Bloodrush (Scarlet Star Trilogy #1)

Chapter 29 - The Heist

'Another year, another birthday. Merion is thirteen now. It snowed today. Early, even for London. He played in the snow until his face turned blue. Karrigan had the servants give him some of his best brandy, and for a moment I thought a little differently of him. But then he bellowed at the boy for staying out too long in the cold. Made my blood boil. A son should never be scared of his father.'

6th June, 1867

It was cold under the charcoal clouds, far colder than a desert should rightfully be. The advancing storm had torn the heat from the day and used it selfishly, building and building itself until a colossal anvil lurked on the skyline, bound due south to come soak the scorched earth of Fell Falls. Rhin eyed its brutish, bubbling shape, clear as it was against moonlight and stars. Ash streaks of cloud spread their fingers across the sky, like furrows in a field. Or messengers of the approaching tempest, Rhin thought. If there was one thing Wyoming did well, it was a good storm. 

He flicked a nail against the track once more and listened to it sing. He wished it would sing longer, anything to distract him from his impending task. A faerie, robbing a train. Even when size difference was taken out of the equation, the idea was still laughable. Hysterical, some might say, the stuff of fairy tales. Rhin rolled those words around in his head until they dragged him to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long. His fingers ached from constant wringing.

'Come on, Rehn'ar, you've stolen bigger hoards than this,' Rhin chided himself, trying to work the knot out of his throat. 'What's the plan?'

Rhin's week spent under Merion's bed had not been spent in vain. Yes, there had been many long hours of staring at doors, sharpening swords and biting lips, but the rest had been spent poring over schematics and pictures and maps.

Faeries may have been of the old world, but their minds worked just like the scientists of the new. They can see patterns just as easily as you can say the word. They can absorb information like a sponge, and most importantly, if there is a weakness in something, a faerie will find it. Rhin had been studying maps and plans for centuries. A good soldier always does, after all. Those who do not quickly find themselves in a cage with a rabid mole, or dead. 

It had taken him a week to find it, that little gem in the crown that was his scheme. The secret of mastering technology is not to examine the alignment of gears and valves, nor the ingenuity of its torque and thrust, nor its multi-chamber boilers and cow-catchers. All that is needed is to master the man who already masters it—in this case, the driver and his brakeman. All Rhin had to do was make them do his bidding. The edge of a sword and the sight of a faerie might just do it. Humans. They were technology's perpetual shackle.

Rhin sniffed, tasting the night air. There had been one other problem of course: boarding a train travelling at around forty miles an hour. One schematic had put the weight of the locomotive alone at almost one-hundred thousand pounds. Rhin weighed about two. Solving that had taken far less than a week.

Rhin spied the light on the horizon and felt his stomach begin to churn. The faerie took a breath and uttered his plan, blow by blow. Somehow it calmed him, set his mind straight and clear.

'Last bend, five miles.'

Rhin drew his sword with a flourish and held the blade low.

'Light the fire,' he told himself.

His striking stone rasped across the blade and poured sparks on the kindling splayed across the tracks. He thanked the Roots and all their gods for keeping the storm at bay. Fire had been his only option, besides building a house on the rail.