The Scarlet Star Trilogy

by Ben Galley

  ‘But what about the war with the Shohari?’

  Lurker cleared his throat as he lifted his last drop of magpie blood to his lips. ‘America’s never been one for letting a little war stop its growin’,’ he answered, before shaking the vial into his mouth. He closed his eyes and concentrated as the blood worked its magick on him, then began to sniff the air. Something was distracting him, Merion could tell, and it was not the homesteaders. ‘Let’s go,’ the prospector said, eyeing the clouds bubbling up in the east. It was only just past midday, but the sky was growing dark as the weather groped for the prairie-lands.

  With rifle and revolver held low by their sides, and with Rhin shivering on the edge of visibility, they struck out again. Mile by mile, they closed the gap between themselves and the eager homesteaders, who were slowly spreading out from one another, until they stretched across the desert from north to south. Lurker aimed straight for the centre of their line.

  They seem rushed, Merion thought, as they drew close enough to see their details. Despite their heavy packs and wagons, they travelled at a fast pace, as if the prospect of snapping up their own vast patch of land was just too much to handle.

  As they came even closer, Merion saw that many of them kept glancing behind them at the dark clouds chasing them across the prairie. A handful, here and there, were even jogging, in defiance of the midday heat.

  The air was becoming closer and thicker, and there was a shiver of something in the air that made his hair stand on end. A rumble in the sky made the homesteaders move even faster, and spread out even more thinly. Before long, he and the others just stood still, and waited for them to approach.

  Lilain held up a hand to the first man to reach them, ready to greet him and ask what the rush was about. But the man strode straight on past, sparing them the briefest of glances before hurrying on.

  ‘How rude!’ Merion crossed his arms.

  ‘I think they may have the right idea,’ Lurker grunted, staring upwards at the grey cloud reaching overhead, which curled towards them like fingers.

  Before Merion could ask what on earth the prospector was on about, another group of homesteaders reached them, waving their arms frantically. They were a family in its entirety, from the grandparents and grandchildren sitting in the wagon, to everybody in between. Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles—they all seemed panicked as they hauled the rickety wagon through the dust and stunted grass.

  ‘Storm!’ one man, who was clearly the head of the family, shouted earnestly. ‘Storm’s coming!’

  Merion actually began to smile. ‘Well, just what we need: a little rain to quench this damned heat,’ he replied.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, boy. It’s a twister!’ the man yelled, over the growing roar of the wind. The storm began to whip the dust into a frenzy.

  Merion was about to demand who on the Almighty’s green earth the man thought he was, when Lurker cursed loudly by his side. ‘Shit!’ he hissed. ‘Knew it.’

  ‘What? Knew what?’ Merion cried, starting to feel a second-hand panic seeping in. He wondered what else this blasted country had in store for him. His aunt was staring upwards, and he followed her gaze to the swirling clouds above, so dark a grey they could have been called obsidian. The sun had been swallowed by the clouds as they advanced, and now they were hungry for the rest of the sky.

  The homesteaders were now beginning to run, scattering in all directions, their wagons bouncing over the ruts and rocks, children screaming and the elderly whimpering. Merion could not begin to understand what the matter was, yet he felt their fear all the same. Yes, the clouds looked ugly, but surely they had all seen a thunderstorm before?

  ‘It’s a twister, Nephew, a tornado!’ Lilain snapped at him. Lurker was already heading southwards, jogging across the dust as the first drops of rain came hammering down.

  ‘This way!’

  ‘What’s happening?’ Rhin shouted, dodging raindrops the size of pebbles. He looked as bamboozled as Merion. All grudges forgotten, the boy reached down and grabbed the faerie by the waist, lifting him onto his shoulder as he ran. They snuck looks over their shoulders as the sky rumbled again.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough if you don’t move it, boy!’ Lurker hollered. The roar of the rain and the howling of the wind was growing louder by the moment. Merion gritted his teeth as he ran, his hands held up to shield his face.

  He stole another look over his shoulder at the swirling storm. Through the rain he spied a spiral deep in the cloud’s roots. It hovered almost directly overhead. As he watched, a twisting finger of dark cloud began to drop from the storm and curl down towards the ground, growing fatter as it descended.

