Pathfinder's Way (4 page)

It was tempting to push hard to make the
Lowlands by nightfall and Edgecomb within the next two days.

Shea worried about James and Cam’s condition.
Lowland villages could be very insular. They didn’t take kindly to
strangers. That was especially the case for villages bordering the
Highlands. Too many strange things crawled down from those cliffs
to make any on the border friendly.

Expending all of their energy reaching the
village might mean they’d be too exhausted to rescue James and Cam
should they need it. On the other hand, James and Cam might be dead
before they even made it to Edgecomb if they didn’t push hard
enough.

“How are you holding up?” Shea asked over her
shoulder.

“I can hold any pace you set, woman.” Dane
took a bite from one of his loaves of bread. “I’m just waiting on
you two.”

Sweat dripped down Dane’s temple, and his
blue chambray shirt was about two shades darker than it had been
that morning.

Shea dismissed his comment. His pride
wouldn’t allow him to show that a woman had more endurance than
him. It was unlikely he’d be truthful about his condition.

“And you?”

Witt glanced up from where he sat changing
out his socks. “I’ll last.”

They weren’t the only ones feeling the
journey. Shea was starting to feel a little fatigue herself. A deep
burn had taken up residence in her thighs, and her shirt stuck to
her skin under her jacket. Her pack’s straps had made her shoulders
one throbbing ache, and her upper back was tight. The pace would
fall a little as the afternoon deepened and exhaustion took hold.
They would be more prone to accidents.

“We’re approaching where I saw red back
activity a few weeks ago. I don’t want to take a detour, but if I
think we’re getting too close, we will. I want as much land between
us and them by nightfall. If we’re lucky and don’t have to veer too
far from this path, we’ll be close to the Lowlands when we stop for
the night.”

“Typical woman. Afraid of the dark? Every
moment we have is precious. We should keep going even after dark.”
Dane said, shrugging into his pack. “If time’s as tight as you say,
we can’t stop for beauty sleep.”

“Can you see in the dark? Because I can’t. If
we try, we risk someone getting hurt or killed in a fall. Reaching
Cam and James would be impossible then. Taking the night to rest
also means we can recoup some energy before reaching the
village.”

Holding Dane’s gaze with her own, Shea waited
until he nodded grudgingly before she turned her back and set
out.

Witt paused by Dane as he followed her down
the hill. “Perhaps you shouldn’t do any more thinking. It really
doesn’t suit you.”

“Everyone know the plan?” Shea asked.

The three of them crouched between two
buildings on Edgecomb’s perimeter.

Aside from the unrelenting pace they’d
adopted to reach the village, the journey so far had been
unremarkable. They’d sailed through red back territory with no
problem and made camp at the top of the Bearan cliffs, then
descended before dawn the next morning.

Some scouting had confirmed the villagers
held James and Cam. They were to be executed that afternoon, which
was why Shea and the other two were huddled close, hoping to avoid
notice as they plotted their next move.

Like Birdon Leaf, the buildings in Edgecomb
were built from wood. Unlike their village, no outer wall protected
Edgecomb’s inhabitants, forcing the villagers to rely on the
natural landscape to deter would be intruders.

A large herd of cattle were kept for trade
and as food supply. As a result, a large number of horses were
stabled in a fenced field right outside of town. Shea couldn’t help
being a bit envious of the ease of transportation the horses
represented. They were a scarce resource in the Highlands as they
were next to useless in the gorges or on the mountain passes.

“Dane, I want you on one of the roofs
overlooking the town square.” Shea turned to Witt. “Do you think
you can create a large enough distraction so I can get them
free?”

He nodded.

“Good, I’ll leave that to you then.”

“What about you?” Dane asked. “Where will you
be?”

Shea brushed her hands down her pants.
“Someone has to cut those two idiots loose.”

Dane frowned and looked down. “Perhaps you
should be on the roof then.”

“Can’t. My aim’s not as good as yours.” Shea
busied herself adjusting a cloak she’d stolen from one of the
houses. She pulled the hood over her head. Hopefully, the cloak’s
anonymity would get her close to the execution platform without
drawing notice from the inhabitants. “Once things get started just
make sure you pick off anybody between me and the platform with
your boomer. I’m not going to have time to wrestle my way up there.
Oh, and don’t shoot me in the confusion. When I get James and Cam
loose, get off the roof. They’ll come after you pretty quick once
things start happening. If we get separated for any reason, meet
back at the rendezvous point.”

The three gave each other a long look. It
surprised Shea when neither argued with her. She’d expected them to
protest much more than they had.

Without another word, the two set off on
their tasks. Shea watched them go.

Please don’t let them get cold feet. The plan
required each of them to do their part. She took a deep breath,
releasing it slowly. She would need a miracle to pull this off. She
still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. Why had she decided to
stick her neck out? Especially since they’d blame her if anything
went wrong. If things did go right, everybody else would take the
credit. She couldn’t win. She knew that, but she couldn’t stop
herself from trying. It wasn’t in her to walk away. She didn’t want
any more deaths on her conscience.

Shea walked to the edge of the building and
peeked around the corner. She was counting on the locals being so
excited about the impending bloodshed that they wouldn’t notice an
extra body among them.

She sauntered confidently past house after
house, trying to look like she belonged. People had a tendency to
see what they expected. A stranger walking through town while they
prepared to execute two outsiders would fall under the realm of
unexpected. After all, nobody was that crazy.

With her hood up, she hoped the villagers
would simply assume she was one of the herders just in from the
field for the execution.

As she moved towards the center of the
village, butterflies took wing in her stomach. They’d never covered
last ditch rescues in pathfinder training.

A man exited a building in front of her,
pausing at the sight of her.

She froze and sucked in a sharp breath.
Please. Just keep moving. No need to start a conversation.

