Pathfinder's Way (24 page)

Shea followed his gaze. All this time writing
her observations down thinking nobody would ever see them, much
less think them relevant. At times she had struggled to keep going
as she wondered at the point of continuing.

This, in some small fashion, was her dream
realized but not in any way she had ever imagined.

Shea tilted her head back to examine the
gnarled branches of a tree. The dead forest inhabited a thin strip
of land only a few hundred meters wide but stretched in either
direction. Charred from some long ago fire, the trees’ bark gleamed
white and smooth against a sky pregnant with rain clouds.

With every step, fine ash floated up from the
scorched earth. It was a barren wasteland where nothing grew,
marking the beginning of the revenant’s territory.

There should have been some sign that the
earth was healing, a glimpse of green against the unrelenting gray
and black, birds returning to make nests. Something. Instead, it
was just a strip of land that the living had permanently
abandoned.

What could have happened here to so totally
consign the area to the realm of the dead?

Clark had told her that when Perry’s men fled
past the first dead tree the revenants refused to step foot onto
the scorched land, instead pacing back and forth as if an invisible
wall separated them from their prey. Shea shivered. She could see
why. Even the still air made her think of dead and decaying
things.

Even knowing that revenants waited on the
other side, she looked forward to putting this dreadful place
behind her.

Quiet gripped the morning. There was none of
the neighborly chatter that usually characterized a movement.
Everyone jumped at shadows. Even yesterday’s cheerful Clark had
gone missing, leaving a watchful stranger whose hand never strayed
far from the blade at his hip.

There was a collective inhale when the men
stepped over the clear line dividing the dead zone from revenant
territory. A pall dropped over the group, turning the mood thick
and heavy with grim anticipation.

A heightened awareness took hold as everyone
anticipated an attack.

As the morning wore on, the group moved
further into revenant territory. The forest here was thin and
sparse and the underbrush thick. It made it challenging to move
quickly, especially since they were going out of their way to avoid
making noise. The rolling hills made it difficult to see any
distance, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because
it might hide them from the revenants but it would also prevent
them from seeing the revenants approaching until it was too
late.

It was decided last night that riding horses
would make them easy pickings for the revenants as the creature was
too small to hit with a sword from horseback but was perfectly
capable of leaping up to tear out a horse’s throat or drag a rider
off its back.

Sweat dampened Shea’s hair as she trailed
behind Eamon. They’d walked a fair amount, but not nearly as far as
she’d have liked. Having a large party like this made it difficult
to move with speed, especially when they were trying to be as
stealthy as possible.

They were heading west and slightly south,
hoping to skirt along the edge of the beasts’ territory.

A low warble from the front of the line
alerted Shea and the others. A man held up his closed fist,
signaling them to stop and find cover if possible. He pointed at
the ridge running parallel to them.

A single revenant was silhouetted against the
sky, its head lifted proudly as it glared out across its territory.
Shea held her breath. If it let loose an ululating wail, they were
all dead.

A sigh went through the company when it
disappeared back into the brush.

“That’s it? That’s what everybody is so
afraid of?” Sam asked. “It can’t be too difficult to kill that
thing.”

Eamon cuffed him on the back of his head.
“Quiet.”

“It might be easy to kill one on one,” a man
said softly from behind Shea, “but it hunts in packs. I’ve never
seen a more cunning animal.”

“Looks like your little berries worked, boy,”
the man told Shea.

She glanced at her companions. “It works
better if you all would just. Quit. Talking.”

A choked noise came from Eamon.

She frowned at him. He looked away, but not
before Shea caught a hint of a smile.

Thought it was funny, did he? Well, she’d see
how funny he thought it was when the revenant returned to check out
all this noise. The berries disguised their scent. They didn’t mask
sound.

The march resumed. The men held themselves in
a constant state of readiness, with hands clutched around
weapons.

The first test was passed. If they were going
to retreat, now was the time.

