The Rising King

by Shea Berkley

  She lays fifty more kisses on his cheeks and lips before he pulls away and swats her butt as she moves off. He’s grinning like an idiot, and I’m actually happy for him. “Okay,” he says, readjusting his gear, “let’s do this.”

  We make for the Ruined City glowing in the distance, skirting the bulk of the fighting as we labor to reach Orntho. That massive hulk of leathery skin and bones stands just outside the gates with a handful of his men. Waiting.

  That irritates me. It speaks of their confidence that we’ll fail to protect the city.

  Just when we get close enough to see him, the last of the sun’s light dips behind the horizon, plunging Teag into darkness. The Nightmare Men reach for their weapons. Orntho raises his hand to his mouth and breathes on a ring. The black stone turns pale and a thin white wisp rises, curls up toward the stars, and then surges toward the bones on the ground. Within seconds the bodies reconnect. In less than a minute, the crumbled Nightmare Men I’d thrown from the walls are moving, and in no time the whole group melds into the shadows and are gone.

  “Now that’s a nightmare,” Wyatt breathes, just as in awe as I am.

  I twist back and forth, looking for one of them to spring out at us, not for a minute believing they’ve gone for good. “How do we kill something that can’t die?”

  I feel a wave of panic surge. He breathed on that ring, and they came back to life. It shouldn’t be possible, but this place doesn’t live by normal hey-let’s-make-sense-out-of-life rules. “How are we supposed to deal with guys like that?”

  Wyatt grabs my shirt, pulls me close, and gives me a little shake. “Listen to me, Dylan.” His eyes glitter with confidence, and his voice demands I pull it together. “Everything dies. Everything.”

  A shout sounds and we turn to see one of the Nightmare Men who didn’t go into the city appear out of the shadows and strike down one of the firsts. The dude didn’t even have time to react, but I do. I shoot a series of fireballs. They hit the slapped-together body and it bursts apart. I turn to Wyatt, feeling a huge sense of relief. “There’s not much fire can’t kill.”

  “Lucky for us.” He stares at the smoldering piles of the Nightmare Man’s remains as if he doesn’t trust the obvious. I don’t blame him. Nothing is simple here. Nothing does what it’s supposed to do. My gaze stretches across the battlefield and I try to come up with a better plan. Something to shock the Rodarians into leaving, but I’m coming up blank.

  Wyatt slaps his hand on my arm, grabbing my attention. The disgusted look on his face makes my stomach sink. The Nightmare Man is re-forming, piece by piece. Skin and bone slap together, climbing up the body to make a horrifying whole.

  Wyatt lets go, and as he backs away, he says, “Find your dad and tell him. They need to know what they’re up against.” He then turns and runs toward the Nightmare Man, his sword raised for a fight.

  Watching him dive into the fight motivates me to haul ass back to my dad. Running toward the group of Rodarians still hacking at the barrier, I drop to the ground and slide baseball style back behind the city walls. I pop back up and search the area. Chaos reigns as people are yanked into the shadows and killed by the Nightmare Men’s unseen hands. It had to be the Nightmare Men who, without a trace, devastated the town Wyatt mentioned earlier. But why?

  A high whistle rips through the air, and I find Leo and Lucinda herding people out of the streets and indoors. Leo waves me over. “Something weird is going on.”

  “Yeah, the Nightmare Men are alive.”

  “What?” He looks at an empty cart where a pile of bodies once was.

  He has no idea. I turn to Lucinda. “Did you know about them, about how they reanimate at night?”

  “No.” She even looks alarmed, and I believe her.

  “They reanimate? As in, we kill them and they don’t stay dead?” Leo asks, his naturally deep voice getting higher and higher.

  No wonder they were so easy to kill. It was their plan all along to get killed behind the walls and then, once the sun set, rise from the dead and start killing.

