by T. A. White
Trenton and Braden plodded along in front of her. Braden stared around, assessing, taking stock, as if the mist was an enemy he intended to conquer.
Trenton was a little more relaxed, only concerning himself with where Shea was in relation to him at all times. She’d noticed he did that a lot, as if he needed to make sure he could reach her at a moment’s notice in case anything went down. She’d gotten used to it, though here, he was more likely to need her protection than the other way around.
Reece came to a stop ahead, his body alert as he peered into the fog. Shea scanned their surroundings, hazy and obscure as they might be.
They were close.
Reece had come to the same conclusion because he turned to their party and said, “Alright, my little ducklings, we have neared the end of this little trip. Once we’re out of the mist, you can unlatch yourselves from your leashes. I warn you against venturing too far from the group as this place is a mite unpredictable. We don’t need any of you lackwits going and getting lost. Do we, cousin?”
Shea gave him a half smile. “No, we do not.”
Reece’s lips twitched and he looked back at their charges. “I’ll finish the briefing on the other end. Just know you will be judged and graded for every move you make. Act wisely.”
There were several nods as the men and women with them took Reece’s words to heart.
He studied them with dark eyes. Judging his warning sufficient, he turned and continued forward, the mist thickening until it had the consistency of soup, enveloping his body in white.
There were murmurs of unease as, one by one, the students pushed through, following Reece into the unknown.
When it was Braden’s turn, he studied the white for a moment before moving forward with a resolute step.
Trenton gave Shea a vexed look that she returned with amusement before he too followed.
Shea closed her eyes and stepped forward, feeling a slight pulling sensation in her heart as she transitioned from the mist into a mountain glen, green and alive with wildflowers. Tall trees lined the outskirts of the glen. In the middle, a circle of stones had been embedded in the ground that had a fountain at their center, water bubbling up. Strange carved creatures frolicked around its edges.
The stone tiles had been arranged so that grooves carried water to and from the fountain in channels.
In the distance was evidence of ruins—crumbled walls and the remains of stairs surrounded by a tower that was missing huge pieces was all that remained.
Around it all, there was a giant wall of mist, the glen the only thing not consumed by it. The sun shone down on the little clearing, making it seem even more surreal.
Shea pulled her wrist free as the students moved off to explore.
“What is this place?” Braden asked.
That was a good question. The short answer was that no one knew. It could only be gotten to by way of the mist surrounding the keep, but the paths to it always changed. It meant you could only get to it by being led by someone who had already been there, the location acting like a beacon in the pathfinder’s mind.
It was old, whatever it was. Of that, Shea was sure.
“You said you wanted to know how pathfinders got their abilities,” Shea said. She nodded to the fountain and the ruins. “This is part of it.”
Braden looked back at the scene, as he frowned in thought. He gave her a curious glance. “How?”
“If we understood that, there’d be a lot more of us,” Reece said, his face irritated.
Shea sent her cousin a quelling glance. He shrugged at her before wandering off.
She turned back to Braden and nodded for him to join her. Together, they made their way down the slight hill to the glen, Trenton trailing behind them.
“We think it has something to do with this place. Maybe the fountain or the ruins, but students who visit here before the final test seem to have a greater likelihood of passing,” Shea said.
“It is strange,” Braden said, observing the place with a frown. “Is it always surrounded by the mist?”
Shea nodded. “As far as we can tell. Its boundaries never waver, it’s always the same, neither shrinking nor retreating.”
Braden looked around with an assessing gaze, the tactician in him emerging. “If we could harness whatever enables it to do that, it would mean you wouldn’t have to fear the mist.”
“In theory,” Shea agreed.
He gave her a sharp look. “You don’t agree?”
She gestured to the wall of mist around them. “You might keep it from rolling over you, but you’d still be cut off from the rest of the world. The effect ends up being the same.”
Not to mention, her people had spent many decades studying this place and they were no closer to discovering its secrets.
She spotted Clark near the rest and headed in that direction. Reece had several of the students near him where he sat against the lip of the fountain, fielding questions from curious minds who had shaken off their unease to focus on the wondrous place they found themselves in.
“No, you can’t take your shoes off and walk around in the fountain,” Reece said as Shea walked up. She bit back a laugh at the words and the expression on her cousin’s face—one very similar to what their old mentor used to give when either of them showed a lack of sense. “What are they teaching you idiots nowadays?”
There was a shuffling of feet as the students looked away.
Reece let out an angry sigh. “Spread out. Observe. Then come back and tell me what you see.” Before anyone could take more than a step toward the bubbling water, Reece barked, “Leave the fountain be. There’s a whole glen out there. Explore it.”
Chastened, the students left, some showing obvious reluctance, their eyes returning to the fountain again and again.
Shea joined Reece, propping her hip on the stone next to him as she watched their charges. “What do you think?”
He grunted as he eyed them critically. “Too early to do more than guess.”
