by Kyle Tolle
She took the horse’s reins in hand and started toward home, with Hantle following on his horse. The task ahead was monumental, but she felt ready to attempt it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE NEXT MORNING, Hantle rode with Dalence and crossed the bridge to enter the Marketplace’s front yard. Brust followed several horse-lengths back. The grassy clearing was full of activity. A clear sky ran to the horizon and the temperature steadily climbed. People left their horses at the corral, dragged watercraft onto the lakeshore, or walked into the Marketplace. A handful of people stood off to a side and looked about expectantly. Hantle presumed that was their group. Dalence dismounted and greeted the individuals. Hantle turned the horse in at the corral. Brust’s horse had come to a stop and Brust slumped forward on its neck. Hantle did not envy the man’s hangover.
Turning back to Dalence, he saw her gathering information on each person’s skills. Hantle followed her lead and introduced himself. By the time they finished the rounds, several others had trickled in to join them.
Dalence spoke to the group. “We have a nice turnout. More are welcome to join as they get here. Most of you, I expect, are returning after seeing the wolf last night. I’m encouraged to see your interest in doing something about it. I spoke of my ambition to build weapons that we may use to kill the wolf, but I must admit I do not have the experience. Every hand here will be useful in our task. Any others we can later bring to our cause will greatly help.”
She looked across the faces that surrounded them. “Just from the introductions, I know this group possesses knowledge we will need. There is much to consider. Drafting designs, enlisting merchants for materials, engaging engineers for the construction, selecting a site for the placement, arranging transportation, providing meals and supplies for laborers. And, above all, coordinating these activities in the short timeframe we have.”
Hantle nodded and said, “That may be the most uncertain aspect: the timeline. We expected the wolf to return to Iomesel last night, but instead it feasted on meteors. Tonight or the next, we may not be as fortunate. However, even if the wolf does return, it is uncertain whether it will attack Suu-manth or another city.” A new thought came to him as he spoke. “Not to mention its increasing size. If we wait too long to strike, our window of opportunity will close. It may grow to such a scale as to make our weapons look like matchsticks.” He finished the sentence and went quiet considering the possibility.
Dalence picked up. “So we have two or maybe three nights. Next, shall we get the ideas for the crossbow, trebuchet, and their ammunition onto paper? Much else can only follow on that preliminary work.”
The next several hours passed in a flurry of activity. Dalence sketched her initial designs, and many questions and ideas followed. More specialized groups splintered off and drove out details. The relative of an architect brought in the woman to iterate on and finalize the structural diagrams. A blacksmith pledged his forge to the creation of crossbow arrows. A crew offered its muscle to the construction. Three cartwrights would construct several vehicles to move the parts of the killworks to the location of assemblage. Dalence and Hantle moved between groups to answer questions and plan what was needed next.
Hantle noticed that Brust stayed quiet and kept to the fringe. He was not taken up with the bottle, which was an improvement over yesterday. Hantle’s gaze then traveled over the area to take in the bustle. His eyes drifted past the Marketplace itself, but then he did a double take. Just outside the entrance, a woman stood in a spot of shade, her legs planted wide and her arms akimbo. Dalence joined Hantle’s side, facing away from the Marketplace. “Have you spotted the Chancellor of the Catch?”
Hantle nodded and moved his gaze away from the governor’s assistant. “Has she been there long?”
Dalence shrugged. “I only just noticed her.”
Hantle replied, “Our presence here does ring of flaunting disregard.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her if you will.”
“Okay,” Hantle said. “We will see if things escalate.”
Around noon, a brother and sister joined the group. Last night, they had witnessed the wolf scarring the moon from their estate on the edge of Suu-manth. The siblings had inherited the city’s largest lumberyard and heard of the effort here to build weaponry. Hantle recognized their name but took a moment to place it. The lumberyard was the largest consumer of timber from Founsel. The two declared the company’s stores available for any amount of wood needed. Hantle thanked them profusely and Dalence asked for more details on the wood products available.
Hantle’s eyes darted back to the Marketplace to where the Chancellor of the Catch had stood, only to find her spot empty. He scanned the area but she was nowhere to be found. Would they see her again before the day was done?
Brust broke his silence. “Dalence, Hantle,” he said. “What if the wolf does not return?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
HANTLE BECKONED the two to step a few yards away from the main groups for privacy. Brust ran a hand through his hair and Hantle noticed the uncertainty on his face.
“We can build these weapons,” Brust said, “but they won’t do any good unless the wolf is close enough to hit. It did not come back last night, and you’ve said it might attack some other city besides Suu-manth. Might it also just stay in the sky?”
He had a point, but something told Hantle that was not the case. While Hantle thought, Dalence said, “If the wolf did stay away, no more families would be taken. Though the prospect of it changing its mind would still loom over us.”
Hantle said, “Who of us could sleep soundly night after night knowing what was overhead? We will only be safe, and certain of it, with it dead.”
Brust shrugged. “Bringing it back is inherently risky. If the goal is to save lives, doesn’t drawing it here fly in the face of that?”
“In the short term,” Hantle said, “yes. The long-term threat, however, extends to all people on Iomesel, which makes the risk to Suu-manth a more reasonable one to accept. Although not a trivial one, by any means.”
