warriors. They were untrained, clumsy, slow, and had no stamina. Some, Mel chose to debilitate rather than kill. Cori, on the other hand, showed no mercy, tearing them down with her sword, white teeth flashing, human blood on her face. Her ferocity was chilling. Mel wondered if she herself looked the same way. Judging from the way the thin woman looked at her, she guessed she did.
The woman fled, screaming for her master, and Mel gave chase. They ran down a long, downward-sloping hallway. Down and down it went, until finally it opened up into the largest cavern Mel had ever seen. The cavern that held the Orb of Lasade.
Mel forgot all about the thin woman running on ahead as she looked up at the glowing Orb. Its enormity was breathtaking. Blues, whites, greens, reds, and yellows pulsed inside it, and its power hummed in Mel’s ears. She felt a strange combination of peace and longing.
But those feelings vanished when she saw her cousin tied up on a dais, gagged, looking at Mel with tears in her eyes. Beside her was the thin woman, and around them both were seven figures clothed in black robes. They were chanting something—probably the spell to break the Orb.
“Charlotte!”
Mel ran toward the dais, both swords in her hands. She jumped toward the platform—and crashed into an invisible barrier. The unexpected collision sent her sprawling, her swords clattering to the ground.
Wershall’s laugh pierced the air. “You’re too late,” he said, standing over her. Mel had no idea where he had come from. “The spell has begun, and the boundary will keep you from doing anything stupid—like taking what is rightfully mine.” He stepped onto the dais without any resistance. “But don’t worry, coward. I will keep you alive so you can see your cousin die.”
Mel screamed in frustration. She rose to her feet, strode back toward the platform, and put her shoulder into the barrier. Pain flooded her body, but she grimaced and pushed as hard as she could. She felt the barrier give a little, but the pain magnified even more. She fell to her knees, panting and sweating.
“Why do you try so hard, coward?” Wershall sneered. “You’ll never get her back. I’ve had this night planned for decades. This boundary was drawn as soon as the Mistress granted me her power in exchange for opening the gate. I even got that Jonah kid to convince your cousin to compete.”
Mel couldn’t hold back a look of surprise.
“Yes,” Wershall said. “Jonah is Eighth Clan. Born and raised.”
Mel looked at Charlotte’s face. It was clear she had been told this already—her eyes were full of anger and hurt, but not surprise.
“I just needed a stone for Anton,” Wershall continued. “I wanted Reddy’s, but Anton, the idiot, wanted yours. He wanted to kill you for your stone. Baited a clanswoman’s son to do the job for him. He almost ruined this. Had he been successful in killing you, your family wouldn’t have participated in the games, and I would never
have been able to grab the Descendant of Lasade Kale.”
Wershall glanced toward Charlotte. She was still looking at Mel with fear in her eyes.
“I was pleased when your brothers saved you,” Wershall said. “I’ll have to thank them. Personally.”
Steely-eyed, Mel looked up at him. “Traitor.”
Wershall walked closer to her. He knelt almost right next to her, on the other side of the barrier, so close Mel could see every line in his face. His eyes shone with no malice, just the same hazel Mel had always known.
“Let me tell you a story, coward. There was once a self-righteous, arrogant bitch of an Original, who decided for every descendant in the world—even those who were not of her clan—that they should not have their gifts. Even though it was in our blood and it was our birthright, she decided, alone, that the world would be best without it. So she sucked us all dry. She stole our gifts and spooled them all in this big Orb.”
Wershall looked at the Orb for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful, before turning back to Mel.
“Kale was the traitor,” he said. “Not me.”
“You would doom the world for your tiny little slice of power?” Mel said angrily. “Open the gate to Tenebrae Transeunt? You would kill—”
“What’s mine, is mine, is mine, is mine,” Wershall said. “Don’t try to take it from me.”
Mel pressed again into the barrier. The pain hit her even harder, but she kept her feet and kept trying to push through it.
Wershall shook his head. “Stop embarrassing yourself, coward, and sit.”
Mel ignored him. As before, she felt the barrier give a bit, but then it struck her with even more pain. She gasped, bit her lip, and kept going. It’s pain. It’s just pain. It’s in your mind.
“Mel? What are you doing?”
It was Cori.
“Yes, what are you doing, coward?” said Wershall. “The pain will break your mind. You’ll be a vegetable, and I won’t get to see the agony in your eyes when I bleed your cousin dry.”