  “We’re not safe in the shadows.” I create a ball of bright energy, and holding it in my palm, I blow. They duplicate, rising off my palm like hot bubbles, one after another to create a string of bright lights.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Halim intercept a wisp of a form. An arm shoots out of the shadows as if the building has come to life. Halim dodges it once, then tries again, but the Nightmare Man grabs Halim by the shirt and steps into the light, taking on a solid form. I send a blast that knocks the man back into the shadows, though he still has a hold on Halim. The boy is slammed against the wall and falls to the ground. With his nose bleeding, he struggles to his feet and backs away as a body reemerges from the shadows, its sword raised over Halim’s head.

  My stomach twists. I’m too far away to help. Just then, Reece jumps into view, his sword already dripping blood, and cuts the head from the Nightmare Man’s shoulders. Headless, it stumbles around, hacking in all directions.

  “Stay close,” Reece yells at Halim, “or no ice cream when we get home.”

  “But you promised,” the boy whines.

  The two start arguing, completely ignoring the Nightmare Man who’s found its head and is reattaching it. I swoop in and hack its arm off. The head and arm fly in opposite directions, quickly ending their argument.

  “They don’t die,” I yell at the pair.

  “What?” they both cry.

  Another Nightmare Man appears, and I slice him to the ground. Even as I do, parts are reconnecting. Reece kicks them apart and screams for me to do something.

  “Like what? It doesn’t matter. If I burn one, it’ll re-form even quicker.”

  Halim just stands there, whispering under his breath. He’s lost it, and I can’t blame him.

  “Move!” I yell, trying to keep him from being hit.

  “I’ve got it! It’s in a rhyme I learned when I was little!” Halim says, bouncing up and down around Reece like a kid on a trampoline.

  “Another children’s rhyme?” I’m really beginning to hate rhymes. The last one Halim told us had everyone scratching their heads until it was almost too late to save Kera.

  Halim squints his eyes shut really hard and says:

  “‘Blood and bone and tendon speak,

  the flesh of others they do seek.

  Hearts of evil brought them here,

  Where stalwart hearts will melt with fear.’

  “Here’s the part that matters:

  ‘To end their deeds, you must be fast,

  tear through the dark and end the past.

  What once was dark now turned to light,

  must cease to be to end their plight.’”

  Halim looks between us with a face that could make a clown cry. “I don’t know what it means.”

  Reece’s eyebrows knit tightly over his eyes. “And I thought the Brothers Grimm were warped. We need a serious discussion about these bedtime stories. Unlike the ones from my world, all yours seem to be based in fact. Which is kinda freakin’ me out.”

  I repeat the last verse. “Maybe my dad knows what it means.” The only thing I do know is that it’s only a matter of time before the Nightmare Man hops back up and plays grim reaper again. I touch the ground and the soil turns soft. I call forth thick vines that drag his body parts under and then harden the soil once again.

  “Where’s my dad?”

  “Phoenix Hall.”

  I light two pieces of wood and give one to each. “Don’t go near the shadows. Stay in the light.”

  As I leave, I see the ground shift and the hand digging its way free. Reece stomps on the fingers, and Halim’s wide, horror-filled eyes follow my retreat. “Hurry up, will you?”

  I find my dad sitting in the throne room, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He’s a man they still treat like their king. He’s a figurehead, nothing more. I have more power than him, yet they don’t seem to understand that I’m the one in charge. The council fusses a
t my entrance, but I push through and stand before my dad. “What do you know about the Nightmare Men?”

  “Pure myth, a legend to keep children in their beds.” Though he’s in pain, he manages an indulgent smile. “Orntho and his men can claim the title of Nightmare Men all they want, but they are just like everyone else. You already proved that.”

  “Look outside. The legend is real. All the ones I killed are alive again, and they’re tearing up the city and doing a damn good job of it.”

  “I suppose myths are based on some form of truth…”

  He’s so calm it’s irritating. “This one obviously is,” I snap. “Can you find the one they call Orntho?”

  He presses his lips together. It’s then I look around. Everyone appears nervous, on edge in a way only someone who’s frightened can look. I haven’t just interrupted a council meeting. I’ve interrupted his meeting with Orntho. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  The commander of the Nightmare Men steps from the shadows, bigger than all the rest, scarier. As he walks, his skin and bones ripple and click against each other in a grotesque dance. Still, it’s hard to look away.