  ‘Run!’ Lurker shouted as loud as he could, and the three of them broke into a sprint. Lilain, despite her recently healed wounds, was struggling, and she cantered over the dust like a lame horse. Merion put his shoulder under her arm and helped as best he could. The wind snapped at their heels and tried to whisk their feet from under them. Rhin held on to Merion’s collar for dear life, his strong grey hands turning white as he gripped the fabric, fighting not be torn away.

  There was a crash and a roar as the column of cloud collided with the desert. Rocks and dirt exploded from its footfall, and the twister began to swell with the detritus ripped from the earth, turning even darker as it began to spin. The noise was deafening: a cacophony of thunder, hammering rain, and the screeching roar of the twister as it earned its namesake, turning faster and faster, as though attempting to tunnel down into hell itself.

  Merion had never imagined such a thing could exist. He ran sideways, barely able to tear his eyes away from it. The whirling column had hypnotised him, and he gaped in awe and—though he would later deny it—terror.

  His foot snagged something and he cried out as he tumbled into the mud. The wind dragged him backwards, as though it had lassoed his feet. Merion clawed at the dirt, panicking as he struggled to break free.

  ‘Merion!’ Lilain yelled, snatching his hand. She yanked him up, as freakishly strong as ever, and dragged him forward.

  It was as if the twister had developed a taste for him, for it began to swing south and chase them down. Just my luck, he thought blithely to himself, as he hurtled forward, as fast as his tired legs and numb feet could carry him. Lilain ignored the pain and her aching joints and ran just as fast, catching up with Lurker, who was trying desperately to keep his hat on his head.

  ‘A town!’ he yelled, sprinting alongside them. ‘Over there, behind a hill! See the roofs?’

  Merion did, and pushed his legs harder. The roaring was getting louder by the second. The wind tore at their limbs, eager to steal them away into its vortex. Merion would not give it the satisfaction, he swore to himself. I’ve not come all this way to be eaten by a storm.

  ‘Come on!’ Lurker urged, as he scrambled up the low hill and skidded down the slope beyond. Merion half-ran, half-fell after him, as did his aunt. Rhin just held on grimly as the world somersaulted around him.

  The town was a poor excuse for that title: a handful of tumbledown buildings huddled together in a circle, which by the looks of them, had long been abandoned. Lurker led them towards a stout-looking barn with a patchwork roof. That old adage, ‘any port in a storm’ had never been so fitting, Merion thought, as his feet pounded the dirt.

  ‘Inside!’ Lurker yelled, after wrenching open a rickety door. They needed no encouragement. The barn was already shaking in the wind. The twister was cresting the hill.

  Lilain ran around in a mad circle, scouting for a cellar, a basement, or any sort of hole that could keep them safe.

  ‘Here!’ Rhin cried, pointing to two thick doors set flat in the dust-ridden floor. There was a rusty padlock holding them, but Fae steel made short work of that. Sparks flew as the metal split. Lurker heaved one of the doors up, just long enough for the others to slip inside.

  The hole stank of manure, but it was far better than being dragged into the sky to Almighty knew where. The four
of them huddled in the deepest corner, arms gripping each other tightly, their hands interlocking.

  ‘Merion! Rush the armadillo!’ Lilain yelled as the barn began to moan and splinter. The twister was visiting its destruction on the tiny town, already ripping it to shreds, like a bitter child with a handful of leaves.

  ‘Now?’ Merion panted.

  ‘Of course now, Nephew! Drink!’

  Merion yanked the vial from his pocket and ripped the cork out with his teeth. He threw the vial up, almost chipping his teeth, and gulped the warm blood down. Even then his throat protested, rankling at the touch and taste of foreign blood sliding down his throat. But this was not the time for squeamishness. He drank every single drop and threw the bottle aside with a crash.

  His belly burst into flame, and he gritted his teeth as the magick bit him.

  ‘Hold on!’ his aunt hissed in his ear, and her strong fingers wrapped around his neck, digging into his shoulder. Somehow it helped him force the shade out into his veins. It dizzied him, but he kept with it, remembering everything he had learnt in Fell Falls. He had not rushed like this since the night on the Serpeds’ riverboat, but his body remembered it well, and the magick rushed to his skull.

