Pathfinder's Way (53 page)

Shea’s thoughts went back to him describing
the guild excising villages that angered them. Had something
similar happened to Witt? She knew he wasn’t native to Birdon Leaf.
It was one of the reasons she’d related to him. He was an outsider
like her, although more accepted.

“Why do you say that?” she found herself
asking.

“My home village, the one I grew up in, was
much like Birdon Leaf. It had elders who just pushed and pushed and
pushed until one day their stupidity got a pathfinder killed. That
was the beginning of the end. The guild refused to place another
pathfinder with us. We were cut off from everybody and everything.
People stopped trading with us, which meant we didn’t have enough
food or supplies. All the men who left, trying to find their way to
help, never came back. They probably died in the wilderness
somewhere if they weren’t carried off by the mist.”

Shea knew what came next. She’d grown up on
stories of what happened to villages that killed their
pathfinders.

“It wasn’t long after that the first beast
attacked. At first it just picked off one villager after another.
Before long, we had an infestation, not just the big ones like
revenants or red backs, but lichkers and flesh eaters as well.”

“How did you survive?” Shea asked when he
stopped talking.

“My mother put me in the cellar. She followed
the old ways and had warded it with lope root and beast blood. Too
bad, though. There wasn’t enough food for two. She starved so I
could live.”

Shea’s nose prickled as she imagined the
horror as one day bled into another, and his mother slowly wasted
away right in front of him.

“I did live. Barely. When the beasts had
picked our village clean, I made my way to the next outpost. I
almost died three times.

“So you see Shea, I do know what I’m talking
about because after my village perished, I saw the same stupidity
again and again in so many other villages. I have no problem with
the Trateri marching on Birdon Leaf. At least that will be quicker
then what your people will do to them.”

“You know Birdon Leaf won’t be the only one
to suffer,” she said as he turned away. “It’ll be the rest of the
Highlands as well.”

“That’s fine with me,” he informed her. “I
consider myself Trateri now. I’ve taken their venom and are as much
a part of them as if I’d been born to the clans. I hope they find
the Wayfarer’s Keep and force them out. As far as I’m concerned the
Highlands would do better with the Trateri than the
pathfinders.”

“I’m a pathfinder.”

“You’re one of the best I’ve met.”

Shea felt a slight lifting of her heart.

“But we both know one with your talents isn’t
sent to a place like Birdon Leaf unless they’re being
punished.”

Sadly, this was true.

“What did you do to warrant such a fate?”

Shea licked lips that had gone dry. Somehow
she couldn’t get the words out. To explain her failure.

Witt shrugged and turned away saying, “You
don’t have to tell me, lass. But don’t expect me to have any regret
over what I did today. Here’s some advice, since I really do
respect your abilities. Give Fallon what he wants, and throw your
lot in with the Trateri. You’ll be happier for it.”

Chapter Twenty Two

Shea readied Fallon and herself for the
journey in a daze. Packing supplies for the two of them required
very little thought, and as a result, her mind continually wandered
back to her conversation with Witt.

She had never imagined Witt would have such a
story behind him. The bitterness he held was understandable. Shea
knew excising a village was one of the tactics the guild employed
to make sure the rest of the Highlands kept themselves in check. As
an organization whose members were spread out over thousands of
miles, it was important to maintain control. Otherwise incidents
like the one Birdon Leaf instigated would happen more often.

A part of her was glad the men and women of
Birdon Leaf who sent her and several others into slavery would be
held accountable for their actions.

An image of Aimee, with her urchin’s smile
and infectious giggle, wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

There was the rub. It wouldn’t be only the
wrongdoers who paid. Everyone in the village would feel the
repercussions of their actions. Hatred and distrust would be bred
into any who survived and the cycle would continue.

Once that wouldn’t have bothered her.

“Give the men another week of rest before
breaking camp.” Fallon’s voice got louder as he moved closer to his
sleeping space, where Shea sorted through his things to pack. “Meet
us at the rendezvous point in two weeks.”