  He stops in front of my father, only a few steps from me, but I’m as important as a bug in his eyes. “A myth?” his harsh voice rips from his throat as he addresses my father. “I am more real to the humans than your kind ever was.”

  My father’s smile stiffens. “Yet always the servant, never the master. Out of everyone, why serve the Rodarians?”

  He looks down and twirls the ring on his finger, the once-black stone shining bright white against a patch of his dark, leathery skin. He looks up, the bones in his face clicking with irritation. “I serve only myself.”

  “Displace us and you think the Rodarians will give you a sliver of land?”

  “I have their word they will, though I would take the gift from you in exchange for getting rid of them.”

  “You are not the first to want Teag and all that comes with her. We firsts guard the way between the realms where your kind would abuse it.”

  A raspy laugh shakes the tendons along the exposed bones in his neck. “Tell me true. Are we really that different? You hate humans. I hate humans. And we both want what they have.”

  At my father’s silence, Orntho shrugs. “Very well, I hoped we could come to an agreement, but if you won’t even play along, I’ll destroy you all…starting with you.”

  On hearing his threat, several of us draw our weapons. He shifts, finding a sliver of shadow, and disappears. The room goes silent. We all search for Orntho. Within the shadows beside the throne, I see a hand appear and the glint of a dagger. The shape of his body curls from the darkness, but not all the way. In that split second I strike, severing his hand from his arm. Screaming, his body returns to the shadows. Even his severed hand disappears, leaving the dagger and ring on the floor. I scoop it up and watch the bright-white stone slowly fade to black.

  My father sighs with relief and calls for the hall to be lit until every shadow is erased from the corners. “Do you know what you did?”

  “Saved your life for the second time?”

  He nods and collapses back into the chair, so weak he can barely sit up straight. “That…and you sentenced them to remain in the darkness forever. They cannot take solid form without that ring.”

  “Sir,” one of my dad’s men says, “shall we send for Hadrain’s daughter?”

  He shakes his head, his face closed of all emotion. “A few stitches will see me well.”

  If he wants to act tough, that’s his business. I’m still not convinced we’re rid of Orntho and his threat. “Where are the Nightmare Men now?”

  He looks around. “No shadows, no Nightmare Men. Orntho is gone, and good riddance.”

  He holds out his hand for the ring, and I reluctantly give it to him.

  “What about the Rodarians?” I ask.

  “They are thinning, though we know not why.” He waves his hand, and a group of men surrounds him to tend to his wounds; I’m pushed back, barely a thought for me. My dad looks over their heads. “We have much to discuss.” He hisses as a stitch is placed in his side.

  We’re not discussing anything right now. The Nightmare Men may be gone, but we still have more trouble than we need. The Rodarians are fading in ranks, and I have a feeling Kera has found a way to stop them. It has to be her.

  I turn and leave, ignoring my father’s calls to come back.

  Severed Hearts

  I look out over the scarred battlefield, at the wounded and dead. A fine layer of dust covers everything, and I spy a scattering of Rodarians falling back. The lone horse their commander once rode skitters at my approach and trots away. It’s then I see someone coming out of the forest. I’d know that walk, that turn of her head, anywhere.

  “Kera.” My yell echoes across the field. She turns toward me and begins to run. The closer she gets, the more details I see. Her shirt is ripped near her shoulder and her face is covered in dirt. Tears streak down her cheeks, and when she vaults into my arms, she presses so close, I feel my chest ache.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” It’s all I can say. She’s shivering and crying, and I sweep my arms under her knees and carry her to a fallen log. Sitting, I cradle her closely, rocking her back and forth. The flames from the iron balls have dimmed, leaving a soft glow. Kera’s hair is a mess. I slowly unbraid it and gently run my fingers through the thick mass. She lays her head on my shoulder and soon her sobs ease.

  “You left me.” I’m not exactly mad, I’m confused.

