Pathfinder's Way (11 page)

Shea noted the look of gloating satisfaction
on Paul’s face before her attention was pulled to where the elders
arranged themselves in a line facing the gate.

She got the kind of feeling she sometimes got
when life was about to kick her in the teeth. The kind where all
the rules got thrown out, and her world was set on its head.

She’d had that feeling only twice before.
Both times had been devastating.

“We need to leave.” Shea threw the reins at
Dane and headed for her horse. “Now.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

Warriors clad in leather armor over silk
undershirts thundered through the gate, led by a commanding figure
with broad cheekbones and smiling eyes. He pulled his horse to a
stop in front of the elders, barely sparing them a glance as they
sank into deep bows. He frowned at the buildings surrounding the
courtyard. None were taller than two story but all were well made
with solid craftsmanship.

The man pulled on the reins, wheeling his
horse around and nearly hitting the hawk nosed elder with the
beast’s rear. He rode up to a dark haired man with a scar on his
neck, whose undershirt was a vibrant blue.

“Looks like you won that bet.” He gestured at
the buildings. “Not nearly as backwards as the last. It could
almost be called civilized.”

“When will you learn, Darius?” His friend
caught the coin flipped at him before shooting a distasteful look
around the square. “It never pays to bet against me. You’ll always
lose.”

Shea’s eyes nearly bugged out of her
head.

Of all the misbegotten things that reside in
the mist.

It was the man from the canyon. The one
Fallon had unhorsed to pursue her. She ducked behind her horse,
using it to shield her from view. This wasn’t good.

It was in fact, very, very bad.

Why hadn’t she made everybody leave last
night?

When they refused to listen to her, she
should have left and told them she’d meet them on the road.

Noticing her antics, Witt shot a frown at
her. She widened her eyes and nodded at Darius. He shook his head,
not understanding.

She bit back a growl and peeked over her
horse. The elders had straightened from their bow and the
middle-aged man from yesterday stepped forward to address the
warriors.

Before he could do more than offer
refreshments, Darius waved him away. “I didn’t come here to drink
tea and talk about dirt, Lowlander. Your tithes are due. Give us
what you owe or go the way of Edgecomb.”

“Of course, my lord.” The elder’s lips
twisted into a facsimile of a smile but was more of a grimace. “The
townspeople are bringing the wheat out now.”

“And the men?” Darius’s companion asked
sharply. “Don’t try to pawn off weaklings and half-wits like last
time.”

The men at Darius’ back shifted menacingly
forward. A horse, picking up its rider’s mood, pawed angrily at the
ground and snorted loudly.

Shea’s mare shifted uneasily. Shea patted her
and whispered encouragement. The animal just needed to stay still
until Darius left.

“Of course not, my lord.” The elder licked
his lips nervously before gesturing with shaking hands at Shea’s
group. “In fact, that’s them. You’re welcome to take a look if you
wish.”

“Might as well,” Darius drawled, kicking his
horse into motion.

“What?” Paul squawked. Up until now, he
hadn’t paid much attention as he and Sid whispered amongst
themselves. It finally dawned on him that these weren’t good guys,
and they were in a bit of danger. “What is this?” he shouted at the
elder.

“Quiet, Paul,” Dane hissed, watching Darius’s
approach warily.

Darius pulled his horse to a stop in front of
Dane, looking down with assessing eyes. “So you’re the tribute this
time.”

He examined the rest of them. He didn’t seem
impressed.

Shea ducked her head further into her
horse.

“Sir,” Dane said, drawing his attention back
to him. Shea could have kissed him for that. “I’m afraid my
companions and I are at a bit of a loss. We traveled here for
trade. I don’t know what deal they’ve made with you, but they don’t
speak for us.”

Darius listened. His lips curled into a broad
smile as the skin around his eyes crinkled. He was handsome, Shea
realized. Even charming.

If Dane was lucky, he’d have the same effect
once he matured a little.

The elders held themselves stiffly as they
waited in anticipation.

