Dark Sun Rising

by K M Martinez

  “Yeah, he’s a sexy beast. I’d do him.”

  Charlotte swatted at Mel.

  “I’m just playing,” Mel said. “I’m happy for you. But seriously, he didn’t look too thrilled about all of this last night. You have to consider that you being a descendant might turn him off, or possibly even be a deal breaker.” Mel was thinking of Victor’s situation with his wife.

  “I know,” Charlotte said with unusual seriousness. “I really want him to get this, to get what we do here.”

  “Hopefully he will. And if he doesn’t, he needs to keep it to himself, for his own sake. I don’t think either Thrash or Gabe will have a problem escalating things.”

  “I didn’t appreciate what he said last night either,” Charlotte said. “And I really didn’t appreciate that he disappeared on me. But we talked about it last night, and he apologized. In the end, he thought it would be a good idea if he stayed at the house instead of the tent. I thought it was a good idea too, if only to give him some distance from the guys.”

  “That’s some good thinking. Don’t need the boys going ‘code red’ on the poor guy.”

  “I know.”

  Once they’d gotten their plates and found an empty table, Mel happily dug into her pancakes and people-watched. The descendants wore their colors proudly. Even Charlotte wore the gold tunic and breeches that identified her as a Kale.

  There had been a time when Kales would dress in black, with their black-and-gold sashes, but after the banner colors were inverted sometime after the Exhaustus, it had become customary for them to wear gold tunics and breeches. Grandma Mari had once explained that when Kale died all those years ago, the surviving Kale descendants felt a black sun represented their loss. Mel liked the idea of paying tribute to Kale in such a way. If indeed the woman actually existed.

  Victor, Gabe, and Tío Jorge joined Mel and Charlotte, their plates stacked with eggs and bacon, and Thrash and Smitty showed up shortly after. Jonah came along last, accompanied by Tío Luce and Tía Alice. Alice was not a descendant, so did not dress in clan colors; instead she wore plain old shorts and a t-shirt like Mel. Her light-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and sunglasses masked her hazel eyes. In many ways, Tía Alice reminded Mel of Charlotte.

  “How’s my partner in crime?” Tía Alice said to Mel with a smile. “Ready for a full day of viewing pleasure? ’Cause I am.”

  Mel laughed and hugged Tía Alice and Tío Luce. She would have said hello to Jonah, but he and Charlotte were kissing like they hadn’t seen each other all year.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Mel.

  “Good, I’m going to need you to keep me company while this one works,” Tía Alice said, pointing a thumb at Tío Luce.

  “She acts like I don’t spend time with her,” said Tío Luce.

  “Sweetie, you’re too busy making sure everyone is comfortable. But I understand—that time of year.”

  “Tío Luce!” Gabe shouted. “Come sit over here. We want to talk to you about something.”

  “Be right there, boys.” Tío Luce turned to his wife. “I have to see what they want. It must be really important if they’re pulling me away from my beautiful wife.” He winked and kissed her forehead, then went to join Gabe, Victor, and Tío Jorge.

  “So how are you doing, Mel? I heard about the other night.”

  “Oh, I’m fine, Tía Alice. It was nothing.”

  It was definitely something, but Mel would be damned if she was going to worry her aunt. She already had her grandmother fussing over her, which was bad enough.

  Luckily Tía Alice was a discerning woman, and she picked up on Mel not wanting to talk about the attack. “What are they looking so serious about?” she asked, nodding toward Mel’s brothers.

  “I don’t know.”

  The male members of her family were huddled together, talking quietly and darting surreptitious glances in her direction. So they were talking about her. She didn’t care.

  Tía Alice sat down, and the two women talked about the day’s competition: weapons Decerto. As with all the competitions, it would start with the Novices, those aged eleven to thirteen, followed by the Intermediates, ages fourteen to sixteen, and then the Advanced, ages seventeen and up. Last would come the Journeymen, the descendants who had completed the trials, the most vigorous and difficult tests a Kale took. Tests they continued to take every year until their bodies weren’t able.

