Pathfinder's Way (22 page)

There were murmurs of agreement.

“We lost entire tribes warring against each
other,” Sam said. “Resources are scarce in our land, and the
battles for them can be savage. He instituted brutal laws that
benefited him and his council. We broke apart as a people. Hawkvale
changed all that when he won the right to rule and began uniting
the clans. The Trateri believe he will lead us into a golden age
that will rule over all of the Broken Lands.”

Sounded like Fallon had united the Trateri by
giving them a common enemy. People tended to forget their
differences and band together when they had something to fight
against.

From their story, it didn’t sound like he’d
be content to conquer just the Lowlands. To unite the Broken Lands,
he would have to conquer the Highlands, Shea’s home. That couldn’t
happen.

She looked at Eamon. “And you? Do you believe
he will lead the Clans to a golden age?”

“I don’t know.” Eamon’s eyes, even cast in
shadow, pierced through Shea. “But if any man can, it will be
him.”

Focus shifted off Shea and onto conversation
about their friends and family. Shea didn’t know any of those they
were talking about, so it gave her an excuse to bow out of the
conversation.

Her mouth full, she chewed thoughtfully as
she listened to them giving each other a hard time. They seemed to
enjoy coming up with the best insult. It was easy to be around
them, and more than once she smiled in response to a particularly
good zinger.

This was what she liked about being in the
field, the easy camaraderie. It was something that had been missing
in her life for a while now.

Before long, she made her way into the
darkness to relieve herself, making sure she was far from prying
eyes. Preparing to turn in, she found a relatively flat spot on the
ground and pulled out a small blanket to cover her body, laying her
jacket on top for extra warmth and arranging the pack she’d
retrieved from the top of the cliff behind her head as a
pillow.

She found herself softening towards her
companions, no matter how many times she told herself that they
weren’t her friends.

They treated her as an equal. Like someone
whose opinion mattered. It had been a long time since she had that,
since before the Badlands, if she had ever had it to this extent at
all. She thought she might have been building toward this type of
give and take with Witt and Dane, but that had been taken away
before she knew if it was real or not.

She shut her eyes, determined to get some
rest before they woke her for her shift as night watch in a few
hours.

It didn’t take long for her body to sink
gratefully into sleep.

Eamon rose from the pile of stones he’d been
examining. They were assembled into a pyramid, and a short stick
stuck out of the side. It pointed to the left.

“Looks like you knew what you were doing
after all,” he told Shea, coming to stand beside her horse. He
tilted his head back to smile at her.

She gave a short nod, her eyes going back to
that pile of rocks. They had found signs where a large group had
set up camp, but she hadn’t been sure it was the group they were
looking for. Judging by the quick smiles of the men, nobody shared
her concerns.

She had a feeling it had something to do with
that pile but was afraid to ask in case it was knowledge a real
scout would have.

They no doubt had their own trail sign to
communicate with their people. Shea’s people had a method as well
and used it for things such as a warning someone of danger or as a
signal that they had come this way.

She couldn’t help but feel like a weight had
been lifted off her shoulders. They’d been on the trail for eleven
days now, and she was beginning to worry they weren’t going to find
the company they’d been tasked with locating. For the past day
every time Eamon or one of the others had glanced at her, she’d
tensed thinking they were about to challenge her abilities.

That hadn’t happened though, even when she
had started taking them in a sweeping crisscross pattern for most
of the last day, checking the back trail for signs of people they
may have missed.

“What’re you talking about?” Buck asked
riding up beside them. “Pip squeak could find his way blind.”

Eamon shook his head and snorted before
mounting his horse. “Signs say they went west. Looks like the camp
fire was from last night so we’re only about half a day behind
them. They’ll be moving slower than us, so if we ride hard, we’ll
be able to catch them before the sun sets.”

“Finally,” Buck said. “Maybe we’ll get a hot
meal tonight.”

