Pathfinder's Way (12 page)

“You’re an odd one,” the man behind her said
as he clicked his tongue at his horse. Suddenly they were moving
toward the gate, their bodies swaying to the horse’s rhythm.

Shea figured a reply wasn’t really necessary
and kept facing forward while she logged potential escape routes.
The men holding them didn’t have many weaknesses that she could
see.

The silent treatment didn’t deter the man as
he added thoughtfully, “Usually when I have to grab someone,
especially a woman, they plead or beg or struggle. It’s all very
annoying. You act like it’s no big deal. Either you’re scary
pragmatic and exactly how Fallon described you, or you lack an
ounce of courage.”

Shea wiggled her jaw and clenched her fists
into the horse’s mane to keep her composure. Since he couldn’t see
her, she allowed some of the anger she felt to leak past her
shields.

It wasn’t like she wanted to sit here like a
coward. Her inner strategist simply recognized the futility of
struggling. Why waste energy and risk an injury that might prevent
a future escape?

From the looks on a few of her men’s faces,
she knew they agreed with the man behind her.

Fools.

Counting herself, her team numbered seven.
She estimated that twenty Trateri warriors had ridden into the
square. From the way Darius talked, she suspected he had more men
waiting right outside the town, ready to rain the Hawkvale’s wrath
down on the townspeople if needed.

Better to present a weak front and lower the
enemy’s guard before attempting an escape. It would make them less
wary and increase her chance of success.

The sounds of a scuffle reached her. Shea
peered over her captor’s shoulder.

Paul dodged under a horse and around another
as Witt and Dane shouted for him to stop. He didn’t make it two
steps before a man on a pale cream horse rode up and kicked him in
the head. Paul stumbled. Before he could recover, he was surrounded
by warriors. Shea caught a glimpse of a rage-filled face. Then he
was gone.

“Don’t worry. They won’t kill him,” her
companion informed her. “New recruits often have that reaction.
They’ll beat him as a warning not to do it again, but mostly they
try not to break bones since that would make him useless for
several weeks.”

Shea flinched at the thud of flesh against
flesh and the pain filled cry that followed.

“Still no reaction?” the man looked at her
profile as the horse carried them out the front gate. “You’re one
cold bitch.”

“What’s your name?” Shea was gratified when
her voice came out almost normal despite the tight feeling in her
throat.

“She speaks,” the man answered sarcastically.
She twisted to glare up at him, her eyes showing just a hint of
fire. He cocked his head when she faced forward again. “There she
is. I was beginning to wonder if I had a mouse riding with me when
everyone swore you were a lioness.”

“You’re very chatty.”

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her
back. The way she sat on the horse in front of him didn’t allow for
a lot of space between them, but he was being relatively good about
keeping himself to himself.

She appreciated that. Though she would have
appreciated her own horse more.

They fell in with the string of horses
heading out of town, taking their place in the middle. Darius and
his friend with the scar were several horse lengths ahead, engaged
in conversation. Witt and the others brought up the rear and were
monitored by a team of rotating guards who followed along behind
them. Wagons filled with wheat rolled out after them.

“You’re not the first person who’s told me
that. My name’s Damon.”

Shea didn’t care. She just wanted him to stop
speaking so she could think. He, of course, didn’t.

“Did you really climb a cliff to escape
Fallon?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Blessed silence reigned while Shea watched
the countryside drift by. It was pretty land. Not breathtaking like
the Highlands were, where the view gripped your soul in an iron
fist as you were brought face to face with the wild, untamed
fierceness that came from being on the edge of the known world.
This land was too settled for that kind of beauty.

This close to Goodwin of Ria, the land was
civilized and over-populated compared to the Highlands. Everything
in its spot and hardly a leaf out of place. Nice, but not the wild
beauty that Shea’s soul craved.

