Suddenly, Keltin felt a second pair of hands on the haft of the Ripper. He looked up to see Wendi standing next to him, taking a firm grip on the short wooden handle of the weapon. There was no time for a reprimand or word of caution. They were both in desperate danger and he needed her help. He gave her the briefest nod and turned back to the beast. Planting his feet, he crouched low and pulled up with all his might.
“Heave!” he cried.
He felt a surge of strength from Wendi, and like a boulder in a farmer’s field the beast lifted up off the ground and turned over onto its back. The beast squirmed helplessly, its circular, toothy mouth gnashing at the air. Kuff dove forward, seeing an opening, but was brought up short by a command from Wendi, not a desperate scream this time, but a powerful, authoritative order.
“Al-hah!”
The hound hesitated, and Keltin pulled his hand cannon from his belt. He fired three times into the beast, twice into the soft underbelly, and once directly down its fearsome gullet. The explosive rounds detonated inside its exposed body, scattering flesh and gore all around them. By the time the last echoes of the final shot had died away, the beast was lying still, its black shell like a misshapen bowl filled with its dead remains and a slowly growing puddle of rainwater.
Keltin took a long breath and crouched down on the sodden earth, offering a silent prayer of gratitude. As he finished and looked up, he saw Wendi staring down at the beast, her hands shaking slightly. Keltin stood slowly, placing a cautious hand on her arm.
“Are you all right?”
She swallowed and nodded, not taking her eyes from the beast.
“Don’t be mad with me, Mr. Moore,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you would be back so soon. I thought if Kuff was with me, I could... I just... I didn’t want anyone else to die.”
“I understand. It’s all right.”
Wendi took a deep, shuddering breath without replying.
“Thank you for your help,” said Keltin. “It was very brave.”
Wendi made the ghost of a smile.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Keltin turned to follow her gaze back down to the sad remains of the beast. Kuff had taken a few cautious steps forward, and was sniffing at the still corpse.
“Come away from there, Kuff,” said Wendi, her voice gentler than before, but still bearing a trace of iron in it. The hound gave a final sniff and backed away from the beast to trot over to Wendi’s side. She reached out and rubbed between his rain-soaked ears. “Come on,” she said to the hound. “Let’s go home and see how Mr. Ross is doing.”
The hound gave a canine grin and bounded away, leaving the two humans to quietly follow behind him.
Chapter 10 – Last Words
“I still can’t believe you went after that beast on your own,” croaked Ross.
“You should be saving your voice,” said Wendi gently. “Besides, I wasn’t alone, I had Kuff with me. Still, I’m very grateful that Mr. Moore came along when he did.”
“I’m just glad that you’re safe,” said Keltin. “And don’t forget, I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Keltin and Kuff both perked up at the sound of feet on the stairs. After a moment, Yull appeared in the doorway to Ross’ bedroom.
“I just came up to see for myself that the young lady had made it back safely,” he said. “We all heard what happened. It was very brave of you.”
Wendi smiled as her cheeks turned a bit rosy.
“Thank you, but I should really get dinner started.” She turned to Ross. “Do you think you can handle some potato soup?”
“That’s fine,” he rasped. “I’ll come help you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Keltin. “I don’t need to catch whatever you’ve got.”
Ross sighed and laid back on the bed. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel so useless and old lying here in bed.”
Yull snorted. “I wouldn’t mind swapping places with you, if you feel the need. Well, I’d best go see to the men. Have a good evening all.”
Keltin turned to Wendi as Yull left them. “I could help you with dinner, if you tell me what to do.”
“I don’t really need any help right now. But you did get a few letters in the last mail call. I left them on your bed.”
“Thank you.”
Keltin went to his bedroom, lit the lamp, and found the somewhat dog-eared letters where Wendi had left them. The first envelope bore Jaylocke’s name, and he looked forward to a pleasant word from his apprentice and friend. As soon as he began reading however, he knew something was wrong.
Dear Keltin,
I’m not sure how to begin this letter. Bor’ve’tai is assisting me, for which I am most grateful, though I almost wish that he would write it on his own. Something bad has happened, and I feel like I only know part of the story. Only you can fill in the rest. I just wish you weren’t alone to do it.
I should first reassure you that, as far as I know, your mother and sister are fine. Bor’ve’tai and I are well, as are the Claxon family and our other shared friendships. That said, perhaps I should start with how things came to our knowledge.
Two days ago, a girl came to The Beast Hunter office long after closing hours. Upon opening the door and seeing her dress, appearance, and demeanor, I suspected she was one of the city’s ladies of the night, and had come seeking business from us. I was about to turn her away when she asked for Keltin Moore. Well, I know your character well enough to be suspicious, and asked what she wanted with Mr. Moore. That was when she said she had come on behalf of a coworker of hers by the name of Angela. It took me a moment to recall the name, but when I realized it was the same girl that had visited you earlier this season I was slightly more forthcoming, saying that you were out of town and asked if there was a message for you.
