Connell quickly rose, rushing toward his horse. “Then we must hurry,” he said while mounting. “We do not have much time.”
He did not wait for their response as he flicked his reins and kicked his horse forward. His stallion whinnied as they ran down the path. The clouds were moving, displaying the stars and moon, the only light illuminating his path. Connell focused on his breathing, trying not to think of what McCormick’s enemies were doing to Elsy. He imagined her tied and gagged, sitting in a chair while a man shrouded in darkness paced back and forth in front of her. He imagined her crying, quivering with fear.
Don’t think of such things,he told himself while grinding his teeth.There still is time. I will find her. Don’t ye worry, Elsy. I will find ye.
In the distance, he could see lights, candles in the windows where the occupants of the houses sat with their families. He focused on those lights; hoping and praying to God above that Elsy was near and safe. As he entered the town, he heard laughter coming from a tavern. Men were singing and Connell could see through the window that many were dancing on the tables. Connell’s frown deepened.
One of them must know something,he thought while dismounting.One of them very well could have taken Elsy and Scott.His hand itched for his sword, but he knew withdrawing it would do nothing to aid him now. He led his horse through the streets and tied it near the well, offering it water while he waited for Donald, Grant, Brann, and Ian to join him.
“What now?” Ian asked with a heavy sigh.
“We should knock on doors,” said Connell. “Ask if anyone has seen a lady and a young boy.”
Grant nodded. “Ian and I will take the houses over here,” he said while pointing to his left.
Donald nodded. “We’ll take the tavern.”
Connell winced as he followed Donald and Brann toward the tavern, not knowing if they would find much help from a group of drunkards. He supposed they needed to start somewhere. As soon as they entered the pub, his nose was assaulted by the stifled, humid air, heavy with the reek of bodies mingling amongst each other. He could hardly hear himself think as he pushed through the crowd, searching for someone who could see straight and wasn’t slurring his words.
“Have ye seen a lass?” Brann shouted to one man standing in the corner who swayed on his feet.
The man chuckled while holding up his pint. “I’ve seen several.”
Connell rolled his eye as he stepped toward Brann, who was busy shaking his head. “Nae,” Connell heard him shout. “I mean, a lass with fiery hair, traveling with a young lad and maybe some others.”
The man took a large gulp of his ale before stumbling backwards, hitting his head against the wall behind him. Connell grabbed Brann and wrenched him away from the drunkard before he could ask him any questions. “Tis best to ask someone less inebriated,” Connell said into Brann’s ear.
“Ye there!” someone shouted, and Connell turned, finding Donald at the bar, his hands on the wood, pitching forward and trying to speak with the barman. Connell’s frown deepened as he edged closer. The barman was scowling at Donald, his mouth set in a firm line while he crossed his arms. “If ye will not buy anything then ye must leave!”
Donald sighed. “We are looking for someone. A young lass with a--”
The barman shook his head. “Do ye not understand me? Either buy something or leave. I have nae time for ye.”
Donald turned around, meeting Connell’s gaze and giving a stern shake of his head.
“This was all for naething,” Connell whispered as he turned around, nearly running into an elderly man with a balding scalp and a long grey beard.
The man smiled at him, brandishing yellowed, rotting teeth. He grabbed Connell’s hand and tugged him forward, nearly making him trip over his own feet. “I hear yer looking for a lass?” the elderly man said, his voice strained as if it was difficult for him to breath and speak at once. “I have seen one with hair like the fires.”
“Where?” Connell shouted, grabbing the elderly man’s shoulders.
The man didn’t say anything, merely crooked his hand at Connell and nodded toward the door. Connell followed the man out of the tavern, followed by Brann and Donald. When the man still didn’t speak, Connell said angrily, “Where is she? Speak man! For I have not all night.”
The elderly man chuckled while slowly turning around. He tilted his head, his eyes scrutinizing Connell’s attire before turning to Brann and Donald. “This lass must mean a lot to ye,” he said while stroking his beard. “I wonder, how much would ye pay for what I know?”
Connell ground his teeth as he dug into his cloak, pulling out a small bag of coin. It was the last he had. Everything had been given to the driver the day before. He took out the last golden coins, and without thinking twice, handed them to the elderly man, who chuckled eagerly, his hand tightening around them.
“Tell me what ye know,” Connell breathed. He swore he would make this man pay tenfold if he was wasting his time. Connell didn’t care how old he was.
“Aye, I saw a lass come in not all that long ago with hair like the fire. She wasn’t awake. She looked gravely ill.”
Connell inhaled deeply as he tried to calm himself. The elder spoke too slowly. He was taking too long. Elsy could be in trouble. She could be crying, screaming out her pain. She could be suffering all alone. She could be-- Connell shook his head. He would not think that way. He could not think that way.
“Was there a young lad with her?” Donald asked. “About twelve summers.”
The elderly man frowned. “Twasn’t a lad that was with her, but a young lass dressed in men’s clothes. She had been crying. Her eyes were red,” he added while pointing to his own eyes. “There were two men with them.”
“Not a lad?” Donald asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at Connell. “Then it must have been--”
