The Things She Made: A Rucksack Universe Story: Rucksack Universe

By Anthony St. Clair

A shattered weapon. A job undone. A new danger. An ancient hero and an uprooted inventor reunite to deal with an old problem, all the while confronting changes, new fears, and a duty without end.

"The Things She Made" is a short story set in Anthony St. Clair's acclaimed Rucksack Universe. The Rucksack Universe series combines alternate history, speculative fiction, myth, adventure, globetrotting, and intrigue—all with well-poured pints of beer. Library Journal says Anthony St. Clair's storytelling has "universe building reminiscent of Terry Pratchett," and readers say they love the Rucksack Universe's unique combination of "quirk, wit, travel, and magic."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rucksack Press
• Release date: May 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781940119182

Anthony St. Clair

Anthony St. Clair creates compelling fiction and non-fiction for a curious world full of everyday discoveries, endeavors, and surprises. He is the author of the ongoing Rucksack Universe series; covers craft beer, food, business, and more for various publications; and is a copywriter and content manager for select clients. When not at his desk or in his kitchen in Oregon, Anthony is on an adventure with his wife, son, and daughter.

Book preview

The Things She Made

The Things She Made

A Rucksack Universe Story

Anthony St. Clair

Rucksack Press

Contents

1. Gray and Gold

2. Charge

3. Dot

4. Bark

5. Darkness

6. Breeze

7. Water

8. Vessel

9. Pocket

Thank You for Reading

Become a Wanderer

Also by Anthony St. Clair

Acknowledgments

Special Features

Sneak Peek

About the Author

It’s hard to believe. Yet there was a time when few knew of the continents separating the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Even harder to believe? In the USA’s Pacific Northwest, in what’s now called Oregon, grew woodlands the size of inland seas. To this day there remain places where no human foot has walked. Not even the boldest seek the mysteries that may be gleaming in the shadows of the forests.

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– Guru Deep, Oregon Through the Third Eye

1

Gray and Gold

The cloudless sky was not right.

Standing at the edge of the waves, the ancient hero ignored the pinging and hammering behind him. He peered west as far as his eyes could see, which was much farther than where most people would find the horizon. A strange gray speck hovered there in the distance, a small dim dot in the otherwise bright blue sky.

The hero knew that he was an old speck too. A fire washed up among the ocean-tumbled, sun-bleached forests of driftwood on a beach shaped like a crescent moon. His bald head and bare arms gleamed a rich golden brown in the sunlight. Black boots, wrapped halfway up his lower leg, stuck in the sand like roots. His loose orange silk pants and short-sleeve shirt rustled in the ceaseless breeze. Down the shirt’s central front placket, orange knotwork buttons evoked his homes. The first home, in and around the Himalayas, had been by birth. The other home, in what was now called Ireland, had been by circumstance. Both had forged him.

The forging of some things, though, remained a mystery. Crisscrossed on his back, the handles of two curved swords, scabbarded in black, rose above his shoulders.

He hoped he wouldn’t need them here. Then again, everywhere he went he always hoped he wouldn’t need his swords.

Sometimes hope made all the difference. He sighed. But hope, he also knew, wasn’t always enough.

Over the past ten thousand years, Faddah Rucksack’s world-saving travels occasionally brought him over to this remote corner of the northeastern Pacific Ocean. He thought about how he always wished to visit more often. The coastal sands ended at the western edge of a temperate rainforest. The mingled scents of firs, cedars, spruces, oaks, and maples always made him smile. The forest covered the land until it hit tundra far to the north, jagged volcanic mountains to the east, and deserts farther south. Still, every time he came here, the place was cloudy and drizzly, the sun hidden like a myth from this part of the world.

Racing away from the horizon, the speck became a larger dot. It moved faster, as if excited by the sight of land. Where had it come from? Faddah Rucksack wondered. Had it begun in eastern Asia, crossing the world’s largest ocean to this continent, which so much of the world did not yet know about? As Rucksack watched the small dot fly east, it became more jagged, then wispy. Not a dot at all, nor a bird, nor—thankfully—some winged demon coming to make mischief on the people who lived here. Not that the world had any winged demons anymore.

At least, he thought, it shouldn’t have any. Rucksack had destroyed the last of those thousands of years ago—but it never hurt to check now and again. He glanced to his right, where the end of the crescent beach ended at a tall, dark-brown cliff, which lava had forged long ago. The relentless tides had smoothed the jagged lava, even wearing rounded depressions into the black rock, the beginnings of caves that one day might make a tunnel through the cliff—or bring the whole damn thing crashing down.

Separated by a few feet of sea, two smaller, triangular humps rose from the waters. The one closer to shore was longer and rounder. The one farther away had a tall steep side facing the cliff, and a long, sloping side facing the sea. They met at what was now a dull hump but at one time had been a sharp, rib-shattering point. The passing centuries had worn and rounded the humps, so now they looked like rock. But Rucksack knew better.

The memory flowed down his bare arms to his hands, which were as strong and calloused as they were gentle and kind. He glanced at his hands and smiled. His skin’s coppery brown reminded him of the high Himalayan plateau. Some called that place the roof of the world. He called it the place where he had acquired his skills and destiny. He recalled the barren hills. Such a contrast to here. Beyond a nearby north–south range of low coastal hills, a valley of rich dark earth all but glowed with life.

Still, even the demon had not been his fiercest fight. That had