Goodwin of Ria got most of its water from the
mountains that lurked in the distance. They weren’t the mountains
of the Highlands. Their peaks weren’t so high that they stabbed the
sky’s belly, but they were big enough and high enough to serve as a
reminder that the relatively flat land of Goodwin of Ria was not
the norm.

“Why did you put me in front rather than
behind you?” Shea voiced a thought that had been bothering her.

She felt his chest move as he shrugged. “Less
likely that you’ll try to run away if you’re in front. Not that
you’d get far, but this way you won’t be tempted. That means I
won’t have to punish you for the attempt, and Fallon won’t be upset
that his new toy has a few scratches.”

Shea smoothed her fingers through the horse’s
mane. It might be more difficult to escape then she had
thought.

Having nothing else to say, she lapsed back
into silence, keeping an eye out for anything that might be
useful.

She craned her head around Damon for a look
at her men. They seemed to be doing fine, though a little angry at
the forced march.

Paul was the exception. Shea couldn’t help
the wince of sympathy when she got a good look at his face. One
eyelid had swelled closed and blood coated his chin and shirt. The
skin on the right side of his face had already turned purple and
blue. Not a good sign. It would be worse tomorrow.

He walked gingerly, as if his ribs were
bruised. Burke and Owen shadowed him, keeping close watch in case
they had to steady him.

Damon was right. His beating hadn’t left any
broken bones, just a lot of bruises and some painful memories.

Witt and Dane walked near each other and
every so often they would converse quietly, until one of the
warriors guarding them would bark a sharp word, at which point
they’d separate again.

Witt looked up just then, meeting Shea’s eyes
briefly. The look on his face was blank, as if he was looking at a
stranger, before he looked away.

She turned around.

A large group of men rested in the shade of
the trees off the side of the road about two miles out of town. The
group was double the size of the one that had ridden into the
village. When Darius jerked his head at the waiting men and kept
riding, Shea figured this was the other part of his company. The
men moved quickly, mounting and joining the procession.

Damon lifted a hand in greeting as they
passed.

Two men rode up to join Darius and his
companion, while the rest fell into the back, swelling their ranks
considerably.

“Who’s this?” a man asked, riding up beside
them. “Did you finally find a girl you wanted to keep? She’s
pretty.”

Shea swayed back from the hand reaching to
touch her hair. Damon swatted him away before he could touch
her.

“Hands off. She’s not for you,” Damon said.
“This one’s the Warlord’s property. She’s the cliff climber he let
slip through his fingers.”

The other man’s jaw dropped. Still in his
early twenties, his face lacked the weight of experience or
suffering that a lot of the older warriors carried like a badge of
honor. His eyes were a faded blue, and his lips were full. Those
lips would have made the girls in Birdon Leaf swoon.

He looked Shea over curiously. “Not what I
pictured.”

Damon snorted. “Yeah. You and me both. Hard
to picture a twig like her doing all the things they say she’s
done. So far she’s been kind of quiet. Guess we’ll see.”

“You sure it’s her?”

“Darius swears it is.”

The man nodded. “He would know.”

Shea wondered if she could spin their
assumptions to her advantage. Maybe she could play up the weak
female angle and buy herself a bit of wiggle room.

Soon, the two moved on to talking about
hunting and the best method for stalking prey. Shea listened at
first, fascinated with the debate, but it wasn’t long before she
tuned them out entirely, preferring to review her knowledge of the
area.

They’d headed east, away from the Highlands
when they left Goodwin. Not the best direction, as this would make
her eventual escape more difficult since she would have to travel
until she found familiar ground, but not impossible.

The real challenge would be freeing the
others. If their captors continued to keep them separated, it make
planning difficult.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains when
Darius decided to make camp for the night.

Damon dismounted and then lifted Shea to the
ground. A youth ran up and confiscated the horse’s reins and led
the beast off to be hobbled with the others. Shea stretched, glad
to be on firm ground as she worked the kinks out of her back and
shook out one leg after another. They were cramped from having to
stay in one position all day.