“But you have some opinion,” Shea said, knowing her cousin.
He looked over at her. “I always have an opinion.”
That was true.
“How’d you get stuck with the ducklings?” Shea asked, tilting her head toward where they were exploring. “You don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
As one of the pathfinders’ eyes, he usually handled missions that required a certain level of discretion. He was a spy, for lack of a better word. He slipped about gathering intelligence and bringing it back for her mother to sift through. Reece was a charmer, easygoing and well-liked by most. It made his job easier.
On occasion, he had to act on orders to protect the pathfinders’ interests. Turned out he was good at that too. He didn’t suffer from the incessant questions and stubborn personality Shea had.
“One of the men your barbarian caught yesterday was supposed to be here today. Your mother asked me to stand in until she could find someone she trusted to perform this duty,” he said, his face serious for once.
Shea didn’t need him to tell her the ramifications of that statement. It was worrying that one of the traitors would have been responsible for shepherding the ducklings. It spoke of a rot that had progressed much deeper than they’d suspected.
She looked back at the glen, her face deep in thought. It showed the amount of control her mother had lost on her people. A few years ago, such a betrayal would have been unthinkable.
As they spoke, Shea kept an eye on the others. She noted with interest that Clark and his friend had walked a perimeter around the stone circle. Clark’s focus was intent on the stones as he moved carefully, making sure not to miss anything. His friend’s attention was equally caught, a frown on her face as if there was a thought there, one she couldn’t quite capture.
White bits of fluff clung to both, wisping away with every movement only to reattach a few seconds later. It created a halo effect on them. Others in the
group had varying amounts of the white fluff, but none seemed to have as much as Clark or his friend.
Shea, Reece, Braden and Trenton were all free of the white wisps where they stood near the fountain.
“Now, isn’t that interesting?” Reece said upon seeing what had caught Shea’s attention.
Shea hid her smile, looking down and to the side.
Reece turned to her with a frown, giving her a considering look. “Did you know about this?”
She gave him a casual shrug. “I had my suspicions. Why do you think I encouraged him to spend so much time with the classes?”
Reece didn’t seem upset by the admission, which surprised Shea. She would have thought he’d have some choice words about her underhandedness.
“Know about what?” Braden asked, his gaze moving between the two of them.
Shea jerked her chin at the glen and the students meandering about. “That.”
Braden and Trenton studied the scene, similar frowns on their faces as they struggled to understand.
“Now look at us,” Shea said.
They turned their attention to the four of them. Understanding dawned almost simultaneously.
“I still don’t get it,” Trenton said.
“The white fluff is an indicator,” Shea said. “It helps us see the potential in each recruit.”
Braden’s head swung back to the students. “And Clark has the most clinging to him.”
A grin broadened across Shea’s face and she was unable to contain her delight. “Yup.”
“And that means he can become a pathfinder?” Braden asked, sharp interest taking over.
Reece interrupted her before she could say yes. “Not necessarily,” he said, shooting her a quelling look. “There’s more to pathfinding than being able to traverse the mist.”
Shea inclined her head, giving him the point. “But it does mean they’ll have no choice but to let him study.” She gave Braden a smile full of cunning. “You said you wanted to train your warriors to meet this danger. Clark is the first.”
“You knew this would happen?” Braden asked, his expression grudgingly impressed.
Shea crossed one ankle over the other and leaned back, careful not to fall into the fountain. “I had my hopes.”
“That’s why you ordered him to get close to the students,” Trenton said. “This was part of your plan.”
Shea didn’t answer, letting her expression speak for her. Fallon needed people he could trust in his army that could do what she did. The pathfinders had yet to earn that trust, and part of Shea thought they never would. They were too stubborn and would cling to their role of outsider.
Unfortunately, the Trateri regarded any who had not earned their place among them with a deep suspicion. The easiest answer was to train some of their own people so that the mist no longer dangled as a threat over them. She’d figured Clark was their best shot at that.
Braden looked like he had come to the same conclusion and looked over at Clark with renewed interest.
“The best part is that they’ll have no choice but to teach him,” Shea said.
“What do you mean?” Trenton asked.
“It’s part of our oath,” Reece answered for her. “We train any with the potential who asks for it. The masters will have no choice.”
Braden and Trenton stared at her as if they had never seen her before as she basked in the warm rays of sun. Shea felt a smug pleasure at surprising the other two men. That’s what they got for thinking they had her figured out.
“Yeah, she has her moments of genius, rare though they may be,” Reece said, guessing at the other two’s thoughts as he gave her a sour look. “I’d expect a maneuvering of this nature from your mother, not you.”
Shea shrugged. “I am her daughter. I would have been very stubborn and obtuse indeed not to have picked up at least something from her.”
Reece’s snort contained some humor as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked out at the glen.
Dane and Peyton patrolled the perimeter as the students meandered.
“Why aren’t either of you covered in the white fuzz?” Trenton asked.
