Thoughts of an Eaten Sun

by Kyle Tolle

  Hantle nodded. “Yes. I am certain of the threat to Harsenth.” He recognized now what motivated the mayor and his council. “Of the danger to your names and fortunes.”

  The mayor pushed himself up and stepped to the edge of his dais. “And of the risk to our denizens, of course. That, Eamel, is paramount.”

  “Yes.” Eamel turned to him. “The townspeople are the lifeblood of Harsenth.” She yielded, lowering her head and shrugging her shoulders. “Of course.”

  The mayor looked satisfied at having made his point and returned to his seat.

  Hantle exhaled. “If I could not save my own town, I at least hope to save this one.”

  Eamel looked to Hantle again and beckoned him forward. “Please tell us what you would recommend.”

  “Set up a force, call for aid if any is near, and be ready to face the wolf head-on. If we cannot prevent the hammer fall, we can lessen the blow.”

  Galbien said, “We could send to Bansuth for aid?”

  The mayor shook his head. “I would ask them for nothing before other options are exhausted.”

  “Why do you say that?” Hantle asked. Was the man solely driven by ego?

  “Bansuthians consider us backward imbeciles. Yes, Bansuth is indeed many times larger, but we are just as hard-working, driven, and forward-thinking.” Mayor Rhet slammed his fist onto the chair’s arm and spoke more loudly. “The two thousand in Bansuth dwarf the few hundred farther out on the Far Finger, but they still rely on us. The harsh terrain of the Finger keeps most away, but the rugged and willing few provide food and lumber for the growing many.”

  Hantle said, “Surely then, their mayor would understand their reliance on Harsenth and recognize the utility of fighting alongside you, however begrudgingly.”

  The mayor’s forehead wrinkled as he shook his head more defiantly. “Only after they laugh at us for not protecting our own. There must be another way.”

  Eamel walked to stand beside the mayor and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We must seriously consider this option. Bringing in Bansuth would place fewer of Harsenth’s resources at risk. Why should Harsenth weather this alone when Bansuth has as much to lose?”

  Hantle breathed with relief. She worked toward the same end as he, even if it were for different reasons. “How far away is Bansuth?”

  The mayor replied, “Two or three days ride, unless the rider was hell-bent on the journey and could get fresh horses.”

  The mayor, Galbien, Eamel, and the others discussed who should be sent, where fresh horses could be obtained, and what message would be most persuasive. The leadership was now animated and energetic. Hantle listened for a time, because the idea was attractive: bring in a larger power to help fight for the town. But a larger problem still remained.

  Hantle spoke above the rest of the group. “We do not have multiple days to wait for reinforcements. The wolf will come tonight. The drunkard earlier described the wolf as tall as the buildings of Toupil. And I know from experience that as it feeds each night, it grows larger. Tonight, it will be bigger yet.

  “We must prepare the town today, or Harsenth will be reduced to ruins like those towns your soldiers found this morning. Your life’s work, names, and legacies laid low like this town hall’s stones. Yet if you succeed, your names will be spoken in every home in Bansuth. You will enjoy the renown of the entire Fist.”

  “So we are alone in this fight,” Mayor Rhet said.

  “No,” Hantle said. “We are far from alone. Out there are soldiers. Each one a force to be reckoned with.”

  The mayor looked to his council. “We are not left with much choice. To risk death or bow before it. The consolation being that, if we set our arms against the threat, we will persist and earn glory.” Hantle noticed Rhet looked hesitant to give a “yes.”

  Eamel nodded. “You are correct. And without a town to safeguard, what good is a mercenary force?” All pretense of protecting the townsfolk first and foremost had vanished.

  Galbien stood, saying, “Call a town emergency and order all indoors. That will show we are taking serious action.”

  They broke into further discussion about options, actions, and preparations. Tension in Hantle’s shoulders lessened. It took appealing to their vanity, but he had brought this group to a decision. How many hours had they until the wolf appeared?

