Harper’s smile was thoughtful.
“I don’t know too many men that would have concerned themselves with something like that,” he said.
Keltin didn’t respond, as he had chosen not to mention to the newspaperman the other contingency he had if things went truly awry. In one of his vest pockets he carried the pocket pistol he’d purchased from Jessica to kill rats. He’d brought it on a whim, rather than any planned purpose. Still, if he had to cross the border, it might be good to have a small, easily concealable firearm. He tried not to think about the fact that the pistol’s Haurizer Poppers, while lacking in power, were nonetheless a potentially lethal ammunition. If he had to shoot someone with the pocket pistol and wasn’t careful...
He snapped closed the chamber to the hand cannon.
“I kill beasts, not men,” he said aloud.
Harper nodded and turned to lead them away from the station. Keltin studied the town as they made their way down its scarred, tired looking streets. A year ago it had been a hotbed of contentions, a city on the brink of revolution with tension in every expression. Now, the city looked haggard and beaten, like the bloody loser of a street fight. People walked with their heads bowed, barely sparing a warry glance at strangers. It occurred to Keltin that the people who had warned him of the danger in Carvalen may have misjudged the state of affairs in the city. This wasn’t a place of bubbling violence anymore. If there was danger, it lurked in the dark shadows, not out in the open.
Keltin looked at a woman in rags carrying what looked like someone else’s washing in a heavy basket, trying to skirt the worst of the garbage in the streets. He wondered if the common people like her were any better or worse off than they had been before the revolution. After the fighting and the fires were over, what had really changed? As fragile as the current government’s hold on power was, Keltin was sure that a new upper class would eventually establish itself, leaving the rest of the people just where they were before. At least, those that had survived.
Eventually they arrived at a small, unobtrusive building that showed the stains of smoke but was otherwise still intact. Inside they met Harper’s contact, a man with cracked spectacles and haunted eyes. He easily gave the necessary directions to the address on Destov’s letter, and Keltin turned to bid Harper farewell.
“I enjoyed visiting with you on the trip,” said the newspaperman. “Good luck in Dhalma. Perhaps we’ll see each other again in Collinsworth when this is all over.”
Keltin agreed and departed, wondering just how much still stood between him and that distant reunion.
* * *
The sun was riding low in the sky by the time Keltin reached the Lona farm. He sat up on the buckboard next to the driver that had been tasked with delivering him there. Looking at the farm, Keltin half-expected to see the same sort of hastily thrown-together fortifications he had seen the last time he had been in the province. But the workers seemed far less concerned about beasts than they had been the year before. The only fortification he saw was a rough earth wall that had been started but never finished, now eroded by a year’s worth of rain and snow. The driver noticed him looking at the embankment.
“Luckily, we haven’t needed to build that thing back up, though I can’t imagine there being enough beasts around here that you’d need to.”
Keltin made no comment as the driver pulled the wagon to a halt by the barn. He jumped off the buckboard and pulled down his pack and gear. Turning, he spied a man walking towards him across the farmyard. He was short and stocky, his face and arms burned brown by many days spent in the sun. The man stopped a few feet in front of Keltin, seemingly taking in his rifle, gear, the hand cannon at his hip, and the three-foot long Ripper hanging from his shoulder.
“You must be the new beast hunter we asked for,” he said.
“I am. My name’s Keltin Moore. Are you Mr. Ross?”
“No, my name’s Largos Yull. I’m the foreman of this farm. Ross is around here somewhere though.”
Keltin handed him his letter of introduction from Destov. Yull scanned it for a moment.
“Well, Mr. Moore, it says here that you were a part of the campaign that was up this way last year.”
“That’s right.”
Yull seemed to consider that for a moment before continuing.
“I was working on a farm out east, but we heard what you folks did. Hexing brave of the lot of you. You likely saved a lot of lives.”
“You’re Krendarian? I thought all of Mr. Whitt’s foremen were from Riltvin?”
“Most of them are, but there are a few natives in the lot, and most of the workers are still Krendarian.”
Keltin nodded, looking out at a nearby field, where workers crouched among the green leafy potato plants pulling out offending weeds.
“I’m glad to hear that. Dhalma was all but abandoned when I was last here.”
Yull frowned. “Well, it isn’t like it was before last year. None of the old families are here anymore. Nearly everyone left. It’s all foreign investors now that own these fields.” Yull shrugged and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, either way. My boys and I will focus on getting the crops in. You can have all the beasts to yourself.” He turned and pointed at a long, low building next to the barn. “The workers are all staying in the bunkhouse, but there’s a spare room in the farmhouse that you can stay in when you’re here. You go on in. Ross is probably in there somewhere.”
Keltin thanked the foreman and turned towards the farmhouse. Walking up the beaten earth path to the door, he allowed himself in. There was little light inside, and he squinted in the gloom to make out a narrow hallway with several doors leading into the rest of the house and a stairway up to the second floor. Closing the front door, he turned just as a young woman came into the hallway. Her eyes flashed wide and she gave a startled yelp. Too late, Keltin realized just how he and all his armaments must look to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
He started to set his rifle down on the boot board when he heard a low, snuffling growl from somewhere in the house. There was a clacking of claws on hardwood floor, and suddenly the doorway to one of the rooms was filled with the dark silhouette of a massive, four-legged creature. Instinctively, Keltin yanked his rifle into his shoulder, lining his sights even as he tried to make out any features of the beast in the dim light. His fingertip had just touched the trigger when the girl shouted out desperately.
