Page 5 of Red Demon (Oria #1)

Deer Stand

I den washed the mine dust from his face in the icy river, leaving only his exhaustion behind.

Looking around at the snow-blanketed hills, I felt grateful that Iden paid attention to where we were going. The tall cedars that creaked far up into the night sky were outlines I recognized, the smaller pines underneath familiar friends.

“Dad’s deer stand isn’t too far from here.” I was ready to collapse.

“Yeah,” Iden said.

We walked along the rocks of the river to hide the last part of our journey, hoping that was enough.

The deer stand along that glittering stream wasn’t what it once was; it had been about five years since we built it with Dad.

And by we, I mean Dad, Oren, and Mal—all using their powerful muscles to saw and plane logs.

I’d watched them anchor the boards into the wide trunk, hammering with a crack that echoed through the forest. Meanwhile, Iden and I played at fetching things, but spent most of our time pretending sticks were swords.

Maybe if Iden and I were more helpful that day, Dad would have found time for a second layer of sealant so that the caulk didn’t peel off, and there wouldn’t be cracks in the tarpaper roof.

But mossy boards were better than the snowy ground, and there were walls.

Walls with holes to shoot deer from, but walls.

We settled in with the single blanket we had in the one pack, huddling together as best we could.

Mushroom flour flatbread and jerky satisfied what little appetite we had, followed by metallic-tasting water from the canteen.

The structure swayed with the branches in the wind, with each gust seeping through the weathered bones of the frame.

We lay back to back rather than risk a fire the Red Demon could see.

The silence felt hollow as our shivering kept us awake, but any words I tried tasted like ash on my tongue.

I had no words for Iden that were both hopeful and true.

My thoughts drifted to the cold beds in my childhood home, the silence of all those dark rooms in all those dark houses, and my sisters’ bodies lying underneath the fresh snow.

We’d need to get back to burn them before the wild dogs and crows found them.

“You think—” I said, my voice cracking in the dry air. “How much longer do you think it will be until the empire sends help?”

A ragged sigh escaped Iden and dissolved into the night. “They’d be here already if half of what the priests said was true. Exaggerating fucks.”

I’d come to the same conclusion myself, but I needed to hear that anyway.

General Alexander had a satellite system monitoring for any major attack, ensuring he didn’t lose the peace that he and the queen had fought so hard for.

History at school or news at the temple were full of stories of Jeron Alexander’s armies coming to destroy clusters of rebels, or our queen defending Chaeten from century-old bigotry.

Even if civilians lived with minimal tech to not give magic a foothold, the empire should have trucks, drones, at least horses to mobilize fast from the nearest Z’har barrack.

By now, we should have heard army trucks rumbling along the road between the gorges or seen airships lighting the milky, star-flecked sky.

“Did you hear that?” Iden said.

I focused, unsure if I was imagining the flicker of fear in his voice. I heard nothing but the sigh of the wind through the branches. “Hear what?”

Iden sat up, startled. “Thought I heard a kid’s voice,” he muttered, shaking his head.

The treehouse creaked. Rising, I shivered as a breeze tickled my neck.

“Just the wind, I think.” My laugh sounded brittle.

Iden shivered. “There’s a man whispering now. From there...” He pointed wide-eyed through the gap in the boards, toward the dense shadows at the edge of the clearing.

Only gnarled shapes of trees reached out from the darkness; the dancing shadows cast by the moon. I looked back, bewildered.

“M–Maybe I just need sleep.” His voice lacked conviction. But his eyes, even in the faint moonlight, held a ghost of something I couldn’t name, something that reminded me of Mal. I rubbed the bruised abdomen where Mal had punched me, the last touch from my brother.

Sleep felt like a betrayal. Dreams waved in and out of waking thoughts, fitful cycles of Mal’s final, choked gasp before I’d raise my head to scan the woods once more.

I’d see Mal’s wild eyes flickering in the dark, pulling that knife on me.

Then he’d be standing sentinel in our tree stand, staring into the darkness where Iden heard the voices.

In that place between waking and dream, I felt a presence haunting the forest. When the first rays of dawn bruised the sky, Iden was gone.

“Iden?” I hissed. I didn’t dare yell, but his tracks were clear in the drifting snow.

I shoved the blanket back into our bag, then shimmied down the bark where the steps had fallen off, landing with a crunch of ice. Iden’s tracks led me upstream where he sat by the bank, an empty canteen beside him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. A stupid question if there ever was one.

Iden didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the trickle of water between planes of fresh ice.

“They’ve been waiting for me all night,” he said, voice raw in the cold.

“Who?”

He pointed to something in the snow, footsteps, not ours, circling back through the wood near our tree. “They’re afraid of the Red Demon too.” Iden turned his haunted eyes to me. “She’s watching us now, somewhere near that ridge.”

“Is that who you heard last night? Her?” It clicked into place, the prickling of unease beyond the cold; the feeling of being watched.

“A whole crowd of them are watching me, but it only takes one,” Iden whispered. He scratched his hair, pulled it. “And there’s only my set of tracks, so…” A bitter laugh escaped him.

