Chapter 362: The Range

The craftsperson shaped the head between Ren’s visits. He returned when it needed another fitting, bringing his notes on Farcast and the wooden blank they had used for his grip.

On the first visit, it checked the head’s balance against the haft. On the next, a fitted collar joined the two, secured by a removable pin. It had Ren close his eyes and take his throwing grip, then adjusted the balance until his hand settled comfortably in the same place.

"The joint comes apart here," it said, pointing to the pin. "If the haft breaks, I can replace it without making another head."

Before the first powered test, it suspended the head in a padded fitting and hung a measured weight from the haft. Then it dropped the assembled spear point-first onto packed earth from a marked height. Ren watched it dismantle the joint and inspect the collar, pin and wood before putting them together again.

"Those loads passed," it said. "We haven’t tested the energy transfer yet. Start with the method’s lowest setting."

Ren sent Lyra the promised message that evening. The prototype was ready for its first session on the coast in Verdance. He included Iris in the arrangements, and she answered first.

We’ll both come.

— • —

Lyra and Iris met him at the Terrace. Within his sensing range, each asked to enter Verdance, and Ren admitted them. They joined the craftsperson at the coast, where it had brought the spear from its workshop.

He had chosen an empty stretch north of the cove, away from the landing and the residents’ usual routes. The throwing line faced inland toward a broad bank he had raised and compacted with Earth. Its high face filled the view beyond the target; the ground beside and behind it was clear.

A wooden post stood before the bank. Two taller markers flanked it, with a hand’s width between the post and each marker. White bands made their inner edges easy to see from the near throwing line.

Ren checked the bank again before returning to the others. Its depth left room to examine how far each throw entered before deciding whether to increase the load.

Lyra and Iris sat on a flat rock behind the line. The craftsperson laid its cloth and tools beside them, then handed Ren the spear.

"Stay back here until I’ve finished," he said. "I’ll retrieve between throws."

It stepped back to the rock. Ren waited until all three were behind him before taking his place.

— • —

He began without Farcast, using restrained throws to test the spear’s balance and the stopping ground.

For the first, he aimed at a clear patch of bank above the post. The head entered straight and stopped with the collar exposed. He walked down, cleared the earth from around the head and drew it out without levering the haft against it.

The second throw struck the wooden post and remained lodged there. Ren worked it free before bringing it back for inspection.

"Your grip hasn’t shifted," the craftsperson said. It touched the haft where his hand had rested. "How does the balance feel?"

"Good. I don’t have to correct it as I bring my arm through."

He made three more throws at the same effort, two into the bank and one at the post. The head entered to similar depths on the two clear strikes. The wood caught the other throw before it reached the earth.

After each retrieval, the craftsperson checked the joint against its alignment marks. The pin remained seated, and the head showed no cracks.

Ren looked along the cleared lane once more, then opened his notes beside the rock. He reviewed the starting transfer before putting them away.

— • —

He settled Farcast into the spear through his grip, keeping the same restrained throwing effort. The preparation held as he raised his arm, but the transfer changed through the throwing movement. He had to complete it as his hand released the haft.

On the first attempt, he felt himself trying to finish after his fingers had already begun to open. The shaft left unevenly.

It struck high and left of the post, above the markers’ bands, and buried its head in the bank. Ren kept his hand lowered while he watched the haft settle.

At the impact, he checked the disturbed earth before digging the spear free. It had entered farther than the unpowered throws, though most of the haft remained exposed. He checked the bank’s top and sides as well; the disturbance was confined to the front around the head.

The craftsperson turned the cleaned glass toward the light and examined the collar.

"The joint held."

"My release didn’t."

"Keep the same input." It handed the spear back. "Show me another."

Ren reset his grip. This time he followed the transfer through the movement instead of trying to finish it as the spear was leaving. His fingers opened without dragging against the haft.

The spear passed between the white bands and struck the post. A split ran down the grain from the impact, and the head drove through into the bank behind it.

Lyra drew in a breath behind him.

Ren walked down the lane. The post had opened along one side, with splinters scattered beneath it. Both markers stood untouched. Beyond them, the haft projected from the earth on the line he had aimed along.

He cleared the head, checked the depth and carried the spear back. While the craftsperson inspected it, he looked at the gap between the markers. The weapon had passed through cleanly, though there was little room to spare.

"What will you use it for?" Lyra asked.

