Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands Book 2)

by T. A. White

  There was a creek, a sound at odds with the quiet of before. Shea halted and looked up. Fallon, attuned to Shea’s every move, stopped and glanced at her. The rest of the group continued forward a few steps before noticing Shea’s preoccupation.

  Her instincts clamored at her—stronger than before. Something was wrong. There was another sound, like that of stone fracturing. The wall for a building, one that had partially crumbled under the last cave in, shifted. Not much, but it was enough.

  Shea watched in horror as it slowly tilted. It hit the point of no return and began toppling.

  “It’s collapsing, run!” she shouted. The men watched for a frozen moment before scattering, trying to avoid the stone as it rained down from above.

  Fallon grabbed Shea’s arm and hauled her behind him. A small rock struck her shoulder, making her cry out. Fallon held one arm above his head, protecting it from the smaller rubble.

  The wall toppled into another building. With a loud groan, it buckled and began to give way, falling toward them as they fled. Shea and Fallon dodged, running for all they were worth as another building in front of them began to fall, this one three stories high and much bigger.

  They were trapped between the collapsing buildings.

  Shea cast around for a place that would provide cover. All she saw were more buildings, each as likely to fall as the next. There was nowhere to go.

  Fallon leapt, taking her to the ground and covering her body with his own. She didn’t protest, knowing if a building landed on him, she would be crushed underneath as well. She looped her arms around his neck and waited. Her eyes screwed shut as the stone rained down around them.

  After a long moment, when the dust had settled, Shea opened her eyes. Fallon had both arms around her head, further protecting it. She’d done the same to his. His eyes stared into hers from an inch away, the intensity of feeling in them nearly taking her breath away.

  “We’re alive,” she finally observed.

  “For which I am thankful.”

  He dipped his head and placed a soft kiss on Shea’s lips.

  “Fallon!” a voice cried in the distance.

  He sighed against her lips and she gave a soft laugh. “It just never ends with them.”

  He sat up and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. They were dusting themselves off, as they were covered by a thin layer of dust that had been displaced when the buildings had fallen, when their scouting party found them. They were joined by Caden and several other Anateri.

  “Are you alright, Warlord?” Caden asked as he approached at a rapid pace.

  “Somehow.” Fallon didn’t seem surprised at his presence.

  Shea gave the two a suspicious look. She had a sneaky suspicion that the feeling of being watched all day hadn’t been in her imagination and that the man at her side had been the one to order it.

  “What is Caden doing here?” Shea asked.

  Neither man spared her a glance. Shea gritted her teeth. Figured.

  She stalked off. If they wanted to keep secrets and play games, then that was fine. She would go be useful somewhere else and leave the plotting to Fallon and Caden.

  Shea looked around, counting heads. Her group was all here.

  “Buck, do you have everyone?” she asked.

  He turned and counted. “We’re missing two.”

  She saw that. Fiona and Clark.

  “Anybody have eyes on them during the fall?” Shea asked.

  “They got cut off and ran the other way. I lost track of them after that,” Johnny said.

  “Let’s split up and look for them,” Shea said. “Eamon, you’re with me. Buck, you can decide the pairings for your team. Be careful of further collapses. We don’t know if their structure is compromised as well. Yell if you find something.”

  She stalked off, not giving the Anateri or Fallon time to argue. She had no doubt he would order someone to follow her, but in the meantime, she would do what needed to be done. That included finding Clark and Fiona.

  “Hold up, Shea,” Eamon said.

  Shea bit back the sharp retort that wanted to spring to her lips. She was angry about the building collapse, frustrated that she’d felt something was wrong and hadn’t listened, upset that Fallon had once again kept secrets from her, and worried about the two who were missing. None of which was Eamon’s fault and yelling at him wouldn’t help anything.

  Seeing the frustration on her face, Eamon held up a placating hand. “Look I understand you’re in a rush, but you need to slow down and go carefully. You could trigger another collapse.”

  Shea took a deep breath. He was right. Worse, she’d rip someone’s head off if they had acted as recklessly as she just had.

  “You with me?” Eamon asked.

  She gave him a sharp nod before turning back to the search. This time she was more careful as she went, blocking out the anger, frustration, and desperation that tried to urge her faster.

  The other men called out Clark and Fiona’s names as they moved. No voices returned the calls.

  Shea moved further in the rubble, careful not to step anywhere that might start a secondary collapse. If the worst had happened and Clark and Fiona were buried under there, they might still be alive. Another collapse could kill them.

  “Clark,” Eamon called at Shea’s side.

  They made their way slowly over to the other side of the rubble. Shea wasn’t surprised when Fallon and Caden joined them. The Anateri were a silent shadow at their backs. Shea wished they would spread out and look too, but knew voicing that opinion would be a waste of time. They had the look of men intent on protecting their Warlord.

  “If the boy and woman came this way, it is doubtful they would have survived,” Caden told Fallon.

  Shea looked up from where she crouched and fitted Caden with an implacable expression. “Until we have their bodies in front of us, I won’t write them off.”