“The men will appreciate the break, but
leaving you to take care of matters with only a small force doesn’t
sit right,” Darius said.

Shea slung Fallon’s pack over her shoulder
and carried it into the other chamber.

Neither man glanced up as she set the bag
next to hers by the door.

She’d packed only what she thought they’d
need. Luckily, another guard was in charge of securing provisions
and horses. All Shea had to worry about was clothing, a hygiene
kit, and other necessary items for surviving on the trail.

“No, this can’t wait. The people targeting me
are getting bolder. They’ve started expanding their base and
turning those loyal to me. We need to draw them out before they
cause any more damage. We can’t go any further with our plans until
this is addressed.”

Darius leaned on the table with both hands
and bent his head. “This is risky. We could lose everything.”

Fallon straightened from where he was
studying the map and slapped Darius on the back.

“The higher the risk, the greater the reward.
Besides, I’ll have my own personal scout with me to help me keep me
out of any trouble I find.”

Shea glanced over at him to find both him and
Darius studying her. She arched an eyebrow and bent to tighten the
straps on her pack. She didn’t want anything coming undone.

“More likely she’ll leave you there to
rot.”

“Naw. I think I’m growing on her. She hasn’t
tried to escape for a whole week.”

Shea rolled her eyes as Darius threw his head
back and laughed. The statement wasn’t that funny.

Darius’ chuckles subsided, and he turned to
Fallon and held out his hand. “Good luck out there.”

“Ah, just think of it this way. If I die, you
become the warlord.”

Darius’ lip curled as he shuddered. “Not for
all the war spoils in this world. Nothing would be worth dealing
with nags on the council. I’d better find you safe and in one piece
at the rendezvous.”

Fallon smiled and walked over to Shea,
picking up his pack and slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll do my
best to spare you from such a horrible fate, old friend.”

“See that you do.”

Following his lead, Shea grabbed her gear.
After adjusting her pack, she looked up to find Fallon watching her
with an enigmatic gaze. Meeting his eyes with a neutral gaze of her
own, Shea waited for him to break the silence.

He did after a drawn out moment. “We’re off
then.”

Not waiting for a response, he headed outside
with Shea hurrying to keep up with him. They hadn’t far to go, just
to the small clearing next to his guards’ tents.

The men had arranged themselves in several
neat little lines, the horses’ nose to tail and each man sitting
ramrod straight. Their dress was the same as most of what Shea had
seen on the trail, well made, dark cloth for pants and varying
darker colors for the loose shirts. There had to be over a hundred
men assembled, considerably larger than the parties Shea was used
to escorting. The truly impressive thing, however, wasn’t the
clothes, the number of men, or the horses, though Shea would be
interested to find out how they managed to get the infernal
creatures to form such crisp lines. No, what was truly impressive
was the way every single man came to attention as soon as their
warlord stepped into view.

As one, they saluted, banging closed fists to
their chests in a near synchronous clap of sound, then bowing
slightly from the waist in a gesture of deep respect.

Fallon observed with an inscrutable look and
when they had returned to their upright positions, he slapped his
fist to his chest in return.

Without another word, he headed for a pair of
horses at the front of the line. The first was a sleek, black
stallion, prancing and tossing its head. At a glance, Shea could
tell he’d be a handful. Willful, spirited, and probably
temperamental.

No thanks.

Her eyes went to the second. She couldn’t
quite call it a horse. It could best be described as a short, furry
pony, with a barrel chest and thick stocky legs. It chewed
enthusiastically at a piece of grass at its feet. Compared to the
every other mount out here, it was the ugly step cousin of horses.
It didn’t belong at all.

Fallon immediately headed for the stallion,
which meant the squat creature was Shea’s.

Great. Guess that settled how she would be
treated. Not as the person who had saved their Warlord’s life,
twice she might add, but as a lowly aide who couldn’t even be
trusted with a real horse.

