Page 12 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

The Worst Way I Know to Make Friends

T he wind blew damp and chilled that night, and Galen’s words gnawed at my mind.

“ I wouldn’t put a sword in the hand of someone who might kill me in my sleep.

” They didn’t cut deep enough to make me hate him, but the sting kept me from getting much rest. I surrendered and rose while it was still dark.

The ritual of packing up and moving on wasn’t as comforting as it used to be, when I’d planned to travel no farther than the North Barrack.

Even though it was less than a day’s travel, there was no point now.

I’d run into those soldiers in Nunbiren.

Why lay out my entire story to them, if they are just going to lie to me about what’s really going on?

Yet hopping on a ship to another island felt like running away, when now more than ever I wanted a path that would lead me to putting a sword through the Red Demon’s heart.

East would do, to Noé’s capital in Uyr Elderven. I knew there were other Chaeten settlements on the east side of Noé on my map, and it seems there’d been no attacks in that direction. Hoisting my bag, I slipped into the pre-dawn gloom, the forest whispering amid the pale green of early spring.

I stalked like a shadow, a refined habit by now, my path taking me closer to the clearing where I’d seen Asher and Galen train yesterday. Dawn still hadn’t broken the horizon before I sketched together a plan. Well, maybe not a plan: a stupid last-resort for someone with nothing else to lose.

The frosted ground packed firm under my boots, and I was grateful I didn’t have to worry much about tracks.

I got my knife and rope out of my bag before hiding it behind a log, layering on the usual brush and dried leaves.

Then I found my tree: an ancient oak with thick branches overhanging the training area.

Using my rope and knife, I shimmied up high above the clearing and waited.

I shifted close to the trunk, hiding as much of my body as I could.

My skin warmed to the glow of the rising sun before I heard them.

There was a chance I could prove myself, but this was the riskiest part of the plan.

When they were on the far side of the clearing coming my way, they’d be most likely to spot me, not when I was right above.

Iden was the brother who’d taught me to ambush, teaching me that people—namely, our siblings—don’t look straight up in a forest as often as you’d think.

No one called out a warning as the militia entered the clearing. I heard a thud as the bag of weapons dropped under me, a five meter drop to the ground, maybe six. I waited until their chattering voices were all assembled beneath me; then I shifted my weight to look.

Asher laughed at a girl next to him, dark-skinned with fitted blue armor and auburn braids wound tight to her head. She gave him a wry smile, turning back to the broad-chested boy behind them with long brown hair: their camaraderie feeling so familiar and foreign all at once.

Dawn stained the mist-shrouded clearing with a pale gold as Galen called the militia to order. They spread out with an arrangement of weapons as he walked to the center of the clearing, every exhale seeming to carry the heat of his forge and the weight of command.

“Meragc,” Galen boomed, then nodded up at a tall muscular Asri man, sporting short dark hair and pale skin. “Remind us why we are here.”

A low murmur rippled through the group.

“Weapon testing is important for your forge’s quality control, na? ” Meragc said in sarcastic Chaeten. I recognized his dark hair as the man I saw sparring with Asher before, and I could now make out his bright blue and yellow-ringed eyes.

Galen snorted, a sound like molten metal hissing against water. “I didn’t say the Z’har were asking. You’re saying you want a pep talk, Meragc?”

A few cheers, including Asher. The girl in the blue armor huffed beside him. A woman clapped, one with long dusky blond braids tied behind her head.

Galen gestured for silence. “What language does the Goddess speak? And her Z’har? Not Chaeten. Not Asri.”

“Power!” Meragc and the others called back the word in unison. With that, Galen unsheathed his sword and practiced a series of quick thrusts and turns, clean and powerful. I drank in every move. The man knew what he was doing.

“We can speak that language too, but it is not enough. We live by the code of our ancestors. We live by Niire Mai . There can be no clean justice from an explosion from the void, not a—”

Between my vocabulary limitations and a gust of wind, I couldn’t catch the rest, but the small crowd groaned in disgust, then cheered.

“We believe what, Ruan?” Galen said.

Ruan, the dark-skinned girl beside Asher, stepped forward. She looked about my age, even if that blue armor was the suit of a mature warrior. “If the demon must die, look them in the eye!”

Galen worked the crowd, his dark eyes sparkling. “Let’s repeat that together.”

“If the demon must die, look them in the eye!” They chanted it a couple more times, louder each time.

I knew what demon sprang to mind for me, but I also knew that a century ago, the Attiq-ka went to war over their belief that no Chaeten was human.

To those Asri that fought with them, all it took to label me a demon was the rabbit I had for dinner last night.

Asher couldn’t possibly believe that, so I focused on the demon I knew.

I wanted to look the Red Demon in the eye like Galen said.

I wanted her helpless at my feet, repentant.

I needed her to feel every bit of pain she ever inflicted before I finished her, and I wanted both the strength and the patience to deliver it.

If the intensity of that desire made me a demon, a sa , by Asri standards: fine. She deserved that.

“Atalia, show us the fourth form, the best you remember,” Galen said, his booming voice echoing between the trees.

Atalia, the woman with the dusky gold braids, appeared ten or fifteen years my senior, pale-skinned with dark, Asri-ringed eyes.

She spun her sword before she began, letting it glint in her hands.

She repeated the form’s movements, halting near the end and following it up with a grunt.

Galen repeated the form with a smooth combination of sweeps and upper body attacks added to the end.

Atalia mirrored, picking up the remaining movements on the second try.