  He nodded. The slightly sympathetic look in his eyes made Shea uncomfortable. It was easier when she could be mad at him. Without the heat of her anger, she had nothing to focus on but her increasing sense of hopelessness at Clark’s odds of surviving.

  “Warlord, I found something,” Wilhelm said, nodding at something at his feet.

  Shea and Fallon crossed over to where he stood. Shea crouched and brushed her fingers lightly against the ground. A footprint. Only half of one, but it was something.

  She moved away and hunted for others. “Here’s another one.”

  This one was a full print—the stitching from the person’s footwear making a distinctive mark on the outer edge of the track.

  “This means he could have survived,” Shea said.

  Eamon crouched beside her. “No, it’s not his. It’s too big, and these aren’t the marks that his boots make. See where the stitching is? Clark wears leather soled boots with treads on them. These are different.”

  He was right. Damn it.

  “Then, are they Fiona’s?”

  Eamon shook his head and looked up, meeting Fallon’s grim expression. “No, these don’t belong to anybody in the Wind Division.”

  Caden bent over them. “They look like something Rain might wear. Gawain’s men are used to the plains and haven’t switched to hard bottomed shoes.”

  “Rain shouldn’t have been searching anywhere close to here.” Eamon stood and put his hands on his waist as he looked down at the print.

  “What does that mean?” Shea asked.

  Fallon bowed his head before looking up and pinning her with a fierce expression. “There’s a traitor among us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SHEA CAUGHT up to Fallon as he left his war council. They’d reported back after finding the print. Clark and Fiona were nowhere to be found. Since it was getting late, Fallon made the decision to meet up at the rendezvous to regroup and send a larger search party out. Shea had wanted to go but had been vetoed by more than one person.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she asked in a low v
oice as they walked. She didn’t want everyone listening. Fallon and Caden had decided that the possibility of a traitor was only to be kept among them until they decided how to proceed.

  “And what is it that I was supposed to have shared?” Fallon asked, his voice equally quiet.

  “That you had decided to seed those who might mean you harm into this mission,” she said through gritted teeth.

  It was the situation with his brother all over again. Fallon had decided to draw his brother out into the open by leaving the appearance of weakness so those who plotted against him would be tempted to strike, giving him the chance to turn the tables on them.

  “I always have enemies. It is best you assume they are always present.”

  The sound that escaped Shea was very close to a growl. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Gawain, Rain. Why did you bring them? It’s obvious even to me that there is no love lost between you.”

  Fallon’s chuckle slid against her like velvet. “Very few of the clan leaders have any soft feelings towards me. I threaten their power. Any one of them would be overjoyed to have my head.”

  “Then why do you keep them alive?” She didn’t understand it. He was the Warlord. An all-powerful conqueror genuinely loved by his soldiers. If he didn’t want them in power, why didn’t he do something about it?

  “Because we need stability. As much as I dislike the majority of the clan leaders, they fill a useful role. Most genuinely care for their people and want the best. Without them, the clans could splinter more than even I could control.”

  “So, you let them plot against you?”

  “Yes, I let them plot, until their scheming presents an actual danger.”

  “And meanwhile they’re free to go around putting others at risk, including Clark,” Shea shot back, her eyes spitting fire.

  “What would you have me do, Shea? Kill all those I suspect of disloyalty. Become the monster your pathfinders see me as?”

  Shea was brought up short. No, that wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all. It made her hesitate. There had to be some happy medium. A way to protect those they cared about without becoming merciless beasts.

  Fallon sighed. “You are partially correct. I did let some of those troublesome elements secure a spot on this journey, but not for the reasons you are thinking. At least not entirely.”

  They began walking again. The men were setting up campfires since they had decided to stay here for the night. Shea checked the cavern ceiling. The gaping spaces in it and the general size of the cavern should make fire relatively safe. At the very least, they were unlikely to asphyxiate on the smoke.

  “So, this isn’t a ruse to lure out your enemies. Again.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “That hadn’t been the original intention, but who am I to argue with this opportunity?”

  Shea snorted. She bet. Fallon was the sort of man to take advantage of every chance life presented. The possibility of eliminating more enemies while consolidating his power base was probably too tempting to pass up.

  “What was the original intent?” Shea asked.

  “You said it yourself. The Highlands are dangerous. Your people are dangerous. There’s no reason to think that that danger won’t take a toll on my men. Better to sacrifice those whose loyalty is in question then my best.”

  Shea raised an eyebrow. That was diabolical, and not the main reason, if her knowledge of Fallon was anything to go by. She fixed him with an intent stare, saying without words that she knew there was more.

  His grin flashed. “More importantly, I couldn’t chance leaving them behind where their rot might spread to the other clans.”

  “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?”

  He inclined his head.

  She shook her head. Figured.

  She walked through the orange glow from the fires to the ridge that overlooked the abandoned city, Fallon a solid presence at her side. When she stopped, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, tugging her gently until she leaned back against him. She did so with a sigh.

  “I never thought I’d see the like,” Fallon said into her ear. “It’s beautiful, in a desolate kind of way.”

