Harper and the Fire Star

by Cerrie Burnell

  Harper quietly excused herself from the rehearsal and slipped away, wandering to the edge of the Heavens of the Circus. She scanned the sweeping horizon for something familiar, but found nothing. “Oh, Midnight,” she whispered, feeling a heaviness settle on her as swift and deep as snow.

  Something flickered in the distance and Harper’s heart gave the tiniest leap. A bird the same color as blossoms was dipping and diving toward her. In its beak, it held a dusky gray flower that only blooms in the rain. Harper gasped as the little bird looped in the air above her, dropping the flower into her hands, and then spun into the sky, swooping away. She clutched the flower to her chest and followed the bird with her eyes.

  Far, far away, on the other side of the sunset, a tiny black shape was pedaling into the wind. Pedaling like his life depended on it. Pedaling on an instrument sewn from silver-lined cloud.

  “Midnight,” Harper whispered, “I think the Wild Conductor is coming to save us!”

  At that moment, the circus gave a strange jolt and a furious wind began to howl all around it. Harper stepped back from the edge, hiding the storm bloom in her pocket.

  In a burst of grace and feathers, Skylar appeared beside her. “The circus has stopped for the night,” she explained. “We need to go and stir up the white mist, so tomorrow we can arrive at a nearby town in secret.”

  Harper nodded and gave a small smile. There was a whirring of fast feet as the rest of storm-stirrers sprang onto the backs of great birds and swooped away.

  Chapter Eight

  THE OTHER BRIDGE

  A little way off from the circus, on a black bicycle softly winding its way through the night, the Wild Conductor sighed. No one was more relieved that the circus had stopped than him. He had been pedaling hard all day, and was quite exhausted. He brought the cloudian and its trail of bright umbrellas in to land. But his legs were so shaky with tiredness that, as he tried to climb off the black bicycle, he fell flat on his face instead. Liesel had to smother a giggle while Ferdie tightened his serious scarf and performed a poem:

  “Tall man on the bike who flew so high,

  Through the dark and starry sky,

  Do not despair, do not lose heart,

  Just have a bite of apple tart.”

  And, as if by magic, Ferdie held out a squashed bit of pie crust that had been in his pocket for many months. The Wild Conductor managed a weary smile.

  The little bunch gazed around at their surroundings and saw they were in the middle of rolling fields. In the distance shone the gentle lights of a sleepy village. Tomorrow, the village would awaken to the wonderful sight of a floating circus. But tonight, they slept on, unaware of the magic unfolding above them.

  The Wild Conductor bade each of the children good night and curled up like a very big, ungainly cat and started snoring.

  Nate took pity on the tall man’s fragile heart and carefully arranged the three umbrellas over him like a toadstool-shaped tent. Then he turned to his two friends. “Let’s get some supper,” he said with a stretch. “Then we’ll see if there’s another way into the circus.”

  Liesel gave a bright-eyed blink. “What do you mean?”

  Nate shrugged and gave Smoke a pat. “I’m not exactly sure, but last time I was there, Smoke found a bridge that was different from all the others. It felt as if it were made from cobwebs and it seemed to dip down instead of up and over.”

  Liesel’s eyes grew wide. “Where do you think it leads?” she wondered.

  “Not sure,” answered Nate, “but if Star really is still in the circus, then maybe there’s more to the place than we can see.”

  Ferdie closed his eyes, imagining what Nate might mean. “Like other tents that are hidden?” he asked. Nate nodded.

  Liesel’s toes twitched with excitement. “If I was trying to hide a tent, I’d pitch it beneath the circus, in the middle of all the white mist—that way no one would notice it.” And before anyone could stop her, she leaped aboard the cloudian, wobbling wildly as she tried to balance its weight. “Come on, let’s fly beneath the circus and see what’s going on.”

  All at once, all thoughts of food were forgotten, because if there is ever a choice between supper or an adventure aboard a flying bike, pedaled by a mouse-loving girl, adventure will always win. Besides, Ferdie’s pockets turned out to be stuffed with other squashed-but-edible things that didn’t taste too awful. He, Nate, and Smoke crowded onto the back of the bike and, as a lullaby of sweetly pattering rain splashed upon the bright umbrella, the cloudian rose splendidly into the air.