Darius arched an eyebrow at his companion.
The blue shirted man shook his head in disgust and leaned back in
his saddle, turning to spit on the ground at the elder’s feet.

Darius folded his hands across his pummel and
spoke to Dane, “They fucked you over but good.”

“Sir?”

A rueful quirk tilted Darius’ lips as he
turned his face to the sky. “Hate to say it, but they did. Smart
bastards to find some poor fools to fulfill their tithe.” He looked
back at Dane and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter how you came to be here,
only that you are. Fallon Hawkvale, Warlord over the Trateri Clans,
owns your ass. He’s your master now. Forget wherever you came from.
Maybe if you get lucky you’ll become a horseman or foot soldier,
but whatever life you lived before is gone.”

Dane’s skin turned a sickly shade of white at
this pronouncement.

Shea, for her part, felt like she’d been
punched in the stomach at Fallon’s name.

Looks like she’d been right about him. Fat
lot of good that did her now.

Darius leaned forward and cuffed the side of
Dane’s head. “Don’t worry, you’ll grow to like the clans soon
enough. Now, let’s see what kind of recruits we have this
time.”

Dane made a strangled sound as Darius
straightened. Witt sent Dane a look that said pull it together.

It dawned on the others the situation had
turned bad. They shifted uneasily under the weight of Darius’s
regard.

Shea stared grimly at her saddle.

The men shifted away as the steady clop,
clop, clop of a horse approached. Her mare sidestepped as the other
horse invaded her space.

Shea tried to hold the animal in place, but
there wasn’t much she could do against hundreds of pounds of
determined horseflesh.

Abandoned by even her horse, Shea glared at
the ground. Maybe he wouldn’t remember her. They’d only met
briefly, and he’d been focused on Fallon for most of that time.

“What do we have here? A girl?” an amused
voice said above her. When she didn’t respond, he added, “Glaring
at the ground won’t make me go away.”

Fine then. She’d glare at him instead. Might
as well get it over with anyway. At least this way, she’d know; he
either recognized her or he didn’t.

No comprehension registered in his eyes, just
a mild interest.

Perhaps she was safe.

Recognition dawned. He gave a shout.

Shea frowned even harder at him as he threw
his head back and roared with laughter.

Witt and Dane gave her equal looks of
puzzlement. The wheels spun in their brains as they looked at her,
then at him and then back at her.

Witt lifted his hands slightly in
question.

She’d told him about Fallon’s men in the
canyon, so he knew how she’d escaped.

Curious as to what had caught Darius’s
interest, his companion prodded his horse forward. By the look on
his face, he didn’t understand why his friend found her so
amusing.

“Cale, you won’t believe who this is,” Darius
finally said, his laughter winding down, though humor still glinted
in his eyes.

“Especially if you don’t stop laughing like a
loon,” Cale complained acerbically, drawing his horse to a stop.
“You’re supposed to be intimidating these dirt grubbers. I don’t
see how this is going to instill fear in their hearts and terror in
their minds.”

“This is her.” Darius tilted his head towards
Shea.

“Her?” Cale frowned.

“Her.”

Cale’s eyes went sharply to Shea as he
scanned her up and down, realization settling in. “You mean?”

Darius grinned and nodded.

“I’ll be damned.” Cale settled back in his
saddle and looked at her with amazement. “Guess this village has
something to recommend it after all.”

“I take it Fallon will be pleased with this
tribute,” another man said, joining the two. He was brown.
Everything about him was some variation of the color. He had brown
hair, brown eyes and his skin had been tanned a deep walnut by the
sun. With his addition, there were now three men on horseback
surrounding Shea.

She kept her attention trained on them,
acutely aware of the unrest behind her as Paul and Sid began
muttering in discontent.

All of the men in front of her had scars on
various parts of their bodies and carried swords in scabbards at
their sides. They were muscled, but it was the kind that came from
lifting a sword and riding a horse everyday rather than the kind
developed from plowing fields and harvesting its bounty. Given the
air of danger each man exuded, even Darius who seemed to find humor
in everything, it was obvious these weren’t the sort of men you
could piss off and expect to walk away unscathed.

