by T. A. White
Not everybody was content to give the guild tithes for its continued help. Sometimes they took that emotion out on those responsible for acting as a link to the outside world.
The unspoken threat of abandonment usually worked, and pathfinders were left un-accosted, even as they remained outsiders in the settlements they were sent to serve.
Shea could only hope Birdon Leaf had come up with some excuse to waylay the elders. Even that hope was slim after four months. If they hadn’t already, they would send someone before much longer.
From the way Fallon had thrown her refusal to be his Tolroi in her face, she guessed he wasn’t as sanguine about her rejection as he first led her to believe. No man enjoyed rejection and that double for a warlord used to taking what he wanted.
He now saw her as something of a challenge. If it had been any other type of man, she might have been able to turn that to her advantage. But with a man like that? A man incapable of being influenced or led around by his dick? No. Fallon would demand any woman to follow his pace, dance to his tune.
Shea had made the right decision this morning. Best not to fall any deeper in with him.
Composed again, Shea stood. She needed to find Caden and give him Fallon’s message. She might even be able to use this situation. Two squads and Fallon’s ten men would be a lot easier to slip away from than a whole army.
She’d wait and bide her time.
After asking several men for Caden’s location, Shea finally tracked him down at the training fields. He was in the midst of sparring with another man. They flowed back and forth across the field, their blades parrying and striking with a liquid grace. It was elegant, terrifying and amazing all at once.
Both men were masters of their craft, and it showed in the speed with which they moved and the precise blows they struck.
Shea lingered at the edge of the practice area, unsure whether she should interrupt or not. On one hand, the message from Fallon was important, and he was the warlord. On the other, Caden was technically Shea’s superior and could make things very difficult for her if angered. Pissing off just one person this morning was enough.
Shea hated this indecisiveness. It wasn’t like her. She wasn’t used to not knowing what to do. On the trail, she rarely felt overwhelmed and always had a plan. But here? This place was a never ending maze of frustration and questions.
A loud grunt rose as the stranger saw his chance and lunged forward. Caden parried at the last moment, sliding his blade under and then over his opponents to sneak under his guard and land a blow squarely on his opponent’s chest.
Caden drew back and said, “You saw victory and got careless.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t drop your guard like that.”
Seeing her chance, Shea stepped forward drawing Caden’s attention.
“What is it, girl?”
Shea related Fallon’s message.
“Understood.” When Shea just stood there, not knowing what to do next, Caden ordered sharply, “Return and help your master prepare for the journey.”
Shea dipped her head in reply and turned to do just that.
“Is that the girl the men are talking about?”
“Yes.”
“What is she doing running messages for the warlord?”
“She refused the position of his Tolroi. He made her one of his guard instead.”
There was a low whistle before the stranger said, “Talk about poking a lion when it’s asleep.”
Caden barked a laugh. Whatever was said next, was lost as Shea moved out of hearing range.
As was her habit, Shea scanned the area for possible dangers even while lost in thought. It was why, despite being distracted, she noticed Witt coming out of a tent.
Seeing her chance, she moved quickly, catching up to him and saying softly, “Witt.”
His head turned. He didn’t seem surprised to see her standing behind him and waved the two men he was with to continue without him.
“Shea. Somehow, I’m not surprised that you would track me down.”
“That makes one of us.”
He sighed wearily. “I expect you have questions.”
Her silence spoke for her.
“Perhaps we could do this later.”
Her glare and crossed arms didn’t intimidate him, and the two lapsed back into silence.
Shea, knowing she didn’t have much time before she was missed, broke first. “Why?”
Witt looked away from her, staring into the distance.
“Why did you tell him all of that? If anybody in the Highlands finds out, you’ll be exiled or stoned. Why couldn’t you have just kept silent? They wouldn’t have known any different.”
“Did you ever wonder why we were sent to that village to discuss trade negotiations?”
Shea blinked at Witt. That wasn’t an answer to her questions.
“What?”
His eyes slid back to hers. “I know you’re smart enough to have put together that Goodwin of Ria was a setup. That you, Dane and I were thrown away because we were considered expendable.”
Shea’s mouth clicked close, and her eyes dropped from his. Yes. She had suspected as much.
“Then you have your answer,” he told her simply.
She caught his arm as he moved away from her.
“What answer? You have a few suspicions and suddenly your loyalties shift? That’s not an answer, Witt. That’s an excuse.”
“It’s not a suspicion,” he said in a gruff voice. “Paul confessed as much when Fallon questioned us after you escaped. The idiot thought he’d be somehow exempt from being taken prisoner since he helped the elders set it up.”
Shea dropped his arm abruptly.
Witt’s eyes held pity as he watched the expression drain from her face, leaving her feeling numb.
What fools they were.
The guild was going to have their blood when they found out.
“Still, that doesn’t mean you should punish the entire Highlands for the actions of a few blind, self-serving men.” Shea meant what she said, even if her voice currently lacked conviction.
Witt’s snort was ugly as his lips twisted in sneer.
