Read Online Bloodrush (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 1) by Ben Galley - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Galley
Tags: Fiction
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pretendin’ it ain’t happened,’ as one of the workers so eloquently put it.
Truth hurts, and the frontier was full of it. Welcome to the wild west, he thought. Last stop before Hell .
*
The locomotive that came to fetch them was considerably less impressive than the one he had first seen in Boston, and the other two that had come after it.
If those three had been princes, here was the pauper.
Merion scowled as it pulled into the station, belching oily steam. This locomotive was smaller, for one thing, and covered by at least an inch of dust. There were six carriages, but only two were for passengers. These carriages had large portholes instead of windows, no doubt pilfered from some downed air balloon. In fact, the whole train looked stolen, borrowed, or otherwise improvised.
The men on the platform didn’t seem to mind. They stepped right up to the lip of the platform and waited for the doors to stop in front of them. Some even made quick bets as to where the doors were going to stop, and who would be closer. Gold and copper glinted in the sunlight.
Merion was the last to board. He shuffled on in the wake of the workers, guards, and other riffraff, his legs like molten lead. His luggage was thankfully being loaded for him, alongside barrels and boxes of tools and supplies, headed for Fell Falls.
‘Maybe we should get you a gun after all,’ whispered Rhin.
Merion did not dignify that with a response. The men would have heard him, in any case.
He found a seat near the door and put the rucksack on his lap. He could feel Rhin moving around so that he could peer out at the carriage interior. The men sprawled about, as though they had already done their day’s worth of hard work.
As soon as all the luggage and supplies had been transferred from the other train by the station workers, the locomotive released its breaks, and the whole carriage shuddered.
The men chatted idly, this time of women, gambling, and stories of the war. Rumour had it some were still fighting in the misty swamps of the deep south. Renegades, Merion heard them called. One man said they were all doomed, once the steam warships of Washington got there, with Red King Lincoln standing on the bow of the Black Rosa .
‘With his trusty axe,’ another added, and the men thumped the seats patriotically until dust filled the carriage.
Soon the talk turned to the wild Shohari, and Merion couldn’t help but lend an ear. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and let his body rock with the rickety train.
‘Shohari are gettin’ braver.’
‘Coming further south every summer.’
‘I heard they already overrun some of the northern towns. Landsing was razed to the ground not this winter gone. Heard they took some of the women too. Men’ve gone looking now the snows have thawed. Damn shame, ain’t that right.’
More thumping of seats.
‘I heard they own the nor-western mountains to rights. Ain’t nobody that’ll venture into them woods.’
‘Nor the canyons neither.’
‘Lord Serped will ‘ave somethin’ to say if they come near Fell Falls. With his lordsguards and gatlings.’
Merion’s ears pricked up at the sound of the word ‘lord’. What was a lord doing all the way out here?
‘What’re you talking about ‘bout, Hummage? You know they been seen already. On the ridges.’
‘Shit. Scouts is all.’
‘Ain’t just scouts from what I hear. Got war parties roaming as far south as Shamrok Hills.’
‘Can’t the patrols from Kaspar pick ‘em off?’
‘They are, sure as hell. But they’re too many.’
A deep voice echoed in the far corner of the carriage, one Merion hadn’t heard yet. ‘I heard they brought their shamans too,’ it said, and there was a silence. ‘You ever seen a shaman in real life? Any of you?’ More silence. ‘Those Shohari are somethin’ else. They got proper magic running through their veins, mark my words. I heard men say they can peel the flesh right off your bones at a hundred
Truth hurts, and the frontier was full of it. Welcome to the wild west, he thought. Last stop before Hell .
*
The locomotive that came to fetch them was considerably less impressive than the one he had first seen in Boston, and the other two that had come after it.
If those three had been princes, here was the pauper.
Merion scowled as it pulled into the station, belching oily steam. This locomotive was smaller, for one thing, and covered by at least an inch of dust. There were six carriages, but only two were for passengers. These carriages had large portholes instead of windows, no doubt pilfered from some downed air balloon. In fact, the whole train looked stolen, borrowed, or otherwise improvised.
The men on the platform didn’t seem to mind. They stepped right up to the lip of the platform and waited for the doors to stop in front of them. Some even made quick bets as to where the doors were going to stop, and who would be closer. Gold and copper glinted in the sunlight.
Merion was the last to board. He shuffled on in the wake of the workers, guards, and other riffraff, his legs like molten lead. His luggage was thankfully being loaded for him, alongside barrels and boxes of tools and supplies, headed for Fell Falls.
‘Maybe we should get you a gun after all,’ whispered Rhin.
Merion did not dignify that with a response. The men would have heard him, in any case.
He found a seat near the door and put the rucksack on his lap. He could feel Rhin moving around so that he could peer out at the carriage interior. The men sprawled about, as though they had already done their day’s worth of hard work.
As soon as all the luggage and supplies had been transferred from the other train by the station workers, the locomotive released its breaks, and the whole carriage shuddered.
The men chatted idly, this time of women, gambling, and stories of the war. Rumour had it some were still fighting in the misty swamps of the deep south. Renegades, Merion heard them called. One man said they were all doomed, once the steam warships of Washington got there, with Red King Lincoln standing on the bow of the Black Rosa .
‘With his trusty axe,’ another added, and the men thumped the seats patriotically until dust filled the carriage.
Soon the talk turned to the wild Shohari, and Merion couldn’t help but lend an ear. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and let his body rock with the rickety train.
‘Shohari are gettin’ braver.’
‘Coming further south every summer.’
‘I heard they already overrun some of the northern towns. Landsing was razed to the ground not this winter gone. Heard they took some of the women too. Men’ve gone looking now the snows have thawed. Damn shame, ain’t that right.’
More thumping of seats.
‘I heard they own the nor-western mountains to rights. Ain’t nobody that’ll venture into them woods.’
‘Nor the canyons neither.’
‘Lord Serped will ‘ave somethin’ to say if they come near Fell Falls. With his lordsguards and gatlings.’
Merion’s ears pricked up at the sound of the word ‘lord’. What was a lord doing all the way out here?
‘What’re you talking about ‘bout, Hummage? You know they been seen already. On the ridges.’
‘Shit. Scouts is all.’
‘Ain’t just scouts from what I hear. Got war parties roaming as far south as Shamrok Hills.’
‘Can’t the patrols from Kaspar pick ‘em off?’
‘They are, sure as hell. But they’re too many.’
A deep voice echoed in the far corner of the carriage, one Merion hadn’t heard yet. ‘I heard they brought their shamans too,’ it said, and there was a silence. ‘You ever seen a shaman in real life? Any of you?’ More silence. ‘Those Shohari are somethin’ else. They got proper magic running through their veins, mark my words. I heard men say they can peel the flesh right off your bones at a hundred
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