She hoped Paul and the others took that into
consideration.

Darius smothered a grin when she lifted her
chin and glared at all three of them. She’d never liked people
talking about her.

“You made quite an impression last time,
little spider. Fallon doesn’t like it when his toys go
missing.”

Confusion must have shown on Shea’s face
because Darius gave her a long look before continuing. “Entire army
has orders to bring you in if they come across someone meeting your
description. It just so happens I was there that day and know
exactly what you look like.”

Cale’s slight smile made a shiver rush down
Shea’s back as he eyed her with hooded eyes. “I imagine Fallon will
reward us well for this.”

“So our tribute meets with your
approval?”

The white-haired elder had approached while
the three men had been preoccupied with Shea. There was hope in his
eyes as he clasped his hands in front of him.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” The elder’s face
relaxed and he started to smile, when Darius added, “We’ll expect
double the wheat.”

The man’s eyes widened as he physically drew
back in horror. “But we’ve given you what you asked. Both in wheat
and people. More than that if you include her.”

The amusement drained from Darius’ face as
his eyes chilled and his expression turned hard. Menace rolled off
his body as he leaned down slightly. “Yes, and you tricked others
into taking your men’s place.”

“We’ll starve if we give you double the
amount. What does it matter how we fill the quota as long as we
fill it?” the elder interrupted.

Darius pulled sharply on the reins, spinning
the horse and kicking it in the sides. The elder backed away as
Darius and the horse bore down on him.

“The quota is
meant
to affect you. We
want
to keep you hungry and take your men from you. We want
your boys in our army because you’ll be so worried about them that
you won’t have time to resist. If they’re in the army, they’re not
sowing the seeds of a rebellion they can’t hope to win. Which means
we don’t have to come back here and wipe your village from the
map.” The elder tripped and scrambled back in a tangle of limbs as
Darius continued his advance. “You can either sacrifice your people
or starve. This time you’ve chosen to starve. Now, I’ve been
generous in not punishing you further. If this deal is no longer to
your taste, say the word and my men and I will ride through your
village. I warn you, though, that once we ride, we will not stop,
no matter how you beg and plead, until everything you know and love
is ash upon the ground.”

Darius drew his horse to a sharp stop as he
lifted his gaze from the terror stricken form in front of him. The
other two flinched from his wrath.

“We’ll up the amount of wheat to be
transported,” the hawk-nosed one agreed.

Darius’s gaze didn’t waver for a long minute.
Tension built as he held them trapped. There was no laughter, no
hint of the handsome man. He looked like death, come to collect his
due.

After a drawn out moment where Shea thought
he’d call his men to ride on the town anyway, Darius jerked his
head down once. The menace filling the air drained away as he made
his way back to the two gathered by Shea.

“Bring her,” he ordered. “Have the others
follow behind on foot and put their horses on a leader.”

Before Shea could protest, she found herself
grabbed under the arms and hoisted into the air. For balance, she
grabbed the horse’s neck as she was placed in front of the rider.
She blinked back at the brown haired man regarding her impassively
before turning forward.

She felt impossibly high off the ground since
the horse was much taller than her former one. It was not a
pleasant feeling.

Dane looked angry, like he wanted do
something impulsive and stupid. Shea breathed a sigh of relief when
Witt stepped in front of him and shoved him back.

The others just looked angry, but not like
they were going to go crazy and challenge the men with swords,
voicing objections when Darius’ men forced them away from their
mounts. Paul glared at her as if this was somehow her fault. Though
how she would have orchestrated it, or why, escaped her.

When her eyes strayed back to him, Witt shot
her a questioning look and indicated their horses. She figured he
was asking if they should make an attempt to overpower the
warriors, most of whom had yet to dismount and still watched the
surrounding buildings with suspicion. Every warrior had one hand on
a weapon.

Shea shook her head.

Seeing her response, Dane finally got ahold
of himself and pushed Witt’s arm away. Witt let him do this, though
he gave Dane a final warning look before stepping back and folding
his arms across his chest.