The commander ordered them forward, further
into revenant territory.

The sounds of animal life were muted in these
woods. That had less to do with the company’s presence and more to
do with the revenants acting like a scourge on the earth. They had
no sense of self preservation. They killed and killed until there
was nothing left. Then they would move on like a pestilence.
Intelligent they might be, but they had no sense of restraint. They
were extremely aggressive to everything.

They had an amazing sense of smell, which
made up for their poor eyesight. Pickleberries were one of the most
pungent smelling plants in the Highlands or Lowlands, and even a
human could smell a small bush from a fair distance. Before they
had set out that morning, each man had been instructed to rub
crushed pickleberries on his pulse points, neck, chest, groin, and
under the arms, in the hopes that the smell would conceal his
scent.

It was better to slip through unseen than try
to fight them off one by one.

And it seemed to be working too, until one of
the beasts stumbled through the brush right on top of them.

Before Shea could move or shout, a man from
Saw Grass drew his blade and threw himself at the revenant. Two men
followed, killing the beast before it could emit more than a pained
yip.

“Shit,” Shea breathed.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then a
chorus of screeching howls mourned their pack mate’s death. The din
of dozens of revenants rose as they raced through the hills all
around them.

“That is not a small pack,” Shea observed
softly, listening.

“Let’s move,” Perry’s low voice carried down
the ranks.

The men surged up the hill, breaking into
several smaller groups as they went, hoping that they could escape
detection from the revenant’s weak eyesight.

Shea’s legs pumped as she stayed with Eamon
and Buck who ran parallel along the hill. She saw one of the men
who had slayed the revenant running to the right of them.

“Get rid of your blade,” Shea shouted.

His head jerked toward her, but he ignored
her, picking up his pace. She growled and surged forward, dogging
his steps.

“Your blade. Get rid of it. They can smell
the blood.”

Her message given, she veered back towards
Eamon and the rest. It was up to him if he wanted to listen.

A revenant surged into view, his lips bared
in a snarl, drool dangling in thick ropes from its open mouth.
Shea’s group froze as the beast lifted its nose, sniffing the air
suspiciously, its milky white eyes moving right over them.

The creature’s skin, leathery and black like
a bat’s wings, was closer to a reptiles than a mammal’s. Its front
legs were slightly longer than the ones in the back. There were no
ears on its broad, flat head, only small slits for the ear canal.
It also had no tail.

It bared its teeth again before darting
off.

“Thank the gods,” someone whispered.

“Let’s go,” Eamon said softly. “We need to
make the rendezvous.”

In single file, they moved through the wood.
Every time a revenant’s distinctive hunting call echoed over the
hills, Shea tensed then relaxed when there was no accompanying
human scream.

So far, it looked like the plan was working.
But for how long?

The men in Shea’s group were moving at a fast
clip towards the next landmark where they would regroup with the
others. It couldn’t be far now.

Shea’s breath sawed in and out of her lungs
as she raced after Buck. He was a quick little fucker and keeping
up with him took every ounce of concentration she had.

She wasn’t the only one breathing heavy
either.

“Revenant!” came the shout.

“Idiot,” Shea muttered. He should have stayed
silent.

There was a high-pitched scream.

He wouldn’t be the last to fall. The
pickleberry juice was wearing off. It was bound to happen with all
this sweating. Shea had warned them that it was likely to fade the
more they moved. It’s why they had spent half the night working on
contingency plans.

The juice had done its job by getting them
over halfway through the territory and to the rally point, but now
that the ruse had been discovered, it wouldn’t work on this
particular group of revenants again.

“We’ve still got a quarter mile to the next
point,” Eamon swore.

“Told you, these fuckers are smart,” Shea
panted.

“Pick up the pace, you slackers.”

The pace quickened, the haunting wails of the
revenants lending motivation to those who were tiring.

“There,” Clark shouted.

