Dangerous Territory

by Lindsay Schopfer

  “But it isn’t true,” said Keltin. “Well, not precisely. Anyway, we’re partners. I’m not interested in taking any recognition from either of you.”

  “We know that,” said Bor’ve’tai. “But for better or worse, we will be best served letting you be the face of our company. You are the most experienced of the three of us, after all. We should also consider that there are some people, even in Riltvin, that won’t react well to a company that advertises itself as having a Loopi and a Weycliff Wayfarer among its hunters. It’s better to let people think of you first, then have us follow along as needed.”

  “Besides,” said Jaylocke, “think of the thematic power of a name like ‘The Beast Hunter’. Picture a family up in the hill country. The father –tired from a hard day’s labor— sits carving a toy for the baby while mother helps older sister with her letters and numbers. Suddenly, there’s a scream in the night. There’s something outside. It claws at the door, filling them with fear before it leaves again, sure to be back the next night. The daughter looks to her mother with terror, and she looks back, her face nervous, but reassuring. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ she says. ‘Tomorrow, your father will go to... The Beast Hunter!’”

  Keltin held up his hands. “All right, all right. If both of you are so insistent, then we’ll keep the name. It doesn’t matter much to me either way.”

  He set aside his empty plate and took up his hat from the stand by the door.

  “I’m off to the shop. Try to keep the place in one piece while I’m gone.”

  Keltin left his friends and stepped out onto the streets of Collinsworth. It was good to see the town returning to a semblance of its normal self now that the mad rush north was over. Months ago, the town had been a riotous mash of hopeful prospectors all trying to buy supplies for the trip to Drutchland. While there were still those who no doubt felt the allure of distant gold, Keltin was glad to see that the town had settled into a more natural rhythm.

  He soon left the merchant district and was just on the outskirts of the residential area when he found the shop he was looking for. It was built next to the family’s home, along with a nearby covered forge and workshop. Keltin heard the distinctive ping of metal on metal from the workshop and went to investigate. He found a great barrel-chested man in a heavy leather apron making precise strikes on a wheel rim held firmly in place by a wiry apprentice.

  “Be right with you,” said the smith without pausing in his work, pounding the metal until he was satisfied with its shape. He straightened and turned to Keltin as the apprentice shoved the worked iron into a bed of hot coals.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” asked the smith.

  “I was heading for your shop and thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Keltin Moore. I think I’ve met your daughter a few times.”

  The man’s scarred eyebrows shot up. “Oh yes, Mr. Moore! It’s good to finally meet you in person.” The smith pulled off his glove and gave him a strong working-man’s handshake. “My name’s Abel Claxon. Jessica’s told us an awful lot about you.”

  “I’m not sure what she could say. I’ve only been by a couple of times in the last year.”

  “That’s more than enough to keep Jessica going.” Abel turned to his apprentice as the young man joined them. “Jonah, this is the nephew of Byron Moore.”

  The young man nodded respectfully and gave Keltin a handshake that was almost as firm as his masters.

  “Jessica is in the shop,” said Abel. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. Will you be in Collinsworth long?”

  “Actually, I’ve rented a space in town. I’m starting a beast hunting company.”

  The man’s eyes lit up.

  “Is that a fact? That’s wonderful! Just what the countryside needs. I hope you know how much we working folk respect the work of the Moore family. Your Uncle Byron is a local legend among gunsmiths. Do you still carry any of his pieces?”

  Keltin nodded. “My hunting rifle is one of his. And I have one of the few close weapons he ever made.”

  “I would dearly love to see them, if you ever care to bring them by. I’m sure my wife would fix you a splendid supper, if you’d honor us. I’d love to hear tales of your adventures. And if you ever have need of new gear or guns, please come to me first. I’ll sell you the very best I can make.”

  Keltin smiled, recognizing where Abel’s daughter had inherited some of her bright, friendly personality.

  “Father! I’ve brought your lunch.”