“No Wait! It’s just Kuff!”
She thrust herself in front of Keltin and stood facing the massive creature, showing the palm of one hand and speaking in a gentle, firm tone.
“Al-Hah!” she said. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”
The great creature visibly relaxed, its bunched shoulders slackening as it leaned forward to nuzzle the girl’s hand. As Keltin’s eyes adjusted to the light he realized what he was looking at. It was a tamarrin hound, a fierce species of beast that had long ago been domesticated by the Krendarians and selectively bred for the hunting of other beasts. Fully-grown, a hound stood four-feet at the shoulder with long, muscular bodies and curiously feathered tails. Keltin had seen such hounds while in Krendaria the year before, and knew them to be both fiercely loyal and incredibly deadly once fully trained. It was clear that the girl was unafraid of the creature as she offered it her hand. The hound sniffed it once -perhaps looking for a treat- before turning and leaving them alone again.
The girl turned back to Keltin.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Kuff is still learning how to act around strangers.”
“It’s my fault. I should have knocked first.”
The girl looked away nervously, giving Keltin a chance to study her features. Her hair was long and pale blonde, framing a face that looked about the same age as Jessica Claxon’s. She wore a rough cotton dress and an apron that was clean despite a number of old stains on its surface. Keltin coughed and tried to imitate one of Jaylocke’s friendly smiles.
“I�
��m sorry for startling you. My name is Keltin Moore. I’m a beast hunter. I’ve been hired to help protect the workers on the farm.”
She gave him a tight, uncertain smile. “My name is Wendi. I work in the kitchen here. You’ll want to meet Mr. Ross. Kuff belongs to him. I’ll go find him for you.”
She turned and hurried upstairs. Keltin stepped further into the house. He peered around a doorway to find a living room and a comfortable blaze in the fireplace. The tamarrin hound’s massive form lay curled up before the crackling fire, warming his sandy brown back against the glowing embers. His eyes were closed and he seemed content, but Keltin knew enough of the creatures to remain at a respectful distance until they were better acquainted.
“Well I’ll be plagued,” said a voice from up above. “It is you!”
Keltin looked up to see a man descending the stairs. He had the hardened, weathered features of a man on the cusp of hardy old age. He stepped into the living room and smiled, clasping his weathered hands on Keltin’s shoulders.
“Captain Moore! It’s been some time.”
Keltin gave him a curious look. His craggy features were somehow familiar, but Keltin couldn’t place him.
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
The man shrugged. “In a way, though I saw more of you than you did of me. We hound trainers kept mostly to ourselves under Baron Rumsfeld, but we all knew about Captain Keltin Moore and his team of stalker hunters.”
Realizations dawned on Keltin.
“You were part of the campaign,” he said.
“That’s right, and I’m plaguing glad that it’s you that’s come to help me. I couldn’t have asked for a better man. Well, barring another trainer, of course.”
Ross took a seat by the fire and waved Keltin towards an overstuffed chair across from him. Keltin sat down, grateful for the soft cushion underneath him after the long hours spent bouncing on a buckboard. Kuff immediately lifted his head at the sight of Ross, but a dismissive wave of the hand and a mumbled command saw the hound lower his head back to the floor.
“Wendi told me that you already met Kuff,” he said, nodding at the hound. “I’m sorry he acted like that. He’s only half a year into his training, and still learning when to be a hound and when not to.”
“He wasn’t there for the campaign then?”
Ross shook his head, his features hardening. “No. I lost my hound on that hexed campaign. Got tangled with a barbed thresher. She...”
Ross went silent.
“I’m sorry,” said Keltin. “We all lost friends on that campaign.”
Ross nodded. He spat savagely into the fire, leaving it to hiss for a moment in the glowing flames before he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Kuff.
“This one is out of one of her litters. Kept him for myself. I would have liked to give him more time to train before taking him on hunts, but I didn’t have that luxury, being the only hunter in a hundred leagues. Well, until you showed up, that is.”
“I don’t understand. Where are the other Krendarian hunters? Where are your fellow trainers?”
“It wasn’t just hounds we lost in the campaign. A lot of trainers are gone now, including Captain Tallow.”
“I didn’t know he died. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It happened after you and your company went into the northern country.” Ross sighed and shook his head. “Things were bad all around by that time. We did our best to hold the line that Baron Rumsfeld set, but when the fires in the capital started, the campaign fell apart. Those that weren’t native to Krendaria fled the country. Those that had family here went to their homes, trying to protect their loved ones and goods from the chaos spreading out from Carvalen.”
“But what about now? Why aren’t there more native hunters here in Dhalma Province?”
Ross shrugged. “Most of them left. Many fled the country during the revolution. The rest went to look for their fortune in the Wylow Gold Rush.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I’m a hound trainer, not a prospector. My hounds are my family, so I stayed here to see to Kuff’s training. Besides, I had to stay to see after Wendi.”