Keltin, what she told me was far from good. It seems that Angela’s health had been poor for some time, and had taken a turn for the worst. At that very moment, she was lying in bed in a terrible way, and had implored her friend to find you. Well, I didn’t know what to do. I looked to Bor’ve’tai, and he asked if perhaps we might come to speak with her. The girl agreed, and so the three of us went together to the Gallant Rose.
We were greeted by the Madam who cooled considerably when she learned we were not customers, but allowed us access to the cramped portion of the establishment set aside for the girls’ personal use. I won’t trouble you with a description of the conditions of the place, except to say that no-one enjoying the satin sheets and pillows in the upstairs accommodations would likely imagine the course bedclothes and tight quarters the girls endured below.
We found Angela in her bed, and she looked most unwell. Quietly, I called on the assistance of my Great Aunt Landria, who you remember had been a midwife with a fair portion of practical medicinal knowledge. On sight alone, Landria was not able to help me identify what specifically was wrong with the girl, but it was clear that some sort of wasting sickness had been eating her from the inside for some time. Of course, I need not tell you that a woman in her profession has every opportunity to catch any number of dangerous ailments.
She was pale and gaunt, but awake and alert despite her clear discomfort. The girl that had brought us explained to her that you were out of town, and that we had come as his friends. Angela closed her eyes, clearly disappointed. We remained like that for a long time, and I thought perhaps we should excuse ourselves and leave. I was just turning to go when Bor’ve’tai knelt by Angela’s side and placed his hand on her forehead. She gave a start, but didn’t seem unwilling of his touch as he looked down at her. He asked her if there was anything that she wanted you to know. She looked up at him for a long time before replying in a voice that I had to strain to hear.
“Tell Keltin I’m proud of the good that he’s done. Tell him I wish things had been different. Tell him my happiest memories are from those days, and that I forgive him.”
That was all she said. Bor’ve’tai and I have both
spoken together to be sure that we gave the message to you just as it was said. Bor’ve’tai said we would deliver the message, and we turned to go. Before we left, she called out once more, and asked if we could get word to her mother that she was sorry, and that she missed her. Bor’ve’tai has already written a letter detailing that portion of our visit to Shar’le’vah, who will give the message to Mrs. Galloway.
We left after that. The next day, yesterday, the girl that had come to fetch us returned. With reddened eyes, she told us that Angela had passed from this world in the early hours of the morning. She had some additional words for her mother, which Bor’ve’tai also included in his letter, but I won’t burden you with those.
I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, my friend. I am so sorry for your loss, and wish that I could be with you to offer what poor comfort my company could provide. I hope that you can find comfort in knowing that Angela is no longer in pain of any sort.
Write back if it will help you. Or keep your peace until we are reunited. Feel no obligation to Bor’ve’tai or I. We are ever your friends, and will ever be so.
Jaylocke
Keltin set the letter aside. He sat and stared into space for a long while, not moving, not thinking. Eventually, his mind returned to the last time he had seen Angela. Had she known then how badly she was doing? Why hadn’t she told him? It occurred to Keltin that she may have been coming to him with the intention of saying goodbye and telling him all those things that she had been forced to share with strangers who passed the word to him. Then again, maybe her intentions had been completely different. Keltin had never been able to predict what she would do or say. Not as children, and certainly not as adults.
Memories came to him unbidden. He recalled sitting in the old single-room schoolhouse in Gillentown. It had been a long walk from their home in the country, but his mother had insisted that her children receive as much education as possible. It was in that old school house that he had first seen young Angela Galloway. She and Mary became fast friends, and Keltin found himself becoming more interested in his sister’s companion as time went on. Angela seemed to get prettier every year, and for a time the three of them were inseparable. But times changed, and as they became young adults Keltin noticed Angela becoming more distant. She didn’t talk openly to him like she had before. She teased and smiled, sending him little notes during class or watching him at parties while she danced with other boys and he stood uncertainly against a wall.
Then Keltin’s father was killed on a beast hunt. His family was suddenly torn apart, and it only got worse over time. His mother had never liked beast hunting, but her displeasure turned into outright hatred for the whole business and anyone involved in it, including her son. Mary did what she could as a peacekeeper between them, but too often Keltin had felt horribly alone in his own home. Desperate for understanding, he had turned to Angela, but she had remained just as distant as ever. Looking back now, Keltin still wondered whether she had simply been insincere or if she perhaps hadn’t felt capable of helping him cope with his crushing grief.
Whatever the reason, her distance had spurred Keltin to uncharacteristic impulsiveness. He asked her to marry him. Her shock had been obvious, and she had given him no answer before promptly going home. It took several days for Keltin to nurse his hurt pride sufficiently to call on her again, but by then she was gone. Mrs. Galloway told him that she and her daughter had had a terrible argument, and while she wouldn’t say what it was about, Keltin suspected that it had been about his proposal. Regardless, all Mrs. Galloway ever admitted was that hurtful words were said on both sides, and that Angela had left without any clue as to where she might have gone.
Keltin had tried to find her, but as weeks turned into months without word, he found no success. Eventually his mother and Mary moved away and he started lodging at Mrs. Galloway’s boarding house, spending as much time hunting beasts as he could. It was nearly a year later that he finally received a single sheet of paper, half-filled with Angela’s handwriting and stuffed in an envelope with the return address of the Gallant Rose, a bordello in Collinsworth.
