by T. A. White
That tiny smile got just a little bit bigger.
Fallon strode up, his intent gaze noting Clark’s presence among the scouts who’d adopted Shea.
“Inform your men they need to split into groups of five,” Fallon ordered Eamon. “A pathfinder will take each group into the mist and guide them to the other side. Make sure you have warriors as well as scouts in every team. You’ll go through first.”
They looked at the gray haze, their thoughts reflected on each other’s faces. None of them were happy about the solution to this obstacle, but they wouldn’t complain.
“I’ll see that it’s done,” Eamon said with a sharp nod as he walked away. As the Western Wind Division Scout Commander, he was responsible for his men and the burden of relaying orders fell to him.
“I’ll make sure my men are prepared as well,” Buck said.
Fallon shook his head. “Not you. You have different orders.”
Buck hesitated, his gaze turning to Shea. She didn’t respond to the question in his eyes, giving Fallon a frown. It must be time.
“Good luck. Don’t do anything stupid.” Eamon sighed and slapped Buck on the back, then he and Clark walked away.
Buck grunted as he turned his solemn focus on Fallon.
“Is it finally my turn for a mission?” Buck asked, eager eyes going from Shea and back to Fallon.
Shea couldn’t help but feel his eagerness, even as worry at sending her friend into a dangerous situation nagged at her.
They’d decided days ago that Buck was the one for this. His exposure to Shea and everything he’d picked up as a result made him the perfect choice. They’d delayed in sending a second party back to where their people waited in Lowlands, wanting to wait until they made it to the final destination.
Now, Buck and a few others would be sent to give word to Fallon’s general.
“Did my father give you a guide?” Shea asked.
Fallon nodded, his face still tensed.
At least that was something. Buck, and whoever went with him, would need help finding their way out of the Highlands. This was unfamiliar terrain to them, difficult to navigate even under the best of circumstances. The only question was whether they could trust the pathfinder assigned to help.
“Who did he assign?” Shea asked.
“A woman by the name of Des,” Fallon responded.
Shea frowned in thought and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s good.”
“As good as you?” Buck asked in a hopeful voice.
Shea snorted. “No one’s that good.”
Buck snickered. “It seems we’ve created a monster. I remember when you were humble. Ah, the good old days.”
Shea shook her head and ignored him, focusing on Fallon. “It’s been a few years, but the Des I remember takes her commitments seriously.”
“You trust her?” he asked.
Shea hesitated. “To a point.”
Shea didn’t really trust anyone, except for a very select few. Fallon, of course. Buck, and Eamon too, were among that number.
“I’ll watch my back,” Buck said, his expression serious for once. “I have the maps you gave me. At the first sign she’s drawing us off course, I’ll act.”
It was the best they could hope for, given the circumstances.
Shea offered her hand, giving him a small smile as he stepped up to grasp her forearm in a warrior’s farewell. His grip was firm and his gaze steady.
“See you soon,” Shea told him.
He nodded, before turning and loping away, his voice already raised as he called his team.
“Do you wish you were going with him?” Fallon asked.
“Not this time,” Shea said after thinking over the question. She turned back to the mist. “I have a feeling the more difficult path is still in front of us.
He made a sound of agreement as he stared at the mist with an aggravated expression. “Somehow, I think you’re right.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It didn’t take long for the Trateri to arrange themselves into groups. Eamon’s group went first, the mist swallowing them as if they’d never existed. One by one the groups went through until it was Shea’s turn.
It wasn’t really a surprise Trenton and Wilhelm had been lumped in with her. As her guards, they typically ended up wherever she did.
Wilhelm was a good foil to Trenton, quiet and observant where the other man was chatty and at times attention grabbing. He was handsome, enough so that he was never in want of company if he so desired. He was also easy-going, his lips quick to smile and his face earnest. That didn’t mean he wasn’t as dangerous as the other Anateri. He was just more subtle about it. He was the stalking great cat in the grass. His beauty might strike you dumb and make you want to pet his furry coat, but his teeth and claws were just as capable of tearing out your throat.
Witt was the fourth in their party. Captured alongside Shea when Birdon Leaf and Goodwin of Ria had betrayed them into servitude to the Trateri, Witt had assimilated rather easily into their ranks. His face was a well-worn map that gave testament to the kind of life he’d lived. In his middle years, he was a quiet man who weighed every word to leave his mouth as if it was gold.
He, like her, had made a home with his former captors and had given them his undying loyalty. His struggle between the two had been briefer than hers, partly because he’d never had any love lost for the pathfinders to begin with.
“If you had told my younger self that I would ever think about passing through the pathfinder’s little mist to get to their stronghold, I would have called you a fool,” Witt said in a dry voice next to Shea.
They stood on the edge that marked the world of the mist from the normal land, close enough that Shea could reach out and touch its cool embrace if she’d wanted to.
“Back then, I would have beat the shit out of anybody who made such a claim,” Witt said. He blamed the pathfinders for his family’s death. They’d excised his village from the maps, which had, in a roundabout way, led to their destruction.
