L01-03. Lantern

by Chess Desalls

  Chapter 6

  Graham

  Graham sat at the table with his head resting in his palms, watching quietly while Machin set the metal strips in place. Four squared edges extended from the lantern’s base to where the lid once again plugged the hole at the top of the globe.

  A thought nagged at him, one that had him worried. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Machin had said—something about a failed seal. And he was almost afraid to ask, in case it would confirm Machin’s disappointment in him. After a slow, steady breath, he looked over the lantern at his master. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to know.

  “How important is it for there to be a seal?”

  “It all depends on the lantern’s purpose and where it came from,” said Machin. “Prior apprentices chose globes that, when fitted with their lids, created a band of heat that formed an impenetrable seal. It was one of their tasks to figure out how to open it.”

  Graham hung his head low. “I’ve disappointed you again. First with the globe, and now with the seal…or, rather, lack of seal.”

  “There’s no cause for disappointment. You’ve surprised me. Your story is different, that’s all.”

  Machin rose and returned to the furnace.

  With a huff, Graham picked up a cloth. Surprised him. What good comes of that? If the other ’prentices succeeded, and I’m different, then that makes me a failure much like the seal.

  He climbed the stool, more determined than ever to do a good job at those tasks he hadn’t messed up. By not creating an impenetrable seal, he felt he’d robbed himself of a special assignment the other apprentices had each completed for Machin.

  He wondered why Machin had bothered to take him on as an apprentice. He attributed much of Machin’s belief in him to Serah, and her good recommendation of him. And he was grateful to her.

  But Machin had also sent him a gift: the torch, which he’d received before Serah had gone for her interview, and before she was Machin’s apprentice.

  Why would Master Machin have done that for me? How’d he known anythin’ about me?

  Graham stretched, keeping his feet planted on the stool, to clean the lanterns that hung higher up, nearer the ceiling. Not that they’d collected dust since he’d cleaned them the day before. The task seemed to waste more time than swinging in his hammock waiting for fish to bite.

  He squinted at one of the bright globes of light and whispered, “What’s the point of all this anyway?”

  The lantern to which he’d directed his whispers dimmed, allowing a flickering from below to attract Graham’s attention. He lowered his hands as his gaze shifted to the lantern on the table.

  His forehead creased.

  A tiny spark of blue light rested at the bottom of the globe.

  His globe.

  Graham rubbed his eyes.

  What started as a spark began to spread, stretching and swirling until it filled the globe with a soft blue light.

  The brightest point of light floated at the globe’s center, then sharpened into a deep shade of blue.

  “Master Machin,” said Graham, his voice a hoarse whimper. Having received no answer, Graham said his master’s name again, this time with strength in his voice along with a good dose of urgency.

  “My hands are busy at the furnace. What is it, Graham Webb?”

  The blue glow inside the glass creased in on itself, and folded. The top of the light tapered and pointed.

  “The lantern, it—” Graham’s breath left him.

  A flame without a candle waved at Graham.

  Sounds of tools and materials as dense as tektite hitting the floor preceded the thud of footsteps. Machin’s eyes were wide when he entered the room. He adjusted his goggles before laying his palms flat on the tabletop.

  “Pay careful attention,” he said. “Try not to blink.”

  Graham descended the stool and lowered his head.

  The flame inside the globe sprouted wings that tapered to two tiny arms. The tip of the flame rounded into a head, and legs formed, with feet that glided above the globe’s bottom surface.

  Graham’s eyes watered with the effort to keep his eyelids from pressing together. But the surprise of the flame’s transformation caused his eyelids to twitch closed. When he opened them a fraction of a second later, what had appeared to be a tiny person was only a regular blue flame.

  He pointed a finger. “Did you see that?”

  “It all depends on what you expect I was looking at.”

  “Do you see the blue flame inside the globe?”

  Machin nodded.

  “And did you see it change shape?”

  A grin stretched across Machin’s face. “Yes, Graham Webb, I did. I expect we’ll have a visitor soon. Whomever it is must be traveling from quite a distance.”

  “A visitor…inside my globe? But how?”

  Machin’s expression changed, his gaze far away. This lasted for so long that Graham grew uncomfortable.

  “Master Machin?”

  The old man straightened and removed the goggles from his eyes. “Light and soul,” he muttered, speaking as if he no longer acknowledged Graham’s presence there. “Life returns to light and light becomes life. And yet, light draws light and life.”

  Graham frowned, exhaling a long breath. He waited, helplessly, as Machin turned and walked back to the furnace. His ears twitched, moments later, when the roar of fire drowned out the ringing and tinkling of metal hitting metal and glass.

  That night, when Graham descended into the darkness to retire to his room, something niggled at his mind while he lit his torch. He winced, startled by its color—the same bright blue as the flame that had taken the form of a person, inside the globe.

  He consoled himself with the fact that Machin hadn’t seemed upset with him over what had happened. At least he’d said he wasn’t disappointed. Graham’s lips formed a faint smile as he followed the blue glow of his torch through the tunnel to his room.

  I wonder what he meant about a visitor…and light drawing light and life.

