1000 Suns

 

Tanner walked into the dingy shop on Dock Street at mid-morning. The place simultaneously reeked of sulphur and aqua fortis, if that was possible. The front room looked like it had not been cleaned in months, maybe years. There were beakers and vials everywhere, filled with who knew what? There were chalkboards and bits of parchments with strange scribbling on them; Tanner could make out some of the writing and understood a bit of, but the rest of it was writing only an alchemist would know. And there were a few devices Tanner had no idea what purpose they served.

 

A slight young man with a droopy mouth came out. He couldn’t have been more than 18, and looked as if he had not spent time in the sunlight in years. ‘Master will see you in a moment’, said the man.

 

Normally the phrase ‘master’ would not have been used with respect in the Frontier, but this Master was different. Master Alchemist Wornor Hesenborg had earned the title because of his ability to make any number of potions. He had not made lead into gold, but only because he had not tried. He could turn just about anything else into gold, gold coin that was. Tanner respected that.

 

Tanner sat down in a worn wooden chair and picked up a book. Its title was Contemplations of the Working of Iron. Not what you expected in an alchemy shop. He half-expected something like 99 Potions to Make a Woman Love You. Faolan might be interested in something like that, except he would scorn the use of books, alchemy, and probably magic in wooing a woman. Tanner wondered if Faolan would make an exception for Annah.

 

‘Ah, Contemplations, I see’, said Hesenborg as he walked into the room. A balding man in a white robe that buttoned up the front walked in the room. He stood about 5’6 and could not have weighed more than 150. Tanner guessed Hesenborg was in his forties, though he looked older. ‘Kruppe is a good writer. Some of the iron mongers at work in Brown’s Ferry could learn something from him. Many good ideas on working steel and metals.’

 

‘No offense, but this book seems a bit of place. It seems like a book I would own’, said Tanner.

 

‘Out of place? Ha! Only a fool thinks alchemy is the search for new ways to make gold. If you want gold, learn something that very few know, and be the best at it,’ said Hesenborg. ‘Transmuting gold is a part of alchemy, but there are more mundane, yet useful and profitable things to do with it.’

 

‘Such as?’ said Tanner, with interested look on his face.

 

‘Young Bessemer that you met a moment ago is a good example. He has more knowledge of metals than most men in the Frontier. Can he work a forge and produce you a set of armor? No. he’s too weak. But, I have seen him work with one of the iron mongers on making improved plows for farming, and the first results have been successful. He is more interested in manipulating metals, making them harder in some forms, and more bendable in others. Think of the military and engineering applications of it. There’s no glamour in it like love potions or gold transmutation, but there is money in it’. Hesenborg lit up a pipe and began to smoke.

 

‘I see your point. It is entirely valid’, said Tanner. ‘I never considered the possibility’.

 

‘Which is a shame, because you are one of the more inquisitive people in the Ferry? But at least you have an open mind to it. This is more than I can say for some in the Frontier. They would journey no further than the next village if they could get away with it. Take them to Anglia City and you would think you have threatened them with a journey to hell’. Hesenborg had a sarcastic look on his face and both men laughed.

 

‘Do people become disappointed when they find you are a ‘practical’ alchemist as opposed to the stereotypical one?’ asked Tanner?

 

‘If you want a love potion, you can go see my ‘esteemed’ colleague Torlini. He claims he makes the best. I wouldn’t know. I am indifferent to love’, snorted Hesenborg. ‘As for alcohol, I became indifferent when I was 45’.

 

‘Well, I think you know what I have come to inquire about. Is it ready?’ said Tanner.

 

‘Yes. Let’s go to my office and we’ll discuss this over tea. You’d better be sober the first time you handle the Sunfire, Edward Hawkwood, and I mean it. This is the most dangerous stuff I have ever made.’ For a brief moment, Hesenborg looked like old One Eye Ziska in a training session.

 

In the back office, Hesenborg poured two cups of tea. Tanner sipped a cup. Not bad, in fact quite good. It was quite stimulating. Cleared the head. ‘What do you call this stuff?’

