Thoughts of an Eaten Sun

by Kyle Tolle

  She stood and walked through the site. The air and sky were calm in Suu-manth. Barely visible on its fringe, she spotted Darbor by the telescope. His idea of keeping the device a distance off had proven wise. Both he and the equipment had escaped trauma. A group peppered him with questions. As Dalence neared, she heard a few making predictions about what the night held in store. Darbor spotted her. “Dalence, join us, please.”

  A young boy drew back from the telescope’s eyepiece. The look of joy on his face struck Dalence as grotesque, considering the pile of dead nearby. She curbed the instinct to judge the boy. It was strange how quickly normality resumed after major upheaval, but wasn’t the ability to move past events that bogged down adults what gave children the future?

  She looked to Darbor; lantern light danced across his face. She would focus on something else as well. “What knowledge are you sharing?”

  “What observations we recorded while watching the wolf last night. We were stunned when it attacked the moon.”

  “With the telescope, could you see it up close?”

  “A bit.” He shrugged. “It’s made for stationary observation, not for panning around, which makes it difficult to follow the canine as it moves.”

  She turned her face to the sky, located a bright dot, and said, “That is Romd, correct?” Darbor nodded. “What does it look like through there?”

  “It is much more than a point of light. The best way to experience it is first hand. Let me train it on Romd and then you can see for yourself.” He swiveled the tube and squinted into the eyepiece to make adjustments. “Yes, there it is.” He beckoned Dalence forward.

  She stepped to the telescope with a tinge of hesitation. “I’m afraid this is a foolish question. What do I do?”

  “It’s a natural question, not a foolish one. Close one eye and look into that viewfinder. That’s all there is to it.”

  She did as he said and a large disc occupied most of the view. “Wow, it looks like a blob of mustard.” The tone varied from a faint yellow near the poles to patches of olive here and there. Dark lines veined haphazardly across the surface.

  “Yes, we think Romd has a large concentration of sulfur. Other planets have different compositions that give them their own distinctive palette.”

  “What are the black lines?” she asked.

  “We do not know for certain, but they may indicate valleys or ravines.”

  Dalence held her breath for a moment to steady her body as she took in the planet. She hoped the memory of the other world now so easy to see would be stamped into her mind. Eventually, she stepped back and offered others in the group a chance to look. It wasn’t right to hoard such a sight.

  “What did you think?” Darbor said.

  “All that is visible through a tube? It’s incredible.”

  Darbor smiled wide. “It uses Liamathen crystals to focus and amplify the light. They are found in a cave system across the Fist. Each shard has properties some liken to magic.” He laughed. “I get a tingle in my hands whenever I come near it, but that could very well be a figment of my imagination.”

  She could not help but smile back. “That sounds like sheer excitement to me.”

  Darbor leaned in. “Can you imagine what Iomesel would look like through a telescope on one of those planets?”

  What a curious thought. In fact, she could not. The very idea was difficult to comprehend. The view of Romd was not one she could have imagined. That planet was a place fully formed, like Iomesel under her feet.

  “Later,” Darbor said, “I may be able to show you the other planets.”

  “I hope you can.”

  “Ah”—Darbor raised a hand to the sky—“the meteors have begun.”

  The young boy in the group tallied them on his hands but soon forgot his task as he was overcome with awe. Dalence keenly watched the sky alongside the observers. Others, including Brust and Hantle, trickled into the area.

  Darbor gave his journal to a woman who must have offered to be his scribe for the night. By the dim light, she jotted notes as Darbor narrated. “There seems to be an uptick in the number of meteors. Strange. I thought the peak was two nights ago.” He turned to the west and stared for a time. “That haze, just above the Knuckles. I think it is all that remains of the moon. Excuse me.” He resumed control of the telescope and brought it around. “Yes, I can see chunks spinning and casting light as they tumble.” Pulling away from the eyepiece, he indicated the sky at large. “Perhaps some of those flashes above are made by pieces of our former satellite.”