  “I had to.” Her voice hitches thick with tears.

  I pull away and look into her sad eyes. “Why?”

  “I couldn’t kill you, not again and again.”

  An image of her killing a first stirs my memories, followed by the horrifying image of her being killed. My heart had stopped for a split second seeing her die. I knew deep down it wasn’t her, that it had been a Rodarian impersonating her. I had tried to wipe that death from my mind, but I couldn’t. After that, I didn’t see her again, not her or anyone pretending to be her.

  I press my lips to her forehead and feel her sag against me. “Where’d you go?”

  “I had to know where they were coming from so I followed their numbers. Granel is free of the Unknown. He found a way to duplicate the Rodarians with the help of the Dark Souls.”

  “You went up against him and the Dark Souls alone?”

  “I had no choice. Besides, I knew I could stop them. It was easy.”

  “Easy?” I touch the rip in her shirt and see the wound beneath.

  She tugs the fabric up to cover her broken skin. “Nothing is without risk.”

  Her words are softly spoken, yet they hold a purpose and strength that doesn’t comfort me. “Don’t risk yourself again, okay?”

  She gently touches the half-dozen wounds along my body and looks deeply into my eyes. “Can you promise me the same?”

  “You know what I mean. You used the dark magic again. It’ll destroy you. Like it did Navar. Like it almost did my dad.”

  She cups my face, her eyes glittering and her words clipped and desperate. “I am different. I have goodness where they had only selfish desires. You have said so a million times…so has my father and a half-dozen other people. I only use it when I have no other choice.”

  She licks her lips and softens her voice. “Trust me. I know what I am doing.”

  She honestly thinks she does. It’s a dangerous gamble, and one she’ll never admit she’s losing. We sit there staring at each other, knowing neither of us can promise the other to play it safe. We are truly two of a kind. Stubborn, strong, and more powerful than either of us should be.

  Footsteps sound and we look up. It’s Wyatt, and he looks like hell. No, like he’s been dragged through hell, fought the devil, and then run out before the demons could catch him. He’s covered in blood and dirt and his clothes are ragged and he looks a million years old.

  “It’s done.” He takes his
sword and tosses it to the ground in a fit of disgust. “I know this is my profession. I’ve been in the army for a while, been halfway around the world fighting other people’s battles, but this,” he says, sweeping his arm out and dropping it wearily to his side, “I thought it was bad before, but this hacking another guy to death…”

  We’re all covered in blood and the gore of war. It’s not pleasant. Nothing he’d been taught could’ve prepared him for the reality of Teag and all it holds.

  “You need to sit down,” I say.

  He nods, but before he can drop to the ground, Neve rushes up to him. She’s too pale, too tense. Her clothes are ripped and blood-spattered. She grabs his arm and tugs on him to follow her. Her voice holds the hard edge of glass that’s about to break. “We must leave. Now.”

  He lets her pull him a few feet away before he stops and cups her cheek. “Sweetheart, settle down. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over.” She tugs on him harder. “Please. We must leave.”

  A knot of people appears out of the darkness. Neve’s sisters. Clustered together, dressed for war, they’re an impressive sight. They don’t look happy. “Neve,” one of them calls.

  The girl whips around and runs to them, her face a mask of hurt, her voice pleading, “No. Don’t.”

  I feel sorry for her, knowing her family doesn’t approve of her love for Wyatt. Being forced to choose between your family and someone you love is harsh. Wyatt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing himself to defend their decision to be together.

  The sisters grab Neve and march her toward Wyatt. I wonder if I should go stand beside him, show them he has my support, but he hasn’t asked me to get involved, so I stay put, feeling guilty just sitting there watching the drama unfold.

  They barely pause when they reach him. Neve gasps and doubles over. Her cries are deep and soul-wrenching. One of her sisters yanks her forward. I hear Wyatt grunt, but I can’t see him. An alarm shoots down my spine. I push Kera off and stand. “Wyatt?”

  The sisters move off, dragging a crying Neve with them. Wyatt just stands there, his back to us, stunned as he watches her leave.