  The Wild Conductor slept on, hardly hearing the lullaby or even wondering what the pleasant sound might be. For his dreams were filled with only one person: a girl with a heart of fire, who shined as bright as a star.

  In his dream, he wandered through a world of swirling white, a world that felt empty of color and magic. It was a dream he often had, both brilliant and terrifying at once. Brilliant because he got to see the face of his true love once again, but terrifying because she was no longer shining. In desperation, the Wild Conductor played every song he knew but, alas, his music could never touch Star, and she turned sadly away, a trail of ash spilling behind her where once there were sparks.

  Chapter Nine

  THE ABANDONED TENT

  High above the clump of bright umbrellas, Harper was wandering through the circus. All around its edges, a whirlwind raged, but inside Harper felt safe. A night breeze tugged at the canvas tents and blew Harper’s dark hair across her face, and she tripped over a tent wire and went crashing into someone. As Harper swiped her hair out of her sea-gray eyes, she saw to her horror that she’d crashed into Othello Grande.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” came the snide voice as he leered over Harper, his frame darkening the moon.

  “I …” began Harper breathlessly. She stared bravely into his small, beady eyes. “I was just looking for my little cat,” she said brightly, spotting Midnight somewhere up ahead of her.

  Othello looked at her slyly. “Well, let’s hope you find him before I do,” he half spat. “I can’t have any pets running amok in my circus.”

  Harper nodded calmly and scurried away. She gazed around wildly for Midnight. But it seemed the tale she’d told Othello had come true, for the mysterious black cat was nowhere to be seen.

  Harper darted and dashed over bridge after bridge calling for her cat, but Midnight did not appear. A whirl of worry whipped about her heart. Where could he have got to? Then Harper’s foot slipped, and she found herself sinking into a cloud all the way up to her knees. In a panic, she reached out to grab the handles of the bridge she was on, but they came apart in her hands like cobwebs. Whatever she was standing on was some sort of bridge that led below the circus. A bridge spun from spidersilk. A bridge you would never be able to find if you were looking for it.

  Harper stopped suddenly. Of course! she thought. This is the bridge Nate found. And she was right. Nate was a boy who never looked for anything; he felt his way through the world. It was no wonder he had discovered a secret pathway.

  A playful meow echoed up from somewhere far below, and Harper realized with a soft sense of dread that Midnight must have crossed the downward bridge. She took a breath and began to edge slowly away from the colorful world of the circus and into swaths of swirling mist.

  At once Harper felt the air go cold, as if it were made of sea-fog or floating droplets of rain. She shivered and crept forward, noticing that the bridge was hardly a bridge at all, but more of a slanting stairway that led steeply down. With every step, the cloud thickened. Harper was used to clouds—she lived in a city named after them. But this cloud was different. It was both starless and silent and glowed an eerie shade of gray.

  Then Harper saw something that stole the very air from her lungs. In front of her, rising out of the shadows like the spire of a haunted tower, was a tent as ghostly and strange as a graveyard. As she stared at it, Harper saw a little black cat with a white-tipped tail slip neatly
under the closed doorway and vanish inside. “No, Midnight.” She groaned, but it was too late—Midnight had already entered the tent.

  Bravely, Harper opened her Scarlet Umbrella and tried to zoom down to the tent’s towering entrance. But, to her amazement, the umbrella floundered and twirled on the spot, as if flying was a great effort. Harper clasped the handle tightly and commanded it to move. With great difficulty the umbrella floated downward, as if it were drifting through a dream—the sort of dream a wolf might have in winter. For, as Harper looked down, she saw that everything was bleak white, pale gray, or swirling, hopeless black.

  She found the doorway of the abandoned tent padlocked shut, but with a prod from the umbrella the lock came away in a pile of scattered rust. Harper steeled herself and ducked inside. It was dark and cobwebby, but absolutely enormous—by far the biggest tent in the circus. Harper shuffled forward, her feet kicking up something soft and fluttery, like the ash of burned silk.