  Someone indicated a trail that was more than ephemeral. A hush stole through the crowd and Darbor spoke. “Yes, I believe it’s the wolf.” The streak began first a zig and then a zag, which confirmed it. “Heading toward . . .” A squeak sounded as Darbor rotated the tube yet again and lowered his head to the ocular lens. “Mmhmm, that is Seligar. Without the telescope it is difficult to discern from a star.” He gasped and Dalence stared at his face, scrunched up to look through the telescope. “It passed so close to Seligar that part of the atmosphere dragged along behind him in an eddy! Then it fell back to the surface in wisps. He’s kept moving and . . . My word.” He scoffed and went quiet. Dalence looked skyward but saw nothing more than a band of light. She jumped at Darbor’s next shout. “All four moons. It just swallowed all four of Seligar’s moons like they were candy! And now I can’t track it.” He gave a frustrated sigh and craned his head up.

  The line grew brighter and traversed the cosmos. Shortly, the observers needed no telescope. His goliath form was in the sky above them, jaws gaping. The beast dove at an angle through the sky and flames wreathed him. Meteors now appeared small and slow in comparison. Its mouth was so large, it gulped down dozens of meteors each second. Some hit his teeth and shattered like flint striking steel. Each fang was so long that, when he did close his mouth, they stuck beyond the snout. He disappeared beyond the horizon and surfaced seconds later, the flames streaming even farther behind him as he picked up speed and launched away from Iomesel.

  Darbor was back at the telescope and moving the sight after the canine. He adjusted the focus on the fly and told them what he saw. The wolf’s form receded for a time, coming nearer to their horizon each moment, before it lunged toward the innermost planet, Lii-meth. Lii-meth gave under the beast’s momentum, broke its orbit, and wheeled toward the nearby Vouyesh. The two celestial bodies collided and ruptured into countless fragments of molten rock. Dalence saw a twinkle that hinted at the calamity above. The creature drank the magma down and his stomach shone. And he grew. What he did not devour cooled and formed glassy lumps. Debris circled in eccentric orbits. Pieces smashed into one another, splintering apart to become smaller yet. Hair on the wolf’s back, for some reason, smoldered. He thrashed and clawed and bared his fangs. With a portion of the planet carrion in his fangs, the creature moved to the darker reaches of the sky and faded completely from view.

  With the sight fixed on the planetary wreckage, Darbor turned the telescope over to the crowd. He conferred with his assistant, who had kept voracious logs and still scribbled feverishly. Dalence leaned against her brother, on his good arm, but said nothing. How could she follow that up?

  Half an hour later, the wolf returned from the vast interplanetary twilight and dragged off another helping of the carnage. For hours, he repeated this sequence of pillaging the spoils of Lii-meth and Vouyesh then vanishing farther out. Dawn came upon Iomesel and the wolf was lost to their sight.

  Hantle turned his eyes to his companions and wondered aloud, “Does it even stop to rest anymore? Or does it only work to fuel its growth?” He shook his head and let out a sigh. “A pit in my stomach opens knowing that it continues its destruction, hovering just beyond view.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  DALENCE SHIVERED in the early morning cool. Nearby, Darbor sat beside his assistant. Before each a journal splayed open, in which they wrote. It occurred to Dalence that she did not recall the messenger returning last nigh
t; likewise, Darbor had not seemed to notice. He was lost in his work. Work . . . Hers had not ended either. They lost precious people, time, and materials to the governor. Would the skirmish hinder what the group could accomplish? She would do her damndest to offset its impact on the night’s readiness.

  She spoke to Hantle, who lay on the ground resting his eyes. “What time did you settle on with the lighthouse keeper?”

  “Eleven tonight.” He pushed up on one arm. “Time to get sufficiently dark and allow the light to be plainly visible to the wolf.”

  “Okay,” she said. “That gives us the entire day to complete construction and test the armaments. Shall we pull together as many as possible to continue our work?”

  The three of them set to the task and soon the area bustled. The temperature climbed and the day became the warmest of the summer. Clouds dotted the sky and moved swiftly westward over the plains to disappear beyond the Knuckles.