“At the very least we’ll get to eat something
besides hard tack and this damn jerky,” Eamon returned as they went
single file down the hill.

“That’d be nice,” Sam said dreamily. After
eleven days of trail food, everyone was ready for something new.
Even Shea felt her mouth water at the thought of something besides
jerky.

Conversation dropped off as they rode, each
keeping an eye on their surroundings.

The group encountered more and more signs
that people had come this way. From the excrement a horse left to
hoof prints to the occasional piece of manmade goods. The path was
easy to follow for anyone able to read it.

A man stood from an outcropping of rocks and
leveled a bow at them. “Halt and state your business.”

Eamon pulled on his reins and held up one
hand. “We’re scouts from the Dawn’s Rider Company here to see your
commander.”

The cross bow dipped slightly but stayed
pointed in their general direction. “The moon rises over the summer
plains.”

“But sets over the burning snakes,” Eamon
returned.

At Eamon’s response, the man pointed the
cross bow to the ground and waved them past. Eamon took lead and
the rest followed. Shea looked back once to see the guard settle
into position behind a tangle of bushes that hid him from view. She
turned forward again.

A challenge and response. An effective way of
determining friend from foe.

How often did those codes change and were
there different ones for different companies? If someone knew the
codes, they could slip in and out of camps with little trouble.

They cantered around a copse of trees and
came upon a campsite filled with their quarry. The group, numbering
at two hundred, was much smaller than those they left in the
valley. This was a short term camp, meant only for the night. There
were no tents, but they’d set up crude pallets for sleeping and
several campfires dotted the clearing. From the smell of things,
someone had already started dinner.

Eamon and Buck dismounted. Shea followed
their lead, unsaddling her horse and tying it next to theirs. A
hand landed on her shoulder, startling her.

“You’re with me,” Eamon told her.

Sam slipped up to her and slid her pack and
saddle from her hands. “I’ll set your things next to ours for when
you’re done.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Wiping sweaty palms on her pants, she
followed Eamon’s broad back as he strode through camp. What did he
want from her? Had he discovered she was a woman?

That would not be good.

She started scanning for the best possible
escape routes. Her secret was probably still safe, but it was best
to be prepared.

“Scout Master Eamon Walker of Dawn’s Riders
with an urgent message for the commander of Saw Grass,” Eamon said
after coming to a stop in front of a trio hunched over a map.

A sandy haired man with a week’s worth of
stubble and a broad forehead straightened. His clothes were just as
lived in as the rest of the men and nothing pointed to him as the
leader except the slight look of authority resting on his stern
countenance.

“What do you have for me master scout?” he
asked.

The other two didn’t bother standing. The
woman on the left stayed leaning on her elbows while looking over
the two of them. The man on the right chewed busily at a stick and
folded his arms.

Shea kept her eyes from settling on any
person for too long, not wanting to draw any more attention. Why
was she here? Eamon could have handled the report just fine on his
own.

She would have been much happier seeing to
her sleeping arrangements. Or finding a way to escape.

“There’s been a change to your orders,” Eamon
said.

“Figures,” the stick chewer muttered. The
woman curled her lip in disgust, while the leader looked like he
had bit into something sour.

Ignoring the comments, Eamon continued,
“You’re to hook up with another element and provide support while
they investigate Ram’s Crossing, a small village about thirty miles
west of here.”

“Where?”

“May I?” Eamon asked, pointing at the
map.

The leader gestured for him to go ahead.
Eamon bent over, peering at it closely before pointing to a spot
that was about a day’s ride north west of their current
position.

The stick chewer caught Shea’s eye when she
lifted her eyes from the map and raised his eyebrows. She dropped
her gaze quickly not quite sure of the protocol for someone in the
position she was currently occupying.

“This is bad,” the woman said, looking up at
the leader. “This will take us past the revenants.”

Shea flinched. Revenants. She hated
revenants. Everybody loathed the foul creatures.