“Is she your daughter?”
“She could be, couldn’t she? No, her family and I were neighbors. I found her after I came home from the campaign. Her family hadn’t survived the beasts. She didn’t have anywhere to go, and I couldn’t leave her alone, so she came to live with me. Makes herself useful with cooking and cleaning. She’s a good girl. She couldn’t stand the thought of being left alone again when I was hired to come out here, so I brought her along.”
Keltin heard a soft creak of the floorboards beyond their room. Kuff’s ears twitched as well, and the two of them looked up to see Wendi appear in the doorway.
“Supper’s done,” she said softly. “I’ve put out an extra plate for you, Mr. Moore.”
“Thank you,” said Keltin, trying another smile on her, but she didn’t look his way and left without another word.
Dinner proved to be a potato soup with chunks of spicy Krendarian sausage and good crispy bread with butter and marmalade for spreading. Keltin did his best to eat slowly, but he couldn’t help getting multiple helpings of everything before him.
“This is delicious,” he said to Wendi.
The girl finally gave him a shy smile and placed another ladleful of soup in Keltin’s bowl without waiting to be asked. Ross finished chewing a mouthful of bread and leaned towards Keltin.
“Well, let me tell you something of what we’re facing here. I know you’re already familiar with the terrain and the beasts that we usually see, and God be praised, we won’t have nearly as many to face this time, though our numbers are certainly not as impressive as they were last season.”
“Can we expect any help at all from the Krendarian military?”
“Not very likely. There were plenty of desertions when the war was lost with Larigoss in the south. I think Parliament is trying to keep the best troops it has left close to the capital, just to keep order. ”
“Even still, they can’t afford to ignore this area. The crops are just as needed now as they were last year.”
“It’s not that they don’t see the need. The problem is coordination. Minister Erickson was deposed nearly two weeks ago with no replacement, and a seat in Parliament these days is as permanent as a stool in a roadside pub house. There just isn’t anyone who’s managed to pull the government together to get something done. Until then, it’ll be up to the people to see to their own needs.”
Ross went on to explain the logistics of the region and just what sort of task they had set out for them. Mr. Whitt and his partners had purchased a total of nine different farms of varying sizes across the province. Four of them were adjacent to the Lona Farm, while the other four were more scattered, two in the west, one to the south, and a final one to the north and east. Ross had established a routine of patrolling through the farms and their fields with Kuff, spending one day to the west, south, and north-east farms for every four he spent at the base of operations here at the Lona farm. He and Kuff had already brought down three beasts consisting of a serpent stag, a spiked thresher, and a winged strangler.
“Any sign of a tusked giant or warp beast?” asked Keltin.
“No, and let’s hope it stays that way,” said Ross, pinching his left ear for good luck.
“What about the other farms in the province, the ones that Mr. Whitt doesn’t own? Are they being worked? Do they have hunters?”
“I’ve seen men working the fields, but I haven’t spoken with any of them. Do you think we should?”
“I do. Even if we’re not working together directly, it doesn’t hurt to know who your neighbors are when beasts are about. At the very least, you should introduce Kuff to them so they know not to shoot at him if he turns up unexpectedly on their property.”
“All right. We can do a patrol of Mr. Whitt’s properties starting tomorrow. There are several farms he doe
sn’t own along the way that we can visit.”
“Good.” Keltin set aside his empty bowl and yawned. “In that case, I’d like to get some rest. Do you stand watch over the workers?”
“No. The bunkhouse has a sturdy lock, as does the barn and the stable. Don’t worry. Kuff sleeps outside. He’ll let us know if something comes calling.” Ross turned to Wendi. “Could you show Mr. Moore to his room? I’ll do the washing up.”
Keltin followed Wendi out of the dining room and up the stairs to the second floor. She led him to a bedroom down the hall, stopping just outside the doorway to allow him in. Keltin lit a candle on the nightstand and laid his gear down at the foot of the bed.
“Is there anything else that you need, sir?” asked Wendi.
“No, thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
Wendi smiled without looking at him. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She closed the door and Keltin sat down on the bed. It was too soft for his liking, but the linens were clean and tidy. He pulled off his boots and readied himself for bed. He considered writing a letter to either Jaylocke or Mary, but decided against it. With any luck, he wouldn’t be in Krendaria all that long. Just a few weeks until the harvest was done and then he’d be home again. That is, if he didn’t have to make a trip to the Malpinion border. Keltin quickly said an evening prayer, blew out his candle, and climbed into bed, but he didn’t sleep. His thoughts were miles away, hoping desperately that Elaine and her family were safe.
Chapter 5 – The Hound
The morning was cool and crisp, with a slight bite of chill that signaled the gradual changing of the season. Already, some of the leaves were beginning to turn. Keltin leaned against the fence outside the farmhouse and looked out at the trees beyond the cleared fields, searching for telltale signs of movement. Workers passed by him, giving his weapons a curious look but otherwise not approaching him. After a few minutes of waiting, he was confronted by Yull on his way to the fields.
“All settled in?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re going to make an inspection of all the farms that we’re responsible for.”
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