The Keeper's Sacrifice (Keepers of the Light Book 1) by Anderson Krystal M

Author:Anderson, Krystal M. [Anderson, Krystal M.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

December 1869

How could there be any water left in the heavens after all it had dumped upon the earth? Max clenched his teeth at the lighthouse’s groaning, the winds and water beating mercilessly upon its walls. Each clap of thunder seemed louder than the last. The ocean hurled ear-splitting, black waves into the land like cannonballs, every forceful push from the wind assaulting his ears and ravaging his calm.

Wretched winter storms! He railed. The lighthouse could fall at any moment! The sheer might of the ocean was terrifying; when he’d arrived at Puffin Point four months ago, Max would never have thought to see its white-capped surf pounding into the foundation of the tower, high as it was. If he cared about his own well-being, he should abandon the light to the monstrous swells. But Max would never flee; his conscience would not allow it. The lighthouse and fog signal were crucial in guiding mariners safely through Pacific storms such as these. In a way, standing up to this storm was his very purpose. As long as the lighthouse stood, he would tend the light.

The light first; myself afterward.

Max filled two buckets with oil in the store room and climbed one set of stairs carefully, pausing as the tower trembled at another onslaught from the rain. The brilliant glow of the lamp in the lantern room above him was reassuring, its constancy grounding him when the very surface he stood upon was anything but secure.

The bottom three feet of his living quarters were likely under water by now. As tumultuous as the water was, Max didn’t dare trek to the fog signal building for fear he’d be swept away. Nevertheless, he would keep the light burning, or die, the latter seeming to be an increasingly probable ending.

Rain pelted the glass panes of the lantern room and occasional gusts of wind seeped through the cracks, causing the lamp’s flame to flicker. Max clutched the brass handles in the watch room, never allowing his gaze to stray from the light, sending a constant prayer heavenward that the tower would withstand the storm. Should it succumb to the darkness howling around it, the ships depending upon its guiding beam would surely follow.

He startled at the sound of breaking glass above, the plink of the shards hitting the floor of the lantern room above him muted by the howling wind. Hand over hand he climbed the ladder until he was peeking into the lantern room, spying a thrashing water fowl immediately. Gingerly, he grasped the bird and tossed it back out to fend for itself. Frigid wind burst through the broken pane, causing the flame within the lens to dance precariously.

With quick feet Max took the stairs to the store room for a replacement pane and putty, snagging a sturdy pair of leather gloves on the way back up. The flame had extinguished, lending to the urgency of the repair. After knocking the jagged edges of the glass out and swiping it clean

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