The Scarlet Thread

by D. S. Murphy

  “You’re not actually going to fight are you?” I asked.

  “I may be small but I’m actually pretty good at this thing,” he said, swinging the sword. It let out a metallic whine as it carved through the air.

  “But it’s dangerous,” I said. And you’re just a kid.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said, putting down the weapon and picking up a couple of wooden practice swords from a bin nearby, “we’ll have a little match. If you can hit me, I won’t fight.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said. “I’ve never even picked up a sword before. You won’t be fighting me, you’ll be fighting hunters.”

  “Sitri then. How about it, Sitri. Think you can land a blow? First to three wins?”

  “I could use the practice,” Sitri said.

  Heph and I stood together, watching Sitri and Sam face off with the practice swords. Sam was about half the size of his opponent. He stood casually, in jeans and tennis shoes, looking like a freshman on his first day of high school. Sitri, in contrast, looked like an ex-convict. His muscles bulged under his white tank top, and his cropped dark hair made him look dangerous. He yelled and charged forward. Sam blocked the first swing, then vanished. He reappeared directly behind Sitri and took a casual swipe at his back.

  “That’s one,” he said with a smirk.

  My jaw dropped open. “How is he doing that?” I asked, gripping Heph’s arm.

  “Sam’s the fastest creature I’ve ever known,” Heph said. “And he’s got a pair of shoes that make him even faster. He moves so quickly, it’s like teleportation.”

  Sitri attacked again with a flurry of blows. Sam deflected each one gracefully. He didn’t take the full weight of the blow with a direct block, he just held his sword in way that made Sitri’s sword glance of it in a new direction. Sitri was fast, and relentless, but no matter what he tried, Sam blocked it.

  Sitri lunged forward suddenly. Sam dropped to the ground and rolled under his attack. As Sitri tripped over him, Sam kicked him from behind and sent him sprawling. I laughed as Sam, still on the ground, stretched and stifled a yawn. Sitri jumped to his feet and took a wide swing—but Sam appeared behind him again with his sword to his throat.

  “That’s two,” he said. I was beginning to appreciate Sam’s confidence. He was untouchable.

  “That’s the problem with magic,” Sitri said, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. “You can never judge an opponent based solely on appearance. They may have magical abilities, or special objects that allow them to do unexpected things. If this was a real fight, you’d want to shoot him with the shotgun, or wrap him in iron netting. That might slow him down enough to get a blade in him.”

  “If this was a real fight,” Sam said, “I’d have taken your head off and been on my tenth kill by now.”

  Sitri reached for another practice sword, so that he had one in each hand. “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” Sam said, with a little bow. Sitri growled as the strikes began to flow—he alternated both swords in a constant attack. Sam deflected them as before, but it was harder for him to keep up and block both at once with only one sword. Sitri lunged, swinging the swords together like a giant pair of scissors. There was no way Sam could block it. But when the swords came together and crossed in the middle, Sam was no longer between them. He was standing on one foot on top of Sitri’s swords, like some kind of strange bird. He tapped Sitri lightly on the head, then did a backflip off the swords and landed gracefully.

  “That’s three,” he said. “I win.”

  “I don’t think you need any more practice,” Sitri said.

  “Heph, why don’t you and Kai go sharpen these swords?” Sam reclaimed the weapon he’d chosen and tossed it to Heph. “Then we’ll take them outside for some real practice.”

  I followed Heph through the back end of the armory, through the legs of Ares, into a room that looked like a medieval blacksmith forge. There was a side exit through the forge, and I could see grass outside. Heph sprinkled some water on a long sharpening stone and begin grinding one of the swords against it with long, practiced strokes. Even with the side door open, I was soon sweating from the heat of the forge. The orange glow lit up one side of Heph’s face.

  Being alone with Heph made me think about why I left the campfire—how this all got started. I felt like I was betraying him, by not telling him about Dion and Tori. But I didn’t want to be a tattletale either, and it wasn’t really my business. I just got here, and I didn’t want to make any enemies.

