The Wood & Copper Inn

An excerpt from the book: The Wood & Copper Inn…

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“What is your name sir?” Adams asked while poking at the fire with a stick. 

        “My name is… well honestly, names truly aren’t all that important are they?” the stranger replied, “But I have to say; people in this part of the country, from the lowly farmer to the wealthy landowner, usually don’t need a name to recognize me.” 

“And, who may I ask is your friend?” Adams asked, motioning to the stranger’s servant.

The stranger stared at Adams for a moment.  “As I said before, Mr. Adams, names do not matter,” the fancily dressed stranger replied.

Adams’s instinct kept his hand on his revolver that lay hidden within his shirt.  He kept his finger on the trigger. 

        The stranger smiled slyly.  “You will not need that, Mr. Adams,” the finely dressed stranger said as he slowly sat down on the smaller stone, the one closest to the cave entrance.  “Not that it would do you any good against the likes of me you know,” he said softly, yet quite menacingly enough that Adams noticed. 

Adams watched him sit, and he kept his eyes on the silver-tipped boots that shone in the firelight. 

        “To what may I owe this visit, sir?” Adams asked quite hospitably, “Why, may I ask, would such a richly dressed man such as yourself and his servant be doing in the wilds of these dark mountains?” the stranger did not answer, but he stared at Adams fixedly. 

“I do not recall seeing you sir.  I did not see you at the Wood & Copper Inn, nor did I notice you in the town thereabouts either,” Adams said, but received no answer. 

        The stranger stared at Adams for a moment, and then he reached into his weskit.  He produced a large, very worn, and black leather bound book.  He slowly placed it on the largest stone that lay between them, which was the one just to the side of the fire.  He put both palms back onto the top of his walking stick, and he leaned forward and stared at Adams with a wicked smile.

        Adams looked at the flames of the fire, and how they seemed to reach at the stranger’s boots.  He began to see images within the shadows cast from the firelight.  He noticed how they danced away on the wall.  He noticed how the shadows began taking human form, and how they twisted and turned as if they were now trying to move away from the stranger. 

Adams poured a cup of coffee and he offered it to the stranger. 

        “No thank you, friend Adams.  I never drink coffee, you see.  I prefer harder drink, and not unlike the fine ale that is made and served in that inn yonder through these fine mountain roads and hills,” the stranger said as he stared at Adams. 

“What part of the country are you from then?” Adams asked, keeping his wits under check.  Although, he already knew whom the stranger was, the purpose for the visit, and that he had been the very shadow had been following him since the Carolinas.  

He glanced back at the malevolent wraiths as they stirred in the storm strewn branches of the trees just outside of the cave.

“I am not from anywhere sir,” the stranger answered.