| |
STORMY WOULD HAVE CONTINUED that day and the next, looking for more clues to Gingham’s whereabouts, but his men were tired, and one of the horses started limping.
“Probably just a stone in his shoe,” Jacob said. Even though he got it out, the horse was lame. Knowing that Stormy wanted to keep exploring, Jacob offered to take the crew back to Tellwater Valley.
“I’ll give Lord Garion a full account of what we saw,” he promised.
“I won’t be long,” Stormy said. “I’ll ride to Tuluva to see if anyone heard anything. I need to know what happened to these people. It’ll be haunting me if I don’t find out.”
“I understand but be careful.”
Once his companions rode away, Stormy changed directions. A sense of loss overwhelmed him. Not only had he failed in protecting Gingham and his wife, but the two were lost entirely. He didn’t know whether the couple had survived, or if they had died and their bodies were taken away by the wind. If all he found were a broken wine barrel and Stella’s scarf, what had happened to the other wagons? Where were the men that went with them? There was nothing left of Gingham’s party aside from the remnants he found. And why had the storm targeted only the wine-runners and nothing else? It had passed right over him and his friends, leaving them unharmed.
Eventually, Stormy found the river, glad that hadn’t been stolen too. Once there, he rode all morning along the bank, prodding his horse into the water where boulders and high bluffs blocked his passage. The sun beat down on him, and he stopped to take a dip in the river, clothes, and all. The wet garb would keep him fresh for the rest of the ride. Humming, he let the cool water run over him in the shallows and laid on the rocks, contemplating the cloudless sky.
Lyrics of a ballad formed in his mind, for this was the kind of tragedy bards wrote songs about. There’d be no better way to share this event but in a song.
“Rode many a mile, searchin’ for a sign,
Taking a dip in the heat of the day.
Wonderin’ if I’ll find the runner of wine
When I looked up
To an eagle showing the way...”
He laughed as he watched a tiny spot circling overhead but then his voice tapered off. The longer he stared, the more he realized it wasn’t any kind of a raptor at all. As it floated lower in the sky, he sucked his breath in.
“Strangest contraption I ever did see,” he said to himself. Round like a ball at the top with a basket hanging from it and little flaps that waved at its side. As he wondered about what it might be, the thing circled back the way it had come and drifted into space until it disappeared behind the hills.
Better get out of this sun, and into the shade. Heat’s makin’ me daft.
Stormy mounted his horse and moved on. In the afternoon, he drew closer to a cluster of homes on the hills above, smoke rising from their chimneys. Tuluva, he assumed and found a way back up the embankment where he took a trail that led through the village.
Folks outside worked in their gardens planting. Chickens pecked at bugs and tipped over stones with their beaks. Dogs barked at him, and he tried to sooth them with a song. Tuluva was an insignificant township known mostly for the road named after it. An outside marketplace marked the center of the village, but there existed no inn or community building. The people were friendly, and he found a woodcutter willing to give a moment of his time.
“Best of the day to you,” the man said as Stormy rode up to him.
“And you. I’m looking for some folks I believe might have come this way,” Stormy said after dismounting.
The man set down his axe and put his foot on a stump, leaned over and looked Stormy straight in the eyes.
“We don’t get many travelers stopping here; they just roam through with a tip of the hat. No place for them to rest, I guess. No inn for refreshment. But what kind of folk are you looking for?”
“Well,” Stormy gazed at his surroundings. Children played in the fields across the road while two women fetched water from a well. They wore plain clothes, nothing fancy, reminding him of the folk in Fairmistle.
“A man and a woman firstly,” he said. “Coming from Tellwater. Merchants, but it seems they lost their cargo on the trip here.”
That was a strange way to describe them, and Stormy tried to think of a better depiction, expecting more questions from the man, but the woodcutter just stared at the sky as if looking for another storm. “I heard about the tempest.”
Stormy’s eyes widened.
“You’ve seen them then?”
“Man and woman? Gingham’s the name. They took refuge for the night in Pepper’s old cottage, but they’re gone now. Went west. Same way the others went. They didn’t say where they were going.”
“Others?” Stormy asked.
“A few men staggered through here, two or three at a time. They didn’t say anything to anyone, but Gingham and his wife were more congenial.”
Stormy frowned. “They were healthy enough to leave?”
“The missus was shaken still, but we got them some clean clothes, the town pooled together and bundled up some rations, and old Rust gave them one of his carts and a donkey for their trip. They said they were going to see about getting some land and settling down. Quit the business they were in.”
Stormy sighed. That took a load off his shoulders, and he could breathe again. At least they’re alive.
“Thanks for the information.” Stormy tipped his hat and turned his horse around. But the woodcutter didn’t budge, instead he called out to him.
“There are some other strangers here in town looking to go back to Tellwater. If you’re headed back that way, maybe you can escort them. They seem a little disoriented.”
“Where are they?” Stormy asked.
“A friend from Kolada brought them this far and then left. Said he made a pact with his wife he wouldn’t go any farther. The terrain doesn’t like wagons and the people in these parts don’t care too much for the sort of storms that blow in those mountains. They were asking for work with the intent of buying a horse or two to get back on the road.”
The woodcutter waved at two men digging an irrigation ditch in the fields where the children had been playing. They stuck their shovels upright in the dirt and walked toward him.
“I don’t have any horses for them,” Stormy said. He hadn’t expected traveling companions, and he was not sure he wanted any.
“Those men worked hard enough yesterday that I’d lend them a mount if someone promised to bring it back.” He grinned up at Stormy.
“Me?”
“Town’s nervous around these two. They’d like them gone.”
Stormy laughed and shook his head. “What if they rob me?”
“You’re a tough fella if you rode all this way from Tellwater. You can handle these two. They haven’t caused any trouble; they just tell some wild stories. If you have an ear to listen, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Wild stories?” Stormy thought and watched them as they approached. Might be another verse in the ballad I’m writin’.
“Jules here, and this is Henry,” the taller one said. “We just want to get back home to our place outside of Tellwater, clean up, and then head for Prasa Potama to deliver a message to the king.”
“Jules, Henry,” Stormy offered a handshake. “I’m Stormy. I’m headed that way. I’m from Fairmistle but work for Lord Garion in Tellwater.”
“Well, if this isn’t a day of blessings!” Henry exclaimed and took off his hat, slapping it on his knee. “We’ve got a message for Lord Garion too.”
“You know the baron?”
“Been running wine for him. In fact, we were delivering wine for him when...,” Henry squinted at Stormy. “You ready for a tall tale that’s real?”
“Been livin’ them all my life,” Stormy said, catching Henry’s excitement. “There isn’t a tall tale I’d turn my back on, not as long as a man grows whiskers.”
These are the people I need to talk to!