“Hmm, yes, I can see that,” Brust said.
“And to bring it back on our own terms gives us more control than simply reacting to its sudden appearance.”
Brust asked, “How do we lure it here though?”
“Could we use something as bait?” Dalence wondered.
Hantle looked to the sky. “The meteor shower worked like a bait. Does it continue for a few nights more?”
“Yes, from what I recall Darbor telling me.” Dalence pointed to Mount Vulteeb. “We could ask one of the astronomers. That would get the wolf into the sky. But what of bringing it to the ground?”
“What was it about the meteors that attracted it?” Brust said.
“It has a reaction to the light,” Hantle said. “Dalence, when you described the beast in Bansuth, you made it sound like it got distracted by the meteors. It leapt into the sky after them. And last night, we saw it flit from one meteor to another, changing its mind as soon as it saw a new one.”
“Okay,” Dalence said. “Can we mimic that light in some fashion? To get its attention. In order to distract it from the meteors and draw it to us.”
Hantle shook his head. “A large fire? What other means of light do we have?”
Neither Brust nor Dalence could identify one. Hantle racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. He thought of the absurdity in building weapons they could not guarantee to use.
Dalence said, “Could we . . . If the weapons were large enough, could we hit it in the sky?”
“The distance and its speed would make that challenging,” Hantle said, shaking his head. “We will only have a few pieces of ammunition. If we missed, or didn’t mortally wound it—”
“I just remembered,” Brust interrupted. “On the coast, in Dusath, they recently finished a lighthouse, meant to guide shipping vessels around the deadly rock outcroppings off the shore. It’s said to be the brightest in the world. If we could redirec
t the beam into the sky, it would be much more visible than a fire.”
“Yes,” Dalence said. “And interrupting the beam would cause it to strobe and grab the wolf’s attention. Brust, that’s fantastic.”
Hantle patted Brust’s shoulder. “Strong work. Not even a hangover holds you back.”
“The next concern is enlisting that lighthouse’s aid,” Dalence said.
“And hoping the keeper of the lighthouse is more agreeable than the governor here.”
“What if they are not?” Brust said. “Our plan depends upon that light. Are we prepared to use force?”
“Yes,” Hantle said after several seconds. “If it comes to that. But let’s not rush to that end so quickly.”
“Of course not,” Dalence said. “After they agree to help, they will need time to perform the work, same as us. Whoever of us rides there will need to arrange a time to put the light and the weapons into action. The two must be coordinated.”
“Dalence,” Hantle said, “you have the vision for the killworks. You should stay here to lead their construction. And Brust with you. I will ride to Dusath and seek out the lighthouse.”
Brust nodded. “That’s fine with me. There is more to do here than one of us could manage.”
“Three nights?” Dalence questioned. “Will that be enough?”
“Three nights,” Hantle repeated. “To ride and enlist their help. To complete their and our work. To act together despite the intervening miles. Any less time is a fool’s errand. Any more time is sloth.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE HORSE that carried Dalence to Suu-manth now carried Hantle toward the Fist’s northern coastline. He set out in the afternoon and passed over plains that stretched until they met hills, river valleys, and coastal forests. The road was well kept and he made good time. The air in Suu-manth during the afternoon was stifling, but the temperature cooled significantly as he approached the forests. The trees had huge trunks and towered a hundred feet above him. Hantle wondered whether any company had rights to log these parts. A single tree here would contain many times the lumber of one near Founsel. It might be an opportunity for him to capitalize on. A grimace passed over his face as he caught himself in the daydream. This was no time for a luxury like planning for a day beyond the wolf. They had come up with a plan, and much to accomplish still lay ahead of them.
Low-hanging clouds moved over the treetops and obscured the sun. Noises in the distance told him Dusath neared. He smelled the salt in the air, the scent bringing to mind Founsel’s Trasach Cove. At the city’s edge, the trees thinned. Terraces stepped down to the coastline, each level packed with brick row houses for homes and businesses. He looked along the oceanfront and caught a glimpse of white stone partly obscured by a stand of trees. Hantle urged his horse onward. It plodded down the wide, steep stairs between terrace levels and he realized the white stone belonged to the lighthouse. Unlit but lustrous, it dominated the view of the eastern portion of the city.
The prominence of the lighthouse and the grid-like streets made navigation easy. People filled the streets with an air of activity. He maneuvered through the roads, followed a main artery beyond the terraces, meandered through a scrubby patch of vegetation, and climbed a rocky prominence toward the foot of the tower. The sun was lowering in the sky and he felt as if the warmth on his back pushed him up the final pitch to the lighthouse’s foundation.
But for the wind, the area was silent. Hantle dismounted, tied the horse off to a railing, and hung his pack alongside his musket. He took a deep breath and approached the lighthouse’s entrance. The wooden door was painted white and otherwise unadorned. He swung a knocker, the sound carrying through the vicinity. Moments later, the door moaned on salted hinges and revealed a small, thin man.
“What?” he said. His voice rasped as if not used in some time.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Hantle replied. “Are you the keeper?”
