Pathfinder's Way

by T. A. White

  “Well, they always say that if you want to conquer your fear, you’ve got to face it.”

  Buck reached for her. Shea shied back, evading his hands only to be brought up short when Clark reached out and snagged the back of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Shea shouted, batting at his hands.

  “Don’t worry, little buddy,” Buck told her, grabbing her other arm and dragging her towards the water. “We’ll help you face your fear.”

  Shea flailed trying to get the two off of her. “Damn it. Let go. I don’t need any help facing my fears.” She dislodged Clark only to have Buck grab her again and force her closer. Clark crowed and urged him on.

  “Man, he really doesn’t want to go in,” Buck grunted as he muscled her near the water.

  “That’s enough,” Eamon rumbled. “Let him go.”

  “Ah, come on. Nobody wants to put up with his odor once the rest of us are clean,” Buck argued.

  “If he doesn’t want to get in, he doesn’t have to,” Eamon told him firmly. He was giving Shea a strange look.

  “Fine.” Buck released Shea.

  She tugged free and whirled on him. Her fist flashed out, connecting with his solar plexus before she could think better of it.

  Clark’s resulting guffaw was cut short when Shea shoved him into the water.

  “Why you little shit,” Buck gasped.

  Shea took off before he could recover, heading back to camp in a near sprint. No sounds of pursuit followed her. No rustling of underbrush or heavy foot falls.

  She slowed and looked back, searching the woods. Looked like they had decided to stay and enjoy the water. She heaved a sigh of relief.

  That had been close. She didn’t want to think what would have happened without Eamon’s intervention. She hadn’t thought they would be so persistent.

  Now, all she had to do was avoid getting caught at the pool before they left in the morning.

  She stopped and pulled her shirt from her neck and sniffed. Crap. Buck was right. She didn’t exactly smell like sunshine and flowers. The smell would become overpowering once the others had cleaned. Not a critical problem but one that she could avoid easily enough if only she could figure out a way to access the pool when everyone else was asleep.

  If she didn’t miss her guess, there might be a similar one above the water fall. Instead of heading straight back to camp, her feet took her back in the direction of Eamon and the others in a heading that would place her above the small waterfall. She wouldn’t be able to bathe now, but it was a possibility for that night, if she could find a secluded spot.

  Nobody paid much attention when she slipped back into camp an hour later. Most chores had been finished, and the men sat around playing games. A few had lain down, using their gear as a makeshift pillow as they ribbed each other or took naps.

  Shea headed to her pack and reached in it for her notebook. She wanted a plausible excuse for why she didn’t go back to bathe when the others returned. Studying her notes on the area was as good a reason as any.

  Her notebook sat forgotten in her lap as she people watched.

  The Trateri were an interesting bunch. Very different from the Lowlanders and Highlanders. Despite the strange surroundings they found themselves in, they had no fear of the great expanses between villages.

  They embraced the wild country, even going so far as to pit themselves against it whenever possible. Sometimes they won. Sometimes they lost, but they never gave up the challenge.

  Every person had a job. They imposed order out of chaos.

  Shea didn’t know if she admired or feared them. Either way, they were dangerous to the status quo.

  “There you are, Shane. Why didn’t you come back?” Clark’s voice came from right beside her ear.

  Shea jumped, almost dislodging the notebook from her lap. She looked back to find Clark crouched beside her, Eamon and Buck walking up with towels wrapped around their necks and their hair wet. Eamon’s hair curled slightly as it dried. Buck’s hair was so short it was dry already.

  “You mean after you tried to throw me in fully clothed?” Shea arched one brow.

  Clark had the grace to grin sheepishly. “Ah, we wouldn’t have thrown you in if you’d come back.”

  “How reassuring.”

  Eamon threw his towel over a branch to dry before packing away the rest of his supplies.

  “So? You never answered my question,” Clark said.

  He was a persistent little shit. Shea had never realized how bloody annoying that trait could be.

  “To be honest, I didn’t feel like walking all the way back there, especially with you two and your grabby hands.” She lifted the notebook. “I thought it was a good idea to update my notes and study the map a little more for tomorrow.”

  Clark huffed and threw himself onto the ground, his head landing in her lap.

  “You workaholic. You’re no fun.”

  Shea shoved him off her lap. “I’m not here to have fun.”

  “Says who?” he challenged.

  “Clark,” Buck began.

  “Well?” Clark asked again.

  Beginning to feel cornered again, Shea reacted defensively. “Your people did when you conscripted me into your army.”

  She felt bad immediately after saying it. The boy had been nothing but nice, going out of his way to make her feel welcome. Giving words of encouragement after the dressing down Eamon had given her.

  Clark’s face just closed down, all the emotion vanishing, until he was regarding her with the same impenetrable expression she’d seen again and again on other Trateri faces.

  “Then perhaps I shouldn’t ‘conscript’ your time any longer.” He put an ugly turn on the word conscript, nearly sneering.

  “Clark,” Shea said.

  He didn’t give her a chance to apologize, springing to his feet and walking away before she got more than his name out.