  Trees captured in the landslide talus served as the first pieces of ammunition to test the crossbow. Woodworkers split the trunks and worked the resulting pieces into darts. Artillery operators fired these into the mountainside where the impact disintegrated each dart. Between shots, they performed calibration of the firing mechanism and sight, honing its accuracy.

  After midday, the blacksmith, bleary-eyed, returned to the site at Hantle’s request. His oxen drew a crude bolt, which weighed several hundred pounds and used horsehair fletching. Dalence was eager to see the bolt put to use. This would be the true test of whether the contraption was suited to the distance required. Before the blacksmith drove off, he reassured Hantle that he and his team were in the midst of forging three more arrows that would be ready before nightfall.

  The crew practiced loading the arrow until all felt comfortable with the act. Next up was testing the range. Draft horses dug huge hooves into the ground and rotated the crossbow to point to the northwest—a direction, they agreed, devoid of any settlements to endanger. Winches strained rope and metallic parts clanked as the operators fine-tuned the aim. Brust took the honors of pulling the firing pin, but they all watched the bolt sail high into the distance, skim the Knuckles, and vanish from view where they expected it plunged below the ocean’s waves. A cheer went up from the crowd. Dalence’s heart pounded with excitement: their work had not been in vain.

  Lunch was taken in shifts and when their turn came, Dalence, Brust, and Hantle grabbed plates of food and relaxed on the grass for the few minutes afforded to them. Clouds above thickened as a new wind pushed them in, but the cover did little to reduce the temperature. Hantle devoured the victuals and returned for a second helping before he felt sated. Dalence also had a second plate, while Brust managed a third.

  When finished, Hantle set aside his plate, stood on a crate, and called for the company’s attention. “We have just performed a successful firing of the crossbow. We owe a debt to those who stood at our side yesterday and gave their lives so that we might continue this effort today. Tonight, we face the true test of the beast. Tomorrow, we will honor the fallen with a ceremony that befits them. There is no better group of people with which to face the unknown.” He paused for a moment and smiled; his gaze panned across the gathered workers, sprawled over the construction area. “I thank you all.” He raised a hand in gratitude and stepped down from the chair.

  Hantle resumed his spot next to his two companions. He first considered Dalence. “You and your brother have been a powerful sight for me. Seeing you together has reminded me what family looks like from the outside.” His gaze turned to Brust. “It looks like never giving up on one another. I saw that when I was close to giving up myself. Your welcoming attitude and unfailing determination, from you both, have spurred me on. Tonight we will attempt what no one else could dream of. That is a worthy revenge.”

  Dalence reached over and patted Hantle’s shoulder. “It was you that sparked that determination. The loved ones taken from us deserve nothing less. Let us seek their revenge to whatever end.”

  “Aye”—Brust pounded the ground with his good arm—“our kin shall not be disappointed.” He pushed himself to his feet. “The trebuchet awaits.”

  The three of them found the trebuchet still some time away from a test. Quarry workers shaped granite blocks they intended to join together, which would serve as the device’s counterweight. The sounds of chisels and hammers permeated the worksite. Others put finishing touches on a model of the fragmentation shot that would prove the design they had begun implementing on a larger scale. The amount of help present left little for the three to tackle without getting in the way. Instead, Dalence tied her hair back as she surveyed the distance. Thunderheads towered over the plains and threatened rain. The front seemed to extend over the entire Fist. She tilted her head to the east and spoke to Brust and Hantle. “Looks like that front will be on us before long.”

  Hantle asked, “What are the storms like here?”

  “That,” she said, eyebrow raised in disapproval, “will likely be severe.”

  Brust took stock of the surroundings. “We will need to cover the telescope, trebuchet ammunition, and weapons if we can. Couldn’t hurt to make shelters for the rest of us.”

  Dalence did a rough estimate of the number of people. “Yes, I imagine our volunteers would appreciate staying a bit dry. We’ll need another trip to the lumber yard.”

  “It’ll be a good task,” Hantle said, “for people with a bit of slack as the killworks move toward testing.”