“If you’d told me I would be returning home as the black sheep while accused of treason, I might have done the same,” Shea said with a slight smile.
“What funny paths life takes,” Witt said, still looking up at the mist.
She made a noncommittal sound as they were joined by the pathfinder who would be leading them through.
Fallon strode up to them then, his face irritated as Caden dogged his steps.
“I do not like this,” Caden said, a fierce frown on his face. He glared Shea’s way, as if he placed the blame for whatever was going on squarely on her shoulders.
“We’ve already had this discussion. The decision has been made,” Fallon said with forced patience.
“I do not like you going into this cursed place without sufficient protection,” Caden said, aiming a scathing glance at the mist in front of them.
“No, you don’t like the fact that you won’t be at my back,” Fallon corrected. He had that tone of voice that usually made Shea grind her teeth. It said that he was being imminently reasonable and arguing with him was irrational and illogical. “There will be two Anateri in my group—both just as highly-trained as you.”
Caden scowled. “Both of whom will be more focused on your telroi’s protection than yours.”
Ah, so that was what this was about. Fallon planned to join her group. She couldn’t say she was too surprised. In fact, she was more than satisfied with this outcome. It meant she could keep an eye on him. There was no one she trusted more to get him through unharmed.
“You underestimate me, old friend,” Fallon said in a mild voice. “Becoming warlord has not softened my skills. Perhaps I should demonstrate during our next practice.”
Shea winced at the rebuke hidden in his words. The milder Fallon’s voice tended to get, the more dangerous the footing underneath you.
“Even the best need men at their back, or did you forget the rea
son you created the Anateri in the first place,” Caden said, his voice sharp.
Fallon’s face turned dark, the jab hitting its mark.
Trenton and Wilhelm turned their backs and walked a few paces away, giving the two the illusion of privacy. A good thing too, because Fallon wasn’t the type to allow his past to be used against him—even by one of his most trusted men.
Shea remained rooted to the ground, wishing herself anywhere else, but unable to move for fear of drawing attention to herself.
“Careful, First. I may consider you like a brother, but that will not stop me should you go too far,” Fallon warned, his face granite hard.
“If that means you stop and think before you get yourself killed, then so be it.” Caden’s face was just as hard, his jaw clenched, and his eyebrows drawn down. “Your death doesn’t affect just you. The clan leaders will waste no time trying to seize control and destroy everything we’ve accomplished. Or would you like a recap of what happened the last time you disappeared?”
Fallon didn’t respond, the two men locked in a heated stare.
Shea shifted. There was a simple solution to this, but given the tension in the air, she didn’t know if she should recommend it.
“We can add another to the party,” Shea volunteered. “Five is the optimal number, but six isn’t bad since there will be two pathfinders in the group. Myself and the one they assign.”
It wouldn’t fully allay Caden’s concerns, but it should be enough of a compromise that both men would feel they had won. Shea fought the need to roll her eyes at them. It was an easy solution, and either of them could have come up with it if they hadn’t been so stubborn.
The two men glared at each other for a beat longer.
Finally, Fallon relaxed. “That is acceptable.”
“Good. I’ll assign someone to guard his most stubborn ass.” Caden spun on his heel and strode off, leaving Shea staring after him open-mouthed.
All that, and he was going to assign someone else? She’d thought he’d at least put himself into the mix.
A warm hand found its way to her back as Fallon’s chuckle sounded in her ear. “He’s giving himself time to cool off. Truly, the two Anateri with you would be more than enough. This place has got him jumpy.”
Shea craned her head back and gave him a skeptical look. “Maybe, if both Anateri were healthy.”
Trenton wasn’t fully healed from his wounds earlier in the trip. Also, Caden wasn’t lying when he said both her guards would be more worried about her than Fallon. Her warlord had made it very clear he expected her safety to take priority in any situation—especially with her two bookends.
She didn’t have time to continue the conversation as a woman, one not much younger than Shea, approached carrying a long length of sturdy rope. Her face was bright and open, even as she appeared almost nervous in front of them. Shea had seen her a time or two while traveling. She was new, probably after Shea’s time.
“Hello, um, I need you to tie this around your waists,” she said after a fumbling start. She held the rope out to them, blinking rapidly.
Shea took pity on her and plucked it from her hand, unraveling it to see what type of length they were working with. Smaller ropes were tied to the thick main one and would allow them to tie each around their waist, making their jobs a lot easier.
“What’s your name?” Shea asked, hoping the easy question would help her with her apparent nerves.
“Lilah.” A brief smile crossed Lilah’s face. She was a pretty woman and the smile helped ease some of the pinched look on her face. “Right, uh, we’re going to be the sixth group to enter. Please do not untie the rope for any reason.”
Before she could say anything else, a man hustled up. He was one of the Anateri Shea had seen several times but had rarely spoken to.
Trenton and Wilhelm gave him welcoming nods. “Owen, good to see you.”
Owen nodded back before turning to Shea and Fallon. “Warlord, Telroi.”