  Keltin turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Jessica was a pretty young blonde woman with a talent for smithing that her father had genuinely encouraged. She looked up from the footpath and lit up with a dazzling smile as she saw Keltin.

  “Mr. Moore! It’s so good to see you!”

  “Thank you. How are you, Jessica?”

  “Very well. It looks like you’ve finally met my father?”

  “Yes, I was just telling him that I’ve started a beast hunting business here in town.”

  “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad. Oh! Father, here’s your lunch. I nearly forgot.”

  Jessica turned to her father’s apprentice.

  “Here you are, Jonah. Shaved beef on glazed toast.”

  “Thank you. That’s my favorite.”

  “I know.”

  The blacksmith’s daughter gave Jonah a smile as she handed over the package. Keltin took notice of that smile and made a mental note to mention it to Jaylocke. The previous spring, they’d paid a visit to the shop and the wayfarer had suggested that Jessica had been sweet on Keltin. Whether that had been true at the time or not, it was clear that the girl’s affections were firmly placed elsewhere. Keltin turned back to the girl’s father.

  “Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something. We’re having issues with rats in our offices. Do you carry traps?”

  Abel frowned. “Not that I remember. Jessica’s in charge of our outside merchandise.”

  “I can look in the storage room, father, but I’m fairly sure we don’t have any in stock.”

  “Well, that’s no matter. We should be able to make you some fairly easily. It’d primarily be a matter of shaping the proper sort of springs for them. Jonah, do you think you could manage something?”

  “Yes sir. I’ll start on it tonight.”

  “I appreciate it,” said Keltin. “I suppose we’ll just have to make due until then.”

  “Wait,” said Jessica. “What about this?”

  She moved to a corner of the workshop and picked up a small object from the cluttered worktable. Turning, she produced a tiny pistol in the palm of her hand. Keltin took it and examined the workmanship.

  “This looks like a Haurizer pocket pistol, but not quite.”

  “It’s one of my own,” said Jessica.

  “I wanted her to see how a small piece differed from a larger one,” said Abel, pride clear in his voice.

  “What kind of shot does it take?”

  “Haurizer Poppers.”

  “What’s the effective range?”

  “Several yards,” said Jessica. “It’ll go farther, but after twenty feet or so it loses most of its kick. Would you like to try it?”

  “All right.”

  Keltin followed Jessica along with Abel and Jonah to the makeshift range in the back of their property. Abel handed him a small box of Poppers and Keltin fed one into the breech of the tiny pistol. He took a little time to familiarize himself with handling the almost comically small gun. Several shots and a few adjustments later, Keltin was able to score three bullseyes in a row. He turned to see Jessica and her father both grinning at him.

  “I’d love to see you do that with a real gun,” said Abel.

  “Targets are easy,” said Keltin. “They don’t move, and they aren’t trying to kill you.”

  “Do you like the gun?” asked Jessica.

  “It’s not my usual sort of gun, but it’s well made. How much are you asking for it?”

  “Oh, it was just for pra
ctice. I wouldn’t feel right charging for it.”

  Keltin noticed Abel’s face cloud over.

  “Well then, how much would you charge for a Haurizer pocket pistol?” asked Keltin.

  Jessica thought for a moment.

  “Twelve jeva.”

  “All right. I’ll give you fifteen for the pistol and a box of Poppers.”

  “But Mr. Moore—”

  Keltin raised his hand. “You do good work Jessica, but if you want anyone to take you seriously, you need to start selling some of it. Besides, I had some success up north last winter. Take the money.”

  Jessica bit her lip thoughtfully. Keltin caught Abel smiling and nodding slightly at him over the girl’s shoulder. Keltin gave a subtle nod in return as Jessica spoke up.

  “All right. Thank you, Mr. Moore!”

  “My pleasure.”