Shea let Reece answer.
“It’s the water,” Reece said, jerking his head at the fountain behind him. “Something about it repels the fuzz. That’s why we’re here and the ducklings are out there.”
He didn’t bother mentioning how the fuzz tended to cling long after you were home, sticking around for several days. The stuff irritated your skin after a while. Something the students would figure out very shortly. It was considered a badge of honor among the new recruits to judge each other by the size and severity of the rash that resulted.
Shea and Reece had already gone through that once. They had no desire to suffer from it again.
Suddenly, every sense Shea had screeched in warning. She stood, unable to pinpoint where the threat was coming from.
“Shea?” Reece asked, gaining his feet and looking around them with suspicion.
“I don’t know,” she said. She couldn’t say what had pricked her senses, giving her that gut feeling that something was happening.
The ability to sense a threat wasn’t anything supernatural or magical as the villagers would claim. At least not that she’d been able to discover. It was a feeling born of years of study and experience spent wandering the lost places of this world. That’s what told her something was wrong.
All good pathfinders had it. Reece included. Sometimes it was a tiny smell or sound that didn’t register except on a subconscious level. An alert that said danger approaching, get out now.
The Trateri had something similar. An instinct in battle honed over years of training and fighting.
Shea had learned the hard way to pay attention to those instincts.
“Close in,” Reece shouted. He’d been on some of those excursions with her and knew how fine-tuned her instincts were.
The students’ heads lifted. Some began ambling their way. Clark and his friend were near running as they headed back towards the fountain. Reece’s order had spurred them to action even as their cohorts missed the urgency.
“Stop lollygagging,” Reece roared. “Get your asses over here before I put you on latrine duty for the next month.”
That seemed to prod the rest to action and they picked up their pace.
Dane and Peyton, alert from Reece’s warning, had turned to examine their surroundings with increased suspicion. They unslung their whompers, facing away from the students and fountain as they looked for what had caused the alarm.
Trenton had already unsheathed his sword and held it ready at his side, his face the mask of a warrior—fierce and intent, and ready for blood.
Clark and his friend reached their side. Clark looked at the sword in Trenton’s hand and correctly came to the inclusion that they were under attack, spinning on his foot to face away from them as he drew two blades from some hidden spot on his person.
His friend gave him a startled look but didn’t ask questions, doing the same next to him. She only had one small blade, no longer than Shea’s hand, but she held it like she knew what she was doing.
Before the rest of the students could reach them, the mist spat out several creatures followed by three human forms. All wore hooded cloaks similar to that of the man Shea’d seen directing the ballyhoo under the Keep.
The one in the middle put a bugle to his lips and blew. No sound issued forth, but the effect on the creatures was instantaneous. They roared and bounded forward.
“Is that?” Shea asked.
“Yes,” Reece hissed.
“Shit.”
A beast call. Just their luck.
“Move,” Reece shouted to those who now, seeing the danger, panicked as they broke into a full sprint towards the fountain.
Dane and Peyton were on the other side of the glen, too far to be of much help to those of the students bringing up the rear
. Their whompers were out of range, and by the time they were close enough, the creatures would have overrun Shea’s position.
“Shea, you got any advice?” Trenton asked, his voice tight.
Shea watched the creatures that loped toward them, their gait eating up the ground. Their limbs were unnaturally long, giving them a spindly look, their spines rounded and hunched. Their head was elongated with overly large eyes. They were grindles. They hunted in packs and could easily dismember their prey with their superior strength and long reach.
“Don’t let it grab you,” Shea warned. “It’ll tear you apart.”
“Sounds simple,” Trenton said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he stepped forward, putting a bit of space between himself and Shea.
Braden did the same, giving Shea a piece of advice as he did so. “Remember what we’ve taught you.”
She nodded, the motion jerky. Keep your grip loose but firm. Stay light on your feet. Don’t die.
“We just need to hold them off long enough for Dane and Peyton to get here with their whompers,” Reece said, his face grim.
Her cousin was being optimistic. Something he was not prone to being. It told Shea just how bad the situation actually was, not that she really needed the confirmation.
By her assessment, Dane and Peyton only had two of the whompers, and while powerful, they were single shots. Even if they hit on target and did the necessary damage—which was not a guarantee considering the grindle’s tough hide—that still left one grindle and the three humans to contend with.
By now, most of the students had reached them. One shot past them, his legs pumping as he headed for the ruins in the distance.
“Where are you going?” Reece shouted.
The student glanced back but didn’t stray from his course.
“Idiot,” Reece snapped. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
Shea stepped forward, the inclination to stop the man from doing something stupid compelling her to action. It was an instinctive need to help, even as she knew there was little she could do.
“Don’t you go anywhere, Shea. There’s nothing you can do for him. You can’t fix stupid.” Reece snarled. To Trenton, he said, “Don’t let her off the stone. We’re safest here.”