Pathfinder's Way (37 page)

“I’m guessing the route would have also been
left off the maps given to the scouts so none of them got it into
their heads to check it just in case.” Phillip picked up Shea’s
journal and squinted at it, trying to decipher her scribbling’s in
the dim light and compare them to the bigger map.

Shea looked up at Eamon, the only one of them
who hadn’t said anything and also the one who would ultimately
decide if they would investigate this theory or continue following
their orders.

The torch cast harsh shadows on the sharp
planes of his features, concealing his thoughts. He placed both
hands on his waist and rocked back and forth, bending his head
slightly. Shea knew from prior experience that it was the pose he
used when he was thinking over his options.

The two at her side pretended to ignore
Eamon’s internal struggle, but, like her, they held themselves
tight in anticipation.

“It probably wouldn’t be too far off the area
we’re searching so as to further allay suspicion,” Eamon finally
added.

The three exhaled in relief before bending to
compare notes and observations. The hunt was on, and if there was
anything Shea had learned in her time with the Trateri, it was that
they loved a hunt, whether of man or beast.

They decided their quarry had been coming
from the north and a little to the east since most of the scouts
had been sent north and slightly to the west. After discarding some
of the more mountainous paths and the ones with little probability
of beast activity, they were left with four strong possibilities
and a remaining three that held an outside chance.

“That’s still too many,” Eamon said, looking
at their work.

They all sat back, disappointed. Even if they
were right, it wouldn’t help them unless they could narrow their
search to a smaller area. While Eamon and the others were convinced
of Shea’s theory, there was very little possibility other scouts
would be.

Searching outside their designated area was
dangerous. If they failed, it could be seen as a sign of
insubordination, leaving them open for challenge. If Eamon lost a
challenge then he’d be stripped of his rank, and they could all be
punished. It wasn’t a happy thought.

“We could split up,” Phillip offered. “Each
take a separate route.”

Eamon was already shaking his head. “No,
that’s not going to happen. If they were set on by beasts, I don’t
want any of us out there alone trying to save them.”

“How about groups of two?” Buck said.

Eamon bent his head in thought.

“That might work,” he said. “I still don’t
like it, though.”

“It’s probably our only option,” Shea said
softly. “If we narrow the search any further, we risk eliminating a
path they could have taken and missing them entirely.”

Eamon nodded in agreement, though his
expression in the flickering light made it clear he didn’t like it.
Shea sympathized and knew that he’d blame himself if anybody didn’t
make it back to the rendezvous alive. That was the burden that came
with being in charge, and it was one she didn’t envy him.

He unhooked one of the oblong canisters from
his hip and handed it to Buck. “Alright, but if you find him or get
into any trouble, shoot one of the firebugs into the sky for help.
I’ll pair up with Shane, and we’ll take the three that are the
furthest northeast. You two take the rest. When you’re done, meet
at the fork in the river that we passed this morning.”

Back at the horses they mounted and together
traveled through the shadowy valley, with the white cliffs nearly
glowing in the moonlight.

Buck and Phillip angled away. Buck lifted one
hand in farewell, his dark figure disappearing quickly into the
gloom. Shea watched them go, praying that this theory of hers
didn’t get them all killed. Her horse followed Eamon without any
urging from her, and they rode in silence as they made their way to
the closest route Shea had marked off as theirs.

Hours later Shea was kicking herself for
opening her mouth. They were halfway through the second path and
still no sign of their quarry.

Shea stopped her horse suddenly. Something
was off.

“Eamon.”

No questions asked, he pulled his horse to a
stop, looking around alert for possible danger.

Shea’s horse moved under her and tossed its
head. Patting its neck in wordless comfort, she paid close
attention to any details that might tell her why her senses were
screaming danger.

This happened every so often when her
subconscious recognized a threat. She’d learned the hard way to pay
attention to these little warning signs and let her consciousness
relax enough to find that detail that could explain why the skin on
her neck was trying to crawl its way down her back.