  What happened here? Harper thought, gazing around with a sense of fearful wonder. She caught sight of Midnight in the farthest corner of the tent, curled up happily on top of a beautiful old dressing table. Harper smiled with relief and crossed the huge tent, noticing that it was full of props and circus fliers, as if a show had come to a sudden halt halfway through—or time had simply stopped.

  Something on the ashen floor caught her eye. It was a poster that had been badly burned. The only word Harper could read on it was STAR in shimmering gold. “Perhaps there was some sort of fire here,” Harper said, scooping Midnight up and giving him a kiss. He held a scroll of singed paper in his jaws. Harper pried it out, and discovered that it was sheet music. The paper itself was very old and frail, and in the dark of the abandoned tent she couldn’t read the tune, but she rolled it up and slipped it into her pocket all the same.

  The strange mystery of the place was beginning to fascinate Harper, and she explored a little further, stumbling over a huge wooden trunk. The lid was heavy but, with a sharp tug, it lifted. A cloud of dusk-colored moths filled the air, tickling Midnight’s nose and making Harper laugh. But as the moths cleared, she felt her mouth fall open, for folded carefully at the bottom of the trunk was the most glorious costume she had ever set eyes on. Harper couldn’t help but touch it, lifting it delicately out of the trunk so she could admire its dazzling beauty. It was a cross between a ballerina’s tutu and a firework, embroidered with flame-colored stars so that even in the half darkness, it seemed to move like fire.

  “Who does this belong to?” Harper gasped, running her fingers over each diamond-cut star. Midnight suddenly arched his back and gave a hissing meow. Harper clutched the costume and froze. Ever so softly came the sound of footsteps. There was someone else in the abandoned tent.

  Almost without thinking, Harper grabbed Midnight and ran. As she shot out of the entrance, she popped the Scarlet Umbrella open and willed it to fly. It rose uncertainly, but not fast enough. Harper felt the danger before she saw it—the gleam of bright eyes watching her. She glanced down to see a lone figure standing in the doorway of the tent. The figure was draped in robes of black and seemed to shimmer like smoke. Her hair was the same brilliant red as the Scarlet Umbrella, and it fell around her face like the flattened points of a star. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. For though she had an ice-queen beauty, her eyes glowed like embers. She was not like anyone else in the circus. She was not like anyone else in the world. A woman trapped in a dream of winter, with a heart as fierce as fire.

  She began to stalk toward the drifting umbrella. Harper tried to be brave, tried to look into the woman’s ember eyes, but she found herself shaking. The woman reached out a hand toward Harper’s foot as if to pluck her from the air.

  Then a note of music cut through the cloud, startling them both. It was soft and bright and magical. A song of dark forests and moonlight wings. A song played on an instrument sewn from silver-lined cloud.

  “The cloudian!” Harper gasped suddenly, realizing that her friends must be near. At once, the Scarlet Umbrella jolted upward, away from the woman with ember eyes and toward the colorful world of the circus.

  As quickly as she could, Harper wrestled herself, the umbrella, and Midnight through the little gap in the cloud. She peered behind her, searching for a glimpse of the black bicycle, but only saw the ember-eyed woman gazing at her in bewilderment—no longer shimmering like smoke, but ever so softly glowing. Then white mist clouded Harper’s view and the land beneath the circus vanished from sight.

  She stumbled to her feet. Somewhere on the other side of the storm were her friends—she had to find them.

  Chapter Ten

  THE LAND BELOW

  Deep in the land below the circus, the cloudian was whirling around in whiteness.

  “I can’t see anything,” Liesel roared, trying desperately to pedal.

  “Let Nate steer,” Ferdie urged, hoping his friend would be able to find his bearings. But finding your way in the air is different from finding your way on the ground. Without a single landmark or sound to guide him, Nate was as lost as the others. It was Smoke who howled and snarled and growled the way forward, somehow managing to direct them into a patch of stillness.

  The children at once felt the world grow colder, and even though Nate was pedaling as fast as he could, he found his feet would only move in slow motion. Liesel shivered. Even she was a little unnerved by the quiet of this place. The song of the cloudian slowed until it sounded haunting and strange. “Where are we?” asked Ferdie.

