Game of Destiny, Book I: Willow

by J Seab

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  A bright glare of morning light, contrasting sharply with the shadowed interior, leaped into the shelter awakening Geldane. The morning sun, unrestrained in a cloudless sky, raced over the ridge. Stretching, Geldane climbed to his feet and sucked in the morning-fresh air, his attention diffused, absorbing the tranquil chirp of birds flitting about on their morning chores and the warmth of the sun slanting into their shelter. Willow, her arms and legs pulled in close to her body, lay quietly on her bedroll, her expression blissful as if she dreamed of peaceful meadows and close friendships. Geldane studied her face for a moment, admiring its soft lines, the little crinkles about her eyes that gave her the appearance of being perpetually amused about something, the slight upturn of her lips that would so readily bloom into a radiant smile. Sighing softly, he stepped over and prodded her gently with a toe.

  “What,” she mumbled, struggling awake. She sat up, blinking. “Morning?”

  “Time to rise, bright girl.”

  Willow shifted, preparing to rise. Looking out, she startled and exclaimed, “The horses are gone.”

  Willow jumped to her feet and raced to where Geldane had tethered them.

  Spinning, Geldane raced after.

  The tether, broken free, lay on the ground.

  “How?” Willow wondered, bewildered.

  Geldane stooped to pick up the frayed end of the rope. “What happened? Sir Rupert would never break free and wander off,” he protested. He turned to Willow. “Did you hear anything last night?”

  “Nothing.”

  Geldane turned in a slow circle, searching the ground, peering off into the distance. He saw nothing unusual. “But why?”

  “Could it have something to do with the storm?” Willow asked.

  He shook his head. “No, the storm was done.” Geldane examined the rope end more closely and then held it up. “This didn’t simply come loose or break; it’s been cut, but cut in such a way as to make it look like it broke.”

  “Why would it be cut?” Willow asked, peering at the rope.

  “Somebody doesn’t want us going to Dolfina Beach,” Geldane said. “Somebody is after the treasure.”

  Willow gave Geldane a hard stare. “We’ve already had this conversation. I don’t want to hear it again. It’s unlikely that Trace and Sir Rupert would let someone take them without protesting. Our horses are loose but we don’t know how or why. The immediate question we need to answer is, therefore, do we continue to Dolfina Beach or search for our mounts?”

  Geldane relented. “If he broke free for some reason, Sir Rupert will find his own way back to Oak Cove. Trace will follow his lead. There’s nothing else we can do about it on foot.” He stared back at her. “I say we go on to the inn. I’m not going to quit now.”

  Willow briefly considered arguing, grabbing the opportunity to return home, abandoning this quest that she did not want to be on. Instead, she stalked back to the shelter. “Come on, then. We’ve got a hard trek to the wayside inn carrying all our gear and saddles. Let’s get moving.”

  They gathered their gear, slung their saddles across their shoulders, and set off. The coolness of the night was rapidly replaced by a prickling heat from the hot sun stabbing down from clear skies.

  They trudged on. Sweat beaded on Geldane’s face and dampened his shirt. His saddle chafed his back. His gear was tucked under his left arm, wrapped in his bedroll. And his back and arm were already screaming at him. He held his bo in his right hand, stamping out each step, irritated with himself. Despite Willow’s disbelief, he knew someone was following. Why didn’t I investigate further? How could I have let it happen? What if they had hurt Willow? Some Patrol deputy he was, he lamented; he had let some rogue take their horses. Didn’t hear a thing. Slept right through it.

  At least, Geldane thought, consoling himself, it wasn’t far, a few kilometers to the wayside inn. What they would do when they got there remained to be seen. Maybe they should turn back, get some help from the Patrol, from the real Patrol, not some pretend-to-be like himself. Well, he resolved, squaring his shoulders, regardless, he wasn’t going to fail again. He might not be the best but he was going to be better. He certainly wasn’t going to let anybody hurt Willow.

  Geldane strained his neck around and carefully searched the road behind. All clear. No stalking rogues, no meandering horses, either. He clutched his bo tighter and shifted his gear in an attempt to relieve the aches. It didn’t work but he faced the road ahead with renewed determination anyway.

  They reached the wayside inn by midmorning. It was a small, quiet, log building tucked beneath tall maples and ashes only a few meters off the road. A lazy spiral of smoke drifted from the chimney.

