Red Rising (Red Rising Saga, #1)

by Pierce Brown

I would have lived in peace. But my enemies brought me war.

All Quotas have been met, save by Mu and Chi. As such, they will receive no beefs, milks, spices, hygienics, comforts, or dental aid this month. Oats and substantials only. You understand that the ships from Earth orbit can only bring so many supplies to the colonies. Valuable resources! And we must give them to those who perform. Perhaps next quarter, Mu and Chi, you will dally less!” Mu and Chi lost a dozen men in a gas explosion like the one Uncle Narol feared. They did not dally. They died.

Gamma gets the Laurel. And we don’t.

We grew together, and now are grown. In her eyes, I see my heart. In her breath, I hear my soul. She is my land. She is my kin. My love.

The others say you are like a machine, because they think you know no fear. They’re blind. They don’t see how fear binds you.”

“What do you want me to do, Eo?” “Act. I want you to use your gifts for your father’s dream. You see how people watch you, take their cues from you. I want you to think owning this land, our land, is worth the risk.” “How much a risk?” “Your life. My life.”

“Death isn’t empty like you say it is. Emptiness is life without freedom, Darrow. Emptiness is living chained by fear, fear of loss, of death. I say we break those chains. Break the chains of fear and you break the chains that bind us to the Golds, to the Society. Could you imagine it? Mars could be ours. It could belong to the colonists who slaved here, died here.” Her face is easier to see as night fades through the clear roof. It is alive, on fire. “If you led the others to freedom. The things you could do, Darrow. The things you could make happen.” She pauses and I see her eyes are glistening. “It chills me. You have been given so, so much, but you set your sights so low.”

“What do you live for?” I ask her suddenly. “Is it for me? Is it for family and love? Or is it for some dream?” “It’s not just some dream, Darrow. I live for the dream that my children will be born free. That they will be what they like. That they will own the land their father gave them.” “I live for you,” I say sadly. She kisses my cheek. “Then you must live for more.”

“Break the chains, my love.”

As the thirteenth lash falls, as I mumble for her not to do it, Eo stares into my eyes one last moment and then she begins her song. It is a quiet sound, a mournful sound, like the song the deep mines whisper as wind moves in the abandoned shafts. It is the song of death and lament, the song that is forbidden. The song I have only heard once before. For this, they will kill her.

In the face of cold power, she is fire. This is the girl who danced through the smoky tav with a mane of red. This is the girl who wove me a wedding band of her own hair. This is the girl who chooses to die for a song of death.

My love, my love Remember the cries When winter died for spring skies They roared and roared But we grabbed our seed And sowed a song Against their greed And Down in the vale Hear the reaper swing, the reaper swing the reaper swing Down in the vale Hear the reaper sing A tale of winter done My son, my son Remember the chains When gold ruled with iron reins We roared and roared And twisted and screamed For ours, a vale of better dreams

“Live for more,” she mouths to me. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the haemanthus I gave her. It is smashed and flat. Then loudly she screams to all those gathered, “Break the chains!”

We stand in a room of strange makings, unlike any I’ve imagined. There is a substance underfoot, hard but neither metal nor rock. Wood. I know it from the HC pictures of Earth. A carpet of a thousand hues spreads over it, soft under my feet. The walls around are of red wood, carved with trees and deer. Soft music plays in the distance. I follow the tune deeper into the room, toward the light. I find a bank of glass, a large wall that lets the sun in to shine across the length of a squat black instrument with white keys, which plays itself in a tall room with three walls and a long bank of glass windows. Everything is so smooth. Beyond the instrument, beyond the glass, lies something I don’t understand. I stumble toward the window, toward the light, and fall to my knees, pressing my hands against the barrier. I moan one long note. “Now you understand,” Dancer says. “We are deceived.” Beyond the glass sprawls a city.

The Gray soldiers prowl the cities ensuring order, ensuring obedience to the hierarchy. The Whites arbitrate their justice and push their philosophy. Pinks pleasure and serve in highColor homes. Silvers count and manipulate currency and logistics. Yellows study the medicines and sciences. Greens develop technology. Blues navigate the stars. Coppers run the bureaucracy. Every Color has a purpose. Every Color props up the Golds.

“Others may have failed. But you’ll be different, Darrow. I feel it in my bones.”

“We want you to make our boy here into a Gold.”

