The Brilliant Dark

by S. M. Beiko

  Shrill barking battle cries filled the air. Saskia used the opportunity to get up, to try to get away, but one of the soldiers grabbed her and held tight.

  “Spy of the Owl King,” it snarled, “you will pay with your shade.”

  Saskia didn’t even have time to argue, because something that was all claws and wings swooped down and smashed the Hound aside, sending her careening back.

  The rest of the Hounds weren’t interested in her any longer, though, because the canyon was a blur of black shapes with tattered wings meeting with claw and teeth. The Foxes held their own with shots of fire from outstretched hands. The winged figures sent buffeting wind that stole the breath out of Saskia, cut her exposed flesh like paper. She fled backward until she was on the periphery of the battle. Roan battered off the screeching enemies, then whirled on the figure that had landed softly in front of her, catching the arc of her blade before it could meet the grinning, sharp-eyed mask she’d aimed for.

  “General,” the voice seethed. “My Eyes said you were agitated. As usual.”

  Roan pulled the sword free and swung it at the figure’s long legs. He leapt up, swooping and laughing.

  “Go back to your shattered sky, buzzard,” Roan snarled, body shimmering with heat. “Or can I at last put you under the ground where you belong?”

  The new figure merely went on smiling, flourishing its enormous taloned hand. “Remove your mask, my love, so that I may look upon my handiwork. You know I only deign to come down here to see you.”

  Saskia faltered behind a finger of rock. My love?

  Roan sneered, but, in a surprising turn, did as the figure bade. At first, Saskia thought the black at his back was a cloak, but when it snapped open she saw they were wings, bigger than the man, who was taller than Roan. Expansive.

  “Ah,” he said, clasping his hands. “There she is.”

  Then he, too, removed his mask. Across his forehead was a burn, his golden eyes so bright they sizzled. What she could see of his cheekbones, rimmed in a black beard, were that they were hollow, the circles beneath his eyes smudged like permanent stains.

  Eli Rathgar. He was still smiling.

  “Easier to rip that smirk off now that I see it,” Roan said, and in a rage of fire and wind she and Eli, and their combined forces, came at each other again.

  This is not happening, Saskia lurched out of the way, nearly being taken down for a Hound throwing itself on what must have been an Owl soldier, an Eye. Then talons caught her by her backpack, pulling her into the fray.

  She didn’t register turning and digging into greasy feathers. In her mind, she felt that the Onyx was alive and hungry, pulling the darkness away like it had with the Deer when she’d saved Baskar. But it wasn’t darkness it was pulling at — it was the shade itself. Its spirit.

  Saskia tripped to her feet. The fighting had stopped on all sides, and they were all staring at her — at the pile of sticks and feathers beneath her, because the Owl shade inside the shell was gone, sucked inside the Onyx.

  Eli’s voice: “No.”

  Eli stared right at her, and Saskia was close enough to see the cracked Tradewind Moonstone in his chest, pulsing.

  “She is my prisoner,” Roan snarled at him. “She is mine.”

  “She is fair game,” Eli said, his pupils so small they had disappeared.

  “I came here for you,” Saskia said to both of them, voice small. “I came here for your help.” But she knew there was no pleading with either of them. This had all been a terrible mistake.

  Saskia’s hand flew to the device, flicked the switch to full power, and the red song poured out of the Onyx. The shade poppets from both sides scattered, the Owls fleeing to the sky and the Foxes going to ground into the canyon. Both Roan and Eli clutched their chests.

  “No!” Eli roared, rounding back on Saskia, wings wide and talons reaching. Roan slammed the flat of the blade into him like a home run, sending him careening backward.

  It was too much, even for Saskia. There was a roar like an overloaded generator coming from the Onyx. Saskia couldn’t take it and fumbled to shut off the switch. She collapsed in the middle of the impromptu battlefield, feeling her hopes dissolving around her with her blackening vision. She thought she saw rabbit ears, felt sharp wooden hands catch her, but couldn’t be sure of anything.

