Wayfarer's Keep

by T. A. White

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Three months later

  A gentle touch skated across Shea’s stomach, summoning her from a hazy dream. “How is my little warrior doing today?” Fallon whispered in her ear.

  She stretched lazily and opened her eyes, the constant nausea that had plagued her mornings and evenings, missing for the moment.

  “She’s being kind,” Shea said in a wry voice.

  Fallon’s chuckle ruffled her hair as his arms tightened, pulling her to his chest, his hand returning to her stomach and rubbing soothing circles where their child rested.

  Shea covered his hand with her own, giving him a sleepy smile.

  “Do you know what you’re going to name him yet?” Fallon asked.

  Shea shook her head. Trateri tradition held that the mother named the child. It was thought she had a better feeling for the child’s personality given the time she spent carrying them to term.

  It had been a surprise to both of them when Shea found herself pregnant shortly after the trip to the Badlands. She couldn’t be sure if she’d conceived the night before her departure or in the weeks after their reunion, when making love to Fallon was the only way she felt truly part of this world.

  In retrospect, it should have been expected. She’d missed several days with her herbs during all of the chaos, beginning with the multiple attacks on the Keep.

  They’d hoped to wait a few years until Fallon’s rule was fully cemented and their alliances had been given a chance to settle.

  Fate had other plans.

  The weeks following her return had been a dark time for her, the numbness that followed Griffin’s death and her use of the Lux threatening to drag her down into an abyss. Fallon had helped anchor her, but it was Mist’s enthusiastic greeting at Shea’s return and her small arms around her neck that had fully brought her back to life.

  She wasn’t whole, not entirely. There was still a piece inside her that felt barely mended, its cracks just beginning to scab over.

  The confrontation at the heart had marked her, perhaps permanently. One day she might be grateful for those scars, since they meant she’d survived. If nothing else, they served as a reminder of how easy it was to stray from one’s path into chaos and madness.

  “What has you so worried?” Fallon asked, his voice gentle.

  Shea looked up at him in surprise.

  He brushed her hair from her face, his expression tender. “Don’t tell me you’re not. I see it grow in you day by day. I’ve waited, given you space, but it hasn’t abated. It’s time to lance the wound.”

  Shea looked away, unable to argue. It was true. She hadn’t been able to let go of the fear that had taken root in the Badlands. It had only blossomed in the intervening months, growing after she found out she was expecting their child.

  She feared what had happened to Griffin would eventually be her fate. While the Badlands had left their mark on him, forcing him to evolve into the worst version of himself, she still didn’t know if his instability and madness had begun before it got hold of him or after.

  Ajari might have assured her it was Griffin’s greedy heart that turned him into what he was, but she still doubted.

  Worse, she could sense the tiniest sliver of the Badlands’ taint, crouching in the deepest parts of her, waiting, watching. It didn’t send off signals of wrongness, but it concerned her, especially when she considered her child may have been exposed to the same thing.

  It was a fear that had only grown as her stomach had.

  She leaned her head back, her hand drifting to where her child rested. “I’m worried that my time in the Badlands might have affected her.”

  His frown was thoughtful. He didn’t argue or try to tell her that her concerns were ridiculous. He considered her words with all the focus he would give any of his advisors.

  “It is possible,” he said. “Though it is a small chance.”

  She shifted against him and his arms tightened.

  His chin landed on her hair. “Will worrying about it help?”

  No, but that didn’t mean she could stop.

  “The woman I hold in my arms is the same one who held my hand and told me if I left her she would follow me into the next world and kill me again,” he said.

  “Those weren’t my exact words,” she grumbled.

  She felt his smile against her hair. “Perhaps not, but they remain true. If you are changed, if it has affected our warrior, we will deal with it when the time comes. You still remain Shea, my love, the battle queen who destroyed our enemies and brought important allies to our side. Everything else is just details.”

  She turned to look up at him, her gaze searching. He looked back at her, no trace of doubt in his eyes, just faith and love and trust.

  He meant it. He didn’t care.

  Her smile, when it came, was bright. He leaned down and kissed her lips, gently at first, then with an increasing urgency.

  Before they could go any further a knock came at the door.

