Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) (32 page)

If only he had a Bloodmoon to help him
.

As soon as the magick took root, he felt the world sway around him. He threw out a hand to steady himself and Lurker caught it. He felt like his mind was tumbling over and over inside his head with nowhere to fall. There was a pounding noise. Merion looked down and saw the grass rising up to greet him. He felt his clothes become baggy and oversized.
It was working!

He steeled himself and dragged his wits out of the nausea so he could watch himself shrink. Within a few seconds he had passed Lurker’s belt, then his thighs, until gradually the shrinking came to a stop just shy of the prospector’s knees.

‘Incredible!’ he said to himself, checking his hands and patting his chest. Everything about him was exactly the same, even though he was naked and wrapped in the crumpled fabric of his cloak. It was the world that had changed. He looked up at Lilain and Lurker, high above. They looked colossal, and as they bent down to peer at him, they seemed to move slower than usual. Merion now knew the secret behind a Fae’s nimbleness.

‘Feeling alright?’ Gunderton asked, flicking a nearby blade of grass. He was shameless in the way he stood there, legs wide and arms crossed, free of his huge clothes.

Merion could feel the magick bubbling in his veins, sticking fast as Gunderton had said; as though it had dug a claw deep into every one of his muscles and pinned them together. The dizziness had receded; now he just felt very warm. All of the energy of a thirteen-year-old human boy had been squeezed down into a smaller package. No wonder he was already sweating.

‘Hot, but fine. Clothes, Aunt?’

Two crudely cut and sewn outfits landed between them. Merion held his up, marvelling at its itchiness. The threads were like loops of twine. The fabric was grey and black, perfect for creeping around a Fae city. There were no pockets; just a thin lining of leather for protection. A small bundle of whip-cord followed, stout rope to them.

‘Wish I could come along,’ Lurker boomed. Merion’s ears were incredibly sensitive.

‘Sorry, old friend, not this time,’ replied the boy. His voice sounded small and lost.

‘And some weapons, too,’ said Lilain, passing them shards of metal or needles wrapped tightly with thread; crude swords to take on black Fae Steel. Merion stuffed both weapons under his makeshift belt, fashioned from a piece of cord.

‘Can you take us closer?’ Gunderton called up to the others, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

Being carried so effortlessly was a strange sensation when you’re the one used to doing the carrying. The high-born in Merion made him resentful, feeling as though he were a pet in his aunt’s hands. Rhin had never seemed to mind it. He was glad when they put him down.

He looked up at the trees of the copse, looming over them, and the darkness that hid between them. Merion felt that chill again, in the oppressive touch of their shadow, making him long to walk away and be done with this foolishness.

‘Feel it?’ he asked of Gunderton, who was also busy scowling at the trees.

‘I do,’ he said.

‘Fae magick.’

‘We’ll be waiting right here,’ Lilain said, face fighting not to frown. ‘Be safe.’

Jake squawked, making Merion flinch. The bird was terrifying up close. His beak was as long as the boy’s forearm.

‘Give ‘em hell,’ said Lurker.

Together, Merion and Gunderton moved forward into the woods, feet battling the grass stems while their minds fought heavy fear. It was like wading through a jungle that screamed incessantly.

The fear became more potent with every step they took through the dark cavern between the trees; roofed by interwoven branches, tiled by leaves. The darkness seemed to crowd around them like black smoke. And yet still they marched on, gritting teeth and clenching fists.

The climb to the top of the lonely well was the hardest part. Though every young boy has an inbuilt talent for climbing, the weight of the Fae spell made every handhold crumble, every reach a painful stretch. Gunderton fared no better.

The spell broke the moment their dusty hands had hauled them to the top. They stood with hands on knees and took long gulps of the humid air as they stared down into the satin darkness.

‘I was hoping for stairs,’ said Gunderton, eyeing the thin sliver of grey rope that hung from the wooden arch over the well.

‘It’s the perfect defence. Rhin told me. Imagine it as a tunnel on its end, a hundred feet deep and ringed with outposts and castles that constantly keep an eye on that rope. Only Fae have hands strong enough to climb down the whole thing. If not, then it’s splat! Right on Sift’s doorstep. They call this Undering’s Lonely Star. Hovers right above the Coil.’