  The mayor left the council’s discussion and motioned to the lieutenant. “Lieutenant Vurm, add Hantle to your squad. He has experience we can leverage. We are trusting your word here, Hantle. If this night goes poorly, you are to blame. Not us.”

  Hantle nodded and accepted his fate.

  Hantle exited the town hall with the lieutenant, who collected the members of his squad. The sun rode lower in the afternoon sky. Their first task was to call a meeting in the town square for the mayor to address the denizens. Cries went up to announce the imminent speech.

  Hantle was eager to have well-equipped people to fight against the wolf. Numbers were still their best chance of killing the beast. He imagined landing the fatal shot to the wolf’s heart while a hundred troopers stood behind him, all having fired and now reloading their weapons. Musket smoke would swirl in the air. And the sun would rise on a saved town. With the wolf dead, he could return to Founsel. There he would find Lorenca. Learn she had escaped the village when the wolf came, and that she hid in the deep forest. He would pull the ring from his pocket—the ring he saved for her—and place it in her hands. Once reunited, they would fix the ring and make it round and right again. Just like they could make the family right again. They might even try for more children. After all, he would have made the world safe at last.

  Hantle realized his daydreaming and came back to the world as the mayor stepped into the daylight on the town hall’s veranda, closely followed by his council, who took up seats just outside the door. Mayor Rhet continued forward and took his position at a podium while Lieutenant Vurm leaned over to whisper, “The mayor rarely makes public speeches. I can feel the town’s curiosity as to the reason why.”

  The square was filled with people of all ages eager to hear the mayor speak. Bordering the square were the mercenary soldiers. Hantle leaned back and asked, “How many soldiers does Harsenth have?”

  Vurm thought for a moment before answering. “Around fifty at the moment. With another twenty in reserve.”

  Hantle’s eyes widened. “Large number for the town.”

  “Politics are powerful here, just like elsewhere.”

  The mayor cleared his throat and began. “Good afternoon, denizens of Harsenth. I have called this meeting to discuss the rumors that have sprung up in our beloved town. Investigations of our neighboring villages have revealed their demise. The cause I cannot speak to with certainty, but I have received intelligence that indicates our town is at risk. As a precaution, I am declaring a state of emergency for Harsenth. All soldiers, whether active or in reserve, are mustered and called to duty. Any individual not in the force is ordered to remain in their home until the threat is dealt with.”

  A murmur went through the crowd and the mayor shifted his footing. He spoke over the spreading conversation to end it and keep the focus on him. “Our forces shall be fully armed and posted throughout the town this evening. Lieutenant Vurm will lead the preparations. Our soldiers are well trained and disciplined. I have every confidence they will see the morning safely rise over our homes.”

  The mayor looked to Vurm and said, “Lieutenant, please see these people back to the safety of their homes.”

  Lieutenant Vurm saluted the mayor and turned to the crowd. “You heard Mayor Rhet. Please return to your homes now and remain there for the duration of the evening.”

  The mayor and council entered the town hall once more. Vurm, Hantle, and the rest of the platoon ushered people from the square. Most residents obeyed without fuss, which freed up a majority of the troopers to begin preparations. Those few who caused scuffles were quickly contained. The streets were cleared by just after sunset.

>   Hantle returned to the square, his hopes raised. The platoon’s performance impressed him. They followed orders, handled their weapons well, and needed little oversight. The professionalism they embodied was apparent. Hantle’s excitement stifled a yawn. Pushing through the distance between Founsel and Harsenth led him to this moment. He brought these forces to attention and the town would soon be arrayed against the beast. His success gave him the means to ignore the exhaustion in his muscles, push aside the pain in his arm, and keep working into the night.

  Lieutenant Vurm approached Hantle’s side and spoke in a hushed voice. “I know you’re no soldier, but you have the most experience with our enemy. That’s experience I want to tap into. What is your opinion on how to best counter the wolf?”