  Chapter 7

  Evelyn

  Before Evelyn’s eyes opened, she thought she’d had the strangest dream. Slowly, her eyelids lifted. A blue glow radiated from somewhere nearby, fading and tapering into darkness as it drifted farther away.

  The silence is breathtaking, she thought. Then, she realized she hadn’t been breathing.

  She inhaled, which produced the sensation of drawing in a breath. An airless breath.

  Perhaps I’m still dreaming.

  Evelyn raised her palms and lowered her gaze, searching for evidence of her last memory—of the blue light folding around her hands and body. Her lips drew back from her teeth.

  The blue light was still there, but it wasn’t folded around her, exactly. She studied each finger, every surface of her hands and arms. Light emanated from her, as if she were made of light.

  She spread out her arms, further inspecting her body. Wherever she moved, it glowed.

  She explored, trailing blue light along with her, watching the glow dissipate when she took a step backward. Then another. She continued, until stopped by a wall.

  She turned and pressed both hands to the wall. It was smooth, and cool, like glass. Finding it difficult to see through the wall and the darkness beyond it, she pulled away.

  As she did this, a blue glow reflected from the wall. A shade fainter than when she’d looked at her own hands and body. The reflection was a face, one she’d know anywhere.

  A round face, set with dark eyes, and framed with blonde hair.

  Her face.

  Though other colors she recognized were still there, all were tinted with blue, like someone had taken a photograph and adjusted the coloring.

  How strange, she thought. She moved backward, until her entire body was in view. Her tall and slim form radiated, pulsing like the flame of a candle waving its light.

  Another source of illumination shone from above. A dark circle eclipsed some of the light,
but a haze of white seemed to reach down toward her. Light so brilliant, she couldn’t make out individual shapes. She couldn’t determine the source. It was as if the sun had dulled its rays into a cheerful white glow that pulsed in time with the flickering of her own flame.

  None of it felt familiar, but all of it felt real. New. Something had happened after she’d touched the lantern at the Halloween festival. But she had no memories beyond being pulled inside.

  Is that where I am now? Inside the faulty lantern at the lake? She frowned. That’s impossible.

  That would mean she was all alone, left there after everyone had gone home. Joyce would have gone looking for her. Then Carla. Then, the police.

  Evelyn pressed her nose to the glass, searching for light from the other lanterns that had turned blue along the pier. She listened for the crash of waves. But there was only silence. And the only other light came from somewhere above.

  Yet, she was filled with a strange calm. Somehow, she knew she was protected, and safe.

  The white glow from up above intermittently softened and brightened until her body relaxed, and her eyelids fell shut.

  Bang. Stomp. ROAR. Screech. Swoosh. Bang, bang, bang!

  Evelyn’s eyes snapped open and her hands fled to her ears. She cringed all over from the throbbing pains of sound. The darkness outside her bubble of blue glow had brightened.

  She peered out the glass. There were windows—unnaturally large ones—and walls with shelves that could be used to land planes. She looked down. Through the lower half of the glass, there was wood. Each plank looked like it had been cut from a cross section of a tree. Tools that were somewhat familiar were there, too, only their proportions were massive. Objects that should have been held in the palm of her hand were larger than she was.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Remembering the white light that had comforted her before she’d fallen asleep, she rested her head on one of the glass walls, and tilted her head back. Through the top of the globe, she found that there were more globes, so many of them in different shapes and accented with frames of varying colors. All except for one greeted her with a cheerful white light. A globe with a golden glow that hung from a corner, and was set slightly apart.

  These lanterns are not like the ones at Lake Erie, she mused. So, where am I?

  “Graham!” called out a female voice. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  A series of thumps from the next room made Evelyn feel like she was bouncing inside the glass. A young man, the size of a giant, entered the room. He moved quickly, but not fast enough for Evelyn to miss how he was dressed. Or how handsomely he wore the old-fashioned tunic that draped to his knees like a dress.

  Evelyn tapped her hands on the glass. “Hello!”

  But he didn’t give her more than a passing glance before turning to his right and disappearing from sight. More of the rust-colored curls that had framed his face were gathered in a tail at the nape of his neck.

  He must have been really hungry. It was like he didn’t hear me.

  “Good morning, Graham,” the female said with a laugh. “I thought I heard your stomach grumbling.”

  Yeah, me too, thought Evelyn, realizing how little pressing her hands to her ears did to relieve the sharp sting of sound.

  Just then, a roaring thunder, louder than a pride of lions’ roars combined, lifted Evelyn off her feet. She fell back, her palms grazing the bottom of the globe. Her stomach and chest bent back, then straightened. She effortlessly floated upright, to the position where she’d started.

  “How’d I do that?” she said, looking at her palms.

  The female in the next room sighed. “It seems Machin won’t be joining us this morning,” she tutted.

  “He’s already workin’ at the furnace,” the young man replied, his voice muffling in and out, through food Evelyn imagined hadn’t been swallowed. “I passed him startin’ a new fire.”

  “Well, when you go back out there, and before you get too busy, do you mind handing him this biscuit?”

  “Happy to.”