  “What’s wrong?” Heph asked, without taking his eyes of the sword. His long dark hair fell around his face like a curtain.

  “It’s nothing. I was just thinking. How long have you and Tori been together? Married I mean?”

  “A long, long time. It feels like forever sometimes,” he said.

  “But you’re happy together?”

  “We mostly live our own lives. We have very different interests. But I’m happy, and I think she’s happy.”

  “You love her?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. There was a touch of fervency in his eyes. Devotion. That made it all the worse. My heart ached for him, he seemed like such a nice guy.

  “I was actually supposed to marry somebody else. It was an arranged marriage. But the girl rejected me. Then my parents disowned me for disgracing them. Able is my uncle, he took me in, but I still wasn’t allowed to come home, because I’d shamed my family.” His brow furrowed, and he slid the sword so quickly against the stone that sparks flew.

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  “Tori changed all that. I met her when I was young, and we’ve always been friends. Tori could have had anyone—and she knows it. But she chose me. I think in part to slight my parents, and the girl who refused me. To make a point. Marrying Tori brought me home, back into the family. My parents couldn’t say anything.”

  “Why did the first girl refuse you?” I asked.

  “Because I’m disabled.”

  I gave him a look of disbelief. His bronze skin shone with sweat from working near the hot forge. He had a few scars, but mostly, like everyone else at Nevah, he looked strong, young and handsome. A model for perfection.

  He grinned at me and took off one of his shoes. It took me a minute to even realize his left foot only had four toes.

  “What, that’s it? She rejected you because of that? What an idiot!”

  “It might not seem so bad to you, but in my family, perfection is kind of a big deal.”

  Heph found me a scabbard and a wide leather belt, which he strapped around my waist. I heard voices, and stiffened when I saw Matt and Priya coming in through the forge’s side entrance.

  “Rumor at camp is we might be seeing some action,” Matt said to Heph. “I thought I’d come give you a hand.”

  “I could use it,” Heph said. “Most of the weapons will hold an edge for decades, but it’s probably been a century since we’ve gone through the whole collection.” As we headed back into the armory, Priya grabbed my arm.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked. My skin prickled, and I was glad I was already sweating from being in the hot space.

  “Why would I know? I just got here.”

  “Um, exactly. Nobody understands why hunters would attack us here. They’ve never done it before. There hasn’t been a real battle since Zeus’ first coup. We’ve had skirmishes, when we go out to find new survivors and try to bring them in. But if they’re attacking here, there must be something they want. Or someone.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. I felt like she was accusing me of something. And she was right, of course, but I couldn’t let her know that.

  “Plus you’ve been living in the house. You might hear things,” Matt said, turning back. I didn’t realize he’d been listening in.

  “Able found a weapon,” Sitri interrupted, taking over the conversation. I let out a breath of relief. “Something powerful. We’re not sure how to use it yet,
but we think Zeus is desperate to get it. We’ve already sighted scouts on the borders of the property. That’s why we’re preparing. Maybe it won’t come to anything, but we should be ready. We want to bring in everybody from the camp and keep them closer to the house so we’re less divided. And we’ll put a defensive row of torches around that. That’ll make it less likely a small group of hunters will be able to sneak in.”

  Matt nodded. I flinched as the image of him lying in a pool of blood, a sword through his heart, flashed in front of my eyes. Priya was looking at me but I looked away—I couldn’t meet her eyes. I bit my lip and glared at Sitri.

  “Matt, I’d like you to stay down here,” Sitri said.

  “In the armory?” Matt asked, confused. “But I should be upstairs, guarding the house. Fighting.”

  “You’re more likely to see action down here,” Sitri said. “If they’re looking for a weapon, this is one of the first places they’ll check.”

  “Is it down here?” Priya asked, reaching for Matt’s hand. I watched them curl their fingers together, and my chest tightened uncomfortably.