"A strike through an opening like that. I already have Close Sever for a narrow cut, but I wanted to learn to put a working into a weapon I could throw."

"And recover," Iris said.

"Here, at least." Ren glanced toward the bank. "I’d have to reach wherever it landed."

The craftsperson returned the spear. He set it down behind the line while he replaced the split post.

— • —

Five more throws followed at the same distance and input. Three struck the target. Ren replaced each damaged post after retrieving the spear, leaving the markers in their original positions.

Of the two misses, one entered the bank above the target. The other struck low, passing beneath the bands before reaching the earth. Neither approached the bank’s edges.

Ren could feel the uneven release on both before he saw where they landed. On the second, he lowered his throwing hand and repeated the opening of his fingers while the craftsperson cleaned the head.

"Where do you lose it?" it asked.

"I’m still completing the transfer when I start to let go. Then I try to hold on a little longer, and the haft catches against my fingers."

"And on the hits?"

"The transfer and the release finish together. I don’t have to correct either at the end."

It checked the pin, then held out the spear.

"Same grip. Same input."

Ren returned to the line. For the next two throws, he kept the preparation steady through the movement and let his hand open with the release he had learned from the slip. Both struck the post. He could follow the difference more clearly now, although on the next attempt he hurried and sent the spear low and wide again.

He retrieved it and rested it across his knees beside the rock. The craftsperson went over the joint while he drank. Lyra watched it wipe the glass clean, turning the head to examine both faces.

"Can you feel the miss before you see it?" she asked.

"Yes. Fixing it on the next throw is harder."

"That last one looked hurried."

"It was."

He flexed his fingers, then let his hand rest. He would keep practicing at this level after the equipment test. Raising the input would not make the release easier.

— • —

Before proceeding, Ren and the craftsperson checked the bank and the assembly again. None of the impacts had reached deeply enough to threaten the remaining earth, and the joint’s alignment had held through the lower setting.

They agreed on three throws at the next small increase listed in the method. The distance and targets stayed unchanged. If the head, joint or stopping ground showed a problem, the session would end there.

Ren returned to the line. His first throw struck the post and drove farther into the bank than the earlier hits. He took longer over the retrieval, clearing enough earth to free the collar before easing the head out. The craftsperson inspected the joint before returning it.

The second throw also struck. On the third, his fingers caught the haft late, sending the spear above the target and directly into the bank. That one penetrated deepest. He checked it before digging, then cleared the head carefully and brought the weapon back.

The craftsperson kept it.

It laid the spear across the cloth on the rock, leaving the head in the light. It checked the pin’s seat and the alignment marks, then examined where the collar fitted against the wood.

"Nothing has shifted." It turned the point toward Ren. "There’s wear here. I want a closer look at the bench before you use it again."

"Can it be dressed?"

"I’ll see how much needs taking off. I’ll make a second head too, so you have a spare while one is being worked on."

Iris looked from the spear to the damaged posts.

"Eight hits out of thirteen powered throws."

"Five misses," Ren said.

"Three high, two lower," she said, pointing toward the holes. "The bank caught all of them."

He followed her gesture. The clean hits were grouped behind the target, but the misses spread well beyond the opening he had wanted to use. He had struck through it repeatedly. He could not yet rely on doing so every time.

— • —

Before wrapping the head, the craftsperson rubbed a thin line of pale wax onto the haft beside Ren’s grip.

"Start your hand here. Check it each time."

Ren took the spear and closed his hand beside the mark. The balance was familiar now, the head steady as he brought the weapon forward toward the empty lane. He held it for a moment, then handed it back without throwing.

"Use the fitting blank while I have this," the craftsperson said. "Grip and movement only. The powered release waits until I’ve checked the spear."

"Will you watch the next session?"

"Yes. Send word before you start."

It wrapped the head and secured the cloth, then carried the spear toward the workshop. Ren waited until it had left the lane before going down to gather the damaged posts. Lyra and Iris joined him, lifting the split lengths from the ground while he pulled the remaining stumps free.

"You went quiet after the first hit," he said to Lyra.

"I was watching you. You stood there looking through that gap for ages."

"I wanted to see if I’d touched either marker."

"I know. Then you came back smiling."

She carried two pieces to the pile beside Iris. Ren lifted another post and looked once more toward the bank. Its scattered holes would still be there when he returned; the grip mark would give him somewhere consistent to begin.

He set the wood down with the rest and followed them back along the shore.