Red Rising

I stumble to my feet with my slingBlade. Mud covers me. I glance at the walls. Their army rings the parapet—couldn’t help but watch the champions fight. This is the point. I could give the signal. The gates are open in case they have to send aid. Our nearest horseman is six hundred meters away, much too far. I planned for that. Yet I do not signal. I want my own victory today, even if it’s a selfish one. My army has to know why I lead.

I come back into the circle. I have nothing clever to say. He’s stronger. I’m faster. That’s all we’ve learned about one another. This is not like Cassius’s fight. There is no pretty form. Only brutality. He bashes me with his shield. I stay close so he can’t swing his axe. The shield is ruining my shoulder. Every strike shoots agony into my molar. He lunges with it again and I jump, pull on the shield with my left hand and launch myself over him. A knife flickers from my wrist and I stab it at his eyes as I pass. I miss and scrape his helmet’s visor.

Putting a little distance between us, I reach for a knife and try a familiar trick. He bats the flying blade away contemptuously with his shield. But when he lowers it to look at me, I’m in the air, landing on his shield with all my weight. The suddenness of it pulls the shield down just a hair. I slam mud into his helmet with my off hand.

He’s blind. One hand holds the axe. One holds the shield. Neither can wipe his visor clean. It’d be a simple matter if he could just do that. But he can’t. I hit him a dozen times on his wrist till he drops his axe. Then I take the monstrous thing and hit him on the helmet with it. The armor still doesn’t break. He almost knocks me unconscious with his shield. I swing the heavy axe again and finally Pax crumples. I fall to a knee, panting.

Then I howl.

They all howl.

Howls fill the lands of Minerva. Howls from my far-distant army. Howls from my ten highDraft killers who help make this dueling circle. Howls from the killing field. Mustang hears the dread sound behind her and she wheels her horse. Her face is one of terror. Howls from the laughing Proctors, except Minerva, Apollo, and Jupiter. Howls from the bellies of the dead horses in the middle of the killing field. The ones near her open gate.

“They’re in the mud!” Mustang shouts.

She’s almost right. But she thinks like a Gold. Someone screams as they see Sevro and his Howlers cutting their way out of the stitched-up bellies of the dead and bloated horses that litter the mud up to the gate. Like demons being born, they slither from swollen guts and parted stomachs. A half-score of House Diana’s best soldiers exit with them. Tactus and his spiked hair burst from the belly of a pale mare. He runs with Weed and Thistle and Clown. All within fifty meters of the ponderously slow gates.

The Minervan guards all stand upon the ramparts watching the duel. They cannot repel the sudden blitz of demon soldiers by closing their slow gates. They hardly manage to nock and draw their bows before Sevro, the Howlers, and our allies slip through the closing gate. On the other side of the city, the House Diana’s soldiers will be slowly scaling the walls with the ropes they use to climb their silly trees. Yes. The whistle sounds now from the other side. A guard there has seen them. No one will come help him. My army moves forward, even the fake Howlers we borrowed from Diana and dressed up to look like Sevro and his band.

We destroy House Minerva in minutes. High above, the Proctors still howl and laugh. I think they are drunk. It is over before Mustang can do anything except gallop away across the muddy field through the still-smoldering grass. A dozen horses set off in pursuit, Vixus and Cassandra amongst them. She’ll be caught before nightfall, and I’ve seen what Vixus does to prisoners and their ears, so I mount Quietus and set off in pursuit.

Mustang abandons her horse at the edge of a small wood to the south. We dismount and leave three men to guard the horses in case she doubles back. Cassandra plunges into the woods. Vixus follows me, purposefully stalking as though I might know where Mustang is hiding. I do not like this. I do not like being in the woods with Vixus and Cassandra. All it would take is a blade in the spine. Either would do it. Unlike Pollux, they still hate me, and my Howlers and Cassius are far away. Yet no knife comes.

I find Mustang by mistake. Two golden eyes peer out from a pit of mud. They meet mine. Vixus is with me. He swears something about how excited he is to break the gorydamn mare, see what she looks like with a bridle on. Standing there, leering into the brush, he looks bent and twisted and evil—like a withered tree after a fire. He has less bodyfat than anyone I’ve ever seen, so each of his veins and tendons ripple beneath his tight skin. His tongue flits over his perfect teeth. I know he’s goading me, so I lead him away from the mud pit.

Eo didn’t deserve to die a slave to the Society. And despite her Color, Mustang doesn’t deserve any sort of bridle.

32

Antonia

I passed this test. The interminable war with House Minerva is done. And I’ve also trapped House Diana.

House Diana had three choices before the battle. They could have betrayed me to Minerva and taken my House as slaves, but I had Cassius send pickets to intercept any rider. They could have accepted my proposal. Or they could have gone to our castle and tried to take it. I could care less if they chose that option; it was a trap. We left no water inside and could have besieged them easily.

Now they have the Minervan fortress and we are outside in the plains. They could honor their agreement. We would get the standard; they would get the city and all its inhabitants. But I know they’ll become greedy. And they do. The gates close and they think they’ve a strategic bastion. Good. That’s why I have Sevro inside with them.

Smoke plumes soon rise. He destroys the food stores as they enslave the Minervans and guard the walls from my army. Then he fouls the wells with feces and hides with his Howlers in the cellars.

House Diana is not used to this sort of warfare. They have never really left their woods behind. It is hardly an effort to wait them out. Three days in and they are apparently still surprised we do not leave. Instead, we camp north and south of the city with our horses and light bonfires all around so they cannot slip away in the night. They are thirsty. Their leader, Tamara, does not receive me. She is too embarrassed at being caught in her betrayal.

Eventually, on the fourth day, Tamara offers me ten Minervan slaves and all our enslaved soldiers if I allow her passage home. I send Lea to tell her to go slag herself. Lea giggles like a child when she returns. She flips her hair, grabs my arm, and leans in close to mock Tamara’s desperateness.