Page 42 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

The Deal

I t didn’t surprise me that the coordinates I had for Ash were in the middle of nowhere, deep in the forests of eastern Noé, not the South Bend. If Mahakal hunted rebels who resented the joint society of the empire, they’d be on the edges of it, in the hollows of the wild.

I was much better prepared than when I’d wandered the woods so many years ago.

Since then, I’d stocked my go-bag with all the essentials I’d need if I ever got the chance to hunt the Red Demon.

I had a military-grade compass, my favorite solstice gift ever from Galen, where I plugged in the coordinates I’d memorized from the field station.

My Chaeten-fleece pants and shirt regulated heat on the coldest nights.

I had the best armor that a civilian could buy.

These twenty days in the field should be livable.

I did not plan for my recent surge in energy. It took me about thirteen days to jog most of the way, feeling like I just came from morning practice, albeit much hungrier. I could eat a whole rabbit in one meal now, and still wake up hungry in the morning.

When I arrived at the coordinates, I spotted disturbed ground and the cold remnants of campfires. I’d just missed them. Dozens of soldiers and at least a few horses left a clear trail.

The Fall Festival passed a few days ago. I imagined Asher walking around these woods, communing with Oria in this patch of trees, thinking of me. If anyone could hear Galen, it would be Ash, and I’d hoped he’d been able to sense that I was alive, looking for him.

Six days of tracking later, the long shadows of dusk cast through the trees as I found what must be Mahakal’s camp.

A neat square of tents and tarps lay nested atop a hill, with lichen-thick ruins of gray stone.

I kept hidden, scoping them out with goggles to make sure I had found some of Mahakal’s troops and not the rebels they were chasing.

The camp bustled with activity, smoke curling from cook fires and clusters of huddled men gesturing at shared screens or scurrying between tents.

Red military uniforms, the raven on the shoulder of an officer.

Taking a deep breath, I hid my bag of supplies, then circled from a new direction to enter camp. I refused to leave Istaran, but I snapped its comforting light into its scabbard so as not to spook them.

“Hello! Syo na! ”

Tension crackled in the air as the soldiers turned to me. I scanned the faces, hoping to glimpse Asher, but no one seemed familiar. Doubt gnawed. Mahakal had several hundred soldiers under his command; those tents might hold a hundred at most. He might not be here.

Commotion erupted near the entrance. Soldiers ran to join the guards, digging into bags as they moved into position. Several at the front pulled out gray helmets with mesh that covered their mouth and nose.

“You! Stay where you are,” a broad-shouldered soldier yelled my way, one of the few wearing an officer’s uniform. I recognized the scars over his lips, the golden skin.

“Is that you, Havoc?” I called out. He’d been a captain when I first arrived in Nunbiren, and from the looks of his uniform, no one promoted him in those many years.

From the look on his face, he did not remember me.

I raised my hands, doing as they asked. “My name is Jesse Eirini. I’m here for Asher Eirini. Our father’s dead. I just want to speak to him and I’ll be on my way.”

He paled instantly, looking like he saw a ghost. A soldier ran up beside Havoc, passing him a helmet. Havoc whispered to the soldier before slipping it on.

“Ash? Are you there?!” I shouted, but my voice got lost in the sudden flurry of activity. Two soldiers, their eyes wide behind the visors of their helmets, converged on me with huge crossbows.

“Stand down. Place your weapon on the ground,” a woman with a ponytail said. “You’re being placed under quarantine.”

Frustration bubbled up inside me. “Quarantine from what? I’m immune to SBO. Ask Mahakal, or my broth—”

Ponytail held up her hand. “Don’t make me shoot you. Eirini told us about his brother, although he failed to mention he’d be stupid enough to wander into a classified military camp uninvited.”

Scar-arms chuckled under his helmet. “Stand down. Basic quarantine protocol.”

My insides twisted. Protocol. I decided I hated that word, reeking of blind obedience. I would have always made a terrible soldier.

Still, I released my grip on Istaran and slowly placed it on the ground. Scar-arms directed my steps away. I felt I’d betrayed my sword when Ponytail picked it up. “I’ll be expecting that back.”

“Put this on,” Ponytail said, tossing me what looked like a cheaper version of her own helmet: no tech, but snug around the neck with a mesh filter to cover my face. “Now empty all your pockets.”

“Why?”