  Don’t ever confront your heroes, she thought before familiar darkness came.

  Spark of the New Gods

  Phae had sat so long with her head in her hands that Natti thought she’d finally snapped.

  The fight had done significant damage to the Old Leg, even though the Denizens ultimately had to retreat. They’d gone to One Evergreen, but they’d soon have to find somewhere else to hide. Jordan Seneca was there, speaking in hushed tones in the living room to Ella and her aunt Cassandra, while a few other shaken Denizen fighters milled about the tight quarters, trying to make sense of things. Jordan and a handful of Owl Unit soldiers, who had gladly betrayed the ETG at the mere suggestion, were keeping the apartment protected by making it look deserted, but that would last only so long.

  Natti flopped on the sofa beside Phae, exhausted. She’d just sent word to her mother and Aivik that she’d found the fight and they’d need to come quick before the ETG struck them first. It would be quickest to take the Cold Road and bring them all here but looking at Phae now, she couldn’t bear to leave her alone. Things were bad and likely only to get worse.

  These new rebels, even those who had been waiting for this day as the Cluster, she knew had all looked to Solomon as the leader. That position was woefully vacant now with no one ready to fill it. As the priest, Arnas Harken had been a beacon to Mundanes whose faith had been shattered, but they needed someone who would be strong enough to hold what precious ground they’d gained today by storming the Old Leg and allowing Saskia through the Bloodgate.

  Something must have happened within the ETG, too, because Grant’s personnel had fallen back after an initial retaliation and hadn’t yet come for the rebel Denizens. Information about the attack on the Old Leg was not being widely broadcast — in fact, most major networks were on blackout standby. But the gate must have worked. The ETG were just deciding how they were going to spin it.

  Phae suddenly let out a strangled noise and lifted her head. Natti was not relieved when she saw the smile on her friend’s devastated face.

  “She’s gone,” she said. “I basically raised her, and she still turned into Roan, no matter what I did.”

  Natti, unsure what to do, but figuring this was likely what was called for, bundled Phae close and held her tightly while she cried.

  “I hear ya,” she muttered, patting her back. “I’m sorry all your friends are mule-stubborn and stupid besides that.”

  Phae pulled away, rubbing her face hard. “No, I can’t. I’ve cried enough. There’s too much to do now.” Her hands rested on her thighs as she took a look around the room. There was scant food, but everyone was too hyped up to eat anything. They were all coming down from the high. “If Saskia was smart enough to get through,” Phae went on, “she can get back out. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

  “And we have our own problems up here. If Roan and Eli are down there, and Barton, too, they’ll help her.” Natti didn’t know that for sure, of course, but she also didn’t want to entertain the notion Saskia had leapt full bore into a death trap.

  In Winnipeg, the remaining Denizens certainly had, anyway.

  “It’s only a matter of time.” Phae shook her head. “Word will get out about Project Crossover. The rest of the world will militarize against Denizens and they’ll call it justice, or claim getting rid of us will get rid of the Darkling Moon problem.”

  She looked like she’d wanted to pace, but there wasn’t any room to do it. Jet was pressed against the kitchen wall, listening to everything, clutching one of Saskia’s old keyboards close.
There’d be so many Denizens who couldn’t fight, who would be picked off first. Jet reminded Natti of that all too easily.

  “There are a lot of us,” Natti said. “Denizens complied with Restoration only to show we meant Mundanes no harm. About time we backpedalled on that and got the message out to the others.”

  “How? The ETG controls all the networks, and they’ll be sweeping hard for internal traitors, if they all haven’t gone underground already. When their own message goes out about this, it’ll become holy writ.”

  “Hmph,” Natti grunted. “I’m not much for the planning part of a war. I’m here as the brute force.” She threw Phae a glance. “You noticed how we’re all a bit lacking in the leadership department, I assume?”

  Phae’s pale, brown face lifted a little, and she sighed. “Don’t worry. It’s coming.”

  As if on cue, Jordan turned to look at both Natti and Phae. So did a few of the others in the room, and it went quiet. Without looking at one another, the women stood as one, surveying everyone who watched them.