  Willow climbed the two steps to the front porch and dropped her saddle off to one side, sighing as she flexed her shoulders. “I expect I’ll be more appreciative of the poor horse in the future,” she huffed as she watched Geldane pile his load on top.

  He straightened and turned to face the road, his eyes sweeping the trees ranked alongside it.

  “Geldane, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Willow advised, placing a hand on his arm.

  “I’m OK,” Geldane said remotely, his attention focused on the trail.

  Willow let out a quiet breath, her eyes sympathetic. She turned, pulled open the door, and went inside. Geldane, after a moment, followed.

  Like all wayside inns, this one was small, more like a house than an actual inn. A couple of bedroom doors opened along the right wall of the long common room, and another door, leading to the kitchens and innkeeper’s quarters, opened to the left. A big fireplace dominated the far wall. A few comfortable chairs were positioned around it and a big table occupied the center of the room. A roughly woven rug covered most of the floor before them.

  Willow stamped the crusted mud from her boots onto the entry mat while Geldane crowded her from behind. She then called out, “Hello…”

  Footsteps sounded from the left. An older woman shuffled through the open doorway. “Greetings, travelers,” she said, exposing gapped teeth. “I’m Wenny, innkeeper. Lunch for you? A room for the night?”

  “Greetings, Wenny. I’m Willow.” She stepped farther into the room and nodded at Geldane. “This is Geldane. We’re not planning on staying, only need something to eat.”

  “Easily done. Porridge with fruit, cheese, and bread is what we’ve got. Got fresh milk too, if you’d like that.”

  “Sounds great,” Willow smiled.

  Wenny nodded. “I know you, Willow. You visit now and again, although I recall you saying you prefer camping in the outdoors.” She nodded again. “Never forget a smile.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll draw some cool water from the spring for you. You’ll want to take some with you when you leave.” She shuffled back through the doorway.

  “Thanks,” Willow called to her retreating form.

  Geldane, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “Might as well do as she suggested.” He walked to the back of the room, turned the nearest chair to face the door, and plunked down, bo across his lap, feet pulled up before him. The room appeared worn but was clean. A series of deer antlers hung over the fireplace and a couple of oil lamps sat on the mantle. There wasn’t much else in the room. It was Spartan but serviceable.

  Willow joined him. They sat together, not speaking, simply enjoying being off their feet, and idly listened to the muffled sounds emanating from the kitchen.

  Wenny interrupted their repose, bringing a pitcher of water and two filled earthenware mugs glazed a nutty brown. She set the pitcher on the table and then handed them the mugs. She then disappeared back through the doorway.

  “Talkative sort, isn’t she?” Geldane said, sipping at his water, eyes lowered.

  Shrugging, Willow asked, “What now? Do we stay the night, head back in the morning, keep going?”

  “How far to Dolfina Beach?”

  “It will take several days on foot.”

  “Maybe th
e innkeeper has a couple of horses we can borrow?”

  “We can ask.” Willow drained her mug. “This is good water.” She rose. “I need a refill. Lunch should be here in a minute. Why don’t we sit at the table?”

  “Sure.”

  They were settling into their chairs at the table when Wenny reentered. She set their meal before them and, retreating, said, “Sing out if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning up.”

  They ate in silence, Geldane deep in his own thoughts, worrying about the horses, especially Trace. Sir Rupert was a tough sort, could take care of himself but Trace was skittish, needed the regular touch of close companionship. But mostly he worried about the rogue, about not doing enough to protect Willow. He kept jerking his eyes toward the door at every little sound, resisting the urge to grab his bo and rush outside to investigate.

  Geldane finished the last of his lunch, hardly knowing what he ate. He sat back and watched as Willow drained the last few drops of milk from her glass. Sighing, she reached for the water pitcher. “More water?” she asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  Wenny reappeared, took their dishes, and left.

  “Do I need to lasso her to get her to talk to us?” Geldane asked, snorting.

  “About what?”

  “About any unusual visitors she’s had recently.”

  “Let her finish her tasks,” Willow suggested, her words softened with a smile.

  Geldane grabbed his bo, pushed his chair back, and began pacing about the room, thumping the staff on the floor with each step. Willow just watched.

  A few minutes later, Wenny entered the room. She stood within the doorway, a slight smile of inquiry wrinkling her face.