Gunderton thumbed his moustache. ‘And what were you planning to do?’

‘Climb down the rope until the first outpost and sneak down that way.’

‘Won’t work. That’s a lot of time, not to mention a lot of eyes. The rope leads straight down to the palace, this Coil?’

‘That’s what Rhin said.’

The Brother blinked at the darkness for a moment before clicking his fingers. ‘You’re not going to like this one bit, but it’s the only way I can imagine we’ll make it down there in time and in one piece.’

‘That’s no way to introduce a proposition, but please, do continue.’

Gunderton was already cutting off long lengths of whip-cord. ‘We tie this in a certain manner, loop it around ourselves and then the rope, and jump.’

Merion was sure he hadn’t heard him right. ‘
Jump
?’

‘Jump. Straight down. When we can see the ground we pull the knots tight and come to a nice, slow stop. Friction, see?’

‘This blend has clearly rotted your brain, Gunderton.’

But the Brother was adamant, and to prove his plan he began to tie his knots; intricate things that formed a choker when slid together. The rest of the dubious contraption was formed by a big figure of eight for the arms and a knot for yanking.

‘That blend is slowly wasting away, so please, do suggest a better idea.’

Merion felt the fear rising up again, filling the back of his throat, making his forehead prickle.

‘Fine,’ he said, more to fill the silence than anything.

Gunderton finished Merion’s harness first before making one for himself. He edged his way up the curve of the well’s arch, where small pegs had been fashioned as rungs, and a groove cut for Fae hands. Once he’d reached the rope, he fastened his contraption around it and swung down from the arch. He yanked the cord tightly as he began to slide, and came to a complete stop, legs dangling in space.

‘See? Now put yours on.’

Merion followed suit, edging warily up the arch, using all his strength just to keep from falling, while Gunderton tied him on. When it was done, Merion took a deep breath, closed his eyes to the void below him, and tested his faith.

Down he swung, feeling his stomach lurch. Somewhere amid the panic, he yanked as hard as he could on the knot. The choker pinched the rope, holding him fast.

Madness
.

‘Now we just have to let go and we’ll fly right past them,’ Gunderton said, nonchalantly. He might as well have been describing his breakfast. ‘Let it stay loose so it won’t burn. And whatever you do, don’t let go of that knot.’

‘If we aren’t bloody spatters on the Coil’s steps in the next minute, I’ll see you at the bottom.’

‘Your father was an optimist, you know,’ Gunderton said, before releasing his hold on the knot. He dropped like a stone, vanishing into the darkness hovering below them.

‘I bet my father never had to do this,’ Merion muttered to himself.

It took every scrap of concentration to relax his arms and let the knots slacken their bite. Even a twitch in his grip was enough to send him plummeting, as though the well was hungry for him. He fought off the burning, terror-driven desire to yank hard and save himself.

The rushing air became a roar in his ears. It felt as though his clothes would burst their stitches and rip free of him at any moment. He felt the rope nudge him as he tried to flap his arms, felt the burn of its kiss on his hand. Merion tucked in his limbs and felt his organs climb higher in his throat. The wind tore the tear-streaks from his eyes.

There!
A ring of blue light around the well; the first outpost. It bristled with sharp battlements and lanterns, searing away the shadows. Merion tensed his body and raised his head, becoming streamlined. There was a flash of light as the outpost passed. The boy watched it rocket into the darkness above him. Over the roar, he tried to listen for horns or bells, but none sounded.

The more time he spent falling, the more he managed to quell his panic. By the time two more rings of light glowed below him, it had became almost a serene experience. The forts clung to the sheer walls like fat limpets, almost filling the shaft, and there was only a small hole for the rope to hang through. Merion almost yanked, but then he saw Gunderton fly through, and so he clenched his jaw instead. He rocketed past, blisteringly fast. All he could catch were blurs of black steel and glowworms trapped in glass cages.

The tunnel soon became a blurred kaleidoscope of lights and outcrops of buildings and battlements. They were like two cold meteors hurtling through the blackness. If noticed, they would be dismissed as a flicker of the eye, a brief gust of strange wind. Merion found time to smile as he plummeted, even though it made his cheeks flap.

