Chapter 42: Pulse

Chapter 42: Pulse

Iremoved the hanger from the forge when it glowed red, just as Fergus had suggested. He passed his pliers, and I started shaping it. I started with a smaller hanger, not wanting to waste any of the smith’s metal if it went poorly. The metal bent easily, and I turned the round curve into a shape approximating an Aberdeen hook. I made the bend slightly squared, then straightened the shank out and used the needle-nose pliers to create the small eye I’d attach my line to. Finally, I turned my attention to the tip of the hook. I raised it right before my eyes, carefully pinching and molding the tip into as sharp a point as possible.

“Quench?” I asked.

“Aye, when you’re happy with the shape.”

I inspected the tip one more time then checked the eye. I bent the metal as close to the other end of the hook, intent on leaving no space between where the end of the eye met the shank. Happy with the shape, I plunged it into the oil.

“That’ll do,” Fergus said. “It’s thin; it’ll be cool already.”

I removed it, testing the heat with my finger; he was correct. “Should we make a casing with this one, or make the rest of the hooks . . . ?”

Fergus nodded at the forge. “Do the rest of the hooks, I think. We can make all the molds later.”

I set the hook down on the anvil and grabbed the next hanger.

Fergus watched Fischer intently, professional curiosity overcoming his aversion to anything heretical. He’d watched Fischer create four types of hooks already; the first one with a long shaft, and three rounded hooks of varying sizes that Fischer had called ‘circle hooks,’ only one of which had an eye at the end.

The one Fischer was now placing in the forge was the weirdest yet. The fisherman had created three of the medium-sized circle hooks and tied them together with thin wire at the blunt ends. The tips splayed out in even intervals, the three needle-like points facing outward.

Fergus’s intrigue grew as he watched the thin wire melt, fusing the three hooks together. When the amalgamation was glowing red, Fischer removed it, immediately getting to work with the pliers. He pinched the shafts together, fusing the metal into a single form.

While Fergus rarely worked with such small objects in the forge directly—usually only doing so to create casings—he couldn’t help but feel a kinship with Fischer’s attentiveness and care in creating the hook, heretical as it may be.

Fischer pinched the joining bits of metal meticulously, taking particular care around the eye to remove any imperfections or sharp edges. When he was content with the shape, he drove it down into the quenching pit, swirling it around. He withdrew the hook, inspected it with a discerning gaze, and nodded. Then, something unexpected occurred.

A small pulse hit Fergus, resonating between his stomach and lungs. He reeled, taking a few steps back in confusion.

“W-what was that?” Fischer’s eyes went wide, but quickly returned to normal.

Did I imagine that . . . ?

“You right, Fergus?”

“Yeah . . . I just . . . I thought I felt something.”Diiscover new stories at novelhall.com

“Is my smithing that impressive?”

Fischer smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

“Blown away by my skill and expertise in heretical matters?”

“That must be it . . . what do you call that hook?” Fergus asked, trying to change the subject.

“It’s called a treble hook, mate. I don’t think I’ll use it anytime soon, because they’re usually attached to lures, but thought I’d try making one and see if it was possible.”

“. . . lures?”

Fischer laughed, his face broadcasting delight. “It’s something made to look like a fish out of wood, plastic, or metal—basically, you pull it through the water to imitate a baitfish swimming, and when a bigger fish tries to eat it, the treble snags them no matter what direction they come from.”

“Metal? Do you want to try creating one?”

“I’ll gladly come back to do so another day, but after making the casings, I wanna get back and help Barry and the gang on the fields we’re making on my land.”

Fergus nodded, leaning into the conversation to distance himself from thoughts of the pulse.

“I heard about your fields—good business, that.”

Fischer shrugged. “Just the right thing to do, mate. I’m not charging them or anything, and I’m not using the land, so I’m happy for them to have a crack at farming it.”

“Aye, but you don’t need to help them.”

“You’re right; I don’t. Again, though, it seems like the right thing to do.”

Fergus smiled, his thoughts momentarily swept away by feelings of gratitude for Fischer’s arrival.

“Well, if you want to get back to the fields and help them, let’s get started on the molds.”

An almost predatory grin spread across Fischer’s face, and he nodded.

“Let’s.”

The early afternoon sun and an accompanying breeze felt cool on my skin as I walked back toward the fields.

Man, what a productive day!

I’d managed to create hooks and moldings, catch dinner, and even prepare fertilizer for mine and Barry’s nighttime activity.

“So?” Roger demanded. “You think we’re incapable of planting stalks?”

“No, but you can do stuff in your fields, right? You’re really trying to tell me you have nothing to work on? Last I heard, you had a field with improper levels that desperately wants a stabilizing crop planted in it . . .”

Roger’s lips moved as his pride warred with his financial pressures.

“Dad.” Maria shook her head lightly, a stray strand of hair falling from behind her ear.

“There’s no shame in accepting kindness—you’d do the same if they needed it, wouldn’t you?”

“ . . . I would,” he reluctantly admitted.

“So let them help. Now that we have other fields to plant crops in, we can fix the nitrogen in our own. The sooner we plant them, the sooner we can resume growing sugarcane or wheat.”

Roger averted his eyes and nodded a single time.

“And what do we say when people help us, Dad?”

He glared at her. Standing, he muttered as he turned to walk away.

“I didn’t hear you, Dad!” she yelled after him.

“I said thank you, dammit!” he called over his shoulder, still marching.

Maria let out a deep sigh as she turned back toward Barry and me. “I swear, that man . . .”

I shook my head with a small laugh. “Old codgers are the same everywhere. If you ever met my dad, you’d think Roger a saint.”

She raised an eyebrow. “. . . codgers?”

“Yeah, you know—codgers, fellas, old blokes. Same thing.”

She gave me a bemused smile.

“You have the oddest way of speaking, Fischer.”

I beamed a grin. “Thank you!”

She playfully rolled her eyes at me. “Still, I find it hard to believe that your father could be worse than mine . . .”

“You’ll have to take my word for it. He’s passed now, but he was an abrasive bloke at the best of times.”

“Oh, I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s all good. He did everything he wanted in life, and his only regret was probably yours truly.”

Barry and Maria both blinked at me, concern flooding their expressions.

“Err . . . that came out worse than I meant it to. I’m okay—really.”

Maria gave a kind smile as she stood, brushing her overalls off. “Well, sorry to leave it on a sad note, but I’d better get back to Dad before he takes his anger out on our sacks of seed.”

I stood too. “Not at all—sorry if I brought the mood down.”

She smiled again, and clearly unsure of what to say, waved, and set off.

“Damn,” I said to Barry. “Think I might have killed the vibe there.”

Barry grimaced. “It may have reminded her of her mother’s, well, mortality.”

I facepalmed, groaning at my stupidity. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think about that . . .”

“It’s fine. I have a feeling that Sharon will get better soon.”

“I didn’t even know her name was Sharon. I’m a terrible neighbor . . .”

“If you were a terrible neighbor, Fischer, you wouldn’t be helping them create a farm on your property for free.”

Barry stood, collecting the almost empty tray of sandwiches. “Let’s focus on what we can do. You caught a fish?”

Barry was right, of course.

There’s no use in dwelling—I can make a difference in their situation, so that’s what I’ll do.

I grinned. “You ask me, the heretical Fischer, if I caught a fish?” I shook my head in mock dismay. “My good man, who do you take me for?”