Nothing on the ground seemed amiss. There
were no sounds she would classify as overtly threatening either. No
beast screams or growls or soft, nearly silent movements in the
dark.

So what was it? Why did she feel like she was
missing something?

A thin almost barely perceptible glint of
moonlight caught her attention, and she looked up, noticing the
fine, nearly invisible threads spanning from one canyon wall to the
next. She looked down, suddenly able to see the anchors in the
rocks and the bushes that seemed to be bound in a filmy white.

“Spinners,” she hissed.

Eamon curse was soft but heartfelt as he
looked around seeing what she did now that he knew it was
there.

Spinners were giant insects with broad flat
heads that contained four eyes and fang filled mouths under short
snouts. With four legs and a set of arms complete with hands, they
spun webs that had a hallucinogenic coating to make their prey
euphoric and lethargic. This kept their prey content and
incapacitated enough to stay put in the web while the spinner
stopped by now and then to have a nibble. When breeding, they laid
eggs in their live food so the babies would have something to eat
immediately upon hatching.

“We won’t be able to take the horses any
further,” he said darkly.

Shea swung her leg over and dismounted before
leading her and Eamon’s horses back the way they’d come. She
tethered them close to the mouth of the canyon where there weren’t
as many webs. Hopefully, they’d be safe here. At least until Eamon
and Shea returned.

“Ready?” Eamon asked.

Shea blew out a breath. No, but that hadn’t
stopped her before.

They moved quickly and quietly down the
canyon, taking turns watching the cliffs for signs of spinners.
Unlike the shadow beetle, spinners didn’t have the ability to
completely blend in with their surroundings.

Would their quarry really have come this way?
Especially in the day when the webs would be much easier to
see?

Eamon held up a fist, his entire body going
still as he scanned the night. Shea braced, planting her feet while
her senses tuned to any sound or movement.

Eamon looked over his shoulder to make sure
she was paying attention and pointed off to the right. Shea
squinted but couldn’t see what had sent him into high alert.

The spinner webs were thicker here with
entire sections of the canyon wall hidden by thick ropes of
white.

Finally she heard what Eamon must have as a
guttural groan reached her ears. She tapped him on the shoulder to
indicate she heard, and together they crept across the ground
strewn with huge boulders towering above their heads. Shea’s skin
crawled just thinking of a spinner sitting unseen on top of one as
they lay in wait for unsuspecting prey.

The fourth time she stole a glance at the
shadowy heights, she stumbled nearly knocking Eamon down in the
process. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, she cringed,
silently mouthing several choice words. When nothing happened, she
released a breath and heaved herself to her feet, brushing the dirt
from her stinging hands. She must have scraped them when she
fell.

Eamon waited, his silent presence still
managing to radiate disbelief and humor despite being cast in
shadow.

They made their way to where the webs were
thickest, following the indistinct groaning.

So far no sign of spinners. Shea hoped it
stayed that way.

The two split up to investigate the area.
Eamon headed deeper into the canyon while Shea moved along the
webs.

She stopped near where she thought the sounds
originated and peered closer at the way the webs strands
crisscrossed in an intricate pattern that might have been beautiful
if it hadn’t been so damn scary.

Seeing the dim shadow of a figure, she
stepped closer and was able to make out an arm that led to a
slumped man, only the strands holding him upright. His head lolled
making it impossible to see his face.

“Eamon.” Shea’s excited whisper sounded like
a shout after the tension filled quiet. “I found something.”

He moved back to her as Shea tried to find a
way to the man without disturbing any of the spinner strands. The
slightest brush would alert their makers, much like a fly
struggling in a spider’s web would the spider. That or she might
become entangled and find it impossible to escape.

As she slipped closer, she made out the
slouched figures of two others in addition to the man she’d
found.

“Shane,” Eamon said in a low voice, tension
threading into it. “I’m not sure you should get any closer.”