  The group split up. Dalence and Brust headed the effort to create shelters in various spots, while Hantle set out to find tarp in quantity and size enough to cover the critical equipment.

  The day grew muggier as the afternoon wore on. Dalence nailed into place one of the last boards for a shelter’s roof when she heard an explosion. She looked to the Knuckles and saw a black plume rising. Pieces of stone ricocheted off the mountainside and the trebuchet arm swung to and fro. “And to think,” she said to Brust, “that was a small one.”

  Further tests drew significant attention. The following two projectiles landed nowhere near the first, but the operators persevered. They launched a collection of boulders, which allowed them to tweak and tune. Within an hour, a cluster of closely placed impacts lent them confidence in the trebuchet’s precision. A final stone, cast the same direction as the crossbow arrow, arced beyond sight, soliciting applause and congratulations.

  Twilight brought the arrival of the first delivery by the blacksmith and his apprentice. Clouds crowded most of the sky when Hantle met the craftsman at the crossbow. This missile was more streamlined than the original bolt, which granted it greater speed and range. Offset fletching provided better stabilization over the increased distance. Hantle and his team loaded and cocked the bow as the blacksmith left to complete the final two arrows. Brust spotted a wall of rain pressing toward them, and Hantle motioned for others to help him cover the readied crossbow.

  Activity in the area slowed and volunteers sought protection under the shelters. Dalence moved toward Darbor and ran through a mental checklist: crossbow, arrows, trebuchet, projectiles, shelter, telescope, food, and provisions. Each item was addressed. The day had proceeded smoothly and, thankfully, neither the Chancellor of the Catch nor the captain made an appearance to upset that. Darbor peered through the telescope, and Dalence, wishing to avoid startling him, made extra noise to announce her approach.

  “Are you prepared for the storm?” she asked.

  Darbor pulled his head from the eyepiece. “Yes. Observing what I can, though, before we need to cover it.” The crate and tarp lay beside the tripod. He leaned back in. “The remains of Lii-meth and Vouyesh are gone. All that’s left is a patch of soot in a slow spiral.”

  “Here he is,” someone called from behind them. A group of horses rattled into the clearing. Bellice held a torch aloft that danced in the wind. “Decided you prefer their company to ours, eh, Darbor?” She laughed.

  “They weren’t fighting me for a view all
night,” Darbor quipped. “It’s nothing personal.”

  The rider behind Bellice drew a cart. Dalence eyed it and said, “I see the telescope made it down safely.”

  “Aye.” Bellice looked to the mountains. “I don’t fancy being atop Mount Vulteeb when that storm hits. The boulder field is difficult enough without it being slippery.” A flash preceded a loud peal of thunder by a few seconds. “And that lightning would be death.”

  Dalence motioned to the nearest shelter. “You are more than welcome to join us. I’m eager to have your telescope here when the clouds part.”

  Bellice dismounted and moved to the cart. Three astronomers joined her in taking leather straps to move the cargo to the ground. Dalence felt a stray raindrop or two as they assembled the second telescope, but Bellice was too eager to resume their observation to mind. Meteor streaks again carved through the sky, though they were no longer the main attraction.

  Darbor peered into the welkin and clapped his knee with joy. “Found ’em.”

  Bellice tightened the screws that fixed the tripod to the tube and pointed it up. “Lead me to it.”

  “Romd,” Darbor said. “Bottom left quadrant. Just appearing from the planet’s shadow.”

  “Adjusting focus.” Bellice dialed in the eyepiece. “Clear . . . and sighted.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  DARBOR AND BELLICE narrated to the crowd what they saw through the telescopes. The wolf ran past Romd and struck one of its moons at full speed. The orb exploded outward, throwing pieces in every direction. Fragments expanded in a ring that grew every second, like some sort of firework. The canine lunged after the largest pieces and Bellice turned her sights to Romd’s second satellite. It was no longer in orbit around the planet. Instead, a misshapen ball of rock tumbled away. The wolf had already struck the moon, taken out a sizeable chunk, and left it to aimlessly tumble through the void.