  ‘Agh!’ he cried, as it leapt to his back and shoulders. He could feel the skin ripping, then hardening, then pushing outwards in odd shapes. It was painful, but something about it felt right. As he bared every one of his teeth, eyes clamped shut, Lilain pushed him up so she, Lurker, and Rhin could cower beneath his chest. Merion felt the thudding of their heads against his skin. Only then did he realise what was happening and quickly spread his arms out so he could lie on top of them.

  Above them the barn roof was ripped from its roots, torn into the sky to feed the twister. The noise was so loud Merion thought his ears would bleed. Wood twisted to splinters. Metal ties peeled like blistered skin. Rocks and rain flying like cannon-fire and bullets.

  With a horrendous, stomach-lurching bang, the doors of their cellar were wrenched from their hinges. The four knuckled down, clawing at the dirt and mud and praying it would not give them up. They felt the wind heaving at their clothes, trying to prise them from the earth and drag them into the raging sky. Wreckage fell in waves as the twister spun its wicked path through the barn. Merion could feel each missile striking his back and spread-eagled limbs. The wreckage would have skewered him without the blood, bludgeoned or speared them all to death. The young Hark squeezed his eyes shut and prayed the rushing would last long enough for the villainous twister to grow bored.

  They spent barely a minute in that stinking hole, but it felt like a lifetime. When the twister finally moved on, choked with its spoils, they let out their breath and sagged into the mud. Exhaustion pounced. The four of them simply lay there, looking up at the grey sky as the twister tumbled on overhead, letting the raindrops pound them until they too grew tired of the town and moved on.

  Lilain was the first one to her feet, breathing as though she had recently been strangled. She wiped blood from the ridge of her nose, where a stray splinter had caught her, and staggered upright to totter about, her eyes darting here and there but seeing nothing, so caught up was she in her relief and vestigial terror.

  The others came up in their own time. Merion was last. He twitched violently as the shade faded away and his skin melted back into its usual self. The armoured plates left great bruises and blisters in their wake, and he hissed and cursed beneath his breath as they scrapped against his shirt.

  ‘Remind me to hug an armadillo if I ever meet one,’ he gasped.

  Lurker moved to pat the boy heartily on the back. ‘That was too close,’ he rumbled, his throat thick with dust. ‘Too shit-darn close. But that was some fine rushin’, Merion.’

  Lilain was still nurturing her thousand-yard stare. ‘Thank the Maker for that fixer. Armadillo ain’t easy to come by.’

  ‘Thank him indeed, though I would like a word about him sending that twister in the first place,’ Merion croaked, putting his hands on his knees so he could finally rein in his breath. ‘Almighty’s backside, what an evil invention of nature that is. Just when I thought I was getting used to this damnable desert!’

  His aunt had finally shaken herself into working order. ‘Nature’s the cruellest mother of them all, Merion. Never let her catch you out. She has a habit of it.’

  Merion flashed a murderous look at the sky, which was now fading to a lighter shade of grey. ‘Well, I shall just have to add her to my growing list of enemies.’

  ‘Any injuries?’ Lurker grunted, patting himself down. A broken roof-tile was wedged into the toe of his boot, and he pulled it free with a grimace.

  ‘Rhin?’ Lilain inclined her head. The faerie was standing with one hand on the wall of the hole, the other clamped to his side. ‘You alright?’

  Rhin flashed her an awkward, pained smile and said nothing. She knelt by his side and slowly prised his hand away. A small metal shard protruded from his ribs, smeared in bluish blood. The faerie winced as she touched it.

  ‘Is it deep?’ she asked, and Rhin nodded.

  Merion knelt down too, once again his misgivings forgotten. Urgency has a habit of doing that. ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘Well, I can breathe, and I’ve had worse, so I don’t think so,’ Rhin whispered. ‘Just another scar for the canvas.’

  ‘I’ll carry you,’ Lurker offered, ‘you can sit in my hat.’ The prospector reached up to grab his hat and found nothing but his bald, scarred head. ‘Ah, for fu—’

  ‘Have mine.’ Merion reclaimed his from the mud and held it out for Rhin to slump into.

