by T. A. White
“You get that from her, you know,” he continued in a conversational voice, her silence not bothering him in the slightest. “That woman could freeze a fire during summer when she was mad enough.”
“You assume I’m angry,” Shea said idly. She lowered herself until she was lying on her back, hands clasped over her stomach as she stared up at the night sky. “I understand why you took the stance you did.”
Anger was the wrong word. Hurt was a better one—the type of hurt that wouldn’t be soothed with false platitudes.
There was much left unsaid between them. Hard feelings on both sides. She didn’t know how to fix that.
She’d grown up with the unshakable belief her parents would be behind her no matter what might come. That they would protect her even if whatever hid in the Badlands rose up out of its sleep and destroyed the rest of the world. Barring that, she’d had confidence they would love her and stand beside her when she screwed up. Not protect her from her mistakes, but not abandon her either.
The Badlands had changed all that. She didn’t know who she was more upset with. Them, for taking away a child’s bone-deep belief that her parents’ love was unconditional, or herself, for losing their faith in the first place.
“Would you really have brought me to trial for the Badlands if Fallon hadn’t agreed to come with you to Wayfarer’s Keep?” she asked.
There was a heavy silence. “Yes.”
Her breath left her in a shaky exhale. So, Fallon had been wrong.
She sat up and slid to the end of the rock.
“I knew it wouldn’t come to that.” His voice drifted through the night air.
Shea hesitated, wanting to cling to some shred of that child’s belief.
“You couldn’t have known,” she said, after a long pause where she considered the logic behind that statement. “I am very much aware of his reputation. The Lowlanders call him the scourge. No sane person would think such a man is going to willingly walk into an uncertain situation.”
“His presence here suggests otherwise,” her father observed.
“Yes, because Fallon is more than he appears, but you wouldn’t have known that, which means you’re lying.” She clicked her tongue at him. “Tsk, tsk, Father. I expected better of you.”
His head tilted and she could picture his crooked grin in her mind’s eye. “And yet, daughter, you’re not one to give your loyalty to a monster. The simple fact you haven’t led him or his men to their deaths reveals there is more to him than the stories portray.”
Shea narrowed her eyes at the shadows obscuring her father’s face. She wished they were having this conversation somewhere she could see him, analyze his expressions. Her father was a very smart man, apt to fence with words. He’d taught her how to read people, simply by having her observe him. He was the reason she preferred to stand back and watch rather than always be in the front talking. You learned so much more when you paid attention and listened.
He could be telling the truth—that he’d believed there was more to Fallon than others guessed. Then again, did she want to risk the heartbreak if he wasn’t?
Did she have a choice? She didn’t see good things for her warlord and his warriors if her father truly had ill intentions toward them. There was no easy way to extract Fallon and his men if she judged the situation too dangerous.
Firstly, because the pathfinders with her father were all very good at their job. As good as Shea anyway. Slipping away unseen would be next to impossible. She might be able to take one or two with her, but the rest would fall.
And secondly, because Fallon wouldn’t be easily turned from this course. Her father had offered him everything he had ever wanted—an alliance that would bring the Highlands under Fallon’s rule, and weapons to hold what he gained.
No, they were going to the Keep whether her father was lying or not. She just needed to make sure they stepped softly.
“Are you still having the nightmares?” he asked in an idle voice.
Shea stiffened and glanced back at him, her shoulders tense. “What makes you ask that?”
“This is the third night you’ve gotten up to watch the stars. I know you, daughter. You wouldn’t be missing out on precious rest to watch a few twinkling lights.”
Shea pressed her lips together.
“How long have you been having them?” he asked. “Are they the same ones you had after the Badlands?”
She shook her head. No. Nope. She wasn’t doing this.
“You don’t get to ask me that,” she said, the squeeze around her heart making her voice shaky and husky. “We’re no longer on the same side. That kind of information is no longer yours to know.”
“I’m your father.”
“You’re with them.” She flung a hand out to the pathfinder side of the camp. “I’m Trateri now. What I dream or don’t dream is none of your business.”
She started to slide down the boulder when a harsh sound reached her ears. Her father went alert beside her.
She didn’t bother asking what it was. It was a pointless question and would waste valuable time. He was as clueless as her. Instead, she listened, the pounding of hoofs growing. It sounded like a stampede.
There, it was coming from her right, away from camp, but it wouldn’t be long before the thing responsible for the sound was on them.
“On your feet!” her father shouted seconds before Shea could, his deep voice carrying.
The camp stirred into motion, Fallon’s warriors and her father’s pathfinders slipping seamlessly from sleep to waking in seconds as they found their feet, weapons already in their hands. In moments, they stood at the ready, facing danger with alert eyes, anticipation on some of the warriors’ faces.
There was a long breathless moment where they waited, nothing happening. Just that relentless pounding drawing closer, a storm approaching and no means to get out of its way in time.
