Page 11 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

The Forge

R ain slapped my face, rousing me from a restless sleep.

My shelter of layered wax leaves had sprung leaks, and my new socks—ones I’d spent my foraging money on yesterday—were already damp and soggy.

I groaned, cursing the fickle sky and my lack of engineering skills.

Only the parts of my body beneath my cloak were still dry.

The embers of last night’s fire still smoldered under the wax-leaf overhang, their faint glow swallowed by the morning mist and rain.

I could coax the trickling smoke back to life with some wood under my tarp.

I’d start there, wash and dry my clothes, have some breakfast, and patch the shelter before beginning foraging.

No one had kicked me out of the market yet, so I planned to stay a day or two to build up my savings.

I stumbled out into the rain, now pelting down. The forest floor sloshed under my feet, damp leaves squelching in complaint.

That’s when I heard it: the clang of steel striking steel, carried on the wind through dripping leaves—distant, but unmistakable. A shout. My pulse quickened, curiosity overcoming my sense of self-preservation. Grabbing my rope and knife, I crept closer to the sounds of the fray.

I needed to get a good look at what was happening without being seen.

Using my rope, I draped it loosely around a cedar wider than both my arms. There was no knot or branch until further up, so I swung the rope around the other side, muscles straining as I shimmied up the rough bark.

I’d climbed trees this size back when the worst I worried about was a wayward garter snake or a startled raccoon, but I didn’t dare look down as I climbed higher and higher, stabbing into the bark with my knife when my grip slipped on mossy wood.

I paused to relax my muscles, then kept going until I had a perch with a good view of the forest.

The rain thinned as I climbed, the sun filtering pink through dense clouds.

Wind chilled through my damp clothes as the forest spread beneath me.

Beyond it, I could spy the slate roofs atop their engraved white walls, the town washed clean by the rain.

And in between, in a little clearing at the edge of the forest, I saw the source of the clangs and shouts.

I counted eight, no, nine figures moving around that clearing.

The rain blurred their movements, but my Chaeten eyes, modded for the mines, could make out the swords in their hands.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the boy from yesterday: Asher, his wavy hair plastered to his forehead, his wooden sword spinning in his hands.

And beside him, taller and broader, stood Asher’s father, black and pepper hair and arms folded across his thick chest.

Asher’s dad barked commands to three pairs of sparring partners, moving between the groups, his own sword a blur of silver as he demonstrated a swift attack and parry.

Everyone wore armor. Asher and his sparring partner used wooden blades while the others used steel.

I watched, mesmerized, as Asher stumbled back from a devastating blow, then rallied, launching himself forward with a yell.

Asher held himself well, light on his feet between strikes.

I couldn’t help but smile, rooting for him.

They all fought as if their lives depended on it. I watched transfixed as a woman rolled from a brutal attack, getting back up and swinging at record speed.

But then, another thought struck me. Why were they training at all?

There was a unit of soldiers just down the road, and none of them were present.

Oh fuck, were these guys the rebels those soldiers talked about?

Is that why they were training at dawn? That would mean Asher was involved in this too.

Asher radiated so much kindness. That couldn’t be right.

I stayed perched in my leafy aerie a few minutes more, the lingering rain beading on my face. Then I scuttled down to get my camp in order, vowing to get back into town as fast as I could.

Mist dampened my cloak when I reached the gate. Chestnuts made up the bulk of my offerings for the day, supplemented by a few morels and strawberries. The gooseberries hadn’t garnered any sales yesterday, so I hadn’t bothered to harvest them again.

I took a turn down another muddy street, dodging out of the way of a loaded horse cart.

Then I smelled something I recognized—fire and steel, like the buildings around the mine.

I kept walking, passing a woman hunched over a food stall, the scent of roasted flatbread and spicy lentil curry battling the damp air.

I approached, drawn by the flickering warmth and the covered pagoda where others sat to eat out of the rain.

“Looks like the weather got the best of you, boy,” she said.

“ Ae ,” I agreed in Asri. “Not snow, at least.” I fished out some coin for lunch. I wasn’t planning on buying anything, but that curry smelled so much better than the thought of more berries or chestnuts—which I’d burned more than roasted for my breakfast that morning.

She chuckled, a friendly sound that stopped as she took in the state of my clothes when I swept my cloak back to stash my wallet.

I’d been wearing the same coat underneath since the day I left Iden, and there was some grime and dirt that I’d never managed to scrub out.

I didn’t meet her eyes as she passed the ceramic bowl over her stall.

“Are you looking for work, friend?” Her eyes flickered down the street. Smoke billowed from a chimney at the end of the street, a gray plume against the storm-wracked sky. “That forge is looking for a hand, I know. And there are a few farms on the edge of Nunbiren that might take you.”

Nunbiren: the town name. The ceramic bowl of curry warmed my fingers.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. I hadn’t considered that any Asri town would allow a Chaeten stray to stick around. But I thought of Asher, and let myself feel the warmth of that woman’s smile as she formed more flat loaves to cook over her fire.

When I finished my meal, I turned toward the blacksmith’s shop. It was worth a shot. I needed to move beyond surviving, find some stability to have any hope of facing the Red Demon someday.

The forge door opened with a ring of a bell, blasting me with a wave of warm, dry air. When was the last time I was this warm? I already didn’t want to leave.

Pushing past the threshold, I saw two rooms. To the right: a clean storefront with simple tools and weapons hanging in bins and baskets along the walls.

To the left was the workshop, a huge glimmering machine at the center.

I’d never seen tech quite like it, but the Chaeten workmanship was unmistakable.

