Pathfinder's Way (5 page)

“Shea!” James struggled against his bonds,
his body working frantically to get loose. Cam dangled limply from
his wrists.

Shea pulled a knife from her waist as Dane
picked off anybody who got too close.

Say what you will about his whining, the man
came through in a pinch.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James pleaded as
she cut him loose. “I didn’t know.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now.”

Her adrenaline thundering through her body,
Shea sawed through the last of the rope, pulling James free. She
shoved a knife in his hand and pushed him towards Cam.

“Get Cam loose.”

He stumbled, nearly dropping the knife before
reaching over Cam to work at the ropes.

Shea drew another knife and went to work on
the nearest stranger’s hands. She flinched each time Dane picked
off another villager but kept at the rope.

“Powerful weapon, that,” the whiskey-eyed
stranger observed.

Shea grunted in agreement as he pulled free
and moved on to the next man.

“Shea,” James shouted. “Come on. We have to
go.”

She cast a glance around as she sawed. Horses
had reached the square and were now stampeding past them, shaking
the platform as they rushed by. Where did he think they could
go?

“Thanks,” the last man said rubbing his
wrists. “We’re in your debt.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to escape
this gods be damned, shithole of a village.”

How exactly they were supposed to do that,
she hadn’t worked out. Yet.

“What do we do?” James said in panic as he
hobbled up to her. With Cam’s arm slung over his shoulder, James
was supporting most of the man’s weight.

Horses still raced past them, but the herd
was thinning. Shea didn’t know how Witt managed to get so many to
stampede, but as a distraction, it worked amazingly well. The only
problem was that now they couldn’t get off the platform without
risking being trampled. Soon that wouldn’t be a problem, but the
villagers who had sought shelter in the neighboring buildings were
already poised at their doors, ready to recapture the men she’d
just released.

One of the strangers tapped her on the
shoulder. “Is he with you?”

Shea squinted at where he pointed.

Was that Witt at the rear of the herd,
driving a wagon?

Yes.

She couldn’t believe it, but it was.

As she watched, Dane swung down from his
roof, to a shorter building before leaping into the wagon bed and
climbing onto the front seat next to Witt.

She grinned and clapped the man on the
shoulder.

“Prepare to jump.”

“In there?” James asked, wild eyed. “While
it’s still moving?”

“It’s not like they can stop and wait until
we get comfortable.”

“They’ll slow down, right?”

Shea ignored the question, instead stepping
up to the edge of the platform and gesturing for the rest to join
her.

“Jump right before the wagon reaches you,”
the man she’d freed said.

James and Cam balked. Shea shoved them into
place. There wasn’t time for fear. They needed action, not doubt.
The stranger with the whiskey-colored eyes tugged Cam’s arm from
James while his friend put Cam’s other arm over his shoulder,
sandwiching Cam between them.

“Shea, this is madness. We can’t make that
jump,” James hissed at her.

She took him by the arm. The wagon was
seconds away, Witt’s face focused and determined as he barreled
down on them.

Shea looked James in the eye. “You’re just
going to have to trust me.”

She shoved him off the platform, forcing him
to jump or fall to his death. Shea followed right as the wagon
scraped by, knocking against the structure in the process. The
strangers and Cam leapt at the same time, making the jump easily.
James landed awkwardly on his side, safely in the wagon’s bed. Shea
fell on top of him, her knee landing squarely on his stomach,
nearly catapulting her off the other side in the process. The
whiskey-eyed stranger grabbed her by the back of the shirt and
hauled her back in before she could dive headfirst into the ground.
He dumped her in the bottom next to the others.

“Thanks,” she said, patting him on the arm.
The ground raced by. She didn’t think she would have survived the
landing. “Guess I owe you one now.”

A slight smile partially thawed his granite
expression. “Just returning the favor.”

His eyes seemed capable of staring right
through a person, sizing them up in moments and learning all their
secrets in the process.