Shea dipped beneath another complicated set
of threads and straightened in front of her man.

“Is that them?” Eamon asked.

“Not sure, but who else could it be?” Shea
whispered back.

The man groaned again, and Shea took a chance
that he was conscious enough to understand her.

“Try to stay still,” Shea warned. “The
strands have a hallucinogenic that will get stronger the more you
struggle.”

She needed him semi-conscious so he could run
when they freed him.

“Who’re you?” the man asked, his voice hoarse
with pain.

“Shane.” As she tried to get closer to see
some of the others, she kept talking trying to keep him calm and
awake. “I’m a scout. What’s your name?”

“Fallon.”

Son of a bitch.

What was he even doing out here? He should be
drawing up battle plans, strategizing or whatever, safe in the
confines of the encampment, not caught in a spinner’s web somewhere
in the Lowland wilderness.

“I take it from your silence you know who I
am.”

That was a stupid statement considering she’d
told him she was Trateri, and every Trateri knew who Fallon
Hawkvale was. Guess he was a little more out of it than she
thought.

Lifting her voice a bit, she said, “Eamon,
we’ve found our quarry.”

Damn it.

“Who is it?”

“Hawkvale.” Her voice was flat and
unemotional.

There was a moment of stunned silence and
then a low, “Fuck.”

That about summed it up.

“There are two others as well.”

The other two men were set further back in
the webs and didn’t seem to be moving. Neither stirred at Shane and
Eamon’s voices. She was afraid to shout in case the noise attracted
a spinner.

The venom coated on the webs had most likely
already been absorbed into their skin. It was amazing Fallon was as
awake and alert as he was considering the amount of web wrapped
around him.

“Can you cut them out?” Eamon asked.

Shea observed the threads skeptically, not
daring to touch them. “Not unless we want to attract the whole
nest.”

There was restrained cursing from Eamon. In
any other situation it would have been funny given how quiet he was
trying to be.

Shea’s skin itched with the need to get out
of there. They were entirely too exposed. It was only a matter of
time before their luck ran out.

She could always abandon Fallon and his men
to their fate. Take Eamon and run. No one had to know they found
the Trateri’s leader. That would be the smart plan – the safe
plan.

Shea wasn’t going to do that though. No, she
was going to try to save them just as soon as she figured out a
semi decent strategy. She blamed her mother for this overwhelming
sense of duty and responsibility to those who didn’t always deserve
either.

But the only plan she could come up with
meant someone acting as a decoy.

“Shane, wait ten minutes and then start
cutting. If you can’t get the other two to wake up, leave them and
get Hawkvale away from here.”

“I can’t-“

“You can. I’ll keep the spinners distracted
while you work, but you won’t have much time before they’re on
you.”

“Wait, Eamon,” Shea whispered as his shadow
moved.

“Someone has to act as the decoy, boy.”
Eamon’s voice was strong and firm. “Don’t worry about me. I’m
Trateri. We’re not so easy to kill as you Lowlanders.”

Knowing that arguing with him was useless,
she dropped her head and stared at the ground, wishing she could be
honest with him about who she was, that she could tell him that he
was an amazing leader and an even better friend.

Clearing her throat, she forced down words
that might make her feel better but were ultimately useless.
“They’re not overly fond of fire so setting their webs aflame might
give you enough time to get away.”

She couldn’t see it in the dim light, but she
knew he nodded before his shadow disappeared.

She whispered, “Good luck and thanks for
everything.”

Her fingers found a loose thread at the
bottom of her shirt and pulled nervously as the minutes crept
by.

Seeing Fallon’s head sag, Shea made her way
over to him and said his name softly. When he didn’t respond, she
slapped him.

Fallon’s head jerked when she slapped him
again. She needed him awake. There was just no way she could carry
him out of here.

He lifted his head and shot a glare her way.
It wasn’t very impressive as his eyes were unfocused and slightly
glazed, but she shrugged in feigned sympathy just in case he did
remember this later.