  Faeries are proud beasts, and it was plain to see on his face that the charity irked him. But he accepted it all the same. Perhaps it was because Merion offered, and that the mask of cold expression he had been wearing for the past three weeks had now faded, now replaced by one of concern.

  Lilain used some water from her flask to wash the wound. Rhin winced, but he did not make a sound. Once her hands were clean, she put pressure on the wound with two fingers. ‘This is going to hurt, so whatever spells you Fae have in you, I’d suggest usin’ them right about now.’

  ‘Mmm,’ was all Rhin said, his wings twitching in pain. ‘Get it done.’

  Lilain pinched the shard with her other fingers and slowly drew it out, the metal glistening with dark blood. It was barely larger than a pine needle, but to a faerie, it might as well have been a spear. She flicked it into the mud and kept her fingers on the wound to staunch the bleeding.

  ‘I can do the rest,’ Rhin whispered. Lilain nodded and backed away.

  ‘A soldier through and through,’ Lurker muttered, looking for a way out of the hole.

  Rhin coughed, and immediately winced. ‘Among my many talents.’

  Once Lurker had hoisted himself, Lilain, an aching Merion, and a hatful of faerie out of the hole, they stared around at the damaged caused by the twister.

  The tumbledown town had been destroyed, utterly and completely. The twister had reduced it to a field of broken things: roof-slats, pipes, doors, planks, stones, and shattered glass, spread like inferior diamonds across the dirt. What hadn’t been swallowed by the twister lay strewn underfoot, ready to be swallowed by the dust and the prairie. Whatever souls had forged this town were long gone, and now their abandoned town had followed them. The wilds can never be conquered for long.

  Merion paced through the destruction, marvelling at how completely the twister had shattered the buildings. How powerful that thing must have been, he thought. Like the fist of an angry god, wreaking havoc.

  He picked up a shattered cupboard door and stared at the gaping hole a rock had punched in it. He shook his head as he stared at the ragged edges of the wood. A flash of colour caught his eye beyond the hole, and he found himself looking down at a crumpled poster, a flash of colour amidst the mess. Merion bent down to rescue it and spread it out with his hands, wincing as the skin on his back stretched. Then a smile grew on his face.

 
; ‘Cirque Kadabra,’ he announced, and the others turned around. They too had been wandering through the debris. ‘They’ve been through here.’ Merion took his matching poster from his pocket and held it up, noticing how bright the colours were on the poster he had just found. It looked almost freshly printed, despite the dust and splinters. ‘And recently too.’

  Lurker nodded, and began to cast around for any tracks that might have survived the twister’s path. It took him about ten minutes, and he had to walk in an extraordinarily large circle, but he found them nonetheless. Merion could tell. When he trundled back, he might have just about hidden his smile.

  ‘Smellin’ things I ain’t tasted in years: greasepaint, animals, tent-cloth, and sweat,’ he told them. ‘That way.’ He levelled a finger at the horizon, still smudged with cloud. ‘That’s the way they went.’

  ‘And which way is that?’ Inside, Merion might have been screaming with the thought of success. Heading east …

  ‘East, and a little south, if I ain’t mistaken. And I seldom am,’ replied Lurker, eyeing the glow in the clouds to the west.

  Merion tried to suppress his smile and failed. ‘Then that’s the direction we’ll head,’ he said affirmatively.

  Lilain rested a hand on his shoulder, and he winced. She leant close, sucking her teeth. ‘Is that so? Tell me, what’s this sudden obsession with a circus?’ The tear-drop mole under her eye fidgeted as she spoke.

  Merion brandished the poster and pointed out the words. ‘Heading east, it says.’

  Lilain was not convinced. ‘And?’

  Merion tutted. ‘Well so are we, and if we catch up, they might let us travel with them. We may have to do a few favours here and there, but they could feed us, put us up, and there is safety in numbers. No more bandits and sleeping on rocks—at least for a little while. Who knows? They could take us all the way.’

  Lilain raised her eyebrow. She was more than a little impressed, it was clear. ‘You seem to have thought about this a lot.’

  Merion felt the smile itching to spread. There was always a little pleasure to be had when an adult capitulates to younger judgement. ‘What else is there to do but think when all you have is walking?’