“So we can search you, friend,” Ponytail said, with enough stress on the word “friend” to make it clear she thought I was anything but, that my presence here could only mean the worst intentions.

I did as she asked. “Where’s Ash? Or Mahakal?”

“This way,” Scar-arms said, his voice muffled through his helmet, gesturing toward an isolated building on the camp’s edge that a soldier had just finished roping off.

The ancient little building had four walls and no windows, the arched stone roof still standing.

Perhaps a granary or an old storage shed, centuries ago.

Once I was in, they bolted the heavy door shut behind them, leaving me with a single flickering lantern, a bedroll, and a camp toilet.

“We’ll inform the Major you’re here,” Ponytail said through the door. “Stay inside, don’t make a scene, and we won’t have any issues. Try to leave before the Major clears you, and you can expect a crossbow bolt. You can take that helmet off now.”

“Can I at least talk to Ash like this, with the helmet?”

“No,” said Ponytail, as the sound of her footsteps in the leaves grew fainter.

The weight of the silence pressed down in the coming night.

I lay awake smelling musty air from the cold stones, grateful at least for my layer of Chaeten fleece.

In the morning, a soldier opened the door long enough to pass through a metal tray of bland food and a canteen, offering no news.

I exercised as best as I could in the dark, still finding myself with unexplained pent-up energy.

I tried not to let my mind wander too far into dangerous places.

Three food trays and a bucket of soapy water later, the door opened and a familiar figure filled the entry. Mahakal, no helmet, a lantern flickering over his grim features and unsettling black eyes. He held Istaran in his hands.

“Jesse,” he said, his voice low and full. “Let me start by saying I’m very sorry for your loss.” He sat on a stone across from me in the little building, rubbing his eyes. “I’d love to hear how and why you wandered into my camp without proper clearance.”

“Where’s Asher?” I couldn’t hide my panic. “What loss are you sorry for?”

“Eirini’s fine,” Mahakal said with a gentle sigh. “A hard-working, resilient man—the heart of his squad.” Mahakal cocked his head. “I meant Nunbiren, and Elder Galen Eirini. It’s quite a loss.”

I whispered a thank you as he studied me.

“I’m uncertain what I find more remarkable.” He leaned forward on his knees. “The fact that you’re the sole survivor of yet another bioterrorism attack, or the fact that you were able to find my battalion in the field. How’d you do it?”

“You think it was another virus?”

“Yes.” He leaned back. “Although I’ll be asking the questions. I need answers, friend.”

I ran my hand through uncombed hair, tasting the earthy air of the small stone room. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch whatever you think I have?”

He exhaled. “No, we’ve sequenced the new strain already.

I cannot carry the new SBO variant, even if my soldiers can.

” He dug for something in his pocket. “If you will not be forthright about how you found us, let’s start with whether you experienced any new symptoms, physical or mental?

This variant of SBO can have a longer half-life. It is … unpredictable.”

I thought of the healing, the increase in stamina. That couldn’t be what he meant, right? “Nothing.”

“Good.” He passed me a small vial with a needle, similar to what Mira used to test my code. “We’ll run a blood test to be sure, of course.”

I frowned, but opened the vial with a click, and pricked a drop of blood to place inside. I tossed the vial; Mahakal’s thick arms flexed to catch it.

“Why are you here, Jesse?” he said, voice colder than before.

“For my brother. He needs to know what happened.”

“ He needs to know?” Mahakal huffed. “ I need to know.”

“He lost his family. All his friends. I just want a few minutes with him.”

“This is war. We all have losses.” The ice in his voice was undeniable.

“But a good soldier pushes through. Here I was, hoping you’d come to join the fight, or at least offer information to help the empire.

You expected we’d grant a social visit, with two towns destroyed in northwest Noé?

” He took a moment to gather himself. The anger in his face vanished into the calm demeanor I remembered.

“Tell me what you saw in that town, friend. We need to end this.”

Two towns. I frowned. “There was a ghost girl. She came to warn us.”

Mahakal nodded. “I’m clear on that from those that heeded her warning. Tell me about the attack.”

I told him what little I saw, or rather what I didn’t see.

“…and then Galen attacked me like he didn’t recognize me.

He called me a demon.” I paused when I got to Galen’s death, to Faruhar.

She couldn’t be completely innocent. Maybe I should tell Mahakal everything, so we could sort it out. My heart pounded.