  The transaction was made, and Keltin bid them all a fond farewell before leaving and making his way back to the office. Keltin opened the front door and was surprised to see a stranger sitting in their waiting area. He was tall and long, with short, sandy hair and a trim, matching mustache. When he stood, Keltin had to look up at him.

  “Hello,” said Keltin. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I think so. Are you Keltin Moore?”

  “That’s right.”

  The man smiled politely and extended a long-fingered hand to him.

  “Marius Harper, Collinsworth Gazette. I spoke with your business partner and agreed to come down to talk with you and see if there might be a story in your new business here.”

  “Oh, ah... all right. I hadn’t expected that. Could you excuse me for a moment?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Keltin went to the backroom where he found Jaylocke and Bor’ve’tai sorting their gear.

  “Why did you bring that reporter here?” Keltin hissed.

  Jaylocke shrugged, seemingly indifferent to Keltin’s tone.

  “Well, I was out running an errand when I walked past the Gazette’s office and thought that now that we have a name for the business, it’s time to start spreading the word.”

  “You could have asked me first.”

  “I didn’t think you’d mind. I’ve already told Mr. Harper all about you and your adventures. He’s mainly here just to get a quote or two from you.”

  “Jaylocke...”

  Bor’ve’tai placed a gentle hand on Keltin’s shoulder. “Impulsive as our partner may have been, a story in the paper could indeed drum up good business for us. Just be yourself. You’ll do fine.”

  Keltin looked into the Loopi’s deep brown eyes a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

  “All right. I’ll try.”

  He squared his shoulders and returned to the reception area. The newspaperman stood again and smiled. Keltin cleared his throat.

  “I’m sorry about that. What was your name again?”

  “"Please, just call me Harper. Marius was my mother's idea, and I was never consulted. So, is this a good time?” he asked. “Or should I return later?”

  “No, it’s fine, though I apologize for the state of things around here. We’re still getting this place cleaned up.”

  “Please don’t concern yourself about it.”

  Keltin led the reporter to his office, taking a seat behind his empty desk and inviting Harper to sit across from him. The reporter took out a pad and pencil.

  “Mr. Jaylocke certainly piqued my interest with his tales of your adventures. I was hoping I could get some of the details from you that he was uncertain about.”

  “All right.”

  “Let’s start with where you come from. You’re a native Riltvinian, aren’t you? Mr. Jaylocke told me that you come from a family of beast hunters in the northern hill country. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it started with my great-grandfather.”

  “Do the members of your family still hunt?”

  “I think I still have an uncle in the south that hunts occasionally.”

  “But you’re the only one hunting in Riltvin.”

  “Yes.”

  “So in a way, you’re carrying the family tradition all on your own?”

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  Harper nodded as he scribbled notes in his notebook.

  “Mr. Jaylocke also mentioned the influx of beasts in Krendaria last year. What can you tell me about that?”

  Keltin proceeded to describe the events of the Krendarian campaign as best he could, though he often was unsure what details Harper would find interesting. It turned out that Marius Harper seemed interested in anything Keltin had to tell him. He asked about everything Keltin could remember of the desperate battle to save the crops of Dhalma Province and the terrible days spent trapped in the farmhouse of Elaine’s uncle.

  They had just begun to talk about the final encounter with the tusked giant when Keltin suddenly tensed. With a sudden surge, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his newly purchased pocket pistol. Mr. Harper jumped half a foot as Keltin took quick aim and fired into the shadows of the room.

  “Plaguing hex!” exclaimed the reporter as Keltin went to inspect his shot.

  With a grunt of satisfaction he bent down and lifted a very dead rat up by its tail. Harper looked at the bullet hole in the rodent’s head with a gaping stare. Keltin cleared his throat.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “We’re getting traps made for us. Until then we’re making do.” Keltin gave a rueful smile. “I suppose it wouldn’t reflect very well on The Beast Hunter if our customers found that we had rats in our offices.”