“What the fuck, Iden?” He winced. I took a deep breath. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

He opened his mouth, stopped himself, tried again. “I’ve been trying to remember everything we learned about Chaeten-sa, to make sense of this. Not the General, the rest of them. I wished I’d paid more attention.”

My mouth opened. “Why?”

“Most of those others went crazy, or died too young to see battle,” he said. “They’d break in different ways, even after the war, right? Did Ms. Orozca ever tell us why?”

I remembered the lesson from school. Suicide rates among Chaeten-sa were very high after the war. Some would see things that weren’t there. Some seemed healthy, then killed friends—unprovoked.

“Dad said we’re unbreakable. They got stronger mods than any of us. They still broke.” Iden’s head jerked up, looking around.

I saw nothing. My breath hitched, lost. “So? They’re not you.”

Iden held my stare. “I’m breaking, Jesse.”

“You’re fine,” I said, too quickly. I followed his gaze to the sky, the clouds tinged with red. “I won’t let you break.”

He didn’t look at me. “She’s close.”

I scanned the woods for the Red Demon—the one who must have done this to him. The trees watched in silence on the ridge where Iden focused his attention.

“So why won’t she come out?” I asked, loud enough to echo.

Iden rocked his knees against his body. “One of the louder ones says that when you look into her eyes, you know when it’s your time.”

“Who?”

He gestured to the surrounding air, his jaw clenching. A crow cawed and flew off before he turned back, staring past me over my shoulder.

“Iden...” My voice trembled in the cold.

Iden stood up, his face resolute. “Get out of here. Take the bag and go.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t speak.

“Keep going north. Stick to the woods,” he said in a rush, watching the trees behind me. “Stay away from the Asri towns. Get help from a Chaeten colony with lots of Z’har, or a military barrack. You got that?”

The Z’har were those who pledged their lives to keep the empire safe, serving Queen Azara and General Alexander as priests, soldiers, or scholars. They hadn’t kept us safe.

“You could book passage to the Inner Empire after. There’s more of us there.” A flicker of warmth. Iden had dreamed of seeing the shining city lights in Thebos or the palace in Ea Shadohe, but I watched those dreams die behind his eyes.

“C’mon, Iden,” I said, shaking. I couldn’t make myself understand.

“Jesse.” He turned, his voice so fucking calm. “Don’t—” his voice choked off, he put his fist in his hand.

The wind tinkled in the frozen branches. I didn’t move. Iden stepped closer.

His hand on my cheek stopped my head from shaking. His gloved palm felt warm against the biting wind. “Jesse,” he whispered, the grit in his voice chafing my hope. “Don’t watch me die.”

Wet eyes blurring the image of a resolve I didn’t have the strength to crack.

“Come with me, Iden.” My voice felt strangled. “Keep it together. Just get through today.”

Iden shook his head. “Don’t watch me die,” he pleaded, his gaze flicking to the dark line of trees behind me.

A rustle, soft as a sigh in the wind, a last breath of fear. I spun, my heart pounding on the doors of my chest, and there she was, looking straight at Iden.

She stalked from the trees, one slow step, then another.

Her long scarlet hair cascaded down her back, with dawn glowing on her face.

I analyzed every ragged scrap of that antique, studded armor.

I memorized every scar I could see on her lean muscled frame, her golden skin stretched over high cheekbones.

Her piercing yellow-green eyes met mine.

I stood taller, too angry to be afraid. “What do you want?”

The slow, deliberate way she unsheathed her twin swords, the glint of cold steel catching the sunlight, was her only reply. I didn’t bother to go for my pocket knife, not after how I saw her move against Mal. I had neither the skills nor the weapons to make a difference.

“What do you want with us?!” I repeated, putting my body in front of Iden. She cocked her head at me, curious.

“Go, Jesse,” Iden said, resolute, past all fear.

The Red Demon took another measured step forward, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. Her gaze brushed past me, fixed on Iden. At that moment, I believed my brother was right. I could see my fate in her eyes: she’d marked him; I was inconsequential.

“Pick up the bag, Jesse. Go!” Iden drew his hunting knife from his belt with a shaking hand.

He didn’t draw on her. He drew on me.

I watched him, stunned, as he took a second hand to pry the knife from his own grip, flipping the hilt toward me instead of the blade.

I clasped the handle, which he struggled to let go of. Confusion disrupted any lingering excuses. The Red Demon waited in silence as I picked up that bag with shaking hands. I clasped Iden’s shoulder one last time, thinking about pulling him with me, but his muscles tensed under my hand.

“Go!” he roared at me.

With a choked sob, I forced my legs to move ahead of my mind, carrying me away from the stream, away from the last person alive who knew my name. I crashed through undergrowth, pushing icy air through my lungs, the forest a blur of ice and pine.

Iden got his last wish. I didn’t see him die. But his scream rumbled through the trees and echoed off the gorges. That sound has yet to stop haunting my dreams.