Page 53 of Red Demon
“But thanks to Solonstrong, we can’t be sure.” Galen wrinkled his face in agitated thought. “If the ghost left willingly to spare the girl and leave her mind intact, I would assume good intentions and judgment, even from a broken soul. But a ruren-sa would not have been able to disentangle its broken mind from a host. Such a demon might try to lure us all past the protection of the khels for easy picking. Maybe the Bend resettlement kicked up a few angry spirits, now out here for some trouble.”
“How could a ruren-sa coordinate a trap alone, though? Broken minds would need living help for a strategy like that,” I said. For the sake of not picking a fight with Vann, I was careful not to mention that Asri rebels were my prime suspects.
Galen gave a grim nod of his dark head. “A good point, and a terrifying one. In that scenario, the safest move would be to stay within our khels and work with the empire to kill off these ghosts with tech or chout. And…” He raised a finger, a spark of defiance in his eyes. “This militia, we’re trained. We can fight the living. If rebels come, we can defend our walls.”
He shifted his weight, his gaze meeting mine. A shiver ran down my spine.
“I think we should trust the warning and move on,” Atalia said, her voice more calm than the one in my head. “There are better lies to get us out of town. Voids, ghosts could pick off our militia in training any morning if they were roaming these woods.”
Galen gave her a curt nod. “A small meal for a swarm, though. I don’t think any intelligent mind can be certain here.”
He scanned the faces around the room, his gaze lingering on each member of the militia. “I will respect any decision each of you make for yourself, either a broken mind who got a dire warning right or a cunning demon toying with us. In my case, either option leads me to the same choice.”
Galen let his words hang in the air for a moment. “My roots grow too deep in the soil where I was born, the soil where Oria knows my name. I will make my stand and die on my land, be it tomorrow or decades from now.”
Meragc cleared his throat. “I trust the khel, Galen. I trust my eyes. No ghost is getting past that gate. And if there are rebels out there, those are people we can fight. I will stay.” There were nods of agreement around the room. Atalia sighed beside her husband, then gestured her acceptance.
One by one, everyone voiced their agreement. The teenagers Olan and Vann, nodded in tears, orphans that no one could countermand. Horeshio, the other teen recruit, fell in line with them, gripping their shoulders.
Plato, who I knew had recently been itching to go to the Bend, gave a curt nod, adding, “I didn’t train with you all just to run away.” He looked at me just as long as Galen.
My resolve solidified, even if uncertainty raked at the corners of my mind. If they were certain, and if my taam would stay and fight, I knew where I belonged.
“I will stand with you, brothers, sisters, Taam,” I said, gesturing to my mind and heart in an Asri salute.
“I am proud to fight beside you, son.” Pride flickered in Galen’s eyes as they settled on me. “Plato, find out who else in Nunbiren will stand with us. I’ll arm them. Ruan, coordinate the watches on the walls, two on each of the four gates, closed by nightfall,” Galen said.
“What about an external watch?” I said. “Whether it’s SBO or ghosts, I’m immune. I can climb the tallest tree on the forest edge and run patrol from there.”
“I’ll rotate with you,” Plato said.
“Sure,” I said. He could climb as well as me.
Plato’s blue and gray eyes twinkled; his throat bobbed.
Galen frowned, drumming his hand on the table. “Jesse, I won’t argue with your immunity, but I will argue with Plato.” Galen turned to him. “You should stay behind my khels.”
“Fine, makes sense. I’ll take provisions and camp the night,” I said.
“I’ll run you some night-vision goggles from the temple, Jesse,” Meragc stroked his dark beard.
Relief washed over me. With those goggles and a tall enough perch, I could see any threat coming from tens of kilometers away.
“I’ll make my stand at the temple,” Meragc said. “And see what tech we can disperse to those in town who aren’t trained with weapons.”
“We should move Nestor and the other children to the temple at night, since it has extra khels—same for those too old to fight. I’ll take point on that,” Atalia said, tugging her golden hair behind her head.
The clock on the forge fabricator ticked off the hour.
“I will speak to the ancestors next,” Galen said, pouring himself a glass of water. “If the governor brought an Attiq-ka to the dust, I should let the rest of Oria know we have avenged the death.”
“Meragc, what tech do we have that’s safe to use around Attiq-ka magic? I’ll need to be in contact.”
Atalia’s hand brushed against mine, her blue blade humming as she raised it a finger’s breadth from her scabbard. “Have you gotten over your fear of Oria-threaded weapons?” she asked, her voice a low murmur.
“Not a fear, just… I don’t have a license to carry one,” I said. Half of that was a lie, and from the look on Atalia’s face, I wasn’t fooling her.
“Yeah, only the elders do, but fuck that,” Ruan said. All around me, my Asri friends drew their weapons, illuminating the shop in a faint blue glow. I froze, feeling a hum of energy, like standing beside the nuclear generator in the mine on a field trip years ago. Any other sword felt like death I could control, not one that would rather kill me.