 

‘It is kahveh. It is quite stimulating. I find a cup in the morning gets me going, and a cup in late afternoon enables me to work late into the night. I am glad you like it’, said Hesenborg.

 

‘’Yes, I can almost see why you became indifferent to alcohol. This stuff is pretty good.’ Tanner sipped some more kahveh.

 

‘There is hope for you yet, my young engineer’, laughed Hesenborg. ‘Now, about the Sunfire’.

 

‘I have prepared six 1 quart jars of the substance. When ignited, it burns on anything, including materials thought inflammable, including metal. Its consistency is like water, but it is sticky as pitch. Water won’t put it out; in fact, water makes it spread. It’s as if it floats on top of the water. The only thing that will put it out is if the Sunfire is completely covered with a thick layer of something like dirt; the air has to be cut off completely, and for some time, before the flame is extinguished.

 

‘There are problems. One is the sheer danger in making Sunfire to the right consistency. Before we came upon the right proportions, there were casualties, even a death. It was rather nasty’.

 

‘Yeah, I heard about it.’, remarked Tanner. ‘The Council didn’t take to kindly to it’.

 

‘Yes’, remarked Hesenborg. ‘I had to move production to a building away from everything. I should have seen that coming. But that is to be expected. But we have come upon a proper methodology for making Sunfire. The other problem is transport. We store the Sunfire in clay pots. For the purpose you had suggested, we used pottery with rather thin walls. It has made the jars susceptible to breaking, and therefore detonation. On the other hand, if we use thick jars that are less susceptible to breakage, I don’t think your purposes will be met’.

 

‘That is a quandary’, said Tanner. ‘Any thoughts?’

 

‘Yes. I had boxes constructed that were lined fur on the sides and between the jars. While not perfect, this has increased stability in transport.’ Hesenborg puffed a ring of smoke.

 

‘What about packing with sawdust?’ asked Tanner?

 

‘Not a bad idea. I’ll take it under consideration’.

 

‘Do we have enough Sunfire for testing?’

 

‘If you mean ‘do we have enough Sunfire to put in that wooden contraption and fling it a long ways’, I’d say yes. The six jars should be enough for testing purposes. I trust you have ‘dry fired’ your catapult?’ Hesenborg looked over at Tanner with the look of one business partner asking another if the one had done his side of the work.

 

‘The Salamander can throw a rock 75 yards. With some tweaking and enhancement, maybe 100. Hopefully we can get it 150 in the future. If I can throw burning fire that will ignite metal, so much the better.’

 

‘Salamander? Mythical beast of fire. Original.’ Hesenborg sipped some more kahveh. ‘I’ll need 1000 silver to continue on with research and production.’

 

‘If it works, you’ll have it. Send the material to The Proving Ground. I want to test first thing tomorrow morning.’

 

‘It will be there’ said Hesenborg.

 

 

The next morning, as promised, the six pots of Sunfire were delivered. Tanner readied the Salamander. Cantering up on John came Faolan the Red. Faolan had his doubts about the Salamander, and, truth be told, was slightly worried about the Sunfire. But this was reasonable. Tanner’s ideas and weapons had proved goofy and sometimes useful, but never so dangerous as to be deadly. Until now. Tanner might have actually crossed some line of nuttiness.

 

Tanner had taken Hesenborg’s advice. There was no ale to drink. Tanner handed Faolan a mug of tea. Another observer, Lieutenant Sharp of the Frontier Militia, was already drinking tea. Sharp was about Tanner’s age, athletic build, blond hair. If you wanted someone to recruit for the Militia, this guy was the man; well, he definitely could recruit the ladies to the Militia.

 

‘The Militia is very interested to see if both items work. They could be of great value for defending the Frontier from a variety of attackers. Are you ready to test?’ Lt. Sharp asked Tanner.

 

‘Yes. Let’s begin.’ Tanner loaded stone into the Salamander. It must have weight 25 pounds.

 

75 yards away was a small wooden structure. Tanner lined the Salamander up with it, and released the firing mechanism. The arm swung forward and the stone flew forward. A moment later, the stone crashed into the structure, smashing it to bits.