  Hantle reflected on each of the nights in Founsel. Nothing had stopped the wolf, but what had worked best? “Each night we had patrols that encircled the village. One of those evenings, we were able to surround the creature. That was the night it bit me. With the guards around it, it gave up and fled. If we could encircle it again, with the numbers we have tonight, we may be able to bring it down. We found its stomach to be a weak spot.”

  The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, I can see that working. Surround it and shoot for the gut. Our troopers can patrol the town’s edges, and close the circle if the wolf enters to attack homes.”

  “Can you remind me how many soldiers you have?”

  “We have one platoon of ten squads for a total of seventy-four troopers.” Vurm saw Hantle’s yawn. “You look worn out. Do you need some rest before nightfall?”

  “No. I am fine. Your force here is impressive. I will not miss my chance for revenge. All I need is some food. That will give me another wind. And perhaps some jursant.”

  “There’s a hall nearby where you can eat. While you do so, I will coordinate with my sergeants. Mayor Rhet was intentionally vague with the townspeople, but my soldiers must know what they are up against.”

  Hantle left the mess hall and saw the activity in the streets. The soldiers were well geared and establishing their patrols. Groups carried equipment to stake alarm bells and lanterns, light fires, and gather additional fuel. Hantle had another idea while eating and sought out Vurm to share it. He found him building a scaffold for sharpshooters to gain elevation and have sights across rooftops.

  Hantle climbed up the framework. “Do you have artillery units?” he asked. “The heavier weapons could play a major role in bringing down the wolf.”

  “Yes, we have two cannons. But they are largely ceremonial. A few troopers are trained in their use though.” Vurm set down his tools and wiped his damp neck with a rag.

  Hantle was glad to not be wearing a uniform in the heat that still had not abated. He turned and pointed to the west, toward Toupil. “I expect the wolf to come from beyond the villages it destroyed last night. If we could head it off, we would have more warning of its coming.”

  Vurm tucked the rag into his back pocket and looked over the rooftops. “And those cannons would catch it by surprise. With two squads, we would have ourselves an ambush.”

  The cannons rumbled over the stone streets, drawn by horses. The artillery led the squads Lieutenant Vurm had assembled for the mission. Hantle, carrying a torch, brought up the rear. He took in the town as they walked the roads. Soldiers had set up blockades and traps at various junctions. Fires burned in intersections and alarm bells hung on wooden poles, waiting to be rung. The squads exited the town walls and continued for a ways. They reached a location where other soldiers had assembled false hedges, which were used to hide the cannons and troopers. Once the artillery was in place and the troopers spread out, they extinguished the torches. Hantle felt formidable with the cannons and the soldiers by his side. Night deepened and all Harsenth lay quiet.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TO MAINTAIN their element of surprise, no fires or lights burned near the two squads on the western edge of Harsenth. All of the soldiers crouched behind the fake hedges along the roadside. In the darkness, Hantle opened his eyes. Had he just shut them for a second? Or had he nodded off? He was not sure. With a grunt, he shifted his weight, brought his legs out from under him, and sat on the ground. Shimmering specks appeared in his eyes and he felt light-headed. His thinking seemed cloudy. He reassured himself this was fine. It was not most important to be clear-headed. This was the time for pure action. The dots faded, to be replaced with an image of him swinging an axe as if to fell a tree, but he aimed instead at the wolf’s neck. With a few strokes, he decapitated it and waved the head in the air to show the soldiers surrounding him. When the wolf was dead, and Harsenth saved, that was when he could seek rest.