  “We’re somewhere near the cobweb bridge,” Nate answered. “Somewhere under the circus.”

  And that’s when they caught sight of a glimpse of scarlet—a girl with an enchanted umbrella disappearing upward. “Harper,” Liesel screamed, but Harper didn’t seem to be able to hear her, as if sound itself moved at a slower speed.

  All the three friends could do was watch as their friend disappeared away from them. Then Ferdie saw the strange glittering figure who stood below them. “There’s a woman in the clouds who is … sparkling,” Ferdie whispered to Nate.

  A single spark fell from the woman’s heart, turning the air gold. Liesel watched her intently. It seemed as if with every note of music from the cloudian, the figure shined a little brighter. But the song was slowing down, becoming more and more eerie, until every drop of sound seemed to vanish into the swirling grayness of the world.

  Ferdie, Liesel, and Nate hardly had time to think before the cloudian started toppling with a dreamlike slowness, slipping through the air, its last drops of magic peeling away. The children went into a state of panic. You see, the cloudian was an important part of the rescue plan. If it couldn’t fly, then they wouldn’t be able to save Harper.

  “We have to get out of here,” yelled Nate, but no amount of steering or cycling would do it, and the bike continued to fall.

  “If we can’t go up, then we’ll have to go down,” yelled Liesel.

  Nate at once understood what she meant and fastened a strand of edentwine to Smoke’s collar. “Go, girl,” he whispered, and with a snapping of wild jaws and a breathtaking bound, the wolf leaped through the gray skies, her claws seeming to slice through the mist.

  The woman with ember eyes watched with astonishment as the weight of the wolf pulled the cloudian down and the children shot past her, soaring toward open fields and a man snoring beneath a mushroom-shaped tent. As the cloud split open the woman gave a rare, but radiant, smile, then reached out, not to stop the cloudian, but to try and come with them, only the cloud whirled back around her, holding her forever in the dark dream of winter.

  “Pedal!” bellowed Nate, and they did, all three of them, sending notes of musical rain hurtling down to the ground in a shower of spiky sound. The Wild Conductor awoke and leaped to his feet just in time to catch the swooping wolf. Moments later, the cloudian clattered loudly down beside him, three triumphant children tumbling at his feet.

  “We found a land below the circus,” Liesel scream
ed.

  “It’s strange and gray, like a storm stopped in place,” Ferdie went on.

  “Sound doesn’t work in the same way there,” panted Nate. “Or time.”

  A dark look crossed the Wild Conductor’s face.

  “We saw Harper there,” Liesel continued, “but she couldn’t hear us no matter how hard we shouted.”

  The terribly tall man began to pace. “Did the air feel empty of magic?” he asked. Ferdie nodded. “Was it swirling black and ghostly gray?” Now all the children nodded. “Did it seem like a dream a wolf might have in winter?” The children stared at him in surprise, and the Wild Conductor began to describe the dream he’d been having ever since he was banished from the circus, and how somewhere in that strange land he believed Star was trapped.

  Nate cleared his throat. “We saw someone else there, too,” he said softly. The Wild Conductor stopped completely.

  “She shimmered like smoke,” said Ferdie, “until she heard a few notes of the cloudian, then she sort of … well, glowed.”

  At this, the tall man dropped to his knees, half in despair, half with relief. “It must be her—my Star,” he half gasped. Then he hung his head. “How will we ever set her free without magic?”

  Ferdie stepped forward and laid a hand on the tall man’s shoulder. “Even in a circus of extraordinary things, there are forces stronger than magic,” he said.

  “Yes.” Nate grinned, pulling the Wild Conductor to his feet.

  “Like what?” said the tall man softly.

  “Like love!” announced Liesel, completely amazing everyone. “Love is the way Harper was freed from the circus; it’s the one thing that Othello Grande fears.”

  Everyone stared at her, dumbstruck. “You’re right …” whispered the Wild Conductor, looking more alive than he had in days. And with that, he gathered the boy with the serious scarf, the mouselike girl who loved mischief, and the boy with the wolf under the cluster of umbrellas to rest before they put their daring plan into action.