  Anyone who wished to compete needed the approval of their clan’s Journeymen. Regardless of age group, the Journeymen would give a strict test to all who wanted to compete, and based on the test results, the Journeymen would choose.

  Mel knew from personal experience that the tests were difficult. She had taken them every year from age eleven to eighteen. Her first year, after she had completed her first round of tests, she kneeled among the other Novices who had made it to the Eligendo—the choosing ceremony. Tío Jorge walked down the line of young Kale descendants, one by one, stating their name, telling them they’d been chosen to represent Clan Kale as a Novice, and asking if they accepted.

  “Joseph Blake. You have been chosen to represent Clan Kale in the Agora as a Novice. Do you accept?”

  “Yes,” said Joseph Blake. His parents looked at him proudly.

  “Justine Wiley. You have been chosen to represent Clan Kale in the Agora as a Novice. Do you accept?”

  “Yes,” said Justine Wiley. Her mother’s eyes glistened with tears.

  Two more Novices were Chosen to represent Clan Kale, and they accepted as well.

  Then Tío Jorge reached Mel.

  “Melanie Mendez. You have been chosen to represent Clan Kale in the Agora as a Novice. Do you accept?”

  “No.”

  Tío Jorge looked at her, surprised, then looked back at Grandma Mari, whose face was carved rock.

  “Why?” asked Grandma Mari.

  “Don’t be mad, Grandma.”

  “I asked you why.”

  Mel knew she was talking to the Sapienti, the Clan Elder.

  “Because I have no reason to.”

  “What?” Her grandmother was confused.

  All eyes were on Mel.

  “Nothing has been taken from me. I have no reason to fight.”

  “What about your honor?” asked Tío Jorge.

  “I have honor. For my clan. For my family. For myself.”

  “You don’t have any honor!” snapped Joseph Blake.

  Mel turned to the Novice boy and punched him square in the face. Then she hit him again, because she was mad at herself for losing her temper. Joseph Blake stared wide-eyed at her, holding his bloody nose.

  “I’m letting you know, here and now, in front of everyone, if you ever say that to me again, I’ll kick your ass from here to that pole and back again.”

  Joseph Blake looked at the pole, which stood fifteen feet away, and kept his mouth smartly shut.

  Mel turned to everyone. No one had stopped her from beating up Joseph, and no one was surprised. Many had smiles on their faces. Grandma Mari just looked exasperated.

  “I’ll fight for life,” Mel said. "For my life, my family’s, and anyone in my clan. But I’m not going to fight for fun.”

  She remembered now how, at first, few people within her clan understood her views. Year after year went by, the tests grew more difficult; year after year, Mel was Chosen to represent Clan Kale. And every year she chose not to accept. Eventually, more of the clan members grew to respect her. They recognized that she was putting herself through the tests for no reason other than to test her strength, and that resonated with them. In time, the whispers about whether or not she had honor lessened, and they ceased altogether when she completed the Journeyman trials.

  But things changed when she turned eighteen. Up until then, her choice not to represent her clan was strictly clan business; none of the other clans were aware what was going on within the Eligendo for Clan Kale. In fact, Mel always received pity from the other clans; they assumed she had simply ne
ver been Chosen. But when the other clans came to realize that Mel had passed the tests, all the way up to Journeyman, and yet refused to accept the greatest honor that could be given… that’s when the split happened. Some clan members still respected Mel, but others treated her with derision.

  Good thing their opinion is meaningless, Mel thought.

  ****

  Mel walked with her family to the competition area. The arena was huge, with seating in a wide circle. In the center, where the descendants would fight, was a large sandpit. Mel and her family, sans Tío Luce, sat toward the front on the Clan Kale side.

  When the Council of Elders stepped out into the sandpit, the crowd applauded, but not Mel. She knew there was bad business to attend to before the competition started. The crowd must have caught on to the seriousness of the Council, because they quieted down.

  Sapienti Reddy stepped toward the center of the circle and addressed the crowd.

