Tales of a Horse Thief, Part 3a

Tales of a Horse Thief, Part 3a

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Part 3) Loden

 

Loden had made good time through the night, stopping near dawn to get some rest. He had been back on the road before mid morning, he intended to keep a good pace and stay well ahead of the caravan. With any luck he would be in Cof Crossroads days ahead of it. He had learned from Ander or one of his friends that the crossroads was a few days north. Once there he intended to head eastward towards a place called Freeton. He did not really care what the place was called, so long as it was further east of the Tannican armies.

Tingy and BigNose seemed content enough. The morning had been pleasant, a fair breeze kept the worst of the flies away. Near midday he noticed some darker clouds on the horizon; it looked like there would be a bit of rain.

He was upset about having been run off from the caravan. How was he supposed to have known the lady had been a Lady? It was not as if she had been acting like she was. Though to be fair, she had been better dressed than most of the others and it was not the first time he had been mixed up in troubles with a drunken woman. He had hoped he would have learned to avoid such obvious troubles by this point in his life. Though over the last few years the people he had been with had all lived with death hanging over them, a constant doom pushing them to take solace when and where they could.

Gella had been inviting, warm and fun without the heavy fear bestowed by the advancing Tannican armies. By the gods! As far as he could tell the lady just wanted to have a good time. Nothing to hang a guy for. He continued to brood as he watched the dark clouds blowing in from the northeast.

Ahead he could see the forest came further west, beginning to encroach on the road. A yat or so further along he saw smoke, likely from a nearby homestead. The breeze was strong enough that the smoke dissipated quickly, the upper branches of the trees swayed and the leaves rustled. The sky was filling with heavy clouds, Loden pulled out his new coat and encouraged Tingy to pick up the pace.

Aside from Cof he had heard about a few homesteads on the land between here and there, as well, a foresters camp. Though likely enough once he was within the woodland further ahead the trees would provide enough shelter from a bit of weather.

Not much further along the road a light rain began, the sporadic drops refreshing. The road now had trees along both sides and he was soon under a canopy created from the branches of the older trees meeting over the road. The gentle drops soon turned into a steady drizzle and Loden put his coat on. Mist gathered around the tree trunks and after a while larger drops of water dripped down through the leaves to the ground below. As he travelled along the road the trees became more numerous and older, the canopy above let little light through and the heavy overcast meant he was soon riding through a twilight forest world. The rain became a downpour. The mist rose higher and the water dripping down through the trees became the only sound he heard beyond himself and the horses. The mist was gradually becoming more like a fog, something he had never seen before in a heavy rain. He fastened the upper clasps of the coat and pulled the collar up to little effect, the drops of rain coming down through the leaves were steady and he soon had trickles running down his neck and back. If only he had bought a hat.

He thought back to what Ander and the others had said about the homesteads. Given the distance he had covered Loden expected that at least one of them should be not too far away. The smoke he had seen rising above the trees should have its source nearby. One of Ander’s gambling buddies had told a tale of a rickety tower; a place beside a steep hill, built of cabins stacked one on top of the other. Reputedly higher than the hill is was built beside. It was a roadhouse of sorts, rooms were rented and stabling could be had. The stable itself was a wondrous mystery. Run by a large family of handsome men and comely women. Good and honest freeholders, though they were a bit peculiar about giving their names.

At this point Loden found the idea very appealing, though an abandon shed would be just as nice at the moment. The rain pounded into the canopy above him, at some places the leaves and branched had been pushed down enough that he could see the low black clouds above. The water was now running in steams down the road, pools accumulated amongst the roots of the trees. He was soaked through, the horses ears drooped and the fog swirled through the trees, blown by the breeze and periodic gusts. The surface of the road had softened the clop of the horse’s hooves which became more of a soggy thump.

Ander had been a decent sort, the stories of the magic booze hat and the rickety tower had been great entertainment and no one in that crowd had asked him about Tannica. Just gaming and drinking, blowing off the steam from a days gruelling work.

