Bloodmoon (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 2) by Ben Galley Page B
Authors: Ben Galley
Tags: Fiction
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the fringes of Undering. Perhaps at first her efforts had been virtuous; an attempt to preserve the proud, disconnected kingdom that was Undering; to keep it safe as the world dug deeper around them, to keep it united by its history and hatred of the upper world and its humans. But the years have a habit of twisting good intentions, and Sift’s distractions had left the stronghold of Shanarh hollow in itself.
The capital was now rotten at the core. Corruption had taken hold in the echelons below royal rule. Caol could see it plain as daylight in the crowds. Fae females, dripping jewellery from their arms, necks, and wings. Armour-clad mercenaries from Bodmin, Nort, and Hafenfol, lounging against doorways and looking for work or sport. Pickpockets, weaving to and fro. Rotund traders sweating in the press of the crowds, their wings drooping from lack of use and fat. Beggars and orphans too, sat in the muck and gazed on with blank, dirty faces.
That was the problem with a lifespan of centuries. It was always very easy to remember the way things were: better times. Caol set his jaw and felt the carriage shudder beneath him. It was not his place to fix this. That was a queen’s job.
If one thing is true of faeries above all else, it is that their tongues move faster than wildfire. Before long, most of the city had turned out to watch the queen’s carriage rattle past. As they rolled through the streets of dark dirt and black stone cobbles, cheers, chants and confused applause began to rise up from the swelling crowds. The buzzing drone of wings grew louder with every street corner the carriage passed.
Sift watched the whole affair through the pimpled glass of her carriage with a blank expression. She stared into the myriad faces and saw Rhin in every one. By the time her carriage reached the outskirts of the city, where the rock soared upwards to form the roof of the cavern, where Undering’s Lonely Star shone with the sunlight of the world above, she was already fast asleep, dreaming fitfully of the ghosts in the Deep Tunnels—the ghosts she was intent on hiring.
Chapter VII
TWISTER
27th June, 1867
T edium was a word Merion had never known the depths of, he thought to himself, as he stumbled over yet another lump in the terrain. Nebraskar truly put the endless in Endless Land. They had been walking for days and for all the young Hark knew, they were walking on a colossal conveyor belt that fed them the same old prairie and scorched earth again and again.
He swore he had seen that boulder a hundred times. He swore he had seen that dry river bed before, and it mocked him now as it had mocked him then. He swore Lurker was leading them in circles. Merion clenched his teeth and soldiered on, dreaming once again of the feel of a deck underneath his feet, of rolling on the waves of the Iron Ocean, of the spatter of salt spray on his face. He longed for progress, and in the baked wilds of the west, that felt a lifetime and more away. With every aching step, his frustration built and built.
‘Do you know where we are, Lurker?’ Merion mumbled through his parched lips, breaking the silence of their trudging.
Lurker tipped back his hat and let his brown eyes rest on the undulating horizon. There was a dark smudge of cloud perched on it, and he eyed that warily for a moment before shrugging. ‘Nebraskar,’ he answered.
‘How very helpful.’
‘That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me today, boy. What do you want me to say?’
‘A couple of miles outside Boston would be brilliant.’
Lurker sighed. ‘Well, unless you got legs taller than mountains, I ain’t goin’ to be sayin’ that for a few weeks now, am I? Stop your grumblin’.’
‘I’ll stop when we’re at the coast, and heading back to the Empire.’
‘Then let me stop and roll up some grass, so I can stuff it in my ears and block you out.’
Merion got the hint. He was grumbling, and he knew it. But it seemed to be the only pastime in this
The capital was now rotten at the core. Corruption had taken hold in the echelons below royal rule. Caol could see it plain as daylight in the crowds. Fae females, dripping jewellery from their arms, necks, and wings. Armour-clad mercenaries from Bodmin, Nort, and Hafenfol, lounging against doorways and looking for work or sport. Pickpockets, weaving to and fro. Rotund traders sweating in the press of the crowds, their wings drooping from lack of use and fat. Beggars and orphans too, sat in the muck and gazed on with blank, dirty faces.
That was the problem with a lifespan of centuries. It was always very easy to remember the way things were: better times. Caol set his jaw and felt the carriage shudder beneath him. It was not his place to fix this. That was a queen’s job.
If one thing is true of faeries above all else, it is that their tongues move faster than wildfire. Before long, most of the city had turned out to watch the queen’s carriage rattle past. As they rolled through the streets of dark dirt and black stone cobbles, cheers, chants and confused applause began to rise up from the swelling crowds. The buzzing drone of wings grew louder with every street corner the carriage passed.
Sift watched the whole affair through the pimpled glass of her carriage with a blank expression. She stared into the myriad faces and saw Rhin in every one. By the time her carriage reached the outskirts of the city, where the rock soared upwards to form the roof of the cavern, where Undering’s Lonely Star shone with the sunlight of the world above, she was already fast asleep, dreaming fitfully of the ghosts in the Deep Tunnels—the ghosts she was intent on hiring.
Chapter VII
TWISTER
27th June, 1867
T edium was a word Merion had never known the depths of, he thought to himself, as he stumbled over yet another lump in the terrain. Nebraskar truly put the endless in Endless Land. They had been walking for days and for all the young Hark knew, they were walking on a colossal conveyor belt that fed them the same old prairie and scorched earth again and again.
He swore he had seen that boulder a hundred times. He swore he had seen that dry river bed before, and it mocked him now as it had mocked him then. He swore Lurker was leading them in circles. Merion clenched his teeth and soldiered on, dreaming once again of the feel of a deck underneath his feet, of rolling on the waves of the Iron Ocean, of the spatter of salt spray on his face. He longed for progress, and in the baked wilds of the west, that felt a lifetime and more away. With every aching step, his frustration built and built.
‘Do you know where we are, Lurker?’ Merion mumbled through his parched lips, breaking the silence of their trudging.
Lurker tipped back his hat and let his brown eyes rest on the undulating horizon. There was a dark smudge of cloud perched on it, and he eyed that warily for a moment before shrugging. ‘Nebraskar,’ he answered.
‘How very helpful.’
‘That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me today, boy. What do you want me to say?’
‘A couple of miles outside Boston would be brilliant.’
Lurker sighed. ‘Well, unless you got legs taller than mountains, I ain’t goin’ to be sayin’ that for a few weeks now, am I? Stop your grumblin’.’
‘I’ll stop when we’re at the coast, and heading back to the Empire.’
‘Then let me stop and roll up some grass, so I can stuff it in my ears and block you out.’
Merion got the hint. He was grumbling, and he knew it. But it seemed to be the only pastime in this
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