Page 55 of Red Demon
Ruan had told me to hold Asher’s blade to my chest when I slept, so that those on guard could find their way into my dreams and rouse me the moment there was a threat. She’d wake me at the guard change, so I could scan again. I secured both myself and the blade to the branch with rope and let the sway of the branch and low creak of the trees lull my eyes closed.
I dreamed as I did on so many nights: Iden’s eyes, wide with terror as he begged me to run. Mal, who I’d now outlived by a year, his bearded face contorted in a silent scream. Behind his blond head, the usual flash of red hair and a glint of metal, the splash of blood I always felt on my skin, the dread of that never lessening.
I ran the snow-blanketed forest, cold and eerie in a way the land around Nunbiren could never be. The undergrowth snagged at my clothes as I ran, the sound of my ragged breaths echoing in my ears. “Asher!” I called, my voice rough with desperation. My eyes scanned the dense trees, searching for any sign of my brother’s sun-lightened curls, his familiar gait. I braced myself to find him like the rest, lying motionless and silent in the snow.
Just then, a flicker of red hair caught my eye, a fleeting glimpse through the skeletal branches ahead. My heart galloped. Was it? No.
Adrenaline jolted me awake. The black horizon stared back, painted with the silver strokes of a crescent moon. Asher’s blade pulsed with a faint warmth in my hand, a gentle hum vibrating against my palm. Ruan was checking in.
“I’m okay,” I whispered into the bonded blade, my voice thickened with sleep. “Just a shitty dream.”
A reassuring warmth laced with fiery irritation flowed back through the connection. I smiled as I reached out for the familiar presence of my friends, my taam. They were all safe, for now. And it was official, Asri weapons no longer freaked me out.
Squinting through the goggles, I scanned the forest below in sectors. The goggles rendered everything in green, gray, and red. The cool sway of grass and branch, anything cold that moved: green. The mice that flitted across the clearing: red, any heat enhanced and brought to the forefront. Anything else, the goggles ignored, the trees black pillars on the view.
The emerald glow revealed a sleeping Nunbiren, patrols intact. Our guards strode with crisp steps along the lit wall. That was Plato on the north watchtower. Crickets thrummed as I checked the road.
Exhaustion gnawed at my mind, but I vowed to check the full perimeter before I let myself sleep again. I allowed my eyelids to drop for a fleeting moment, before a sliver of red caught my peripheral vision, something in the dense foliage to the east.
My heart lurched against my ribs, the frantic beat of a trapped bird. Was it…? It could have been anything in the darkness, a wild animal moving quickly. But it felt like the memory of my dream, the terror of the Red Demon.
Steadying my breath, I scanned the trees to make sure. I tightened my grip on Asher’s blade, and a tremor ran through the metal: a low, unsettling hum. This was something I’d never felt from the blade yet. This was a vibration of raw, primal fear. I sent a bit of that fear right back.
The town fell dark, the electric lights on the wall black as the void.
“Ruan?” I whispered.
The blade stirred, waves of emotions confused and fearful. Then the unmistakable sound of clashing steel reached me, a scream shattering the silence. I scanned outside the perimeter of town, seeing no one. Another yell, sharp and desperate, followed by another, then a chorus of them. My blood ran cold, and so did the blade in my hand.
Attack. Under attack.
I grabbed supplies and settled my rope on the tree to slide down. As I shuddered against the bark, the sword continued to vibrate in its sheath, riling my terror. I forgot strategy; all I knew was I needed to get back to Taam, to defend my home.
I threw myself down the last few meters, the ground rushing up to meet me in a blur. I rolled with the impact, adrenaline masking the sting of the brush. I scrambled to my feet and plunged out of the undergrowth, the clatter of my boots swallowed by the blur of the path as I tore home.
A blue maze, the mycelium of Oria, glowed under each step as I bit forward. It wasn’t usually awake like this. The ground beneath my feet crackled with magic, a bite strong enough now where even I could sense it: anger, fear, death. Asher’s blade pulsed a frenzied rhythm against my palm.
I felt Plato freeze; his heart stop. My throat tightened, a strangled cry escaping me as I ran on. I imagined him crumpled on the ground, his face locked in fear.
Another pulse, another loss. Horeshio. Vann. Their heartbeats slowed and stilled through the Oria-threaded blade.
The moonlight against Nunbiren’s old white walls was the only light at the gate. Tears stung my eyes as I sprinted, my chest burning for air. Ruan, that was Ruan’s blue armor and her braids. She was locked in a fierce duel on the wall with…
With Ola. The bright-faced teenage spitfire who I’d taught to duck like that.
“Ruan! Stop!” I roared. Their steel continued to clash, unhearing.
It was too late. With a final swing, Ruan disarmed Ola. The girl’s surrender died on her lips as Ruan’s blade found its mark up and under the armor on her chest, silencing her forever. A wave of nausea washed over me as I watched Ruan push Ola off her blade, hurling her body off the wall.
“Ruan!” I called again. She ran for the stairs. I ran to meet her by the stairwell door.
Juna, the old woman who sold lentil curry by the forge, stepped outside, armed only with a kitchen knife. I turned to her; yelled for her to get back inside and hide.
I felt Ruan through the sword before she charged past me, a blue blur. Before Juna could scream, Ruan’s blade danced again, slicing the old woman’s throat with brutal efficiency. I didn’t know what to do. It was all I could do to hold the shaking weapon in my hand. Ruan pushed past the woman into the house, and a primal sound escaped my throat as I made to follow, then heard the echoing scream of Juna’s granddaughter.
Asher’s blade pulsed anew as another figure ran past me, a silhouette whose features I redrew in every nightmare—that long red hair, that broken-down armor, her eerie inhuman pace. The Red Demon burned bright against the cold inferno raging in my heart.
I chased after her.