Shea’s heart leapt at the sight of the
overhang where they planned to make their stand. The space carved
into the side of the hill created a large hollow that was easily
defensible.

Reaching it, the men spun around, placing the
overhang at their back and facing their enemy. Shea, Eamon and Buck
did the same, holding their weapons at the ready and watching as
the last of their party came into view.

“Come on, you lot,” Eamon shouted. “Get into
position.”

Sweat dripped down Shea’s forehead, and she
urgently wished for something to drink. A rustle of bushes caught
her eyes. She watched as shadows snaked through the trees.

She screamed, “Run.”

Revenants burst from the trees, latching onto
legs and dragging their prey, screaming, back into the shadows.

“Don’t break formation,” Perry roared as
several men moved toward their fallen comrades. “Grieve later.
Raise your sword and avenge your comrades.”

There was a long drawn out scream that only
broke long enough for the man to draw breath.

“Why don’t they kill him?” Clark asked.

“Intimidation,” Shea said, scanning the trees
for movement. “They’re trying to get in your head and scare you.
It’s not easy listening to a person you know being eaten
alive.”

“How many do you think are out there?” a man
asked.

“Fifty, maybe more,” Eamon said.

“Here they come.”

Revenants crept from the cover of the
underbrush, their heads lowered and teeth gleaming white as they
darted up to the line of men, testing their defenses. They wove
back and forth, avoiding the slash of steel.

“Stay on line,” Perry screamed as several men
started to rush to meet the revenants.

“Come on, you demon spawn,” a man shouted on
their left.

The revenant tormenting him slunk back and
then lunged, never coming into range, and letting out an eerie
cackle when the man hacked at him uselessly.

“Where are the rest?” Shea asked, softly.

There were only ten or fifteen of the beasts
in the clearing with them. From what she knew of the beasts, they
enjoyed fresh prey and wouldn’t miss this, especially after their
pack mates had been slain.

So, where were the rest?

A set of teeth closed around her boot,
yanking her feet out from under her and dragging her off the line.
It shook its head fiercely, trying to get at the skin beneath the
leather. She kicked at it with her other foot, the blow glancing
off its head but not deterring it at all. She’d dropped her blade
when it grabbed her, and her hands scrabbled at the dirt searching
for a weapon.

Getting nowhere with her boot, it dropped her
leg and lunged at her torso. She raised her hands protecting her
face and neck. A blade pierced its eye, freezing it in its tracks.
Shea followed the blade to Eamon who planted a boot in its side,
pushing it off his sword.

“Stop wool gathering. I don’t have time to be
babysitting,” he snapped, keeping a watchful eye out as Shea
climbed to her feet.

She turned to get back on line, glancing up
as she did. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the revenants amassing
on the ledge above. They were preparing to jump on the men
below.

Guess she’d found where the rest of the
little bastards went.

She pointed up, yelling, “Behind you. Cover
your backs.”

As if on cue, half the men pivoted while the
rest stepped forward swinging their blades to meet the ones on the
ground. Arrows flew, picking several of the revenants above off,
but there were too many.

Shea swung her sword as one leapt, catching
it in the throat. It went limp as it landed, taking her back to the
ground. She cursed and wiggled out from under its dead weight. An
ululating cackle sounded to her right. She pushed harder as another
revenant peered around its dead companion. The weight on her
doubled as its saliva dripped onto her face.

She whimpered, her hand creeping to her waist
and pulling her dagger. The beast leapt, and she brought her arm
up. It screeched as it buried itself mouth first on the blade. She
angled the dagger into the soft tissue of its palate and then into
its brain.

Great, now she was pinned under two of the
damn beasts.

The sounds of battle continued around her as
she grunted and shoved her way out from under the dead revenants.
Bit by bit, she shifted the combined weight until she was finally
free.

She reclaimed her sword and looked at the
carnage. Bodies, both revenant and man littered the ground, and the
previously tight lines had degenerated into a free for all as men
defended as best they could.