  Shea made a sound of agreement, content to look out over the city. Worry about Clark out there, alone and possibly hurt, tried to take hold. She pushed it back. Worry was a wasted emotion. There was nothing she could do right now, and Fallon had already sent men to search. She wasn’t so arrogant as to think she was the only one with the skills to find them.

  “What wonders your Highlands must hide.”

  Shea’s grin was fleeting in the dark. “Even for me this is new. While I have seen ancient cities before, I’ve never found one underground. It must hold some interesting secrets.”

  Fallon drew back slightly, and she could sense his eyes on her in the dark. “You almost sound like you want to explore.”

  Shea was quiet for a moment. Her guild would have frowned on such a yearning, but this was Fallon. If she couldn’t reveal her innermost thoughts and desires to him, then they were wrong for each other.

  “Not today—we have much ground to cover before I can indulge my curiosity—but someday I’d like to return, find what brought it to this place,” Shea confided. “There is so much to learn from a place like this.”

  “Perhaps when we’ve settled things with your pathfinders, we can return to this place and take a few weeks to plumb its depths.”

  Shea tilted her head back, struggling to make out Fallon’s features in the dim light. “I’d like that.”

  Even in the dark she could see the tender expression that settled on his face. It did funny things to her stomach, sending it fluttering all over the place.

  His arms gave her a last squeeze before falling away. “Come, dinner should be nearly ready.”

  She took his hand as they headed back to camp. It was a rare pleasure, since Fallon generally preferred to keep his hands free in case of attack. He must have felt relatively at ease to allow it. They walked hand in hand until the campfires came into view, then he gave her hand a last squeeze before pulling his back.

  They found a spot at one of the campfires. Shea was happy to see Eamon, Buck and a few other familiar faces she recognized gathered around the fire, each holding bowls filled with hot food. Fallon indicated she take a seat before breaking off to get food for both of them.

  “Any luck?” Shea asked Eamon, her voice hopeful.

  Eamon shook his head. “We swept that entire area and found no sign. We’re going to conduct another search in the morning.”

  “However, if Rain has anything to do with it, they’ll have us moving on before we find anything,” Buck muttered. It was clear by the hard tone of his voice, his thoughts on that.

  “That will not happen,” Fallon said, handing one of the bowls he held to Shea. “We owe young Clark and Fiona our best efforts. You have my word that we won’t shirk our duties to them.”

  Both Eamon and Buck bowed their head, respect and relief on their faces. “We appreciate that, Warlord.”

  Reece wandered over from wherever he’d been biding his time, shadowed by two Anateri.

  “I hear you ran into trouble out there,” Reece said, his eyes focused on Shea.

  Shea twirled her fork in the bowl Fallon had given her and didn’t answer. Her cousin didn’t let that phase him as he watched her. He took a seat across the fire from Shea and Fallon.

  “You’ve gotten rusty,” he said, making himself comfortable. “Losing someone on a mission. What would our elders say?”

  Shea bit her tongue.

  “There was nothing she could do,” Eamon said, his voice light.

  Shea’s eyes shot to him. She knew that tone. He might sound easygoing, but the way he focused on his bowl and the careful way he moved said he was one wrong word from exploding.

  “The buildings just collapsed,” Buck volunteered. “Even Shea couldn’t have predicted that.”

  Reece rais
ed an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you let them enter the buildings. You know how old those things are.”

  “I didn’t. We weren’t anywhere near them when they collapsed.”

  Reece cocked his head, puzzlement on his face. Shea knew he found that strange but kept the possible chance of sabotage to herself. One, she didn’t know if the buildings were sabotaged. This place was old. Two, Fallon wanted to keep knowledge of the possible sabotage to a select few, so as not to cause panic, and to keep those plotting against him unaware he knew of their schemes.

  Reece’s eyes were thoughtful as he stared into the fire. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  Fallon’s thigh touched Shea’s, his warmth was welcome given the chill in the cavern, and she let herself lean into his side.

  “So, you’re Shea’s cousin?” Buck asked as the fire crackled and popped. “You must have known her when she was young. Got any good stories?”

  Shea lifted her head and glared at Buck. “What kind of question is that?”

  He spread his hands and shrugged. “What? I’m just trying to make conversation. Get to know the other pathfinder in our midst. You’re always such a mystery. You can’t blame me for being curious.”

  “I’d be interested to learn whether she’s always been this grumpy,” Eamon said.

  “Grumpy? I’m not grumpy.”

  “Oh yes, you are,” Trenton said. “You get this frown on your face, and then the next thing you know, you’re questioning how someone has survived in the world this long. To their face.”

  “Wait, wait,” Buck said. “My favorite is when she asks if they were dropped on their head as a baby.”

  “She still does that?” Reece asked.

  “Yup, and this was when she was masquerading as a man and a scout. Asked the leader of a war party that, and then when he said no told him that was a pity, because maybe being dropped on his head would have knocked some sense into him.”

  The rest of the group laughed.

  “Did you really do that?” Fallon asked in a low voice next to her ear.