Done with her stretches, she looked up to
find Damon watching her.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Not one escape attempt?
I’m a little disappointed.”

Shea gave him her most innocent look. He
snorted and took her elbow to escort her to a tree, forcing her
down beside it.

“I have to see Darius. Stay here.”

Shea waited until he was on the other side of
the clearing before looking around. Mostly the men just ignored
her, going about their tasks of setting up the camp for the night.
They gave her a wide berth. She was alone in the shade of the old
stooped tree.

The same couldn’t be said for her companions
as they made their way wearily into camp. Their shirts were stained
with sweat, and their skin streaked with dust the horses had kicked
up during the journey.

She leaned forward and rolled to her feet as
the men were led to a copse of trees. Witt was the only one to look
her way before being shoved along by a Trateri with shoulder
length, greasy brown hair.

Witt and the others were forced into seated
positions and their hands bound before the Trateri warrior tied
them to a tree with another rope.

A guard stationed himself nearby as the rest
peeled off to help with camp setup.

Shea stayed where she was for several
minutes, keeping an eye out for anyone paying her attention. No one
seemed to notice as she took a few steps towards her
companions.

Good. Before she could talk herself out of
it, she strode confidently, looking neither left nor right, to
where the men were tied.

Their guard straightened from his slouch
against a tree, looking like he wanted to stop her, but also like
he didn’t know if he should. Shea took advantage of that and nodded
at him before plopping herself down between Dane and Witt’s tree.
She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her
palms.

They watched the well-executed dance as the
warriors erected tents, started a fire, and prepared the site for
the night.

“Have a nice ride?” Dane asked, breaking the
silence.

Shea looked out of the corner of her eye at
the guard. He had settled back into his slouch when he saw she just
intended to talk but watched her intently. She figured she only had
a few minutes before the Trateri separated them.

“Very nice. I got to watch the countryside go
by while having a chatterbox yap at me all day. And you? Did you
enjoy your stroll?”

“Oh yes. Being forced to walk miles with
these warriors threatening every few minutes to cut off my legs
since I obviously wasn’t using them efficiently was great fun.”

Shea allowed herself a small smile at this
tart response.

“If you two are done comparing notes, perhaps
we should get down to business,” Witt said crossly.

The humor in Dane’s eyes faded as he looked
at her grimly. “Do you have a plan?”

“Working on it.”

The mood turned heavy as they absorbed her
response. Shea always had a plan. It might not be a good one, but
she usually had something.

“You should escape.”

Shea rolled her eyes to him and gave him a
look.

“He’s right, girl,” Witt agreed. “Leave us
and run. I know you’ve already worked out your exit. We’re just
holding you back. So go.”

Shea exhaled loudly. She had worked out her
exit, but she wasn’t going to leave them. A pathfinder didn’t
abandon her charges. Not if they were still alive.

Besides, her maps were still in her saddle
bags. It wouldn’t be a good thing if they fell into Trateri hands.
They contained details on the safest routes past the Bearan Fault.
Granted it was in code, but a good cryptographer would be able to
decipher them given enough time.

Even if she was willing to break her vows as
a pathfinder, she couldn’t leave those maps behind or the entire
Highlands would pay the price.

She couldn’t let the boys know that, though.
Dane and Witt wouldn’t say anything, but Paul and the others
wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut. They’d use the maps as
a bargaining chip for their freedom. No doubt about it.

“Can’t do that.”

“Shea-“

“No,” she said forcefully. She lowered her
voice so only they could hear. “I’m not going to do that. At least
not yet. I don’t see a way to get us all out. Right now they’re
watching us too closely to make any sort of attempt. But I figure
once we get to their main camp that’ll change. There’ll be too many
people, and they’ll eventually be lulled into believing we have no
intention of escaping. We’ll probably be separated again.”

Hopefully, the maps would remain undiscovered
until then. So far, they’d left her saddle bags alone.