  “No,” Sitri said. “But they don’t know that. There’s a good chance they’ll come here first, before checking out other parts of the house. If they do, you can sound the alarm and keep them busy. We’ll keep them contained in here, block the exits. Make sure they can’t do any more harm.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Priya said. “We’ll take shifts.” She stood against the wall and disappeared, using her camouflage trick to vanish against the stones. Then she reappeared and gave a thumbs-up.

  “Let’s go outside and teach you how to use that thing,” said Sitri, pointing at the sword hanging from my hip. He found a leather satchel for the shotgun and some more shells, and slung that over my shoulder.

  “Can we start with how I’m supposed to walk with this stuff on?” I asked.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Sam said.

  We took the exit through the back of the forge and walked around the outside of the house. I could already see people moving in from the camp, setting up tents and building campfires. News spread quickly. The weather was cooler; it looked like it might rain. I took a deep breath of the clean, fall air, trying to get the image of Matt and Priya holding hands out of my mind. I felt terrible for not telling them about my vision. I let the scent of earth and pine needles sooth me.

  “Feel better now?” Sitri asked.

  “No,” I said. “But Able was right. It’s better if he doesn’t know. Do you really think they’ll come to the armory first?”

  “No. But he’ll be safe there. If the hunters are looking for you, they’ll probably check upstairs first.”

  I felt a flicker of hope, followed by a sudden panic. When my brother died, I thought I hadn’t tried hard enough to save him. I hadn’t made myself clear. I hadn’t convinced my parents to believe me. This time, people believed me. Maybe my abilities weren’t a curse. Maybe I wasn’t like Cassandra, doomed to be ignored. If people took my warnings seriously, and listened to me, maybe I could save them. But what about me?

  Now that Matt was safe, the full scope of the situation hit me. We were preparing for an attack, because of a vision I saw. If I was right, and the hunters were coming, they were coming for me. I remembered the determined look on Puriel’s face as he chased after us on his bike. Was he really trying to kill me? Would he kill others to get to me?

  I froze as I saw a figure through the crowd ahead. He was tall and blond, and had something on his wrists that looked like tattoos. I clenched the handle of my sword, my arm trembling, as we locked eyes.

  14

  “It’s okay,” Sitri said, putting his palm on my shoulder. “He’s a torch. Sorry, I should have prepared you better for that. They’re on our side. You’ll see more—they’ll be on the perimeter.”

  I could see now that the man wasn’t Puriel, though he could have passed for his brother. His tattoos were covered by scars that looked like they’d been seared into his flesh.

  “What are they?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. “Where do they come from?”

  “They used to be hunters. Part of Zeus’ private army. When Zeus ordered them to kill his own family, the immortals and other supernatural beings, some refused.”

  “Actually, that’s not right,” Sam said. “They didn’t even get a chance to refuse. That would take a deliberate, conscious choice. All they had to do was hesitate. If they don’t immediately obey every command from Zeus, without question, they get cast off. It’s like a self-destruct mechanism built into Zeus’ army. They ignite, and separate from his power.”

  “Why call them torches?” I asked.

  “When they first fell,” Sitri said, “there were thousands of them, falling like shooting stars, burning through the night sky. It looked like the sky was burning, and the whole world was filled with their screams. It was… a singularly unforgettable experience. Able gave them refuge. They mostly live in caves underneath Nevah.”

  “But they’re on our side now?” I asked.

  “Basically. Or at least, they aren’t against us.”

  “Not all of them will fight to protect us,” Sam said, “and some just wallow in self-pity. I suspect, if Zeus offered them a chance to come back, to be restored… some of them would take it.”

  “But then, they’re dangerous. Why let them into Nevah at all?”

  “That’s the argument. Mist wants to execute all of them, as prisoners of war, since we can’t trust them completely. Able thinks they’re harmless. They were made with Zeus’ energy, so they don’t age, but they also can’t draw on more energy, which makes them weak. Weak, compared to Able. They’re still worth ten or twenty men in battle, and half as strong as a hunter. Even if only a handful of torches fight with us, it can make a difference. A torch can play defense and keep a hunter busy for an hour. At least that’s the argument Able used the last time we fought about it. But ultimately, it’s his decision.”