  Fallon swore. Shea giggled, touching his cheek with one hand. He looked at her and smiled, the expression roguish and handsome. He dropped a peck on her lips before leveraging out of bed and stalking to the door.

  “What do you want?” he snapped.

  Trenton poked his head through. “You’re late.”

  “Tell them to wait,” Fallon said with a growl.

  “We already did,” he returned. “That was a half-hour ago.”

  Shea sighed and pushed herself to sitting. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Trenton nodded and withdrew.

  Fallon glared at her, his hair disheveled and his eyes snapping.

  “You have only yourself to blame for this,” Shea told him. “It was your idea to make them work together.”

  She grabbed a pair of drawstring pants and a loose shirt off the chest at the end of their bed.

  After the Badlands, they’d returned to Wayfarer’s Keep. Fallon had set up a semi-permanent camp in the valley, using it as a base to work from.

  The move was designed to help all involved, give them time to heal from everything that had happened. The Trateri had lost many during the battle for the Keep, as had the pathfinders. The Trateri’s presence at their doorstep reassured the pathfinders they weren’t facing the threat alone, while providing a daily reminder of the promises they’d made.

  In the meantime, Shea’s former people were slowly being incorporated into Fallon’s army. There was still resistance to the idea on both sides, but it waned more each day.

  It wasn’t an easy process, nor painless, but it was going better than she had ever dared hope. For the first time, her people weren’t holding back.

  Fallon had put their skills to use, having them guide his warriors to each Highland village. It was a process that would take months, if not years, as many of the villages were extremely isolated, but it was going well, so far.

  To everyone’s surprise, conquering the Highlands was far easier than anyone had anticipated. There was very little opposition in the villages against joining under Fallon’s banner. Shea had been braced to have to talk more than one headman around, but instead they greeted Fallon’s army with visible relief.

  The villages had noticed the rise in beasts and didn’t think they would survive on their own. Necessity meant Fallon and his army were welcome, especially after he promised that for every family with an immediate blood relative who joined his army—father, mother, son or daughter—they would be exempt from all tithes and enjoy the same rights as a full Trateri.

  It was a move that had shocked his council. Not Shea, after she’d guessed his reasoning. Fallon had an eye to the future. Shea might have eliminated the current threat and weakened the dark at the Badlands’ heart, but it was a temporary respite.

  The seal was broken. Mythologicals once again wandered the land. There was no going back to the past when beasts were the only things humans had to fear. Things we
re waking, old things that would seek to subjugate humans.

  It was only a matter of time until someone or something once again emerged to threaten what they’d built. The time to prepare was now, before the first conflict was even on the horizon.

  It was a move Shea agreed with.

  There was hope, however. Humans would not be fighting this war alone. Covath had kept his promise of a temporary alliance. They watched the Trateri carefully but were present when they were needed most. The interaction between the two was tense at best, but Shea sensed Covath was beginning to warm up to the idea.

  Covath’s people were new to this version of the Broken Lands, and he recognized the need to do things differently than they had in the past, or they’d all end up repeating its mistakes.

  Shea sensed he wouldn’t be the last mythological to join them. Others were watching and waiting to see how this played out. Eventually, they would see that what Shea and Fallon were building was important.

  Despite this new era of cooperation, things weren’t always easy. Somehow, despite all her protests, Shea ended up being the one everyone trusted—the one they came to when things went wrong. She alone had a foot in all three camps—former pathfinder turned Trateri battle queen and the woman who had freed Covath’s people from forced bondage.

  It was a heavy responsibility and one she was still getting accustomed to, especially when she was called on to mediate disputes. Ironic, given she was the least diplomatic of them all. Still, she embraced the role, finding purpose in forcing everyone to work together.

  Fallon waited at the door as she passed. “Had I known how time consuming all this would be, I would have knocked their heads together and thrown them out to make their own way.”

  She stretched on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

  He sighed, then cupped her neck bringing her back for a longer, deeper kiss. Another knock came at the door.

  “I should never have appointed him to your guard,” Fallon said through gritted teeth.

  Shea grinned at him and slipped past, saying over her shoulder. “Don’t leave too many bruises on your warriors today during training.”