  Geldane pounced. “We’ve got some questions,” he demanded.

  Rising, Willow held out a cautionary hand. “What Geldane means,” she said more softly, “is that we’ve had some troubles. Would like your help, if possible.”

  Ignoring Geldane, Wenny turned to Willow. “Certainly. I’d be pleased to do what I can for you. Troubles, you said?”

  “Yes. We camped up the road a few kilometers north, after that storm hit.”

  “That was a nasty one. We’ve had a couple of those tearing through here this summer but that was the worst.”

  “Trouble was, our horses got loose and ran off during the night.”

  “Yeah, got loose as in somebody took them,” Geldane said, scowling.

  “Took your horses?” Wenny exclaimed, incredulous. “Are you certain? They didn’t break free, frightened by the storm?”

  “Definitely not the storm. It was in the middle of the night, long after the storm had passed,” Geldane said, glancing at Willow, his look challenging.

  Wenny raised a brow at Geldane and then faced Willow. “Who would take your horses? Why?”

  “We don’t know for certain that someone took them. We were wondering if anybody had passed through here recently.”

  “No, last guest I had was Seth, and that was four, five days ago. He comes through here often; he’s a roving distributor. Nobody since then.”

  “We know Seth,” Willow said. “We see him now and again at Oak Cove. Mostly deals with Mel, though, trading oddments.”

  “You folks from Oak Cove? Maybe heading to Dolfina Beach to do some distributing yourself?”

  “No. I mean, yes, we’re from Oak Cove but we aren’t going for that reason.”

  Wenny hesitated. “I don’t like to meddle, keep my nose out of things I know little about. Still, Dolfina Beach has their own troubles. Not a good place for visiting right now.” Her eyes bounced over to Geldane, then settled back on Willow. “There’s some talk of calling your Patrol down to straighten things out.”

  “What troubles?” Geldane asked, stepping closer. “I’m in the Patrol. I can help.”

  Wenny glanced sharply at Geldane and then continued, fidgeting, “I don’t like to meddle but if you’re Patrol then I’ll tell you that Seth, when he came through here, was complaining up his own storm. Nothing to spare for distribution, he was saying. The dolfinas are fighting some monster, bodies are washing ashore. The residents are scared to go into the water. Nobody’s been out fishing for more than a week. Seth gave up, said he’d head over to Capstone, scare up something there instead. Let things calm down in Dolfina Beach.”

  “Fighting a monster?” Geldane asked eagerly.

  “Bodies?” Willow asked, squeezing her hands together.

  “Dolfina bodies.” Wenny shook her head. “That’s all I know and I don’t really know even that. Just what Seth was carrying on about.” She jerked a thumb. “But Seth likes to embellish his stories, says that makes them more interesting.”

  Geldane opened his mouth to retort but Willow interrupted. “We need to get there but don’t have any horses. Do you have a couple we could borrow?”

  “No, no horses here. Just one old, stubborn mule and a rickety cart. Josh uses him for plowing and hauling. Josh is my neighbor, up the way.” She waved vaguely. “Helps me out with the field out back.”

  Geldane looked the obvious question at Willow, letting her carry the conversation.

  Her determination to see this through evident on her face, Willow asked, “Can we borrow your mule and cart?”

  “Well, I suppose. I don’t expect to be needing them for a while. How long, you reckon?”

  “A week, maybe. Enough time to get to Dolfina Beach and back.”

  “I suppose, if you’re sure that’s what you want to do. You’ll take good care of Gethro, I expect,” she said looking specifically at Willow. “You look the type who would. He’s old but strong. Don’t let him give you his sass. He’ll need popping on the butt with that stick of yours now and again,” she said, gesturing at Geldane, “to keep him informed of who’s in charge.”

  Geldane scowled.

  “We’ll treat him the best,” Willow said. “Would it be alright if we left our saddles here too?”

  “No problem there. Leave them in the barn.”

  “Thanks, thanks a lot,” Willow said.

  “No problem, pleasure. I’ll watch for your horses too in case they wander in. You’ll be wanting some vittles to go with you, I expect. I’ll get that together while you’re hitching the cart.” She abruptly whirled about and returned to the kitchen.

  “Stick,” Geldane mumbled sharply as he went out the front door to get the cart readied.

  Chapter 8