Book 2: Chapter 22: New Beginnings

Book 2: Chapter 22: New Beginnings

It was a pleasantly cool day in Tropica—until a heat like that of the sun bloomed.

Fergus squinted and leaned back from the forge’s glow as he threw another shovel of coal into the hearth. He stepped to the side, wiping sweat from his brow with a burly forearm.Nnêw n0vel chapters are published at novelhall.com

“Ready, Duncan?”

“Aye!” his apprentice responded and started placing lengths of iron into a crucible.

Fergus watched carefully as Duncan added pinches of phosphorus and sulfur; there was a hint of hesitation in his movements.

“You’ve got this.” Fergus gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s the same as any other alloy.”

Duncan’s hand froze, and he looked up, his gaze wavering.

“You’re sure? I don’t want to ruin—”

“When was the last time you ruined anything in this smithy?” Fergus interrupted.

“I, uh... I can’t remember.”

“Neither can I. Besides, you thinking you’re not ready is calling into question my superior and flawless judgment.” Fergus shot him a wink. “That’s a paddlin’.”

Duncan’s uncertainty melted away, replaced by a flat stare.

“Just you try to paddle me.”

Roaring with laughter, Fergus clapped his apprentice on the shoulder.

“Just kidding, lad. You’re ready, all right? Let’s do it.”

Duncan set his jaw and nodded, so Fergus took up position by the bellows. As the apprentice put his goggles and thick gloves on, Fergus moved the bellows’ slowly, causing the added coal to glow red at the edges. When Duncan strode to the forge with the crucible held in a set of large tongs, his steps were sure and filled with purpose. He extended the crucible into the furnace, and Fergus began working the bellows in earnest.

***

A thin sheen of sweat covered Fergus’s body as he watched Duncan pour the molten metal into the molds they had prepared. The liquid was bright yellow and of uniform viscosity; the alloy’s creation had been a success.

Fergus said not a word, intent on watching the process. During the years he had been teaching Duncan the art of blacksmithing, he had slowly but surely grown to see the boy as his own son.

No, not a boy, he reminded himself, looking over Duncan’s muscled arms.

He had been a boy when he first came to his smithy, but now he was a man—and a blacksmith—in his own right. The waif of a boy that had shown up in his workshop was now a distant memory, and a smile came to Fergus’s face as he compared the bull of a man before him to the skinny orphan that first walked in the door all those years ago.

The last dregs on the molten metal dribbled down in the final mold, and Duncan breathed a sigh of relief as he set the tongs and crucible down.

“Perfect lad, just perfect.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Fergus snorted, and so did the bunny.

Wait, what?

The smith’s head darted to the side; a bunny had joined them on the bench and was peering down at the molds. It looked up at them and nodded a greeting.

“Uhhh,” both men said, the sound dragging out as their brains tried to comprehend what was going on.

I took off my outer clothes and, after one more good stretch, walked into the small waves peppering the shoreline.

The water was pleasantly cool, and the moment I got up to my knees, I collapsed beneath it. As I sprang back up, a whole-body shiver took me, and I walked further out into the ocean. When I could no longer walk, I swam, and I reached my destination in no time at all. Large wooden poles marked the spot, and as I caught sight of the cages strung between them, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The oyster cages were one of the first things I constructed after coming to Tropica. I’d created them for two reasons: replenishing the oyster population a certain otter was decimating, and, more importantly, pearls. At the time, I’d thought pearls were a source of gold, but as it turned out, they were much, much more valuable than that. I hadn’t checked the cages because, well, what was the point? We had plenty of food, I didn’t want or need for more gold, and I thought they’d take a fair while to grow. My understanding was that oysters took years to reach maturity.

My understanding was wrong.

Each cage strung up before me—all six of them—were filled to the brim with massive oysters. I yelled excitedly underwater, and it came out in a garbled stream of bubbles.

I started untying the first cage, picturing the look on my animal pal’s faces when I presented them with an entire cage of freshly shucked oysters.

***

Number Three breathed deep of the afternoon air, delighting in the humidity and scents of the forest.

The sun was setting behind them, and as he looked at the surrounding faces, he saw similar looks of contentment. As much as they could butt heads at times, they were unified in their mission, and being so close to their destination had picked up their moods greatly.

Even Two, whose patience had become shorter with each passing day—and each time someone slipped up and didn’t use a codename—sat with a small smile on his face, bathing in the afternoon sun.

Three couldn’t help himself.

“You look almost serene, Keith.”

Two, the human formerly known as Keith, sputtered with indignation.

“Number Two!” he boomed, glancing at the surrounding trees. “My name is Two!”

By his estimate, Three did a fantastic job of hiding his amusement behind the appropriate amount of chagrin, but then Four burst into laughter and he couldn’t help but join in. Five joined in soon after, and even One, who was engrossed in one of his large tomes, arched an amused eyebrow over his book.

Two’s face went beet red, and he rounded on their expedition leader.

“You too, One? I thought you were above their childish games!”

“Normally I would err on the side of caution, but I believe I recognize the mountain we are about to crest.”

“So?” Two demanded, his fury still hot. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Three gave One an appreciative look.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. How did you know?”

One spun the tome he was reading, revealing a topographical map of Kallis’ eastern coast.

They smiled at each other, and Two made a series of exasperated noises.

“Will you both stop speaking in riddles and explain why the mountain we’re on has a gods damned thing to do with revealing my true name?” He hissed the last two words, as if merely speaking them would bring about ruin.

Just then, the cart shifted angles. They started moving downhill, and the other side of the mountain came into view.

Rolling fields of green and yellow crops swayed in an unseen breeze. A smattering of buildings were bunched together, some of which had gray streaks of smoke rising from their chimneys. Most notable of all was the far distance; the sky was pink and orange above an endless sea of blue and green.

“Because, Keith...” Theo answered with a broad grin. “We’ve arrived at Tropica.”