  “A few have lost their will to live,” Sitri said, “and they’re depressing to be around. But many of them are eager to prove their worth and value. Perhaps especially because of the distrust they’ve been shown here.”

  “They’re a little like dogs,” Sam said with a shrug. “They were made to serve. Without a master, they waste away.”

  I saw Sitri’s muscles tense at the comment, and a dark look crossed his face, but he recovered quickly.

  “This is Eligor,” Sitri introduced me when we reached the torch. From up close, I could see how the burn scars distorted the tattoos on his arms, forming grotesque, ghostly patches of ink and flesh. It looked like he’d put them in a barrel of acid. Unlike Puriel’s golden yellow eyes, Eligor’s were black with dark orange patches that sparkled like crystals. They looked scorched—like they were filled with smoke and burning embers.

  “Eligor, this is Kaidance,” Sitri said. Eligor gave me a nod that was almost a bow. “She’s a complete beginner, and we want to teach her to fight hunters.”

  Eligor frowned. “She has an ability, I presume?”

  “Let’s pretend she doesn’t,” Sam said.

  Eligor said nothing, but motioned us to follow behind him. We took a dirt path away from the crowds. At the top of the hill it disappeared into the woods, and we entered single file. The temperature dropped a few degrees immediately. I was glad I’d put on a sweater earlier. Large gray boulders were spread out among the trees. We passed several before I noticed something was off about them and started looking closer. My eyes widened when I saw that one of them had fingers. It was a giant hand, with a thumb so large I couldn’t wrap my arms around it.

  “This place gets weirder every day,” I said, examining the hand. I wiped away a layer of dirt and moss until I could see the aged bronze surface. I tapped on it with my knuckle, and it rang like a gong.

  “That’s the Colossus of Rhodes,” Sam said. “Destroyed in an earthquake in 226 BC. Able had the pieces moved here. I think he planned to restore it,
but standing it up would be too conspicuous. I like it this way. It’s a reminder of our past.”

  I marveled at the enormous pieces of the fallen giant as our path wove between them. It seemed like the carcass of a god, being slowly devoured by the teeth of the forest. I wondered if the Statue of Liberty would look like this in a few thousand years.

  We had to take a wide detour around the shoulders to reach the head. In front of the huge broken face was a wide meadow, filled with about twenty standing practice dummies.

  “Heph designed these,” Sam said, approaching the nearest. “Good for basic swordplay.” It was holding a beam of wood straight out in front it. Sam knocked it to the side, and the wood beam came back to the center again. Sam kicked the dummy. It bounced off the ground and righted itself.

  The dummies had a spongy red ball where the heart should be, and another on the top half of their heads.

  “This is basically how it’ll work,” Sitri said, leaning across from me and pulling my sword out of its scabbard. “And remember, this is only a last resort, emergency move. You lift the shotgun, squeeze the trigger, fire. Then concentrate, and try to pierce their heart with the sword. Simple. One, Two.”

  He demonstrated, holding the shotgun in one hand and the sword in the other.

  “Start with the sword,” Sam said, pulling out his own. “To get through this course, you have to take out all the dummies by stabbing them in the heart and brain. Just face off with one of now. Practice your aim. Parry, stab.”

  He showed me with one of the dummies, knocking the beam of wood to the side and stabbing his sword into its heart. The sword stuck in the spongy material, and when Sam pulled his sword out, the fake heart filled in the hole it left.

  Sitri handed me my sword, and I set the satchel with the shotgun against a nearby rock. They let me practice on my own for a few minutes. I hit the beam to the side, but couldn’t stab the heart as the dummy was turning back into position. And when it was straight again, I couldn’t reach the heart past the long beam. I tried about a hundred times but the tip of my sword always hit wood.