For a long time after, Keltin had nursed a quiet ache in his heart for the girl he had known. Even as time had dulled the pain, she had remained a shadow over him, never leaving him totally free. It kept him from noticing any of the looks that Mrs. Galloway insisted he received regularly from the young women of Gillentown. In fact, the more Keltin thought of it, the more he came to the unpleasant realization that his hesitancy to express his true feelings for Elaine had less to do with her and more to do with the lingering venom in the wounds Angela had caused him.
And yet, as he sat quietly thinking in the darkness of his room, something else occurred to him. While he was sad to hear about Angela’s passing, the strongest emotion he felt was... relief. Finally, he was free. Free from the nagging feelings of responsibility and guilt that had hounded him for so long. It was as if a great weight had been taken from him, and as soon as he realized that, his thoughts turned to Elaine.
How much time had he wasted hemming and hawing over his feelings? How much uncertainty and confusion had he put her through as a result? Now that his mind was clear, he realized that he cared for her. Deeply. Suddenly he felt a driving desire to write to Elaine, even though he knew mailing it to her right now was out of the question. He sat at the desk next to the room’s large window and began writing. His pen flew as words came to him that he had never dared say before. He was vaguely aware of Wendi calling up the stairs that supper was ready, but he was too eager to continue writing, pressing on late into the night until the light through the window had completely faded, leaving him to continue to work by the light of a warm, glowing lantern.
Chapter 11 – Time to Move
Keltin lay awake in his bed as the pale light of dawn began to seep through the curtains across his window. He’d finished the letter to Elaine some time ago but had been unable to fall asleep, his mind drifting in a dozy haze over the words he had written. Rolling away from the light, he heard a distinct crinkling underneath him. Sitting up, he felt for the source of the sound and found an envelope lying beside him. With a shock, he realized that he had completely forgotten the second letter he had received. Lighting his lantern, he turned over the envelope to find that the handwriting was unfamiliar and bore no postal print. Keltin tore it open and skipped the body of the letter to find the signed name at the bottom. Severn Destov. The warm drowsiness in his mind evaporated as he eagerly began reading the letter from Elaine’s father.
Dear Mr. Moore,
I wish I could write this missive under more pleasant circumstances. I’ve received the reports from the foremen of the farms, and their accounts of your efforts have been most encouraging. I am glad to see that Mr. Whitt’s faith in you was not misplaced, and I’m sure that he and his partners will show their appreciation in a most palpable way once you return to Riltvin. Unfortunately, our private concerns have not gone nearly as well.
As you may have already heard, Grik Pallow has assumed the position of Supreme Minister and the borders of Malpin are now closed. I have not heard from my wife and family for several weeks now. The last letter gave no indication of any significant changes, but this gives me no comfort. It could be that the Malpin League of Protection has begun screening letters and correspondence. My wife and I had decided on a special code for just such a possibility, but this lack of any letters at all has me very concerned. Could it be that something has happened to them?
Regardless of my lack of information, I think you will agree that the time to act is now. End your business as quickly as you can, and make your way north to the border. The northernmost town in Krendaria is Wellos, a community built on the border between the two nations along the Royal Highway. There may be other, smaller villages and settlements in the region, but I do not know them. On the other side of the border is Ruley, though you will not be able to reach it via the border crossing. You will have to find your own way across, but I tr
ust that a man with your experience and resources will be up to the task. I can tell you that most of the border is defined by the Bent Knee River, which may be fordable in some places, but will not be frozen over for another month or more.
However you get across the border, your next task must be to find my family. Before I left home, I left implicit instructions with my family that if the border ever closed, they should go to Carris, just a few leagues north of Ruley. I also advised them to make contact with several persons that I know are associated with the Brothers of Kerrtow, the underground group that has worked in the shadows against the Vaughs since the Heterack Empowerment. They are experienced in smuggling both people and Loopi artifacts out of the nation, and will hopefully be able to lend their resources to our needs. Keep in mind that it may be necessary for my family to remain in hiding, making it necessary for you to find the Brothers yourself and prove your intentions to them. How you can do that I do not know. I curse myself for not having more to offer you. I must rely almost wholly upon your judgment and the mercy of God to see my family safely returned to me. I offer my sincerest prayer on your behalf that you are successful. Please make haste, and God be with you.
Severn Destov
Keltin read the letter a second time, paying particular attention to the sparse details and instructions he had been given and feeling the stark reality of his task. How was he supposed to smuggle himself into a foreign country, find a family that was hiding from the government, and then smuggle them back out? The more he thought of it, the more a dark possibility grew in his mind. What if something went wrong? What would he do if a border guard found him trying to sneak across the border, or an officer of the MLP started asking too many questions? What would he do if someone drew a gun on him or one of the Destovs? Despite the odd fist-fight or display of force, he’d never actually fired a gun at another person before. He wasn’t a soldier or mercenary. He was a beast hunter.
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