“Good. Pair off with Ruan and show her. Meragc, work with Plato and I’ll show Ash and Tamon. After you have it down, work out the best attack to meet that, the mirror to the form. Last, we’ll finish with an open-form spar.”

Ruan’s gaze scanned up to my perch as she walked across the field with Atalia. I held my breath, knowing better than to move, to make myself easier to see.

She looked away.

The clearing erupted in a whirlwind of movement as each pair practiced the form together.

As I lay on my branch to watch, a mix of emotions churned within me.

Admiration for their skill, envy for their friendships, a twinge of fear for the real possibility that I was about to get my dumb ass killed.

They clearly had—in each other—a reason to live. I didn’t have many reasons left.

My fingers tightened around the rough bark of the oak.

I’d gotten the measure of them, so it was time to get this over with.

But I couldn’t help from doing Galen’s assignment in my head, the part where I decided how best to parry and challenge the sequence of moves he demonstrated.

I stalled a few minutes more as dawn continued its climb.

I couldn’t delay any longer. Galen moved into position, sword in hand, below the place where I perched like a spider. I took a deep breath, then launched.

That fall was every bit of six meters, but my modded Chaeten bones were hard to break.

The world seemed to slow as the sun glinted off Galen’s polished blade.

I closed my fingers around the hilt just as my body met his, twisting midair like a predator to keep from crushing myself.

I rolled on impact, the blade flashing above my head.

Galen yelped in alarm, staying down as I pulled into a crouch.

I scrambled away, swinging as the others dove for me, adrenaline pumping through my veins. A startled shout rose behind me, and before I could blink, a pair of hands clamped onto my shoulders, pinning me to the earth. I twisted and fought to maintain my blade.

I’d learned to outwrestle all my older brothers.

It was a bit of an obsession for years, with Mal the undefeated champion for far too long.

I’d bested Iden by the time I started school.

At twelve, I got my first win on Oren, taking Mal just as I turned fourteen. I escaped Meragc’s grip, dodging back.

But three attackers at once with no holds barred was new. A dark arm found its way around my throat, Ruan. I lacked the leverage to roll her off as broad-chested Plato fell onto me too. I grew dizzy, fighting for my next breath with Plato’s face near mine. Handsome guy.

Just as my vision started to tunnel from lack of oxygen, I found my opening, relaxing into Ruan’s grip, then shifting, throwing her off balance. I took a breath, struggling free—

A voice boomed, “Let him go!” Asher.

I was already up, sword still in hand. Heavier than sticks back home, but I’d like to think I held it in a way to prove I wasn’t completely useless.

I blinked, the air thick with sweat and steel. Galen stood above me, his face a hard facade. Behind him, Ruan, Meragc and Plato stood with weapons ready.

“There’s a knife on your belt.” Galen’s voice rumbled through my chest. “You could have killed me.”

“Yeah? You said you couldn’t hire someone who might kill you in your sleep. I could have killed you wide-awake, in front of your friends here. But I didn’t, did I?” I laughed, a breathy, ragged sound.

Heavy silence descended. The militia exchanged uneasy glances, some with amusement, others with trepidation. I analyzed Asher’s face, etched with a mixture of bewilderment and what I hoped was respect.

“No, you didn’t.” Galen stared at me, his gaze boring into my soul.

I let the sword fall and crossed my arms in front of my chest to show deference.

“I told you, Dad,” Asher said.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Ruan mumbled, sheathing her blade.

“Please trust me. Give me a job. And—” I almost forgot to show my countermove, the best attack for form four. I swept, pretended to parry, to thrust the invisible blade in the gap. “Let me train with you.”

I didn’t know what to do with the silence. I scanned the militia’s faces, trying not to let my desperation show. Those movements were smoother in my head, but I hoped the incredulous gazes I got from most of them meant it wasn’t terrible.

“Why would a Chaeten-ka boy want to train alongside Asri?” Galen rubbed his side where my knee had pummeled him.

Ka . Human, not a demon in his eyes, so that was a start. I knew what I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t get it out in front of everyone. “Why not?” I held my head high.

Galen uncrossed his arms. “Well, that’s certainly the worst way I’ve ever seen a boy try to make friends.”

“Did it work?”

Galen grimaced and stepped closer. “Pick up the blade.”

I did, eyes wide. A glimpse of Asher’s grin kept my arm steady.

“You have good balance, but your grip is wrong. And you should lead with the tip of the blade next time.” Galen made a slow arc. I tried to copy it.

“May I?” Galen gestured.

I tried to surrender the hilt, but he gripped my arm, signaling for me to keep it. Galen led my arm back in a low rotation, guiding my center of motion to the tip, not halfway on the blade where I thought it felt strongest. He adjusted my grip on the hilt on the way back.

Galen nodded, then clapped my back when I’d done it right. “You’re young. Where are your parents?”

I shook my head.

“Raised in one of those Chaeten academies then? Never met your mother?”

“No,” I whispered. “She’s just dead.”

He inhaled. “Father?”

“Dead a year. My siblings died a little over two months ago.” I looked around at the faces in the militia. “South Bend. I’m from Crofton.”

No more lies. I’d just run if that frightened them. The small group shifted, staring back until I looked away.

Galen gestured up to the trees. “I’m surprised you can stand after that drop, boy.”

“A solid roll,” Meragc said.

“We’ll try you today at the forge. Tomorrow, in lieu of a form, I want you to teach us that jump of yours.” He rubbed his side. “Even if my bruises disagree, Ash is convinced you aren’t trouble.”

I stared at his extended hand, then at the incredulous faces around me. This was madness, and I savored every bit of it, grinning wide.

Laughing, I grasped his hand.