  “Good morning. Before we start this year’s games, we have an issue to settle. A great offense has been committed by one descendant upon another. Victor Mendez and Melanie Mendez of Clan Kale have accused Anton Morel of Clan Janso of touching Melanie’s sash.”

  The crowd gasped. Some leapt to their feet and started shouting accusations.

  “Quiet,” Sapienti Reddy said. “I know this is disconcerting. No one has been accused of committing an offense this serious in a long time. But we will proceed in accordance with The Ways.”

  The crowd quieted down.

  “To prove this crime, we ask for witnesses. All those who witnessed Anton Morel’s offense against Melanie Mendez, please stand.”

  Mel stayed seated, as well as Victor. As accusers, they could not also be witnesses. But Charlotte and Gabe stood, as well as a handful of people from the other clans.

  “Fourteen descendants stand as witnesses,” said Sapienti Reddy, “with at least one witness from each clan. That is reason enough to lend legitimacy to the accusation. Anton Morel, as the accused, you have a right to speak on your own behalf.”

  Anton walked down from his seat. In his Janso colors, clean-shaven, his hair neatly combed, he would’ve looked as innocent as a child—if his nose didn’t look like it had been hit by a frying pan.

  “Brotha, looks like you were trying to smack his nose off his face,” Gabe snorted.

  Anton stopped in the center of the sandpit and turned in a huge circle, addressing everyone.

  “My name is Anton Morel, and I am known by many throughout the clans. Many of you have competed with me, eaten with me, and celebrated alongside me. For years, I’ve attended the Agora and represented my clan honorably and respectfully. Now I’ve been accused of committing a grievous offense—an offense that I would never commit against anyone, even one who lacks honor and pride for her clan.”

  This remark was met with shouts of outrage from Clan Kale. Only a Kale could accuse another Kale of not having pride for their clan—an outsider could have no opinion. But Mel reined in her own outrage; whatever was going to happen was out of her control. It would be put to a vote, and majority would win, in accordance with The Ways. A person could be guilty of a crime but, depending on the climate of the clans, could get away with it, if the clans thought it was justified.

  “I would never, ever commit such a…”

  Anton’s words were drowned out by a crescendo of voices. All the clans were now voicing their approval or disapproval depending on where they stood, with Anton or with Mel. Mel couldn’t even tell which was which.

  “Enough!” shouted Sapienti Reddy.

  The voices died down.

  “We’ve heard from the accused,” Sapienti Reddy continued. “Fourteen people have stood as witness to this offense. Now we vote. All those who vote Anton Morel be punished for committing the offense of touching Melanie Mendez’s sash, speak now.”

  The roar was loud. Some people stood and stomped their feet, while others clapped their hands, making noise any way they could.

  “All those who vote Anton Morel not be punished, speak now.”

  The roar that erupted for Anton was just as loud, even though it was quiet among the Kale descendants. And when Mel saw the sick smile spread across Anton’s face, she knew he would get away unscathed.

  Chapter Six

  In that moment, Mel realized just how her reputation had grown. The vote was proof of that. But it was also at that moment that she realized how much she didn’t care. Her clan had stood behind her, as had her family, and that was all that mattered. So when Anton focused his vicious smile on her, she smiled just as fiercely back, and nudged her brothers.

  “Do make him pay,” Mel said over the loud jeering.

  “Oh, every second,” Gabe replied.

  Victor made a rude gesture at Anton.

  “All right,” said Sapienti Reddy, and once again the crowd quieted. “With that business concluded, we may start Decerto, weapons. Novices, please make your way to the bottom of the sandpit. You’ll have fifteen minutes to warm up.”

  There was applause as the young descendants made their way down. Tío Jorge went down as well—he would act as a trainer to all the Kale Novices and Intermediates.

  “Mel, are you all right?” Charlotte asked.

  Mel waved her off. She was fine.

  “Hey!” Mel yelled at the five Kale Novices from the night before.

  They turned their heads toward her.

  “Kick some ass!”