“A few men? Those same men are in every village, every city and every fort in the Highlands. It’s a sickness of the soul, and it’s sunk so deep I doubt there is a single settlement left unaffected.”
The bitterness in his voice was too potent, too raw for him to be speaking from anything but experience.
Shea’s thoughts went back to him describing the guild excising villages that angered them. Had something similar happened to Witt? She knew he wasn’t native to Birdon Leaf. It was one of the reasons she’d related to him. He was an outsider like her, although more accepted.
“Why do you say that?” she found herself asking.
“My home village, the one I grew up in, was much like Birdon Leaf. It had elders who just pushed and pushed and pushed until one day their stupidity got a pathfinder killed. That was the beginning of the end. The guild refused to place another pathfinder with us. We were cut off from everybody and everything. People stopped trading with us, which meant we didn’t have enough food or supplies. All the men who left, trying to find their way to help, never came back. They probably died in the wilderness somewhere if they weren’t carried off by the mist.”
Shea knew what came next. She’d grown up on stories of what happened to villages that killed their pathfinders.
“It wasn’t long after that the first beast attacked. At first it just picked off one villager after another. Before long, we had an infestation, not just the big ones like revenants or red backs, but lichkers and flesh eaters as well.”
“How did you survive?” Shea asked when he stopped talking.
“My mother put me in the cellar. She followed the old ways and had warded it with lope root and beast blood. Too bad, though. There wasn’t enough food for two. She starved so I could live.”
Shea’s nose prickled as she i
magined the horror as one day bled into another, and his mother slowly wasted away right in front of him.
“I did live. Barely. When the beasts had picked our village clean, I made my way to the next outpost. I almost died three times.
“So you see Shea, I do know what I’m talking about because after my village perished, I saw the same stupidity again and again in so many other villages. I have no problem with the Trateri marching on Birdon Leaf. At least that will be quicker then what your people will do to them.”
“You know Birdon Leaf won’t be the only one to suffer,” she said as he turned away. “It’ll be the rest of the Highlands as well.”
“That’s fine with me,” he informed her. “I consider myself Trateri now. I’ve taken their venom and are as much a part of them as if I’d been born to the clans. I hope they find the Wayfarer’s Keep and force them out. As far as I’m concerned the Highlands would do better with the Trateri than the pathfinders.”
“I’m a pathfinder.”
“You’re one of the best I’ve met.”
Shea felt a slight lifting of her heart.
“But we both know one with your talents isn’t sent to a place like Birdon Leaf unless they’re being punished.”
Sadly, this was true.
“What did you do to warrant such a fate?”
Shea licked lips that had gone dry. Somehow she couldn’t get the words out. To explain her failure.
Witt shrugged and turned away saying, “You don’t have to tell me, lass. But don’t expect me to have any regret over what I did today. Here’s some advice, since I really do respect your abilities. Give Fallon what he wants, and throw your lot in with the Trateri. You’ll be happier for it.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Shea readied Fallon and herself for the journey in a daze. Packing supplies for the two of them required very little thought, and as a result, her mind continually wandered back to her conversation with Witt.
She had never imagined Witt would have such a story behind him. The bitterness he held was understandable. Shea knew excising a village was one of the tactics the guild employed to make sure the rest of the Highlands kept themselves in check. As an organization whose members were spread out over thousands of miles, it was important to maintain control. Otherwise incidents like the one Birdon Leaf instigated would happen more often.
A part of her was glad the men and women of Birdon Leaf who sent her and several others into slavery would be held accountable for their actions.
An image of Aimee, with her urchin’s smile and infectious giggle, wouldn’t leave her thoughts.
There was the rub. It wouldn’t be only the wrongdoers who paid. Everyone in the village would feel the repercussions of their actions. Hatred and distrust would be bred into any who survived and the cycle would continue.
Once that wouldn’t have bothered her.
“Give the men another week of rest before breaking camp.” Fallon’s voice got louder as he moved closer to his sleeping space, where Shea sorted through his things to pack. “Meet us at the rendezvous point in two weeks.”
“The men will appreciate the break, but leaving you to take care of matters with only a small force doesn’t sit right,” Darius said.
Shea slung Fallon’s pack over her shoulder and carried it into the other chamber.
Neither man glanced up as she set the bag next to hers by the door.
She’d packed only what she thought they’d need. Luckily, another guard was in charge of securing provisions and horses. All Shea had to worry about was clothing, a hygiene kit, and other necessary items for surviving on the trail.
“No, this can’t wait. The people targeting me are getting bolder. They’ve started expanding their base and turning those loyal to me. We need to draw them out before they cause any more damage. We can’t go any further with our plans until this is addressed.”
Darius leaned on the table with both hands and bent his head. “This is risky. We could lose everything.”
Fallon straightened from where he was studying the map and slapped Darius on the back.
“The higher the risk, the greater the reward. Besides, I’ll have my own personal scout with me to help me keep me out of any trouble I find.”