Close to Shea, slim forms burst into view, bounding over small rocks and around the large boulders strewn in their way, their shapes almost indistinguishable in the dim light. They were little more than shadows as they rushed toward them.
One of the creatures passed near. She caught an impression of antlers and a human-like body. For a long moment, she thought the deer-like creature was steered by a man on its back, until she realized the torso transitioned into the powerful body underneath. It was that of a deer or an elk, some four-legged creature with hooves. It was something Shea had never seen before. The beast’s powerful legs carried it past her before she could catch more than a glimpse.
It, and its brethren bounded around and through their little party. One leapt over a human when there was no other way. Almost as swiftly as they’d come, they disappeared into the night, leaving the befuddled group staring at each other.
“What in all the ancestors was that?” Buck asked, his voice carrying to where she and her father still crouched on the boulder.
That was a very good question. One Shea would like the answer to.
She slid down the boulder, landing on the ground, her father seconds behind her before they made their way to the rest of their companions. The light from the half-moon made the shadows harsh, and while she could see the tracks their late-night guests had left, she couldn’t see well enough to make out fine details.
She was careful not to walk over any of the ones she could see, her father doing the same on the other side of her.
“Shea.” Fallon’s voice was a quiet thrum of power in the fervor that was starting now the surprise of their visitors had worn off.
“I’m here, Fallon.” Shea looked up from where she crouched next to one of the hoof prints at the tall shadowed figure a few feet from her. “I’m unharmed,” she said as an afterthought. “Was anybody hurt?”
“One. Chirron is with him now.”
“How bad?” she asked.
“He’ll live.”
That was something at least.
“Anyone want to tell me what those things were?” Van asked from the opposite side of the camp, his voice full of irritation. The leader of Lion clan was every inch the warrior. A man who’d prefer to bludgeon his problems to death and then burn the carcass.
To say he wasn’t enjoying his sojourn in the Highlands was putting it mildly. With no one to kill and having to play nice with the pathfinders accompanying them, he’d been like a bear with a sore paw for the last several days. Even the odd beast hadn’t done much more than allay some of his irritation, since he saw little sport in killing them. His preferred prey was other humans.
Shea dusted off her hands as she stood. Fallon had come to stand next to her, and he touched her arm as if to assure himself that she really was alright. She clasped his wrist and gave it a squeeze before directing her attention to the others.
“They looked like people,” the hushed voice of a Trateri said into the quiet.
“Only with horns and the body of some type of animal,” Buck returned. The normal sly humor was gone from his voice. Something about the creature had seriously spooked him, and he wasn’t the only one.
Shea could sense the unrest in the Trateri. The pathfinders too, but there it was a little subtler. They were no happier about the events than their companions, but they were hiding it better. Maybe because this wasn’t something new to them?
As for the beast, Shea didn’t know what to tell them. She’d never encountered anything like it. Beasts were monstrous animals, in form and mind. Most were driven by instinct and would attack when threatened, but otherwise went about doing whatever it was beasts did. A few beasts showed signs of an almost human intelligence—revenants were the first to come to mind—creatures that could strategize and evolve their tactics based on the actions of their prey. Thankfully, that particular brand of beast was rare. Otherwise, the human population would be even smaller than it was.
“Do you know what it was?” Fallon asked in a voice meant only for her ears.
Shea shook her head, forgetting he probably couldn’t see much of her in the dark. “No, I’ve never encountered anything like it.”
“I think your pathfinders have,” Fallon said, his head turned toward where the pathfinders had arranged themselves in a clump.
“I think so, too,” she responded in a thoughtful voice.
“It makes me wonder what else they aren’t telling us.”
“Let’s find out then, shall we?” She gave him a sideways glance.
“Lead the way.”
Shea crossed to where her father was consulting with some of his people. Just in time too, as their arrival coincided with Van and two other clan leaders. Van grabbed one of the pathfinders by the shirt and jerked him up to his face.
“I have half a mind to stake a few of you out and let those things trample all over you,” Van said in a hard voice.
Flanked by a few of his men, he cut an imposing figure, even in the dark. Other Trateri noticed the confrontation and drifted closer, the slightly curved swords that had just been sheathed being drawn again. The mood turned hostile, the air heavy with the threat of impending violence.
“Is violence the only way you barbarians know how to respond to surprises?” Eric asked, his voice taunting. “I guess that shouldn’t shock me given who you follow—a killer, and a traitor only good for leading people to their death.”
A growl escaped Van, the sound filled with rage and an animal-like bestiality surprising in a human. Shea moved before he could do something to break the delicate balance they’d struck. She hit his hand, forcing him to release his victim and shoved her way in between the two, knocking both back.
“That’s enough.” Gods save her from stupid men. “We’re all on edge. Let’s not make it worse by losing our heads.”
“Look at that, always interfering where you shouldn’t,” Eric said with a slight sneer in his voice.
She gave him a cool look, the effect somewhat mitigated by the darkness. “And a good thing too, or you would never have made it past your first year as a pathfinder, Eric.”