Shoulder length brown hair framed a sharp
featured face possessing rigidly defined cheekbones and jaw.
Everything about him screamed strength. From his nose, to his
mouth, to the way he held himself. He was over a head taller than
Shea, who wasn’t exactly short. His hands, where they held her
arms, were calloused and rough-hewn. There was a small scar, almost
unnoticeable unless one was as close to him as Shea was, along his
jaw line. It was almost hidden beneath the stubble covering a chin
that hadn’t seen a razor in days.

His presence brought to mind words like
forceful, powerful, intimidating. He was like a tightly leashed
wild animal. Awe-inspiring and magnificent right up until the
moment it decided you were its next meal.

Shea moved away from him. She was forced to
crawl over James so she could clap Witt on the back. “That was some
distraction.”

“Glad you liked it,” he shouted back as he
deftly handled the horses.

The wagon bounced harshly, putting air
between it and Shea. She landed hard enough to rattle bones. The
others braced themselves against the sides. Traveling at breakneck
speeds over uneven ground by wagon didn’t make for a comfortable
ride.

“What about me?” Dane shouted. The noise from
the horses’ hooves and the clatter of the wagon’s wheels nearly
drowned out his voice.

Shea ducked her head, hiding a grin. “I don’t
know. You almost hit me a time or two with your shots.”

“Almost hit you?” Dane’s voice rose a few
notes in indignation. He turned to glare at her, shaking the boomer
in emphasis. “There’s no almost about it. Each shot was perfectly
placed and went exactly where I aimed. Almost hit you, my ass.”

He was right, but Shea was loath to admit it.
To his face anyway. His ego was big enough as it was. As Dane
muttered about how he’d known exactly what he was doing, Shea
turned her attention to the others. She knelt by Cam’s side where
he was propped up against the wagon’s side.

“How bad are you hurt?”

His face was a mask of pain, and he grimaced
at the question. He groaned as the wagon lurched under them. Shea
steadied herself against the wagon’s side.

“They beat him pretty badly,” said the first
stranger’s friend. “I did what I could for his ribs, but there may
be injuries beneath the skin that need to be treated.”

The stranger had grey eyes and appeared to be
the same age as his friend. Though more handsome than the other
man, he didn’t carry the same sort of presence. This one seemed
more easygoing, like he enjoyed a laugh.

“I’ll be fine,” Cam said through gritted
teeth.

Shea very much doubted that. He had two black
eyes. One had already swollen shut. Blood was caked beneath his
nose and around his mouth. The nose was probably broken. All that
could be fixed given time. What worried her was the slight
breathlessness he had every time he inhaled. As if something heavy
was on his chest when there was no obvious obstruction. She
suspected with the way he’d been moving earlier that one or both of
his legs were injured.

She didn’t give voice to her concerns, just
clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you will.”

James, watching the conversation, added, “Of
course you will. Who’s going to remind me of what a bad idea this
trip was if you aren’t?”

Cam gave a half laugh before wincing and
clutching his side. “That’s true. With this latest scheme, I have
ammunition against you until we’re old and gray.”

Shea was glad the two could joke with each
other. Sometimes when things got especially bad, laughter was the
only way you got through it. The journey back to their village,
given Cam’s physical shape, was going to be one of those times.

“We’re being pursued,” the first stranger
said, his entire attention focused on the village as it grew
increasingly smaller.

Shea looked where he indicated, not noticing
anything at first. Dust rose into the air and then small shapes
took form as their pursuers thundered after them.

Witt chanced a glance back. “Damn, I was
hoping it would take them longer to round up the horses.”

“How far to the cliffs?” James asked.

Shea knew what he was really asking. How long
until they reached the Highland border? If they could just make it
to the cliffs, they would be able to lose their followers. Shea
knew a few of the hidden passages at the cliffs’ base in this area.
If they put just a little distance between them and the hunters,
they could disappear fairly easily.

It wouldn’t take them to the Highlands, but
it should hide them long enough that the people chasing them would
give up or move on.

