Dark Age (Red Rising Saga 5)

“GLORIA!”

Ajax lands beside the golem. With the man at his hip, he sways over to his clustering officers. They are a crusty, tight-knit breed. Seraphina and I are total outsiders. Kalindora conditionally so. They give us no room near the front, except for Kalindora. She declines and stays at my side.

“You all know our objective. We’re to lend rear-guard support to the Votum as they press for Tyche from the east. I’m here to tell you that’s all bullshit. Scorpio can fuck off to Tyche on his own.” Through armored shoulders, I see Ajax grin. “We’re going to take Heliopolis, my goodmen.”

There are murmurs of excitement. But not from me. Instead I feel a sinking disappointment. Scorpio au Votum was right. Atalantia does want his planet. Or parts of it. Seraphina glances my way with a sneer.

“So this is how Atalantia treats her allies.”

“Heliopolis is their lone fallback bastion in the south. We take it, they’re trapped in the desert.” And Atalantia gets the coveted factories and the mines of the south. “Now, the Yellows are squawking about weather, but it’s Mercury, and our timetable is set in stone. So it may get choppy. Any questions?”

Kalindora raises her voice. “Atalantia promised Scorpio—”

“When Atalantia has Heliopolis, she won’t need to promise Scorpio anything,” Ajax says. “Since you are sworn to her, you should welcome that future, Love Knight.”

Kalindora stares gloomily ahead.

Meanwhile the monstrous man beside Ajax glares over at me through slitted eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” Three of his front teeth are missing. That is the least of the cosmetic damage. “That’s expensive armor for a Pixie wastrel.”

“Olympic Knight business,” Kalindora replies.

The big man wheels on Seraphina. “Who the fuck is she?”

“Olympic Knight business, Seneca,” Kalindora says.

He does not look like a Seneca. He looks like a human boar. He winks at Kalindora. “Oy, Love. Figure Reaper will be anything but atoms before we get down there?”

“To avoid you, Seneca, I believe he just might.”

The beast chuckles and Ajax returns to his brief.

“Seneca au Cern, Ajax’s Dux,” Kalindora whispers after I quietly inquire about the man. His right hand of authority, then. Probably started as a bodyguard. They often do.“Unremarkable, except when he goes Blood Red.” The term is unfamiliar. “Radio code for a Red suicide wave.” She looks back to Ajax. “It’s really not like anything you’ve ever seen.”

Ajax concludes his brief. “To your shells, goodmen. We have termites to kill.”

As Ajax and I walk to the starShell ladders with Kalindora shadowing from behind, he glances at her in irritation, then clasps my shoulder.

“This is what you’ve been missing, little brother. The greatest show ever staged. But you look like you’re about to fall asleep. Not nervous, are you?” He leans forward. “Or are you already in that Brain’s Hole?”

“The Mind’s Eye,” I correct. He knows what it’s called. “And no, not yet.”

He laughs. “Stick close down there. If we get separated, try to link up. If you hear wolves, find me. It’s no jest. Only a legion accompanying the Slave King is permitted the howl. If you hear it, he’s coming. I’ve seen that man carve through a platoon of Ash Guard like a shark through tuna. You’ll want me there.”

“Will he be in Heliopolis?”

“No,” he says in disappointment. “But fate is not without a sense of humor. Where the din of battle is the loudest, he will come. And today I plan on making such noise.” He steps close to me. “We will avenge our family together, then sort the rest of this shit out. Hear?”

“Thank you,” I say. “For letting me—”

He smacks my head. “You’re not forgiven yet, Pixie. But what you do today will make them forget all the rest. Let’s have you return properly.” He puts his head to mine, as we did as children before walking the Line. “The blood of giants fills our veins: honor the valiant dead with your deeds.”

“Honor the living with your might,” I recite.

He departs.

Seraphina stands at the foot of her own ladder, eclipsed by her Grimmus-painted starShell. Techs mill around its feet making last-minute adjustments. She spits on the death’s-head sigil and examines the traction claws on the starShell.

“Good fortune down there,” I say to her.