Page 54 of Red Demon
They all had one.
I’d heard countless lectures through the years of how holding Istaran should give me the peace of my adopted ancestors, supporting me with each swing. Asher had told me I’d get a mental boost from all the minds that had connected to an Oria-threaded weapon blade, a clarity of purpose. Nope, just anxiety—every fucking time.
Plato laid a supportive hand on my shoulder. “I can lend you a blade.”
Galen grunted. “Thank you, Plato. But the blade Asher left behind knows him. It should respond to him best.”
I nodded, suspecting that I failed to hide the panic in my chest.“Voids, Galen, I better tell him,” Ruan blurted, and I turned to see she was watching me.
“Tell me? Tell me what?”
She took a deep breath, her blue and green eyes not leaving mine. “If you carry an Oria-threaded sword and sync it to me, I won’t just get a vague sense if you’re alive or dead like the rest of us. I’ll feel or see everything you do from your guard post—every sensation.”
Ruan stood with every muscle tense. Looking around, it seemed I and the youngest recruits were the only ones who didn’t know about her dahn. I suppose she still harbored a little fear that a Chaeten would disapprove or turn her in, because this was definitely a gift the empire wouldn’t want her free to use as she chose. The priests would probably make her pledge somewhere if they knew.
I smiled at her, throwing as much reassurance as I could into it. “That’s amazing, Ruan. Just look away when I need to take a piss up there, will you?”
She relaxed as I got a few chuckles from the rest of the group.
“I’ll fetch Ash’s sword,” I said. Panic ambushed me the moment I was alone, my steps creaking up the familiar stairs to the loft. Planning battle was one thing, but looking at the cozy little kitchen and fire that was already one brother short, my heart pounded. I buried my fear deep as a grave, the little voice that everything was falling apart.
The latch clicked on the engraved wooden box under Asher’s bunk. The blade roused its soft glow in my hands, as I touched the engraving Ash had spent so much time and love making perfect only to leave behind. Voids, I wished he was here. I wonder if he could have looked that ghost girl in the eyes—if he could have given me the certainty we lacked. I carried the weapon down the stairs; a whispering pulse of energy trailed up my arm.
I paused on the last step, looking out at a scene. We practiced this ritual many times in our familiar clearing, each time with wooden blades. The priests would have banned the militia if we’d done it any other way. The empire strictly forbade this magic outside of war, or elite academies, for fear the practice would corrupt in the wrong hands.
A dozen Asri clustered below me with their blue pulsing blades, whispering forehead to forehead as they touched their weapons. And as unattuned as I’d always been to Asri magic, even I couldn’t miss the hum of energy, a faint indistinct sound that made my heart beat cold.
“Son,” Galen said, gesturing for me after he and Meragc split away.
I stepped closer, crossing Ash’s blade over my heart as Galen did the same with Istaran. Then he pulled my head to his in his powerful grip, our blades still crossed between us, singing in a low hum.
“Do you remember the words?” he asked.
I nodded, not telling him it was my Chaeten dad who first whispered them to me, warning us in a bedtime story about the decimation of my people. Those stories used to keep me awake, where I’d imagined myself impaled on a blue blade like this, now held over my heart in reverence.
We whispered in unison, breath to breath. “My heart and mind are with you always, my blood and ally, to defend what is worth my death. May you feel each fear and glory, and may our communion guide our hands, as our ancestors guide us in our wisdom.”
And while I understood the power in the clap of his hand on my back, I did not understand the tears my taam kept fenced within his eyes as he pulled away.
To this day, I wish I did.
Chapter 25
Taam
Cool wind blew from my perch in the highest redwood, but I had a clear view of town. The silence of the forest pressed in close on my senses, with only the rustle of the leaves and the occasional hoot of a nearby owl. Several hours after nightfall, I scanned the dark expanse below with the night-vision goggles. Nunbiren glowed to the south—a constellation of electric torches lit along the walls.
I kept my go-bag clipped to the tree, made of hardy century fabric unlike the leather I’d carried into the forest years ago. But as I dug out my canteen, my hand brushed a sliver of gold bracelet tied to a loop just inside the first small pocket. The inscription there, barely visible anymore, was a name—Amelia, my mom. The memento, warm in my hands, brought me closer to my old life than I’d felt in years.
I wanted so much to have Iden beside me in that tree, the constant shadow of my childhood. His grin was harder to win, but it glowed so much brighter than mine when he shared it. On hunts, he always had a plan. He’d have one now.
The exodus of people heading east or south had slowed to a trickle, having peaked that afternoon with most families choosing to head for the Bend. Plenty had stayed—more than I thought—guarded by sentries patrolling the outer edges of the village. I could make out Atalia, then Ruan through the goggles by the gate. The air crackled as I adjusted the controls to scan the green-tinted forest.
Nothing.
Yet.
I did a full scan in all directions, then settled in for a nap at the long hour, with nineteen extra minutes to give the Nara the same twenty-four hours in their day as the planet the Asri ancestors came from long ago.