She tilted her head as she calculated. It’d
taken two days to reach Edgecomb once they’d finished their descent
from the Highlands. The wagon could cut that time considerably, but
they would run out of flat ground well before they reached safety.
The clunky shape of the wagon just couldn’t navigate the bumps and
ridges of the uneven land. The first large rock they hit would
break the wagon’s axel, rendering the vehicle useless. Their
pursuers’ horses could move much faster even if the terrain delayed
them.

“Too far.” She glanced back at their
persistent shadows. Even in such a short time they’d managed to
gain.

Her mind raced over options, disregarding one
after another. Witt flicked the reins, urging the horses to greater
speeds. The wagon shuttered and wobbled under them. Shea prayed it
didn’t shake itself apart before they reached their
destination.

There was one possibility. Though it was
dangerous. More risky than traveling through red back territory.
More nerve racking than trying to rescue prisoners from the
execution platform.

“Dane, how much ammo do you still have?”

“Not much. Why?”

“James, trade places with Dane. I need him
back here.”

James patted Cam on the shoulder, before
moving slowly to the front of the wagon.

Dane crouched beside her and looked at her
questioningly.

“I need you to pick off as many of them as
you can.”

He looked skeptically at the mob gaining
ground on them. “I can try, but my aim’s not going to be very good
while we’re bouncing around like this.

“I don’t need you to hit them, just make them
cautious. I’m hoping it scares them into keeping their distance for
a little while. Wait until they get a little closer before
firing.”

Dane shrugged and pulled the boomer into
place, making sure it was loaded. He gestured one of the strangers
up, handing him the bag of extra ammo with instructions to hand him
more rounds when he called for it.

Shea left him to crawl back up to Witt. “I
need you to veer right.”

He shot her a hard look before looking front
again.

The wagon continued on its course.

“Witt, you need to go right.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to,” she snarled.

His jaw clenched. Damn, stubborn man.

“Witt. We won’t make it to the Highlands, and
there are too many of them to fight.”

“That way leads to the Badlands. That way
leads to madness.”

“I know.”

Shea did know and just thinking about taking
this group past that land’s border made her feel sick.

The Badlands were part of the Highlands.
Technically. Only people who were crazy, desperate, or had nowhere
else to go went there. People said it was the home of evil, that
all beasts came from there and that its shadowed interior hid even
greater monsters.

Shea didn’t believe it was evil, but she had
first-hand knowledge that there were creatures dwelling within its
borders that hadn’t been seen since the first great cataclysm.

It was close to Edgecomb, closer than the
passage Shea and her party had used to descend from the Highlands.
Gaining entrance to the Badlands would be infinitely easier than
trying to climb the cliffs with an injured man.

But, there was a reason they hadn’t made a
straight path for its borders after the rescue. People who went in
to the Badlands rarely came out.

“I don’t think Cam can make it up some of
those passes,” Witt told her.

“Look. I don’t like this option any better
than you, but we won’t make it to the Highlands. They’re gaining
too fast, and we’re about to run out of safe ground for the wagon.”
Shea nodded at the shadowy hills that marked the Badland’s edge.
“The incline up is gentler and less rocky. We can use the wagon
longer, and we can get to high ground before Edgecomb’s villagers
catch up to us.”

A beat passed before the wagon veered sharply
right.

“The Badlands?” a gravelly voice said next to
her ear. “Sounds ominous.”

Shea turned to find whiskey eyes very close
to her hazel ones. He waited expectantly for an answer, but Shea
hesitated. Everyone from Highlander to Lowlander knew about the
Badlands. They shared stories around campfires and scared little
kids about what waited there.

“I take it you’re not from around here?” She
watched as they pulled closer and closer to the Badlands.

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

Shea frowned slightly. Evasion.

They really knew nothing about these
strangers, though she very much suspected they were some kind of
warriors. Neither had a mark on them whereas James and Cam were
covered with bruises. They both had small scars on their hands and
forearms, the sort that came from extensive sword practice. From
what little Shea had witnessed, she knew both could handle
themselves in dangerous situations.