  Harper swallowed and shook his head, his eyes wide as two-jeva coins.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone doubting that you’re The Beast Hunter, Mr. Moore.”

  * * *

  “I never said that!”

  “Which part?” asked Bor’ve’tai.

  Keltin got up off his bed and crossed the room that the three of them shared above their offices. He handed the paper to the Loopi.

  “Hardly any of it, truth be told,” he said, then pointed to a particular section. “The worst is this part. He makes me sound like the hero of a smear novel.”

  “Which part is that?” asked Jaylocke.

  Bor’ve’tai read aloud.

  “’Just as his family has done for generations, Keltin Moore has dedicated his life to the protection of the innocent from creatures dredged up from the stuff of nightmares. While lesser men would bolt the doors and quake in their insecurity, The Beast Hunter routinely plunges into the darkness to put down the monsters of the night. This is his duty, his very essence, and you can tell it from the first moment that you look into eyes that have seen more than any normal man will ever see.’”

  Jaylocke grinned. “It sounds fairly accurate to me, though I wouldn’t have been so subtle.”

  Keltin gave the wayfarer a withering look. “I didn’t ask for him to write me up like that. No one will take us seriously after this.”

  “Don’t worry so much,” said Jaylocke. “It’s just one newspaper story, and a glowing one at that. Just take it for what it’s worth and don’t worry about it.”

  “I’d offer the same advice,” said Bor’ve’tai.

  Keltin started to reply when there was a sudden sound from downstairs.

  “What was that?” asked Keltin.

  “It sounded like someone knocking on the front door,” said Bor’ve’tai.

  The sound came again. Keltin went downstairs with Jaylocke and Bor’ve’tai trailing behind him. Keltin opened the front door to find a stranger waiting on the steps. The man was in his middling years, with a potato nose and a look of concern on his plain features.

  “Can we help you?” asked Keltin.

  The man looked at the three of them with uncertainty. “Are you... which one of you is The Beast Hunter?”

  Keltin suppressed a grimace. He still wasn’t sure this name was such a good idea.

&
nbsp; “I’m Keltin Moore. What can I do for you?”

  The man focused on Keltin with some obvious relief, extending a large, weathered hand to him.

  “My name is Clemmons, sir. There’s... well... there’s something on my property that... ain’t natural. I didn’t know whether to talk with the constable or the priest, but when I read about you in the Gazette, I thought that maybe I should come talk with you.”

  “Well that was fast,” said Jaylocke. “That story only came out today. Your land must be in the residential district.”

  The wayfarer’s quip was lost on the poor man, who shook his head in reply.

  “No sir, I was in town already for supplies and just happened to buy a paper and saw the article about your adventures in Krendaria and Drutchland.”

  “See, Keltin? We’re already getting business from that article.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Keltin. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Clemmons, and tell us about your problem.”

  “Thank you kindly.” Clemmons sat and began his story. “I have a farm about ten miles north of Jackson. I was pulling weeds in one of the fields near-to-two weeks ago when I saw it. I stood up to stretch and saw what looked like a puff of smoke wafting through the trees. I thought it was a little odd, as I was pretty far from my nearest neighbor. I wondered if perhaps someone was making camp on my land, and went to investigate. But when I got closer I saw that there was no fire, just a bluish cloud of smoke. As I watched, it curled up a tree trunk to a squirrel that had been chittering away at me. Suddenly the squirrel went silent as the smoke covered it. It struggled a moment, then dropped dead out of the tree. The smoke went back down, and I swear, it’s like it started to... eat the squirrel.” The man shuddered. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I ran all the way home.”

  Keltin nodded. “We saw similar beasts in Krendaria last year. Have you spotted the smoke beast again, since that first time?”

  “Just one other time. I ran for my life as soon as I saw it. Now I’m afraid to go out in my fields, and I’m especially afraid for my family while I’m away. Please, can you do something?”

  Keltin glanced at Bor’ve’ta, who gave him a slight nod.