There was a slight snicker from one of the other pathfinders as Eric sputtered.
“Or did you forget it was me that kept you from walking right into a lazy boy’s trap and losing your entire left leg.” Shea cocked her head. Silence greeted her. She’d thought that little trip down memory lane might do it.
A lazy boy was a beast who masqueraded as one of the common plants growing on the hills in the Highlands. They were easy to overlook. Step on one and you could lose a limb—or two.
“Now, how about you and yours go secure the perimeter and make sure that whatever caused those things to stampede doesn’t come our way while the adults have a little chat.” Shea put her hands on her hips, very aware of Van and his men at her back and Eric and his friends at her front.
“That’s a fine idea,” her father’s voice cut in before Eric could respond. “Take four others and conduct a patrol. I want to know what startled those creatures in our direction.”
There was a tense moment where she thought Eric would argue, but he was too well trained. He stalked off, gesturing for several others to follow him without another word.
Shea exhaled. Fallon was a warm presence at her side. He didn’t say anything, just loomed threateningly, adding his authority to her own, but letting her take the lead.
Van’s snort brought Shea’s attention back to the other problem at hand. She opened her mouth to voice a sharp retort, irritation getting the best of her. He’d been just as bad as Eric.
“You do the same,” Fallon said before she could make matters any worse. “Take the ones behind you and patrol in the opposite direction. I want to know if there’s anything else out there.”
If it had been light, Shea would have had no doubt Van would be scowling at them right now. As it was, she saw him cross his arms over his chest as he leveled a glare on Fallon.
After a long moment, he grunted. “I’ll get one of the scouts to accompany us.”
“Take Buck. He’s already scouted the area so he should be familiar with it,” Shea told him. He was also one of their more talented scouts, made even better at his job by his time spent with Shea on the trail.
Buck’s laissez faire attitude hid a sharp intellect and a fierce heart. He’d walked into the fire with her on more than one occasion when it would have made sense to turn around and run. He’d come out stronger and more knowledgeable for it. That coupled with the fact he got along with pretty much everyone, and she knew she could trust him to keep Van from starting anything stupid if he ran across any of the pathfinders out there. He was always the voice of reason when she and Eamon had butted heads with any of the commanders they’d worked under.
To her surprise, Van didn’t argue with her, just waved his hand in acknowledgment as he stomped off.
She noted that Caden and Braden had joined them at some point and were now flanking Fallon. The other pathfinders had dispersed, leaving her father and two others to face them.
“Well, look at you, throwing your weight around and barking orders,” her cousin’s amused voice said in the dark.
Fallon stiffened beside her, his hands flexing, probably with the need to wrap around the other man’s annoying neck.
Reece had not made a good first or second impression on Fallon, and his actions since had done little to endear him to her warlord. Granted, her cousin was known for his annoying personality. He often reminded Shea of a vexing splinter that just kept working itself deeper and deeper under your skin no matter how you tried to force it back out.
Shea had always found it best to just ignore her cousin. When you gave him the reaction he was looking for, he just doubled down on his efforts to annoy you, picking and picking until you exploded in a hot mess of emotion.
She turned to her father. “The Lion clan’s question was valid. What were those things? I’ve never seen anything like them in the Highlands or Lowlands.” Or the Badlands,
she echoed silently.
“And because you’ve never seen something like that, it must mean they can’t exist,” Reece said.
Shea was left with the strong impression he’d just rolled his eyes.
“I don’t remember anything like them mentioned in our records either,” Shea said in a calm voice, even as her palm itched with the need to whack him upside the head for being deliberately difficult.
“Enough, boy,” her father said, his voice a quiet rumble before Reece could say anything else. To Shea, he said, “You’ll find them in no current records.”
Current implied there was a record of the strange beast. That was impossible. She’d gone through all of their archives, studied every beast they had information on. Multiple times, until she could recall things on command. Sometimes that information was thin, but it usually contained a description. Nothing she’d read had suggested a creature that walked on four legs, had a human torso and antlers on its head. She’d remember something like that.
“I’ve read everything in the library,” Shea said. Everything she could get her hands on. Once upon a time, she’d been driven to be the best, the most knowledgeable. Now she didn’t care so much about being the best, rather she focused on increasing the chance of survival for her and those under her protection.
“You didn’t think they let us have access to everything?” Reece said, a snide smile in his voice. “Please. No, only the privileged few are permitted access to the older archives.”
Shea’s attention shot to her father. “You have another set of archives? And you let him look at them?”
She didn’t know whether she should feel anticipation at the thought or jealousy at the implication that Reece had gotten to read them when she hadn’t.
Her father exhaled, the sound expressing some of his frustration for the two of them. “Yes. The guildmaster unsealed them shortly after the first stories filtered in about strange creatures no one had heard of before.”
“Then you know what those things were.” Fallon’s words were a statement, not a question.
Her father inclined his head. “I have a vague idea.”