 

‘Good work,’ said Lt. Sharp. ‘A close infantry formation or a small building would not like that at all’.

 

‘Yeah,’ said Tanner, ‘but now for the main show.’ With help from Faolan and Sharp, Tanner cocked the Salamander.

 

Tanner then went to the crate and pulled out a jar of Sunfire. Into the plug at the top of the jar, he jammed a short piece of rope soaked in oil. At this, Faolan and Sharp became nervous. The Salamander was really a nice pile of kindling, when one got down to it. Sharp started to back away.

 

 

Tanner then lit the fuse. Quickly he moved to the firing mechanism and

pulled the trigger. The jar flung into the air and didn’t break. ‘We actually might survive this,’ thought Faolan.

 

Once it had flown 50 yards the jar exploded into flame. It went another 25 yards before it crashed to the ground. It landed on a patch of tar stone. Amazingly, the tar stone caught on fire. More so, the fire continued to burn for another hour and showed no sign of going out. Tanner thought, ‘well, we’re not firing anymore of these today’. He retrieved three ales, which the men drank while watching the fire burn. After another hour, a good portion of the stone was burned away.

 

‘Well done. I’ll report back to command on the success of the operation’. Lt. Sharp saluted Tanner and left for Brown’s Ferry. Tanner got two ales that he and Faolan drank. After another hour, more stone was burned away. ‘I see it, but I don’t believe it’, said Faolan. ‘You’ve done well. I am going to bug out now’.

 

Finally the fire burned out. An area 8 feet by 8 feet wide, and about 3 inches in depth, had been burned away. Tanner noted the results with satisfaction.

 

In the evening, Tanner rode to the shop on Dock Street. Hesenborg greeted him. ‘The test was a complete success,’ said Tanner. ‘We’ll need to proceed on’.

 

'Do you have the funding?’, said Hesenborg. ‘Coinage doesn’t grow on trees’.

 

Tanner handed him 120 gold pieces. ‘100 for expenses, and 20 for a job well done’.

 

‘Like I said about making money, Tanner. If you want to do that, do something very few know how to do, and do it well.’ Hesenborg grinned as he tested the gold. ‘I’d offer you some more kahveh, but you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Wine? I have a decent vintage from about five years ago.’

 

‘Wine would be good’, said Tanner.

 

‘I have to say this day is a great success. We have unlocked one of the secrets of The Notebook and applied it in a practical manner. All though, if it were myself, I would have chosen something of a more peaceful bent.’ Hesenborg looked thoughtful.

 

‘If you want peace, you must prepare for war. Peace is many different things, one of which is the absence of war. If these discoveries and devices can help cause the absence of war, then so be it. We are not strong as to be able to fend off all invaders with a bunch of swordsmen and archers. If the North ever unified behind one ruler possessed of iron will, we’d be hard pressed to stop them. There are simply more of them, and they have better magicks’. Tanner shifted in his chair.

 

‘True’, said Hesenborg. ‘And you know first hand of other invaders that might come our way. The Rios are not to be taken lightly’.

 

‘Only a fool would take the Rios lightly, and I have seen enough not to. If I can’t persuade someone of this, the greatest warrior I ever knew fought them seven days running and lost nearly all of the men under his command.’ Tanner drank more wine.

 

‘I didn’t know you Thalion’, remarked Hesenborg.

 

‘I said the warrior I knew. Samson is something else. You know Jake, and my friend Faolan. And there is one named Drake I hope never to see again. They are all great warriors, greater than I, but Samson is something else. When I arrived in Bexar, most of the men in his command were dead. The Rios have something that the Anglians don’t have. They answer to one man; they call him an ‘emperor’. He appears to be of a conquering bent, and has dark magicks at his command. It’s all evil’.

 

‘So what would you do?’ asked Hesenborg.

 

‘Have someone organize the militia at the first sight of the Rios. Kill their mages. Burn the Emperor’s guards with Sunfire, if not the Emperor himself. I think if his soldiers saw the Emperor being burned with the heat of 1000 suns, they’d break.’ Tanner’s face had hardened like stone.

 

Tags: Side Stories, Tanner Hawkwood