  Her attempt to take the edge off didn’t help. Five scared eleven-year-olds stared back at her.

  She looked up in the stands at the kids’ parents, who looked down at their kids with concern. It was an unspoken rule that parents didn’t follow their children down into the pit.

  “I think I’ll go down there with them,” she said to Charlotte, then turned toward her brothers. “Gabe! Victor! Come on. We’re going down there with them.”

  “I’m fine here,” said Victor.

  “Get your ass up. Those kids are nervous. You remember your first time? ’Cause I do. You were so nervous you couldn’t hold your sword upright.”

  Mel also recruited Thrash on the way.

  Tío Jorge didn’t bat an eye when they arrived. “All right, guys,” he said to the Novices. “You got fifteen minutes to get loose. Let’s run through your forms. Devilyn, you’re with me.”

  They paired off, each Kale Novice with a Journeyman. Mel paired up with Mando Ledesma. While she was taking him through his forms, she caught Cori’s eye across the sandpit. Cori looked murderous for some reason, and Mel wondered if Cori was still upset about the conversation from the night before. Probably is, knowing her.

  Mel examined Mando’s wood sword. “You’re going to have to share swords with one of the others. This one has a cracked blade.”

  “Aww, I love this sword. It brings me luck.”

  Mel smiled. “Don’t be superstitious now.”

  A horn blew, and Mando’s eyes went wide.

  “You’re gonna be fine. Assurgere.”

  “Assurgere,” he responded.

  Mel and the others returned to their seats. Mel gave a thumbs-up to the Novices’ parents as she sat down next to her aunt.

  The first match was between a Janso and a Mayme. The two faced each other in the center of the sandpit. The ref, a Journeyman from Clan Tam, gave the signal to begin, and the two opponents clashed with as much ferocity as their little bodies could muster. The Janso Novice was the first to score.

  “How is this game scored?” Jonah asked Charlotte.

  “For the Novices and Intermediates, first one to score three points by touching the blade to the body wins. For Advanced and Journeymen, it’s first to five. Head shots count for two points. If a descendant disarms his or her competitor, they automatically win the match regardless of the score.”

  “Are they using wood swords?”

  “For Novices and Intermediates, yes. Advanced and Journeymen use real weapons, and they can choose any weapon they like.”


  “What’s the difference between an Advanced and a Journeyman?”

  “A Journeyman has gone through the trials.”

  “More trials, huh? Are they hard?”

  “Hell yeah!” said Gabe. “Ask Mel. She died during hers.”

  Mel smacked Gabe in the back of his head. “Don’t be spreading clan business!”

  Mel didn’t like to speak of the first time she completed the trials. What happened was still a mystery to her, and the clansmen who were there had never spoken of it other than to say that Mel wasn’t breathing when she completed the test. She couldn’t complain about the results though. Before the trials, there had still been a little bit of unspoken judgment about her refusal to compete. After she became a Journeyman, there wasn’t a soul in the clan who would speak against her.

  “Are they blunt weapons?” Jonah asked.

  “No.”

  “Does anyone ever die?”

  “Only if they’re stupid enough to,” said Thrash.

  Charlotte shot Thrash a look. “Don’t worry, babe,” she said to Jonah. “Advanced and Journeymen wear armor.”

  The Mayme Novice won the first match. The crowd cheered like soccer moms and dads as the two competitors bowed and walked off.

  There were two more matches before a Kale Novice stepped in the sandpit. Devilyn Wiley, looking small compared to the large male Ferus Novice she was up against, walked slowly toward the center.

  “Come on, Devil!” screamed Devilyn’s father.

  Devilyn gave her parents a weak smile and a quick wave before focusing on the tall Ferus boy. A Clan Ivor Journeyman stood as referee between the two.

  As soon as he gave the signal to begin, Devilyn attacked the Ferus Novice with Rain in High Wind. The young Ferus had a hard time defending against it, and Devilyn scored all three points in a matter of seconds. Clan Kale cheered their approval as Devilyn returned to her seat with a huge smile.