The trees thinned out a bit, there was more sky above and the wind stilled and the fog closed in around the area, obscuring anything beyond ten paces. The rain continued to come down as one heavy thrum. He thought he heard a dog bark. The fog seemed to be eating the trees as he moves along the road, BigNose snorted and voiced his opinion of the situation with a short whinny. Barking dogs responded, followed by an eerie silence. The road turned somewhat westward, the trees were further back and the dark shape of a steep hill loomed out of the mist.

He pulled the reigns gently and brought the horses to a stop. A few moments passed, the horses were restless. Again, a couple of dogs barked. though he was sure he heard a gruff male voice curse them to silence. The breeze picked back up and Loden encouraged the horses with a calming tone and dismounted to lead Tingy. His new boots squelched in the mud of the road.

The wind gusted in mighty blows slanting the rain side on, blowing water from the nearby trees and up off the ground, debris and bits of leaves swirled about and the fog dropped down nearer to the ground and pushed back around the hill to reveal a stacked pair of sheds near the hilltop, the short gap between was spanned by a rope and plank bridge, a roof was below the two buildings he first spotted and there we goats, atop the hill and at least two on the structure itself.

The gale let up, caused the building to shift perceptibly and the entire structure gave a low creaking groan. The intensity of the rain eased slightly. Dogs barked, the wind receded again and the fog ebbed back in.

“Hello!” Loden called out, loudly to be heard above the sound of the rain.

Barking dogs answered him as well the curses of someone clearly upset that his dogs were making a ruckus. Again Loden called out, “Hello, I’ve been caught out in this storm. I’m seeking shelter.”

Loden plodded onward, the lower levels of the house became distinguishable. Built on top a massive solid stone slab running from the roads edge to the base of the hill, was a sizable cottage of familiar freehold design. A broad veranda seemed to run around the base, chairs and tables and near a dozen dogs and a grumpy old man smoking a pipe.

Loden waved, the grumpy looking fellow took his pipe from his mouth and then waved him forward. “Get over here youngster, take them animals into that there door. It’s the stables.”

The building loomed over him as the hill loomed over the building. Sometime after being built an expansion of the second floor had been added, then a second slightly smaller cottage had been added on top of the lower two story structures. All was anchored with stilts to the stone slab and solid beams buttressed it to the level below. Five more levels were above that, often with a balcony or external stairs joining one to the next. One of the upper levels seemed to have an outhouse, ropes and beams of wood anchored the structure to the side of the hill.

Near the end of the stone slab a large dressed doorway opened into the side of the hill.

Loden gave another wave of his hand, the dogs growled, the horses started to get skittish. Loden took them to the end of the stone slab where a small yard opened between the end of the rock and the entry.

“My name is Loden.” he offered, wondering if he should have offered his name.

“Call me Remder.” The old man stayed under the shelter of the veranda, keeping the dogs in hand. “Might be the stables could use a cleaning, that’d seem fair exchange for shelter and food.”

“Sounds fair.” Loden said as he stepped into the stables, a lamp near the back provided dim light while a smouldering pitch covered branch was ensconced near the doorway. The place stank and the muck on the floor was worse than outside, if it had not been raining so hard he would have gone right back out. He sighed, partially from the relief of being out of the rain, partially from frustration at the job he’d just taken on.

There were a few pigs in the stables, some chickens and doves. Loden removed his drenched coat and hung it over BigNose’s flank. He dug around for his pipe and tobacco pouch, he had to take a pinch from the centre to find tobacco dry enough to smoke, at least the rest of his tobacco had been better protected. From a small shelf near the sconce with the pitch covered stick Loden found some slivers of wood and used one to light his pipe. He then took a good look around.

What he saw really made him wonder about the homesteaders. Shit and dirt and bones and slop were scattered across the floor. The place appeared not to have been cleaned for a season or more. He took the stick by the door and blew on it until some flames danced along the end. He could see that the place had been carved out of the natural stone, the ceiling was high and his torch light reflected back from whatever had been used to finish the ceiling. Wooden frames supported two small lofts to either side of the area and a workbench had been added near the entryway. Two walls contained shelves carved into the stone and although the shelves were on the dusty side they appeared to be in good order. That seemed out of place alongside the rest of the mess. Moving to the back, where the smouldering lamp hung, he was appalled to discover that the mess on the floor came to the lip of a well. There was a hand pump, winch and pulley as well a number of buckets.

 

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