Fallon didn’t say much, folding muscled arms over his chest as he turned his stare back on the pathfinder.
Lilah flinched and swallowed hard, her glance darting to the sixth man. Shea waited, wondering if she would get up the courage to say something about the fact that they now had too many.
She was mildly surprised when the pathfinder didn’t argue. If she’d been leading an unknown group and they added another person at the last minute, she’d definitely have had something to say. They probably would have stood there arguing until all the others group had passed. She wasn’t sure what that said about her.
Lilah continued with her familiar lecture, her voice still nervous as Shea passed the rope around.
They put themselves in order as Lilah continued to run through the rules. The unfamiliar Anateri ended up first with Fallon second. Next came Wilhelm, then Shea, and finally Trenton, with Witt bringing up the rear. The group’s horses were already on leads and would trail after them in the mist.
“You may hear things out there; just ignore it. They’re not really there.”
Shea frowned at Lilah, tempted to argue. That wasn’t really true. Yes, the person you thought you heard might not be there, but something else waited. Appearances in the mist were deceptive. The denizens used that to their benefit, feasting on the flesh of the unwary and tormenting them with their own memories.
To say it wasn’t real, however, was to lessen the danger. Something she disagreed with.
She held her tongue against her automatic objection. This was the woman’s mission. As much as Shea would like to take control, it wasn’t really her place. More, it wasn’t necessary at this point.
It didn’t take long for their group to be ready. Then they had to wait. And wait. And wait.
Trenton and Wilhelm were too well-trained to be bothered by the boredom. They took advantage of the time to watch the people around them, cataloging weaknesses, possible enemies. Shea shifted from foot to foot, ready to get this over with, but also too used to how these things worked to complain. Witt watched the proceedings with his arms folded over his chest and an intent expression on his face, as if the smallest thing was fascinating.
Witt was like Shea, an observer. He watched and listened and learned. Unlike Shea, he possessed patience in spades, especially when it came to his fellow humans. He’d wait until the perfect time to use what he’d learned to the maximum effectiveness. They’d never see him coming.
“Alright, we’re up next. Does everyone remember what I told them?” Lilah asked in a chipper voice.
Shea had never been able to fake that amount of enthusiasm.
“Yes,” Wilhelm said with an easy smile.
“Good, alright, here we go.” Lilah stepped into the mist, the end of the rope wrapped firmly around her waist.
One by one, they were swallowed by the grayish mass. Shea took a deep breath, already uncomfortable being in someone else’s control, and stepped through. She’d walked into its cold embrace more times than she cared to count, but every time she was struck by the alien sense of being displaced from the world.
Her footsteps echoed around her, at once loud and muffled. The cold seeped into her bones, and it was difficult to see more than a foot in front of her. The only thing that tethered her to the world was the rope beneath her hand and the tight coil around her waist.
She’d traveled through the little mist, as the pathfinders called it, many times during her training as a pathfinder and afterward, but it had never felt like this. There was an almost sentient quality to it, as if it watched and judged those who navigated its depths.
It felt like there were eyes, thousands of them, all targeted at the back of her neck. It was an unsettling feeling to say the least, and her skin twitched with the need to be far from here. She didn’t give into the almost primal urge to flee. That way led madness. You lose your head in the mist, and you could lose it forever.
It started small, a hushed whisper, the sound of
pebbles skating down rock. Then a babble of voices surrounded them, some quiet, almost soundless, others shouting for attention.
Something brushed against Shea’s cheek and she jerked, the rope in her hands snapping taught under her hands. The deep panting by her companions told her she wasn’t the only one experiencing the phenomena.
The rope tugged hard, catching tight for a moment as Shea automatically dug in, bracing against an unseen force. They were dragged several heart-stopping steps before the force abated as quickly as it’d come.
Wilhelm fell backward, nearly taking her down with him. Shea grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. “Easy, friend.”
“Something grabbed me.” His voice was haunted as he looked back at her, his face nothing but a shadowy impression in the haze. “It felt like death.”
“Something wrong?” Trenton loomed out of the mist at Shea’s back, Witt close behind.
The mist thinned momentarily, leaving their surroundings hazy but decipherable. Boulders as tall as trees loomed near them. Shea thought she made out the faintest shadow of a cliff high above. Scraggly trees clung to the crevasses in some of the boulders with a desperation echoed by their bare limbs. A well-worn stone path meandered into the haze, a small, weather-beaten statue on one side of the path.
“This isn’t right,” Trenton complained, looking at the cliffs and boulders. “The least this thing could do is make the scenery match. That cliff shouldn’t be there.”
Witt watched their surroundings with hard eyes, his hand on the sword at his waist. She noted Trenton and Wilhelm had their hands arranged in a similar fashion. Fallon was slightly in front of them, his body tense and alert against possible danger. His sword was already out, held at the ready as if he anticipated some unseen foe.
“There’s something out there,” Fallon said, his voice hushed and fierce.
“Wait, where’s Lilah and Owen?” Shea asked, looking to the other side of Fallon. His rope trailed into the mist, appearing as if it disappeared into air.