Shea glanced over at him to find both him and Darius studying her. She arched an eyebrow and bent to tighten the straps on her pack. She didn’t want anything coming undone.
“More likely she’ll leave you there to rot.”
“Naw. I think I’m growing on her. She hasn’t tried to escape for a whole week.”
Shea rolled her eyes as Darius threw his head back and laughed. The statement wasn’t that funny.
Darius’ chuckles subsided, and he turned to Fallon and held out his hand. “Good luck out there.”
“Ah, just think of it this way. If I die, you become the warlord.”
Darius’ lip curled as he shuddered. “Not for all the war spoils in this world. Nothing would be worth dealing with nags on the council. I’d better find you safe and in one piece at the rendezvous.”
Fallon smiled and walked over to Shea, picking up his pack and slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll do my best to spare you from such a horrible fate, old friend.”
“See that you do.”
Following his lead, Shea grabbed her gear. After adjusting her pack, she looked up to find Fallon watching her with an enigmatic gaze. Meeting his eyes with a neutral gaze of her own, Shea waited for him to break the silence.
He did after a drawn out moment. “We’re off then.”
Not waiting for a response, he headed outside with Shea hurrying to keep up with him. They hadn’t far to go, just to the small clearing next to his guards’ tents.
The men had arranged themselves in several neat little lines, the horses’ nose to tail and each man sitting ramrod straight. Their dress was the same as most of what Shea had seen on the trail, well made, dark cloth for pants and varying darker colors for the loose shirts. There had to be over a hundred men assembled, considerably larger than the parties Shea was used to escorting. The truly impressive thing, however, wasn’t the clothes, the number of men, or the horses, though Shea would be interested to find out how they managed to get the infernal creatures to form such crisp lines. No, what was truly impressive was the way every single man came to attention as soon as their warlord stepped into view.
As one, they saluted, banging closed fists to their chests in a near synchronous clap of sound, then bowing slightly from the waist in a gesture of deep respect.
Fallon observed with an inscrutable look and when they had returned to their upright positions, he slapped his fist to his chest in return.
Without another word, he headed for a pair of horses at the front of the line. The first was a sleek, black stallion, prancing and tossing its head. At a glance, Shea could tell he’d be a handful. Willful, spirited, and probably temperamental.
No thanks.
Her eyes went to the second. She couldn’t quite call it a horse. It could best be described as a short, furry pony, with a barrel chest and thick stocky legs. It chewed enthusiastically at a piece of grass at its feet. Compared to the every other mount out here, it was the ugly step cousin of horses. It didn’t belong at all.
Fallon immediately headed for the stallion, which meant the squat creature was Shea’s.
Great. Guess that settled how she would be treated. Not as the person who had saved their Warlord’s life, twice she might add, but as a lowly aide who couldn’t even be trusted with a real horse.
Shea sighed inwardly. She had a feeling she knew how the next few days were going to go. She doubted it would be as easy to earn these men’s regard as it had been the men of Dawn’s Riders.
“She’s steadier than she looks,” Fallon told Shea as she fastened her ruck sack to the back of her saddle.
Shea mounted and gathered the reins in her hands. “They always are.”
He gave her an appreciative grin. Lifting one hand, he pointe
d forward, and they were off. The party getting underway as Fallon led the way out of camp.
Shea gave her beast a kick to prod it forward. It stubbornly remained still. She prodded harder. It waited a beat longer as if to tell Shea they only moved when the beast wanted.
Even when it began moving, the animal did so grudgingly. They weren’t even out of camp before the lead horses and their riders passed her.
Shea kept her face stubbornly pointed forward, not acknowledging the amused grins passing over her head as the riders passed on either side of her.
By the time the party crested its first hill, Shea and her stubborn mount were firmly at the back with only the rear guard behind her, and that only because they absolutely refused to pass her.
Being utterly unable to inspire the beast to go any faster, Shea sat back to enjoy the ride. If she ignored the three men behind her and tuned out the distant sounds of the group in front of her, she could almost pretend she was on a solo journey in the Highlands with the sun on her face, the wind in her hair and hundreds of miles of empty expanse between her and the nearest person.
The path curved and the last two riders in the party came briefly into view, ending Shea’s fantasy.
The pony kept a steady, short legged trot, completely different from the smooth gaits of the larger horses. It was by no means a comfortable ride, sending the teeth rattling in her head.
Shea caught up with the main group between one twist of the path and the next, surprised to find they had taken a break so soon in the trip.
A man intercepted her as she began to dismount. “Better to just stay seated, girl. You took too long catching up. We’re taking off directly.”
“I see.” Shea settled back into place, looking at the commotion around her. Sure enough, the men were heading for their mounts.
Looked like she wasn’t getting any rest during this stop, or any stop, given how slow this infernal creature was.
Sure enough, the pattern repeated with Shea and her mount falling behind almost immediately after setting off. When she caught up with them a few hours later, she didn’t even pause before continuing. She’d had a lot of time to think, riding along by herself and had worked out what was happening.