All at once, the walls of the well fell away, cascading outwards to form a mighty cavern, so large they could barely make out its perimeter. Below them, the city of Shanarh sparkled like an inverted night sky, rising like the spikes of a hundred crowns. Tallest of them all was the Coil of Cela’h Dor, built like a needle-pointed conch shell. The Coil’s black and silver sides glowed with countless blue lanterns and specks of light.

Merion began to get twitchy. He looked down to see Gunderton waving frantically.
This was it
. He wrapped his hands around the knotted cord and yanked as hard as he could. There was an awful rasping noise as the contraption bit down. Merion felt the loops pull at his arms as he stalled ever so slightly. He tugged harder, pushing his shoulders into it, and yet still he fell. The cord was beginning to smoke now. Wide-eyed, he pulled for all his worth, pressing the rope to his chest and bending his whole body into it.

Sure enough, and Almighty be praised, the knots began to slow him. A few more yards and he was sliding at a casual pace. Gunderton had already rolled clear, and was currently prostrate in a deep shadow. Merion tried to do the same, but with considerably less grace. For an old man, Dower Gunderton was surprisingly spry. He’d already drawn one of his swords.

‘Where now?’ he asked.

‘In there, I suppose,’ Merion hissed, pointing to the lantern-lit doorway several hundred yards away. Above them, the Coil towered, sparkling in the gloom. High above that, a lonely speck of light shone through the cavern roof, looking oh so far away indeed. ‘He’ll likely be in the dungeons, or with the Queen.’

They could hear the muted roar of the city beneath them. It sounded just like any other urban centre in the heat of day, except this one had another flavour; the buzzing of wings, earthy smells, the chatter of an ancient tongue, and the distant, riotous rumble of whistles and marching boots. All was not well in the capital of Undering. Maybe London and Shanarh were closer brethren than believed.

A patrol of faerie guards were creeping along on the opposite side of the courtyard. Something had caught their eye, and they were eager to know what it was. They would have to move fast.

‘Give me one of your knives.’ Gunderton held out a hand. Merion flashed him a look. ‘You can grab one of theirs once I’ve dealt with them. Fae steel, as you called it?’

‘Strongest metal in the world, or so Rhin brags,’ Merion whispered, as he handed over his crude knife. They broke into a crouching jog, keeping to the shadows of the immense courtyard.

Gunderton’s plan soon became obvious. Creeping along the wall of the Coil, he tossed the knife out onto the flagstones, catching the attention of the two guards standing either side of the door. They crept forwards, full armour clanking as they lowered their spears. Gunderton struck at them like a rattlesnake, bringing the butt of his sword down on the backs of their necks. Faeries they may have been, but they still had nerves and brains. Merion rushed forward to help stop them from clanging on the floor as they fell. He snatched their blades from their belts and swapped them for his makeshift sword.

Leaving the bodies in the shadows, they moved quickly through the stout door, weaving through grand, arching corridors of white marble and black metal. Merion bit his lip; the place was a warren, but there were even fewer Fae than he had hoped.

‘Left or right?’ said Gunderton.

‘Where would the dungeons be?’

‘Where they always are. Down.’ The Brother pointed. He nodded left and they moved off, Merion behind him, sword out and ready.

‘Remember all those fencing lessons I gave you?’ Gunderton whispered over his shoulder.

Merion pulled a face. ‘You mean with broomsticks?’

‘Yes, those. You weren’t ready for a live blade.’

‘Barely.’

‘Well they’re about to come in handy.’

‘I would have paid more attention if I had known you were training me for actual combat.’

Gunderton wasn’t listening. He had frozen at a corner. Merion took a peek past his knees. Three Fae guards stood at the top of a flight of stairs. It was surreal, seeing them at his height. Like Jake, they were even fiercer up close. Their wings were like sheet crystal and their features were almost as sharp as their teeth.

‘Nothing for it but to rush them,’ Gunderton mouthed. ‘How are you holding up?’

Keeping the shade-blend rushing was now a dull sort of concentration, almost automatic. Merion said as much. ‘It seems to have sunk in.’

‘Good. The moment it becomes noticeable, we need to leave. Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ said Merion, face fixed into a fearsome scowl, trying not to think of Gavisham.

Gunderton burst forward like a branded cat, swinging his sword in wild arcs as he charged. Merion followed at his heels, charging at the left-hand faerie.