  “Shane-“

  “I know,” she snapped, interrupting Eamon. “I shouldn’t have said it. He just pushed on a nerve, is all.”

  She turned the pages in her book, not really noticing the words. She hated when she lost her temper and said stupid shit like that. Saying mean stuff just to hurt people wasn’t her way.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Buck said, tossing his towel on the branch next to Eamon’s. “He’s pretty forgiving. Just apologize and that’ll be that.”

  Shea grimaced. She hated apologizing.

  Eamon smiled at the expression. “He’s a good kid. Comes on a little strong sometimes, but has a good heart, which is impressive given his background.”

  Shea felt a bit of interest perk up at those words. “Oh.”

  Buck chimed in from where he had pulled out a mirror and started lathering his face. “He’s an orphan. His parents died when he was a toddler. The clan raised him after that. He has a tendency to collect big brothers. He’s probably overjoyed you joined up. Until now, he was the youngest in this division. No doubt he’s hoping to be the one imparting knowledge and wisdom this time.”

  He was still the youngest, but they didn’t know that.

  Now she felt doubly bad about being so short with him. It was like kicking a puppy. You could do it, but man did it make you feel about an inch high afterwards.

  “Craaap,” Shea breathed, snapping the book shut and rising.

  Seeing the answering grins peeking out of the lather both men now had on their faces, Shea couldn’t resist a bit of payback. “I hope you three took a piss when you got out of the water.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know there are little fishes that will swim up your pisser and lay eggs. Only way to get that out is to take a piss right after getting out. Forces them back out.”

  Buck shot a wide eyed glance at Eamon, “He’s kidding, right?”

  Shea hid her grin as she headed after Clark.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Buck shouted after her.

  “Am I? Guess you’re about to find ou
t,” she shouted back.

  “Son of a–“

  Shea chortled when both men stopped what they were doing to find the nearest bush.

  Sometimes revenge was oh so sweet. It never paid to mess with a pathfinder.

  Later that night, Shea picked her way through the forest by the light of a moon that had already passed its zenith when she slipped away from camp. Lucky for her it was two thirds full or else it would have been difficult to navigate without the benefit of a torch, which was off limits since the whole point of going at night was to avoid notice.

  She headed for the pool she had scouted that afternoon above the falls. Although it was late, that was no guarantee somebody else hadn’t decided on a midnight swim.

  This was the best way she knew to minimize the risk of exposure while still reaping the benefits of getting clean.

  Soon, she was standing before the softly rushing water. The pool she found was really just an eddy of the larger stream and was the result of a small rock outcropping jutting into the water and causing a lazy back current. The water moved slowly enough that she wasn’t in much danger of being swept downstream and over the waterfall as long as she didn’t step into the middle of the stream.

  It was shallower than she’d like. She’d have to kneel and hunch over for the water to reach her shoulders. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and she was happy just for a chance to get clean again.

  Being constantly on the move and away from the benefits of civilization made water a luxury that took a far greater willpower than hers to pass up.

  She carefully checked the area before disrobing and laying her clothes on the rocks above her bathing area. The night air swept goose bumps up and down the bare skin of her stomach and legs. She shivered and walked into the water.

  Cold. So cold.

  Argh, if only she’d been able to sneak away earlier when the sun had been up to lend its warmth. She nearly vibrated in place in an effort to get warm. Not wanting to prolong the experience she fumbled for her soap. She quickly sluiced water all over before building up a nice lather and rinsing it away. Her hair, she left alone, not wanting the gunk keeping her hair dark to wash away.

  Not willing to linger longer than she had to, Shea was done washing within minutes of stepping into the water. Years of hurried baths with men steps away had given her an ability to be quick about her business.

  Voices came from below just as she stepped out and was reaching for the small towel she’d brought.

  Her first instinct was to freeze in place. Pressing the towel to her, she surveyed the night. With the moon up, the scene was a monochromatic wash of greys and shadows, making it easy to see general forms but not distinct details.

  No shadowy figures waited there in the dark that she could see. They could be just beyond the tree line, but she doubted it. The voice sounded like it was coming from below.

  Wrapping the towel around her, she crept over the damp rock towards a slight drop off next to the falls and peered down.

  A muffled curse escaped, and she flattened herself against the rock face as she ducked back out of site.

  Of all the rotten luck.

  She dared another glance over the edge.

  The scene hadn’t changed since her last look. A torch was stuck in one of the crevasses near the pool, highlighting the surrounding area. That wasn’t what nearly sent her over the small drop.

  No. The sight of Fallon disrobing did that.

  Shea knew she should head back to her clothes and dress. Now that she had solved the mystery, there was no reason to linger, but she did. Oh, how she did.

  Some irresistible force held her in place as Fallon first discarded his shirt then his pants, leaving him standing in nothing but the skin he was born with. And what a fine skin it was.

  Sharp ridges defined every muscle in his body. Even the raw white and red marks from scars crossing his torso did nothing to detract from the fine specimen of manhood before her.

  The male bodies she’d seen that afternoon in no way compared.