It took effort to appear casual. Like she
belonged. He nodded a greeting and continued in the same direction
as Shea.

She followed him at a distance, not daring to
duck away, afraid that would arouse suspicions.

He wasn’t the only one moving around. Shea
had several similar experiences as she moved closer to the
village’s center. Each encounter got a little easier, though her
heart never seemed to settle back into her chest. It remained
lodged in her throat as she followed the crowd.

Her senses became hyper alert as she moved.
Her hearing attuned to every sound. Beneath the hood, her eyes
darted around, looking for some sign that she’d been noticed.

Did that woman’s eyes linger too long on her?
That man seemed to be paying unusual attention to her cloak. What
about the child she had just passed? Her back itched from the feel
of his eyes.

The village square was framed by several
buildings and served as the village’s central hub. Four wide dirt
streets intersected at the square, making it possible to approach
from any direction. A wooden platform was front and center with
four posts rising into the air.

That was odd.

There should only be two. One for James and
another for Cam. Shea felt a shiver of foreboding run through her
at the sight. She hadn’t planned for the unexpected.

She could only hope there were extras because
more outsiders had been caught and not because Witt and Dane were
last minute additions.

She chanced a glance at the people chattering
near her. The men had clumped into several small groups as they
discussed business.

The women had gathered in their own little
groups as well. Several held young children by the arm so they
wouldn’t wander off, while the older children were left to their
own devices. Some chased others through the crowd as the adults
caught up on the day’s happenings. If not for the ominous presence
of the platform, it could have been a regular village
gathering.

Shea wondered if executions were so
commonplace that they were treated as social hour.

As she’d said before, border towns were
crazy.

These people’s clothes were simple, with men
wearing plain pants and undershirts covered by light jackets in
varying shades of color, though most were muted and faded. Some
wore hats, but most left their head bare. The women were almost
universally in dresses long enough to reach their feet and sleeves
that went past their elbows. The patterns were simple and most were
one or two colors. Blue seemed to be a favorite.

She noticed that few wore a cloak similar to
hers and none had the hood up. Perhaps she should put hers down.
She hesitated, fearing that she’d be discovered immediately as the
village, at only a few hundred adults strong, wasn’t that big. All
of whom would have grown up in Edgecomb. Surely, they would notice
a stranger in their midst, even with all the excitement.

She lingered on the edge of the square to
avoid notice, trying to blend in and fought against looking at the
roofs. She really hoped the others hadn’t bolted or else she might
be joining James and Cam up on the platform.

Silently, she urged the people to hurry.
Every second she stood there was a second closer to discovery.

More than one person had begun to give her
curious glances, a few even looked like they were about to approach
when a cheer rose.

Thank God. It was starting.

The captives stumbled out of the building
next to the scaffolding, blinking at the sunlight.

Hisses of anger, quickly followed by boos
greeted the men. The children weaving through the crowd hurled
rotten pieces of fruit.

Shea’s lips tightened with anger when she got
a glimpse of her men.

James looked lost and confused with his hands
bound tightly behind him as his captors prodded him forward. Cam’s
face was one giant, swollen bruise. He could barely stand upright
and had to be supported by one of his captors.

Two dark haired men, hands bound in a similar
fashion, marched behind them with straight backs and lifted chins.
They looked neither left nor right, showing no signs of fear.

By contrast, James looked terrified and
struggled against his captors at the platform’s steps as if
suddenly realizing what was about to happen. The men guarding him
grabbed him roughly by the arms and wrestled him up the steps. He
fought as they tied his arms to the post, even as his jailors
rained blows down on his body. The fight seemed to have already
gone out of Cam, and they bound him easily.

The strangers took their places stoically
before staring coldly at the crowd as it cheered for their
blood.

Shea felt a hint of admiration for the
strangers’ poise. Not many could face certain death with that
amount of dignity.

She took a deep breath. It was time.

She ventured deeper into the crowd, winding
her way between the heaving bodies. She needed to be as close as
possible before Witt set off the distraction. It’d be best to be
standing by the platform when it happened. She’d just have to avoid
being identified as an outsider as she moved.

Easy.

Ducking her head, she tugged her hood down as
she walked into the crowd. Several startled exclamations followed
her as she shoved her way forward, trusting that her companions
hadn’t abandoned her.

She felt a slight tug on her cloak. Her hood
jerked back.

For a brief moment, there was no
reaction.

“Outsider! She’s with them! There’s another
outsider.”

Several people close to Shea craned their
heads to look at the shouter, their eyes coming to rest unerringly
on her. At first just a few, and then others took up the cry as
space opened around Shea.

She froze for just a moment.

Too late to turn back now. Too late to
escape.

She darted forward.

For a long moment, Shea thought Witt and Dane
had abandoned her. Left her to face the mob on her own. Her eyes
lifted briefly to her goal, the platform, and were caught by the
fierce whiskey-colored gaze of the stranger.

A hand caught her arm, spinning her around
and breaking the connection. Her eyes widened with fear as a man,
his face a mask of hatred, raised one heavy fist.

This was it. She was dead.

The ground shook slightly under her feet. At
first, she thought it was a tremor in the earth, like the small
quakes that occasionally plagued the area. Then a scream rent the
air.

“Stampede!”

Several screams followed and suddenly there
was mass chaos in the square as people shoved each other in
panic.

A crack pierced the air. A fine mist sprayed
Shea’s face as the man holding her dropped to the ground. A hole
the size of her thumb marred the side of the man’s head.

A sob of relief left her. Witt and Dane had
come through.

She spun and ran up the platform’s steps, not
even pausing when a villager carrying an ax appeared. Another crack
split the air. Red blossomed on his chest. He fell back; Shea leapt
over him. There were two more cracks, and then Shea was alone on
the platform except for the four captives.