  “We started this,” Phae spoke clearly, confidently. “We will finish it one way or another.” She looked to Jet. Smiled. He nodded, and Natti took in his mix of childlike wonder and brave determination.

  Natti folded her arms. “We can’t exactly tell the rest of the world what we’re doing, but we can show them. We start here, with Winnipeg, where it all began. We take the city. We hold it. And in doing so, we show everyone else that we’re stronger together.”

  Phae blinked at Natti, who shrugged, her neck reddening as if to say, I really have no idea where that came from, but it seemed like something a leader would say . . .

  Jordan nodded. “I’m with you.” The rest of the room echoed the sentiment.

  For now, they’d rest and plan. But soon they’d be back on the streets. Streets that were theirs now. Natti remembered the image of Roan, spray-painted on a statue by the river.

  “We are the flame,” Natti said.

  “Join the fire fight!” Jet howled, and the room cheered with him.

  * * *

  Run, run, run run . . .

  Saskia kept repeating it to herself. Running had always helped. It would help now. Monsters. Fire. Darkness. Run.

  She ran headlong into the past.

  They had been walking home from Saskia’s new school. She’d walked apart from Barton and Phae, who were ahead, talking quietly, with Saskia pretending she couldn’t hear every word.

  “She’s just scared,” Barton said. “This is all new to her. New country, new life. It’s going to take adjusting to. We’re all adjusting. Let’s just try to make the most of what we get every day, okay?”

  Phae sucked on her teeth. “I wish we knew more about her. I mean . . . what happened with that monster, Urka? I remember what Roan told me about it. But Saskia destroyed it with some power we can’t even look up.”

  Barton glanced over his shoulder at Saskia, who had quickly dipped her face back to the ground, hiding her flushed cheeks behind her hair.

  Barton turned back to Phae. “She’s just a regular kid. The entire Coalition, the Family leaders, they all agreed. She’s harmless. She’s Mundane.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m kind of jealous, if I’m being honest.”

  Phae sighed, laughing partially. “Same.”

  Suddenly Saskia stopped, two thick black running blades now in her line of sight. Startled, she looked up, Barton standing over her, hands on his hips.

  “How about we go to the track, Saskia?” he asked.

  She blinked, looked from him to Phae. “I thought I was in trouble.”

  Phae laid a hand on Saskia’s head. “You two should go. Burn off some steam. There’ll be time to discuss what to do about your temper when we get home.”

  Home. Saskia bit her lip. “Okay,” she said, reluctant to let go of how mad she’d been at the other kids in her school, the things they’d said about Denizens, how mad she’d been at Phae and Barton for not getting it. How mad she’d been at herself for liking that she’d put those kids in their place with just her fists.

  Then Barton had gathered Phae to him, kissing her on the cheek, and Saskia let all the anger go, remembering what family could be. She realized then that the thing she’d been most scared of was that Phae and Barton would give up on her, or send her back to Scotland, to the dark place that she saw in her worst dreams peopled with the Cinder Kids who’d convinced her they were her only family.

  Phae walked up towards the Maryland Bridge, waving goodbye as she took the corner. Barton led Saskia to the park behind the high school on Stafford, where the running track shone in the diminishing daylight.

  “You used to go to this school, right?” Saskia had asked him, gazing around in awe as she clutched her backpack straps.

  Barton took off his jacket, put it with his own bag by the bleachers. He nodded, his gaze a little inward. “Phae and I used to go here, with Roan. It’s weird, seeing it now. After everything.” He’d graduated from this high school almost two years ago, and now he and Phae were parenting a ten-year-old.

  Whatever the bemusement meant on his face, he wasn’t going to skirt the more pressing issue. “You can’t just go after people if they say something you don’t agree with. Violence just makes space for more violence, mostly inside you.” He pointed to her chest, where her heart hammered.

  She kicked the grass. “You all fought. For what you believed in.”

