The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"All able hands to the shore! Prepare for rescue and assist! Idlers on the rails NOW!" Marshall bellowed as he leapt from the deck and into the brine, kicking off his boots on the fly.

Though his crew moved to immediate action, he knew the rafts would take several moments to ready.

Even at this distance, he could swim faster than they could be pulled, rowed, or drifted.

By the time his crew reached the coast, Marshall was already crouched among the smoldering ruins of the lighthouse, up to his elbows in ash and rubble.

"Sir!" Commander Calum sprinted to his side.

The captain's shoulders were tense with frustration when he turned to his first officer with only one thing to show for his furious digging.

A broken monocle.

"Blast it," Calum sighed. "Maybe he made it out in time."

Marshall looked up to the bit of empty sky that could be seen through the mist. The line of his mouth hardened. "And maybe he didn't," he said, laying the monocle on the remaining keystones and turning to survey the destruction.

Nothing stood but the foundation. Bits and pieces of the lighthouse were strewn across the shore like a dismembered pictogram - each part a smoldering and senseless memory without context, individual and useless.

As for the adjoining cabin, its thatched roof and thin timber construction had made for a brilliant but short-lived bonfire, almost as though its incineration had been planned.

"One thing's for certain, sir," Lieutenant Ryder called to them from the perimeter of the blast range. "The Commodore triggered the explosion himself."

"Reasoning, Lieutenant?" Marshall turned to face her.

She pointed with a gloved hand to where the tower had been only moments before. "The blast came from the lantern room. As the sole watchman of Pelham Point, the Commodore should have been the only one with access."

"The Commodore may have been unstable, but he was no fool," Calum argued. "He would know better than to blow a building from the top down. If he wanted to collapse the tower, wouldn't he have set the detonation at the foundation or supporting beams?"

"The tower only fell because it was in disrepair," Captain Marshall concluded, earning a nod of agreement from Ryder. "The beacon was his real target."

"The beacon?" Commander Calum lowered his voice and moved closer to the captain with a glance over his shoulder. "All that nonsense about space signals aside, he knew about the message. So, what, he was cutting off the code? Interrupting any chance that the intended target could ever see it?"

Marshall sighed, thinking back to the Commodore's parting words, noting that Pelham Point was once again destined to become Forever Isle, the stuff of nursery rhymes and ghost stories.

Pointless poetry.

"Maybe," the captain said.

"A pretty extreme response to such a cryptic bit of communication." Calum squinted in confusion. "What does that even mean, 'Snuff out the sun'?"

"Son," Marshall corrected. "Ess. Oh. En."

Calum turned to him in confusion, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Snuff out The Son. You. The Son of Masguard. That message was calling for your execution?"

"Maybe," Marshall reiterated, seeming both unconcerned and deeply disturbed. He looked over the now-uninhabited island and its surrounding rocks, knowing that he couldn't leave these hazards unattended. Night was falling and the mists would not be kind to an unwary vessel. "Send a message to Vernos," he ordered. "Tell them what has happened here. Construction on a new lighthouse is to be initiated at once, even if I must pay for it myself. Any required funds should be obtained from the Town Elder on my behalf. In the meantime, pile the debris and set a blaze. The fire should burn through the night - long enough to give passing ships some warning. Let the lighthouse serve its purpose one last time. And Commander?"