  “Thank you, Graham. You are a blessing to me. Sometimes I wonder how long I can keep that man alive.”

  Evelyn smiled at the easy way in which Graham laughed. Moments later, there was a scratching of wood sliding across wood. Then, footsteps.

  “Graham!” yelled Evelyn as he came into view, a half-wrapped biscuit in hand. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her, but thought it worth trying to see if he’d respond to his name.

  “Still shinin’ blue, are you?” he said, his attention turning her way.

  He lowered his head and squinted, then rubbed a large brown eye.

  She waved her arms.

  Graham dropped the biscuit.

  “Machin,” he croaked. “Machin! The blue light has sprouted arms overnight! And a head, and a body with clothes—”

  “You can see me,” she said quietly, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

  Two pairs of feet came knocking into the room. Evelyn felt the sensation of biting her lower lip.

  An old man, a round and pleasant-looking woman, and Graham surrounded the globe. All were dressed like peasants from the past, except that the old man wore a pair of steampunk-style goggles. Their expressions were a mixture of surprise and concern.

  A sick feeling spread throughout her middle. She sucked in an airless breath.

  They all can see me. They’re looking at me like they’re wondering if I’m real.

  This isn’t a dream.

  Chapter 8

  Graham

  Despite all the strange and wonderful things he’d experienced as Machin’s apprentice, Graham couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  The flame person, which appeared to be female in every other way, wore breeches like a man. Wisps of gold-blue hair flowed across her shoulders. The smoothness of her skin and curve of her jaw suggested she was young, like him. Though she looked fearful, she was calm. And the tiniest glimpse of her smile lit the room.

  She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Machin adjusted his goggles and pressed them to the globe. “Keep your voices low, and try not to make any sudden noise,” he whispered. “Everything we do or say will be amplified to this tiny being of light.”

  “You mean we would hurt her?” said Graham, frowning.

  Machin nodded.

  “Though right now she isn’t physical in quite the same way we are, she is able to feel, and see, and hear.” He smiled. “Isn’t that so, young lady?”

  The girl inside the globe smiled. Her mouth moved, soundlessly.

  “You have a name that you’d appreciate us using, don’t you?” continued Machin.

  She nodded.

  “I believe I have something that will help.”

  He hobbled over to a shelf on the wall, on which neatly folded polishing cloths were stacked in piles. He muttered a sound of approval before wrapping his hands around something and bringing it to the table.

  The object, a ram’s horn, was hollow on the inside and narrowed as it curved; but, instead of coiling to a point, the horn ended in a tube not much thicker than a drinking straw.

  Machin pressed the smaller end of the horn to his ear, and the wider coned end to the glass. “This should work nicely. Now, what is your name?”

  Graham and Gelsey stood by and watched the girl’s lips form words they couldn’t hear.

  Machin stood up; he chuckled softly.

  “Our guest says her name is Evelyn Bowman. A lovely name, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” said Gelsey. Her face had gone pale. “It certainly is.”

  She seemed to catch herself before stating in a softer voice, “Welcome, Evelyn. Is there anything we can get you? Are you hungry?”

  The girl inside the glass pressed her hands to her stomach and shook her head. She turned her head to Machin, pointing in a way that suggested she’d like him to place the horn to the glass again.

  When he’d done so, her lips moved.


  “You, my dear, are inside my cottage in Havenbrim,” said Machin.

  Graham and Gelsey exchanged a glance as Machin listened.

  “Say that again for me, more slowly, please.”

  He paused.

  “It would seem you are far from home, then.”

  He listened intently for some time. Graham watched, spellbound by the way the girl’s tiny lips moved, by the expressions on her face, and the waving of her hands.

  “No,” said Machin, finally. He laughed. “You are not our prisoner. More than anything, you are our guest. And we’ll help you as much as we can.”

  He cleared his throat. “I am Machin, and they are Gelsey and Graham.”

  Graham frowned, growing tired of the one-sided conversation, wishing he could hear the girl’s words. And hear her voice, with his own ears. Evelyn Bowman was, after all, inside his lantern—made with the globe and frame he had chosen. He still hadn’t the slightest idea how she’d gotten in there, where she was from, who she was, or what she was.

  “May I have a try, Master Machin?” he said, nodding to the horn and opening his hand.

  Machin lifted the horn from the glass and gave him a sly look.

  “Yes, what was I thinking? Of course she’d rather speak with you, my apprentice, who knows so much about such things.”

  Graham raised his palms. “I didn’t mean anythin’ by it, I’m only curious, that’s all. Gelsey and I aren’t gettin’ her answers, and I thought I might—”

  His chest sunk in with guilt. Machin was right. He was only an apprentice. Nothing more. Moreover, it was Machin who’d fashioned the globe, and had given him the position; and it was Machin and Gelsey who had provided the food in his stomach as well as the roof over his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “Guess I got carried away.”

  “Enough of this,” said Gelsey. The duster in her hands was so tightly twisted, its feathers were molting. “What did she—Evelyn—say?”

  Machin sighed. “Evelyn Bowman is visiting us from Erie, Pennsylvania. A land far from here. She believes she was transported to Havenbrim by accident.”