  Barton sighed with more than an air of drama. “There were sort of world-destroying monsters in the way, Sask. Not loud-mouthed kids.” He nudged her and her eyes darted at him. “I know what it’s like. To feel powerless. But you’re not powerless. You’re a bright kid. You’re going to do amazing things.” He bent down, face to face with her. “But you have to be smart. The world is changing very quickly right now. Before, Denizens blended in. We don’t anymore. People are scared. We all are. Best to just keep some things to ourselves. And when it gets hard to take, you talk to me or Phae first, okay?”

  She hated that her eyes stung. “But what if you guys aren’t here anymore? What if something happens to you?” The kids she’d gotten into the fight with had said that all Denizens should just be killed, with the braying, stupid, know-nothing tone that most kids had. It wasn’t anger Saskia had acted on, but fear.

  Barton shook his head. “When I’m alone, and I’m feeling like that, I run. It makes me feel in control of my own body at least. After a run, things are a bit clearer. Do you want me to show you?”

  Saskia nodded. He handed her his stopwatch. “Okay, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll go first. Then we’ll go together.”

  They’d stayed at the track for hours. Barton was so fast, like a hare. He looked free. Saskia whooped and hollered, louder still when he raced straight for her, scooping her up in his arms. And when they ran together, side by side, that was the first time Saskia began to believe things would be okay.

  * * *

  Saskia jolted awake with such a start that her chest hurt, choking on air. She felt like she’d been squeezed between solid walls of rock, paralyzed, unable to wake.

  Hands on her forearms. “It’s all right.”

  At first, she’d thought it was Ella again, in a hidden dormitory beneath Cecelia’s house. Then she jerked backward, a dark mask face angling down at her with bright eyes. “What —”

  A huge rabbit, made of sticks and rubble, tilted its head at her. The name swam up — Baskar. The archivist. She touched her head, which smarted and then panic set in as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

  “It’s not lost,” Baskar said, pulling the Fractal crown from a shadowy corner and holding it out to her reverently. “Here.”

  Saskia snatched it from the long fingerbranches, then turned it over, checking for damage. It seemed intact, but she’d have to run a diagnostic —

  She whipped around, searching the tight spa
ce. It was warm in here, but not as stifling as it had been when . . . it came back to her in stutters: the huge pyre, Roan towering over her with a blade, one-eyed and raging. Eli had been there, too, and . . .

  She shut her eyes and pressed her knuckles into them.

  “Are you all right?” Baskar was close, hovering over her and uncertain. “You do not look well.”

  “Should I be well?” Saskia snapped, and Baskar leapt back so quickly they rattled when they struck the smooth wall behind them.

  Saskia sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a lot.” She pulled her legs to her chest. The walls around the two of them were close — though not as close as the crushing stone in her nightmare, and not made of the same material, either. She reached out and touched smooth wood. Beneath her were star-shaped fresh leaves, and just a few feet from her shoulder, a large opening into the overcast world beyond.

  Something rumbled above. The air felt warm and smelled earthy. It was raining outside. She and Baskar were inside a tree, she realized, or at least underneath it, in a burrow, a bit of daylight filtering in. Saskia reached out and ran a hand over a network of gnarled roots in the smooth, dug-out soil.

  Baskar’s finger extended to the Onyx but did not touch it. “This device you wear. It muzzles the stone. It is very clever. If you made it, you must be very clever, as well.”

  Saskia ran her dry tongue over her lips as the finger drew away, flushing under the compliment. “I’ve seen what these stones do to people who let them in. Didn’t want to chance it.”

  Baskar nodded. “Yes. Clever.” Then they cocked their head at Saskia and pulled their own legs up, mimicking her.

  “Is this your home?” Saskia asked. Her throat was parched, and she tried to clear it. She’d had a canteen in her pack, along with her tablet. Seeming to sense this need, Baskar pulled the bag from a nook hewn into the trunk and handed it over. They had kept everything neatly for her. They must have brought her here, too, after the battle, and kept her safe. She didn’t have the mindspace to question why.