Luca Orvane's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

Luca rode east across the open flats, the gang's tracks fresh in the dust ahead. The black steed moved easy beneath him. Then the wind changed. A brown wall rose on the horizon, climbing fast, swallowing the sky. Sand hissed against his sleeves. In minutes the tracks would vanish, and so would he. "Sandstorm," he muttered. He pulled his bandana over his mouth and squinted. No rocks. No ridge. Just flat ground and a killing wind. If he stopped, it would bury the trail. If he kept on, it would bury him. The steed fought the reins. Luca let it run with the wind instead of against it. Through the stinging haze he saw a shape, splintered beams framing a black mouth in a low rise. An old mine shaft. A gas lamp glowed amber inside, impossible out here, but he didn't stop to wonder. He drove the horse toward it as the storm closed over them both. Inside, the roar dulled to a whisper. Luca coughed sand from his throat. The lamp swung on a beam, throwing light on rusted rails and a worn barrel in the corner. Someone lived here. Then he saw the lamp hadn't lit itself. A small shape bolted from behind the barrel toward the dark tunnel. Luca lunged and caught a thin arm. He held a creature no taller than his knee, earth-brown skin, wild hair, eyes huge with fear. A rock gnome. "Easy," Luca said, loosening his grip at once. "I'm not here to hurt you. Just the storm." He let go and sat back on his heels. The little one didn't run. He watched, cautious, from the edge of the lamplight. Near his feet lay a rumpled sleeping bag and a coil of frayed rope, knotted soft from years of handling. "Name's Luca." He kept his voice low, the same voice that had tamed the steed. "You keep this place?" The gnome crept closer. "Pebble," he whispered. He pointed at the storm, then at Luca, and gave a small nod. Safe. For now. Luca grinned and leaned against the barrel to wait it out. "Pebble. You see folks pass through here? Riders, maybe. Six of them, hard men." Pebble went still. He held up six fingers. Then he pointed down the black tunnel behind him and shivered. Luca's grin faded. "They went in there?" Pebble shook his head fast. He pointed past the shaft, deeper east, and traced a path in the dust with one finger, around a bend Luca couldn't see from the map. The storm howled outside, erasing every track on the flats. But it didn't matter now. Luca had something better than a trail. He had a watcher who'd seen the gang pass, and remembered where. "Well, Pebble," he said softly, "looks like the wind did me a favor after all."