Dark Age (Red Rising Saga 5)

Maybe I was too hard on them. Maybe we shouldn’t have tied them up. But with Volga gone, I sure as hell am not going to have a crisis of conscience. I may have a gun, but I’m no Obsidian. And Victra looks worn through.

“Sorry if we gave your girl a fright,” I say, setting the orb back down. “Considerin’ how she is. And about the binds.”

Cormac looks up in surprise. “Oh, nothin’ to be done, lass. If there’s ever a reason to hold a gun to someone’s head, it’s a baby. Can’t say I ever heard a quieter birth than that one. She’s one tough Peerless.”

I look to the cracked door. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“They make them that way,” he says. “Tough. Less nerves than we got.”

“That ain’t true,” I reply. “It wasn’t easy for her.”

“Seem to know a fine bit about them,” he says. “Been wonderin’ meself how a Martian mine lass ended up with one of them. Your lilt. Ain’t never heard a highRed with one like that. And your eyes are too muddy for a city shade.”

“True enough. I’m from Cimmeria.”

“Which mine?”

“Casseda,” I lie.

“Casseda.” He frowns. “You don’t sound like you’re from Casseda.”

“Know many Cassedans?” I ask.

“Can’t say I do.”

“Solves that. How’d you end up here? You’re southern too.”

“Our clan settled here to fish early on in the war,” Cormac explains. “We was one of the first mines freed. It isn’t easy, but labor’s a fine thing if it’s for yourself. We sell most of our haul to suppliers in Attica. Goes to Olympia, Agea. Even as far as Luna. Imagine that. Came back here after I lost my leg. Figured I’d like to spend more time with my kin than lose the rest of me.”

I hear Victra call my name from the other room. I glance at Cormac. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere, lass,” he says.

I get up from the table. Peeking through the doorway, I see Victra half asleep with Ulysses cradled in her arms. “You mind fetching me some snow? Aches like a broken tooth down there.”

I shut the door and take stock of our hosts. Alred’s still asleep by the fire, and Cormac’s yawning and resting his head on the chair’s back. “Don’t move,” I tell him. “Just grabbing her some ice.” I prop open the door, making sure I can keep an eye on them as I fill a cloth with ice from outside. Volga’s footprints are already being filled in by the snow. They lead around the right of the house toward the old base. Something ticks around the corner. Glancing back inside, I see Cormac with his eyes closed. I leave the doorway to check on the sound.

It’s coming from a frosted window set in the stone. I clear away some of the snow with my pistol. Cormac’s mute daughter looks out from her dark bedroom. Most of her is in shadow, but her pale face looks like a ghost’s. She taps on the window with her fingers. When she sees me, her eyes implore me. She points back into the house, then lifts a hand and presses it to the window. It is covered in blood from a gash she made down the center.

A chill that has nothing to do with the wind goes through me.

A shadow moves behind her. Her face tilts down and her head slams forward into the heavy glass, shattering it into large, jagged shards. I drop the ice and run back to the door with my gun. Cormac is no longer at the table. Alred’s place by the fire is empty. His severed bindings lie on the floor. I shout for Victra and slip on a patch of ice as I try to run through the doorway.

I fall forward and something passes over my head and goes thunk into the wooden doorframe. I hit the floorboards hard and turn to see Alred struggling to pull a slingBlade out of the doorframe. He jerks it out and turns to chop me in the belly, only to stare down the barrel of my gun. He puts a hand out. “Please…” I fire and his arm becomes a spray of red. He looks quizzically at it. Shattered bones peek through the skin as it hangs from his shoulder socket like a wet rag.

He screams.

My second round takes off his head from the chin up. He’s thrown halfway out the door. I scramble to my feet. The world tight and vivid. Something bright screams past and burns a hole through the wall behind me. I drop to my belly as more particle beams lance out from Brea’s bedroom, filling the air with the scent of ozone. I shoot back through the wall. The fire now consumes a corner of the room, spreading from the blanket to the table and the kitchen. Smoke clouds the room and stings my eyes. Victra’s door bursts open and she storms out with her razor, sees me on the floor, Alred dead in the doorway, and the holes from the firefight.

“Red Hand,” I rasp.

“Did you get him?”

“Don’t know.”

“Stay down.” She slinks through the smoke and puts her ear next to one of the holes. Then she bursts through the door. I follow her and find Cormac on the ground holding in his guts. His gun lies across the room. Victra kneels on Cormac’s chest and stabs her razor through his hand. He grunts in pain.

“How many are in the village?” she asks. She puts a thumb in his eye. “How many!”

“Hundreds.” He laughs. “In the old base. You’re dead, Gold. They’ll have heard the shots. They’ll have your Obsidian. You’re worm food, slaver. You and your spawn.”