  Trenton waited until she indicated she was ready before leading the way to the great hall. She trailed after her guard and friend.

  He, more than anyone, understood her fears—better than Fallon in some ways. He continued to report for duty some days with dark circles under his eyes and a haunted, guarded look on his face. The same fear she saw in the mirror was often reflected in him. They had a shared understanding even as they both dealt with it solitarily.

  “You alright?” Trenton murmured.

  She nodded, her hand going to her belly. “For now.”

  His gaze held understanding. “Today is a good day.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

  They reached the entrance to the hall. Her father waited, leaning against a wall as he chewed on a piece of grass. He gave her a lazy smile as she approached. “How is my grandbaby doing today?”

  Shea put one hand on her stomach. “As well as can be expected. How is Clark?”

  Her friend had taken her advice and entered the pathfinder’s training. It wasn’t easy on him, but she thought he was finally finding his feet.

  “Adequate,” her father responded.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “In the same way I was adequate?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, which she took to mean yes. High praise from a man who never said anyone was better than adequate.

  “Alright, let’s get this over with,” she sighed.

  Her father opened the door and gave a nod. Inside, someone trumpeted, “Stand for Shea Halloran of the three names, Battle Queen to the Trateri horde, Slayer of the Dark, and the Flock’s Burning One.”

  *

  That night Shea and Fallon had just finished making love, their hands lazily stroking each other in the aftermath when Shea lifted her head. “I’ve figured out what we should call the little one if it’s a boy.”

  A slow smile came. “What?”

  “Alaric, after your father,” she said.

  Fallon’s eyes glistened, his voice thick as he said, “And if it’s a girl?”

  “Rowan, after your mother.”

  His arms wrapped around her tight, careful not to crush her stomach against him. “You are the best part of me.”

  She tilted her head back. “I would destroy the world for you.”

  He dipped his head, pressing a kiss against her lips. “And I would save it for you.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can’t tell you how much your support has meant to me. It’s been a wild three years since the release of Pathfinder’s Way. It’s still difficult for me to believe that the reoccurring dream I had while serving in Afghanistan now exists on paper and that people have actually embraced these two.

  When I first began this journey, I’d intended a single outing in this world, but when I got to the end of the first book I realized there was still much left to tell, and fans seemed to agree. It took two more stories to reach the place I’d seen in my dreams so long ago. These two have been a joy and challenge to write. They’ve had many surprises in store for me along the way and taken me to unexpected and wondrous places as a result.

  For now, their story is at a point I feel comfortable walking away from it. However, I’m not walking away from this world. The Broken Lands still has many mysteries left to explore and fascinating characters that I’d like to see get their happy ending.

  That’s not to say I won’t feature Shea and Fallon in another full-length adventure should inspiration strike, but for now I plan to turn my attention to other characters in this world.

  Once again, thank you so much for immersing yourself in these Shea and Fallon’s lives and adventures. I can’t wait for you to see where the Broken Lands goes next.

  DISCOVER MORE BY T.A. WHITE

  The Broken Lands Series

  Pathfinder’s Way – Book One

  Mist’s Edge – Book Two

  The Dragon-Ridden Chronicles

  Dragon-Ridden – Book One

  Of Bone and Ruin – Book Two

  Destruction’s Ascent – Book Three

  Shifting Seas - Novella

  The Aileen Travers Series

  Shadow’s Messenger – Book One

  Midnight’s Emissary – Book Two

  Moonlight’s Ambassador – Book Three

  CONNECT WITH ME

  Twitter: @tawhiteauthor

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tawhiteauthor/

  Website: http://www.tawhiteauthor.com/

  Blog: http://dragon-ridden.blogspot.com/

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Writing is my first love. Even before I could read or put coherent sentences down on paper, I would beg the older kids to team up with me for the purpose of crafting ghost stories to share with our friends. This first writing partnership came to a tragic end when my coauthor decided to quit a day later and I threw my cookies at her head. This led to my conclusion that I worked better alone. Today, I stick with solo writing, telling the stories that would otherwise keep me up at night.

  Most days (and nights) are spent feeding my tea addiction while defending the computer keyboard from my feline companions, Loki and Odin.