  The razed village ahead of them lay quiet, still, and empty, lit by nothing more than the faintest of starlight. He listened for anything to break the silence. The smallest whispering could be the fiend coming upon them. He had not spoken enough to the soldiers besides Lieutenant Vurm to know their quality; though even if he had a sense of that, there was no way to know how prepared each would be for the grim reality of the beast, its size, ferocity, and speed. How could one predict your reaction to such an outlandish event until it struck, catching you unawares and throwing your body and mind into some sort of instinctual reaction? Except . . . Wasn’t that what he did with the recurring thoughts and imaginings? Perhaps there was a way to prepare for it, to condition your mind for what to expect. Playing out various scenarios so that, whichever of them happened, you might react more effectively and efficiently. Or was it a form of obsession or madness whereby the incessant thoughts would distract him, warp his focus, and leave him wildly hopeless when the moment came? It would be just as fitting, in a terrible sort of way, if his tired and drained mind spun on useless wonderings, leaving him confident but ill-equipped when action was needed. He yawned. What had even started him down this line of thought? Feeling unprepared . . . Ah, yes, how the soldiers would react. He turned his attention back to the pitch-dark, hoping to be the first to spot the thing so he could be an example to follow. Over the last day, he had pictured many ways of ending the beast. Which of those would tonight become reality?

  The clanging of an alarm bell came from Harsenth. Hantle growled, said to Lieutenant Vurm, “Those are only for emergencies,” and threw a look over his shoulder. He froze and gawked. In the distance, illuminated from beneath by some bonfire on the edge of the town, a form towered above Harsenth. The wolf had come. Even the tallest of the buildings fit between its legs without touching its underside. Blotches of black fur broke its lighter pelt into jagged shapes. Horror fell over Hantle as he realized their plan had been turned back on them: they were flanked and the beast enjoyed the element of surprise.

  Vurm was the first to stand and issue orders. “Fall in, soldiers. We will return to Harsenth. Artillery, follow as can.” With the soldiers gathering, he spoke to Hantle. “Stay with the artillery. Find me when they’re close and we can deploy them.” Before Hantle could even acknowledge him, Vurm moved to the head of the formation, calling out, “Double time, march.”

  The artillery soldiers lit torches, brought around the horses, and began attaching the cannon carts to the horses’ harnesses. Hantle’s stomach tightened. The opportunity to defeat the wolf was slipping from him already. His prediction of its attack was completely wrong. The fog in his mind grew thicker still. The cannons—the most crucial piece to taking down the wolf—were useless until they hauled them closer, a movement that would cost time. What had seemed a clever plan felt now to be a fiasco.

  Moments later the artillery rumbled toward the town—albeit at a torturous speed—where Hantle hoped they could salvage the night. He was able to see the wolf from afar but unable to do anything to curb its destruction. It stepped over the walls, into Harsenth proper, and lowered its head to clear a swath of the tall, half-timbered homes. Screams filled the air as the behemoth sought blood and flesh. Reports of musket fire went up but made no noticeable impact on the creature for its paws and claws and teeth b
lurred, toppling structures a block at a time. A blaze grew in the wreckage left behind and jumped from one ruined building to the next.

  Watching the beast move unimpeded was agonizing. By the time the artillery arrived, their window of opportunity could have passed, rendering useless the entire day Hantle had spent traveling to Harsenth. He could no longer bear to accompany the cannons, to walk when he should be fighting. He shouted to the artillery soldiers, “I have to move ahead, to scout out a location to deploy these, so we waste no time when you arrive. I will meet you ahead.”

  Hantle ran the remaining distance to Harsenth and stopped just inside its outer walls to take stock of his surroundings. The streets were filled with families fleeing or looters carrying armfuls of pilfered items. Other individuals hung out from gable windows to fire weapons at the wolf, but it paid them no mind. Hantle walked on, looking for a clearing. The streets of Harsenth wound and curved; some abruptly ended while others narrowed so as to be impassible by a cart. He doubted his ability to find a suitable location for the weaponry, but the lieutenant . . . Vurm knew the city well. Surely he would have an idea.

  Hantle followed the largest streets until he identified the sound of dozens of muskets firing in unison. He followed on to find the lieutenant standing in a square, several squads of soldiers—as well as what looked to be a dozen civilians—with him. The wolf was some blocks away, its head lowered to root through the buildings at its feet, when another row of structures behind it erupted into flame. Vurm called out for a volley, and the soldiers harnessed eruptions of their own.