The man responded with a nod. His eyes were sunken and beckoned Hantle to come to the point. His clothes were worn threadbare, and large patches kept the fabric from falling to pieces. In the humidity, curly brown hair swam around his head in chaotic strands.
Hantle asked, “Did you watch the sky last night?”
“Aye,” the man said. “Each night I do.”
“Notice anything different last night?”
“Indeed.” The man smiled and stepped to the side. “I’ve never seen a wolf in the sky before.” The sunset illuminated the man’s features as he motioned Hantle inside. “Nor’ve I seen the moon scarred.”
Hantle stepped over the threshold and the keeper closed the door behind him. “The beast is what brings me here,” he said. The wind outside whistled, but inside, the air calmed and quieted. “Just two nights ago it was on Iomesel, destroying Bansuth.”
The man’s eyes widened and he moved to bring a lantern to life. The light showed Hantle the provisions that occupied most of this room. Barrels of fuel and foodstuffs stacked several people high. A staircase on the edge of the light wrapped around with the wall and disappeared into the gloom above.
“I’m Hantle.” He stretched out his hand.
“Good to meet you, Hantle.” The keeper accepted the handshake. “Name’s Goseth. Care for a seat?” Goseth pulled a chair out from a table and sat down.
Hantle tipped his head in gratitude. “Thank you, but I’ll stand. Just rode from Suu-manth and it’s nice to stretch.”
Goseth put an elbow on the table and placed his chin in his hand. “Well,” he said. “Go on.”
Hantle worked from the beginning in Founsel to his arrival in Suu-manth. He focused on how near they had come to felling the beast. How each move seemed to bring them closer to its demise. In reality, it seemed the opposite, but Hantle figured reframing the events to hint at the surety of the wolf’s death was more likely to gain him an ally. He had not seen any portion of the killworks, but he painted a picture of their grand and imposing sight. “I’ve ridden to Dusath,” he said, “to ask for your help. To help us bring the wolf within range of our munitions so that we may end its threat, once and for all.”
“And how,” Goseth said, “will a solitary lighthouse keeper do that?”
“It was distracted by the meteors,” Hantle said. “Distracted by their flashes in the sky. Last night was evidence of that. It raced after the meteors, their trails’ flare and intensity. Your lighthouse is the brightest in the world. If we can direct its beam to the sky, we will have its attention. Once lured to the ground, we in Suu-manth will launch our assault, killing it before it has the chance to harm any more people.”
“Are you aware,” Goseth asked, “that the beam projects out toward the ocean, not toward the sky?”
“Yes, but it can be modified, can it not?”
“I suppose.” Goseth shrugged. “But not without permission from the Merchant Shipping Consortium. They own this lighthouse, not I.”
Hantle took a moment to formulate his thoughts. “Preparations are underway in Suu-manth, and the lighthouse is crucial to the success of our plan. Does the thought of saving so many lives not sway you?”
“What of the mariners who, without the guidance of the light, would run aground and drown in the surf? This lighthouse serves a purpose, Hantle.”
“Can you take me to this consortium? I could speak to them and explain the situation.”
“No.” Goseth slowly shook his head. “The decision making is communal and they only gather every few months. The next gathering isn’t for some time.” He adjusted in his seat. “Why risk bringing it back? Why not leave it to the stars?”
“Unchecked, it is a specter that will haunt us each night. Not just us in Suu-manth or Dusath, but those on all of Iomesel. Its nature is one of aggression, hatred, and rage. Such is why I appeal for your help to bring its haunting to an end.”
“I am sorry,” Goseth said. “Without their leave, my hands are tied.”
“Damn.” Hantle sat down and slapped a hand on
the table. “We are in quite the bind now, but I understand your obligations. I would leave immediately, except that, over the past several days, I have ridden hundreds of miles and feel past exhaustion. May I stay the night, at least?”
The keeper stood and searched through nearby crates. “I cannot promise comfort, but I have a spare blanket or two.”
“That will be enough,” Hantle said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DALENCE LIFTED the last piece of lumber from the cart and set it on the ground. Beside her, others drove nails into the scaffolding they were building around the crossbow’s base. Once the scaffolding was in place, they could add more to the weapon’s frame. She wiped an arm across her forehead and her sleeve came away darkened with perspiration.
The sound of raised voices to her side drew her attention. Brust walked backward, engaged in a heated discussion with the governor. When the governor noticed Dalence, she stopped and snapped her fingers. The Chancellor of the Catch moved to her side, placed a hand on Brust’s shoulder, and moved him back several steps.
He shouted, “Get your damn hands off me!”
Workers nearby laid down their tools and closed in on the commotion. The governor made eye contact with Dalence while speaking to Brust. “We are here to speak to your sister. Not you. Now settle down before you land yourself in trouble.”
She had no right to treat him like that. Dalence took a step forward. “He’s no child.”
The governor cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “His petulance fooled me.”
Dalence shot Brust a look to keep him from doing something foolish. Don’t prove her right, she thought. He let out a deep, irritated breath but stood his ground under the chancellor’s grasp.
“Come now, Dalence,” the governor said. “Would you care to explain what you’re doing here?”