The beast was hella intelligent and vicious
as a wolverine after a long winter. Not a couple of qualities you
wanted combined in one animal. Though only about the size of a dog,
it had thick reptilian skin that was damn near impossible to
penetrate and wicked sharp fangs and claws.

That wasn’t the worst part, though.
Practically every beast had sharp claws and fangs. That was nothing
to get worked up about. What made them so terrifying was the fact
they hunted in packs and had a humanlike intelligence. They learned
from their mistakes, and they never made the same one twice.

Shea had four scars on her thigh from her
last encounter.

“Who’s your lad?” stick chewer asked, looking
her over.

Eamon reached back and pulled Shea up to
stand next to him. “My second, Shane.”

Stick chewer whistled while Perry’s eyebrows
rose. Shea stiffened as she found herself under the regard of the
three. Her eyes flickered from face to face trying to find a safe
place to settle when she finally just gazed over the woman’s
head.

“Kind of young to be a second, isn’t he?” the
woman asked. “Looks like a Daisy.”

“Fiona’s right. Kid doesn’t look like
much.”

“His appearance is a little misleading.
Fucker’s crazier than a stallion in heat and has balls as big as
one.”

“Oh?” Perry asked.

Eamon nodded. “You notice we numbered six
when we rode into camp. We started with eleven.”

The stick chewer spat on the ground. “Unlucky
number.”

Eamon agreed with him. “We probably wouldn’t
have made it at all if it weren’t for the lad’s mischief.”

Perry looked her over slowly, noting her slim
limbs, less than impressive height and smooth skin that had never
seen a razor. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Took down one of those huge beetles by
himself. He’s also the one who found you lot. If not for him, we
would have been wandering for a lot longer.” Eamon nodded at her.
“He might be young, but he knows his craft.”

“A beetle, huh?” stick chewer asked. “Most
don’t walk away from an encounter like that.”

“Can’t be far out of being a Daisy,” Fiona
said.

“He was a Daisy when we started,” Eamon
confirmed.

Shea’s hands curled into fists at her side,
while she tried to keep all expression off her face. Please,
please, please, find something else to talk about.

“Battlefield promotion then,” stick chewer
said.

“We’ll need your assistance dealing with the
revenants,” Perry informed Eamon. “We’re down to three scouts since
our last encounter. Damn things took apart three parties before we
could get away from them. Thought I’d lose my men in battle. I was
prepared for that. Instead it’s these damn creatures wearing us
down.”

“Understood. I’ll prepare my men for the
change in plans.”

“We’ll leave at first light.”

Dismissed, Eamon turned on his heel, heading
for his men gathered around one of the fires. Shea trailed in his
wake.

The sun had begun to sink behind the
mountains while they were giving their report to Perry, but little
fingers of amber light fought off the deepening gloom.

Shea’s stomach growled at the smell of food,
but she didn’t let that distract her. She needed to speak to Eamon
before they reached the others.

“Eamon?”

Eamon stopped, looking over in question.

Shea gathered her courage, knowing that she
was about to piss him off. Oh well, it needed to be said. If he
called her a coward, so be it. “It’s suicide trying to travel
through revenant territory.”

“Oh?” He didn’t say anything else, just
that.

“Revenants are smart,” Shea said. “And they
learn from every encounter with humans. If these guys had trouble
with them earlier, they’re going to have twice as much now.
Whatever tactics they used last time won’t work because the beasts
have already adapted.”

“I see your point, but that doesn’t change
the fact our destination is on the other side of their
territory.”

“We could go around it,” Shea offered.

Eamon crossed his arms and shook his head.
“Not enough time.”

“It’s better than losing half the company to
an attack.”

“They’re that dangerous?”

“A small pack? No. But if there are several
packs in this area, they’ll call for reinforcements. That wouldn’t
be good for us.”

“Perry would never go for it.”

“But-“

“I understand what you’re saying, but we’ll
be going through their territory tomorrow. We’ve got orders now. We
have to follow them. End of story.”