“You’re of use because you’re more than a weapon. When your wife died, she didn’t just give you a vendetta. She gave you her dream. You’re its keeper. Its maker. So don’t be spitting anger and hate. You’re not fighting against them, no matter what Harmony says. You’re fighting for Eo’s dream, for your family that is still alive, your people.”

“How can you be so cold?” “Little girl,” Antonia sighs, “Gold is a cold metal.”

“Now look around,” I say quietly. “There are no Golds here. I’m a Red. You’re a Red. We are all Reds till one of us gets enough power. Then we get rights. Then we make our own law.” I lean back and raise my voice. “That is the point of all this. To make you terrified of a world where you do not rule. Security and justice aren’t given. They are made by the strong.” “You should hope that is not true,” Mustang says quietly to me.

It’s like I’ve been punched in the face. Oh hell. A chill spreads through me. Bloodydamn. I stumble back. “What the hell is the matter with you?” Titus asks. If I were a Gold, I might have not noticed, might’ve just been befuddled by the odd word. I’m no Gold. “Darrow?” I pull my way into the hall. I move in a haze. It all makes sense. The hate. The disgust. The vengeance. Cannibals eat their own. He called them cannibals. Pollux, Cassandra, Vixus—who are their own? Their own. Golden. Bloodydamn. Not gory. Titus said bloodydamn. No Gold says that. Ever. And he called it a slingBlade, not a reaper’s scythe. Oh hell. Titus is a Red.

Listen, listen Remember the wane Of sun’s fury and waving grain We fell and fell And danced along To croon a knell Of rights and wrongs And My son, my son Remember the burn When leaves were fire and seasons turned We fell and fell And sang a song To weave a cell All autumn long And Down in the vale Hear the reaper swing, the reaper swing the reaper swing Down in the vale Hear the reaper sing A tale of winter long My girl, my girl Remember the chill When rains froze and snows did kill We fell and fell And danced along Through icy hell To their winter song My love, my love Remember the cries When winter died for spring skies They roared and roared But we grabbed our seed And sowed a song Against their greed My son, my son Remember the chains When gold ruled with iron reins We roared and roared And twisted and screamed For ours, a vale of better dreams And Down in the vale Hear the reaper swing, the reaper swing the reaper swing Down in the vale Hear the reaper sing A tale of winter done

“The measure of a man is what he does when he has power,”

“You do not follow me because I am the strongest. Pax is. You do not follow me because I am the brightest. Mustang is. You follow me because you do not know where you are going. I do.”

I’m learning.

Virginia au Augustus. Sister to the Jackal. Twin. An heir of the great family, the gens Augusta. The only daughter of ArchGovernor Nero au Augustus.

🤯

Roque lives. “My brother,” he sobs. “My brother.”

🥰

“I’m sorry for Julian,” I tell him. His hair is golden curls but matted with grit and grease. Fleas make their home there. He is still beautiful, still more handsome than I ever will be. But I am the greater man. The spark in his eye has cooled. Time and space away from this place are what his soul needs. Months of siege. Months of anger and defeat. Months of loss and guilt have drained him of all that makes him Cassius. What a poor soul. I feel sorry for him. I almost laugh. After he put a sword in my belly, I pity him. He has never lost a battle. He alone of all the Primuses can say that. Yet he takes the badge and flips it to me. “You’ve won. But was it worth it?” Cassius asks. “Yes.” “No hesitation.…” He nods. “That’s the difference between you and me.” He sets the standard and his sword down and walks close to me, so close I can smell the stink of his breath. I think he’s going to hug me. I want to hug him, to apologize and beg for his forgiveness. Then he pulls open a scab on his knuckles, sucks the blood from it and spits in my face, startling me. “This is a blood feud,” he hisses in highLingo. “If ever again we meet, you are mine or I am yours. If ever again we draw breath in the same room, one breath shall cease. Hear me now, you wretched worm. We are devils to one another till one rots in hell.” It is a formal, cold declaration that requires one thing of me. I nod. And he leaves. I stand trembling for a moment after he’s gone. My heart thuds in my chest. So much ...

Sevro is near me. In his eye, I see a subtle difference when he looks at me. The conversation we had when he finished editing the tapes was short and frightening. It echoes in my ears. “The audio in the storm was scrambled,” he said. “Couldn’t make out the last words you said to Apollo. So I deleted them.” One of my last words was bloodydamn. What does Sevro know? What does he think he knows? The fact that he deleted it means he thinks it is important enough to cover up.

I am the spark that will set the worlds afire. I am the hammer that cracks the chains.