Shea sighed inwardly. She had a feeling she
knew how the next few days were going to go. She doubted it would
be as easy to earn these men’s regard as it had been the men of
Dawn’s Riders.

“She’s steadier than she looks,” Fallon told
Shea as she fastened her ruck sack to the back of her saddle.

Shea mounted and gathered the reins in her
hands. “They always are.”

He gave her an appreciative grin. Lifting one
hand, he pointed forward, and they were off. The party getting
underway as Fallon led the way out of camp.

Shea gave her beast a kick to prod it
forward. It stubbornly remained still. She prodded harder. It
waited a beat longer as if to tell Shea they only moved when the
beast wanted.

Even when it began moving, the animal did so
grudgingly. They weren’t even out of camp before the lead horses
and their riders passed her.

Shea kept her face stubbornly pointed
forward, not acknowledging the amused grins passing over her head
as the riders passed on either side of her.

By the time the party crested its first hill,
Shea and her stubborn mount were firmly at the back with only the
rear guard behind her, and that only because they absolutely
refused to pass her.

Being utterly unable to inspire the beast to
go any faster, Shea sat back to enjoy the ride. If she ignored the
three men behind her and tuned out the distant sounds of the group
in front of her, she could almost pretend she was on a solo journey
in the Highlands with the sun on her face, the wind in her hair and
hundreds of miles of empty expanse between her and the nearest
person.

The path curved and the last two riders in
the party came briefly into view, ending Shea’s fantasy.

The pony kept a steady, short legged trot,
completely different from the smooth gaits of the larger horses. It
was by no means a comfortable ride, sending the teeth rattling in
her head.

Shea caught up with the main group between
one twist of the path and the next, surprised to find they had
taken a break so soon in the trip.

A man intercepted her as she began to
dismount. “Better to just stay seated, girl. You took too long
catching up. We’re taking off directly.”

“I see.” Shea settled back into place,
looking at the commotion around her. Sure enough, the men were
heading for their mounts.

Looked like she wasn’t getting any rest
during this stop, or any stop, given how slow this infernal
creature was.

Sure enough, the pattern repeated with Shea
and her mount falling behind almost immediately after setting off.
When she caught up with them a few hours later, she didn’t even
pause before continuing. She’d had a lot of time to think, riding
along by herself and had worked out what was happening.

The time between breaks wasn’t long enough
for an elite unit. No, they were waiting for her to fall behind so
they could stop and then set off as soon as she caught up, leaving
her no time to rest or eat. They’d probably picked the pony just
for this reason. Their own personal brand of hazing.

Inwardly, Shea smiled. She wondered if this
was Fallon’s plan or his men’s. In the end, it didn’t really
matter. They miscalculated if they hoped to make her miserable. She
enjoyed riding alone as it spared her from having to make
conversation with Fallon or his men, though she loathed being the
one dragging everyone down.

“Where are you going?” a man questioned as
she rode past.

“Thought I’d get a head start. I’m sure
you’ll catch up.”

He snorted and let her pass without a
challenge.

Shea felt a tingling between her shoulder
blades but resisted the urge to turn, knowing who it was drilling a
hole in her back.

A half hour hadn’t even passed before Fallon
rode past with his men hard on his heels. They flanked her briefly
before she was once again left alone with her thoughts.

That set the tone for the rest of the day,
though Fallon no longer let her pass them, instead having them
mounted and moving out as soon as she came into sight.

She was exhausted that evening when she
finally lifted her leg over the pommel and slid to the ground. Even
that wasn’t to be the end, as she had to feed, water and then
hobble her horse with the others.

Finished settling the beast for the night,
she gave its neck an affectionate pat. They’d come to an
understanding of sorts during the course of the day. She wouldn’t
try to make it go any faster than a moderate trot, and the pony
wouldn’t come to a complete stop and refuse to take another step.
Not quite the relationship Shea usually had with her mounts, but
she’d take it.