Wait, was that Asher? Serendipity had the audacity to creep in.

Asher didn’t look up. He hunched beside the Chaeten machine, near pipes that fed up to a vent along the ceiling, a display with lights pulsing on a dashboard.

Molten metal glowed red between thick, tempered glass panels as Asher pushed a button to open the machine’s doors.

He removed metal rods with tongs, taking them out to vise and twist them on a table with a simple crank.

He measured the hilt and set it beside a grip he looked ready to affix by hand. That seemed inefficient to me if they had electricity. I supposed even with Chaeten tech, the Asri were going to find ways to be Asri.

Asher’s father emerged from the back storeroom with a Z’har soldier flanking him.

I recognized the Asri Lieutenant I met yesterday, Ren, clad in a red Chaeten leather uniform.

She examined a gleaming blade on the far side of the shop, her brows furrowed as Asher’s dad explained something to do with density and well, numbers.

There were numbers involved, but some of the Asri speech was too fast for me to follow.

“The Major is very pleased with the last shipment, Galen,” Ren said. “He wanted me to ensure you could maintain the same precision if we double the next order?”

Galen’s eyes brightened. “Of course. All work is our best work in this shop.”

Galen glanced toward me, and I held his gaze. His eyes narrowed beneath the forge’s fiery glow.

“Great, we’ll send the order through the temple,” Ren said, doing a double-take when she saw me. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing as she walked out.

Galen watched me with the corner of his eye. “Can I help you?” Galen asked in fluent Chaeten, his voice gruff.

My throat tightened. I felt ridiculous and out of place under Galen’s stern gaze. “I heard your forge is hiring?”

Galen’s eyes narrowed, his hand gripping the front counter. “Who told you that?”

“The woman across the street, the one who makes the lentil curry.”

“Juna,” Galen said, his face a mask. “That’s her name.”

Shame burned in my cheeks. Why didn’t I ask her name?

“I’m strong, a hard worker, and I know a little about Chaeten tech.

And—” I faltered, unsure how much to reveal, or even how much was true.

I’d wanted to be an engineer like Oren not so long ago, so I knew a bit here and there.

Most of the classes we took in school prepared us for the mine.

Maybe some of that transferred. As soon as we all learned to read, we had chemistry and math problems about isolating metal from ore, purifying the best alloys.

But would it be safe to tell him I came from a mining colony in the Bend? Asher told me to tell no one. Did that include his dad?

His gaze bored into me, searching for something. I’m not sure what. The forge machine whirred. I listened to the rhythmic clang of metal.

“Which unit sent you?” Galen said, voice abrupt.

“I don’t understand.”

He crossed his broad arms across his chest, pacing the room. “A Chaeten stranger walks into my shop. But there’s no such thing as strangers, or coincidences, when we are the only shop left for kilometers working orders for the North Barrack. You are no stranger, na ?”

I just stared, bewildered.

“Tell your unit we are toeing the line for the empire and you will find nothing in this shop you won’t find in our empire paperwork.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I pleaded.

“Even so.” He shifted his stance. “I watch my trade secrets too carefully to hire a strange boy. I won’t put a sword into the hand of someone who might kill me in my sleep.”

His words struck like a hammer blow. Every clang in the shop rang through my chest. My hope, so bright only minutes ago, sputtered and died.

And that’s when I saw Asher walking over. His smile wilted to dust at whatever he saw on my face.

But I didn’t wait around. Humiliated, I picked up my pack and strode out the door.

Cool damp wind slammed against my face as I emerged from the forge, its warmth already missed. I strode toward the market, trying to regroup my thoughts.

There would be better days, just not today.

“Jesse!” Asher called, as confident and warm as if he’d said my name thousands of times. He chased me halfway down the street in his thin black tunic, his tan arms bare for the heat of the forge.

I hesitated, torn between the comfort of his presence and the need to lick my wounds in private. “You look cold.”

He stopped short, a grin struggling to find purchase on his soot-stained face. “I’m sorry for what my dad said.” He shivered. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

The unabashed absurdity of that last statement warmed me from the inside out.

“Thanks, Asher,” I said, unable to mask just how starved I was for even a word of kindness. “I can’t blame your dad, though. He doesn’t know me, and there are a lot of dangerous people wandering around Noé these days, right?”

Asher scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not you, though. I’ll tell him that. He’ll trust my dahn .”

That word again. “What’s a dahn?”

He rubbed his hands together in the shivering cold. “Given talent. Power,” he said in Chaeten. At my confused look, he said: “Magic—born, not trained.”

“Oh.” I blinked. Only elite Z’har could use Asri magic, or the queen. I thought it was illegal for everyone else. But Asher didn’t seem to be talking about the sort of magic that could destroy minds or tech. This must be something else. “So your dahn is knowing who’s an asshole and who isn’t?”

His face fell. “You wouldn’t be the first to be suspicious that this is a real thing.”

“No, I—” I put a hand on his shoulder when I couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “I’ve just never met anyone with a dahn before. I just wish I had someone like that around.”

He grinned at me then, looking back toward the forge as he hugged his bare arms to his chest. “I better get back. Will you be in the market tomorrow?”

“Today, at least.” I should at least try to sell what I came here for.

“Right, well, I’m going to try to finish up quick before you run out of strawberries.”

I set down my pack and fished out a basket for him. “No need.”

“I don’t have any coin on me. Walk me back to the forge and I’ll grab some?”

“Not a chance.” I laughed. “It’s fine, really. Please tell your dad they aren’t poisoned.”

I felt that heartache thing at the sound of Asher’s laugh, certain I’d never hear that sound again.