  Fallon stepped into the pool, the cold not seeming to have the same effect on him as it had on Shea. He sunk down, dunking his head and then sluicing the water off his face.

  A pleasant voice rang in the air as he sung a bawdry tale about the woes of a Trateri warrior kidnapping his Lowland wife only to find out that the “wife” was actually a male with all of the accompanying parts.

  Shea snickered at the risqué lyrics. Typical Trateri view of Lowlanders.

  Another voice joined Fallon’s as he sang the last chorus again. Shea had been so focused on Fallon that she hadn’t even noticed when Caden stepped onto the rocks bordering the pool.

  Shea hugged the ground harder, not wanting to chance being seen. She’d only ever seen the second man from a distance, but Eamon had told her enough for her to know that she did not want him to see her spying.

  On that note, it was really past time she leave.

  Shea scooted back from the edge, careful not to make any noise that would alert the two below. She made her way back to her clothes and dressed quickly.

  As she found her way back, being careful to avoid the path that Caden or Fallon would travel, she couldn’t help the small piece of her that wondered what would have been her fate had she remained tied to that post.

  “So, what exactly is the punishment when a town refuses to pay a tithe?” Shea asked as Fallon’s troops rode towards the small string of huts that was the village proper.

  It was a hovel, not like Goodwin of Ria or even Birdon Leaf. This place was cobbled together with mud and spit. Not necessarily the worst village she’d ever seen, but she didn’t understand why anybody would want to lay claim to it, not even the Trateri. These people had little to nothing, and none to spare for tithes.

  Eamon’s face was grim as they rode at the rear of the party.

  “Buck?” she asked when Eamon didn’t answer.

  Buck looked slightly subdued as he answered. “Not good things.”

  Well she’d kind of figured that part out for herself. They were in a war party after all.

  “Yeah, I got that. What does that mean?”

  Buck shook his head and looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.

  She looked back at Eamon.

  He finally spoke. “The severity of the action will depend on what they say to Fallon.”

  So something would happen regardless, but nobody was willing to tell her what that something was.

  She closed her eyes and bent her head. No, she didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

  “Shane, whatever happens, just stay beside me or Buck and keep your mouth shut. You can’t stop whatever’s coming so don’t even try. You’ll just get yourself in trouble.”

  Eamon waited until she met his eyes before dealing a worse blow, “Our necks would be on the line too. So keep it together, yeah?”

  She nodded. That bad feeling was turning into a ball of granite in her stomach.

  Before she could ask any further questions, they were riding into the little hamlet. She guided her horse after Eamon’s as he rode to the left. When they stopped, their horses surrounded all of the people in the village who had been pulled from their homes and then ushered into the village center. There couldn’t have been more than thirty of them.

  Fallon rode forward, much like Darius had during her first encounter with the Trateri. The villagers drew in on themselves, their small circle constricting until no space existed between their bodies.

  The fear on their faces was chilling.

  Shea couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened next could be laid partially at her feet. The Trateri wouldn’t have made it this far without her interference.

  Her mentor from her apprenticeship would say that a pathfinder wasn’t responsible for anything that happened after their party reached its destination. Standing here, feeling that cloying terror on the air, seeing the way the villagers clutched at each other for false security, she was no longer su
re how much stock she put in his words.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” Fallon’s deep voice thundered in the air. Although loud, it didn’t sound as if he was shouting.

  He wheeled his horse and cantered in the opposite direction.

  No response greeted him.

  “Ah, I see. Then let me educate you. I wouldn’t want you entering the afterlife without knowing what sent you there.”

  There was a brief outcry at this. Several women fainted, their men catching them before they hit the ground.

  “Several months ago when my men came upon this Lowland cesspit, they gave you a choice. Fight and be sent to meet your ancestors with honor, or submit and pay us a tithe for however long we choose to collect it. Two weeks ago your tithe came due. My men came and then returned to me empty handed. This was not what we agreed. Now, you have one chance and one chance only to make this right. Bring me what you owe and half more, today, and face the consequences of breaking your word or…. Well I really don’t suggest or.”

  “I bet my last ration of Ka grass they’re too scared to speak,” one of the Trateri just beyond Eamon said.

  “I’ll take that bet,” said a man with a yellow belt.

  “My best knife they refuse to pay.” A third man with braids on either side of his temples.

  “All right,” yellow belt said.

  “Eamon,” Shea started.

  “Easy, Shane. They’re just blowing off steam.”

  She didn’t think so. They seemed way too jocular. Bad enough they were terrorizing these people. They didn’t have to be so damn happy about it too.

  “No one will speak?” Fallon scowled down at the people below him. His horse high stepped and threw its head back. He brought it to an abrupt halt and stared at the upturned faces. As if coming to a decision, he nodded and wheeled the animal around. “Let that be your answer then.”

  To the waiting Trateri, “Spread out and go through all of the homes. Find anyone who is hiding and bring them here.”

  “Damn,” yellow belt said.

  The first gambler let out a happy whistle

  “Guess I’m getting a new knife,” the braids said.

  “They could still come up with the payment,” yellow belt said.