Pathfinder's Way (58 page)

“Fallon-,”

Caden grabbed her and rasped, “Hush. Trust
him.”

“I can and I will. You know me well enough to
know I never say anything I don’t mean. Give us a name, and I will
merely disband your clan. Those who were ignorant of this plot will
be allowed to petition the other clans for entry. This is the best
offer you will get.”

“No other clan will take someone from a clan
tainted with this,” she said bitterly. “You will doom my son to
grow up clanless.”

“At least he will grow up,” Fallon said
fiercely. “Now, a name. I will not ask again.”

Indra sobbed. Snot ran down her face as her
skin turned red and blotchy. “Please!”

“You brought this on yourself,” Caden said.
“You knew the consequences if you failed. You’ve even enacted them
on failed challengers yourself.”

When she didn’t answer, Fallon made a sound
of frustration and stood.

“Cale. It was Cale,” she cried as he turned
his back. As if released from a dam, her words poured out. “It was
his idea to alter the maps given to the scouts. He said the more
men you lost, the lower the morale. He was the one who had your
maps exchanged for an older set and marked the route next to the
spidren nest as safe. It was all him.”

Fallon bent his head and rubbed his forehead.
The curve of his neck spoke of sorrow.

Caden looked sour but unsurprised. Neither
man looked shocked, more like resigned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Indra suddenly said.
“You may have won this battle, but we’ve finally managed to
decipher the Highlander’s maps. When I don’t return, Cale will take
them and head north. Once he gets his hands on those weapons, it
won’t matter how great your army is.” Sobbing nearly hysterically
now, Indra collapsed, sinking facedown into the ground.

What? Shea started for the woman. She needed
to know details. Had they deciphered all of it? Or just parts?

Fallon nodded once, sharply to his men.

The one on the left drew his sword and swung
down on her neck, cutting Indra off in mid sob. The air came alive
with the sharp zing of metal clearing scabbard and then the aborted
quick cries of men before they died.

It was over almost before it had begun. At
the end, every conspirator lay dead in a pool of their own
blood.

“You ride with me,” Fallon ordered, grabbing
hold of her good arm and hustling her towards the horses. “Caden,
prepare the men to ride. We need to get back to Darius. Shea, how
accurate are those maps?”

“They’re dead.”

“Yes.”

“You killed them.”

“Yes.”

“You killed them all.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Shea couldn’t help the question
spilling from her mouth.

She understood death and violence. She
couldn’t get away from it as a pathfinder. Both existed out in the
remote wilds. It was a dangerous world, one where death shadowed
your footsteps, waiting for you to make that one mistake that would
destroy everything.

This, she did not understand. Not this
wholesale slaughter.

“They betrayed me. There was no way they were
leaving this place alive.”

That was not an answer.

“I don’t-“

“Shea.” He hauled her around to face him. “We
are not Lowlanders. We rarely exile our people. We have no jails.
This is the only way to do things. I could not leave them alive to
try again, nor could I let them go to unite with my other enemies.
It was quick and merciful. Previous warlords have been known to
drag it on for days. I would have preferred not to have killed all
these men or the ones I’m preparing to end, but that’s the world we
live in. I will do anything to safeguard you and the future I’m
building, even stain my hands with blood. Do you understand?”

Shea searched his eyes, struck by the feeling
that if she gave the wrong answer this would be the end of
them.

“No,” she said. Steeling herself against the
disappointment in his eyes, she continued, “I will never understand
bloodshed of this scale. I abhor it with every fiber of my being.”
He started to turn from her, and she grabbed the front of his
shirt. “No, I don’t understand, but I don’t have to. I will not
agree with it; I can’t. It goes against the very bedrock of my
being, but I will trust you. And I will not judge you. Though, I
had questions she could have answered.”

Relief, an expression she never thought to
pair with him, dawned behind his whiskey colored eyes, and he
touched her hands lightly.

“As to the maps, it depends on which part of
the cipher they broke. There are several. Also, if the mist still
covers the cliffs, those maps will be useless. They’ll never be
able to get through it. Probably. It’d be best if we could stop
them from attempting it, though.”

“It’s agreed then,” he said.

Shea let go, smoothing the fabric back into
place as she did. “Well. That part is. The rest is still up in the
air.”

“It’s agreed,” he reiterated.

To his back, she muttered, “I’ll be the judge
of that.”

Chapter Twenty Four

The trip back to the encampment went much
faster with Shea riding passenger with Fallon. The group took only
one short break to rest and water the horses, then they were off
again, riding as fast as the uneven terrain would allow.

It came as no surprise when they rode into
camp hours earlier than the trip out had taken. There was no pony
to slow them down, nor did they have to wait for the enemy to take
the bait.

The camp was much the same as they left it,
though there were signs here and there of the impending movement.
Many of the sleeping tents had been disbanded and not one fire was
lit.

Their pace didn’t pause as they rode through
the tent city. People dove out of their way to avoid being
trampled. Fallon and his men had a single-minded purpose, and they
were going to let nothing or no one stand in their way.

The man was damn near unstoppable once he put
his mind to a task.

It didn’t take long to make their way to a
trio of tents located right on the border of the area allotted to
Lion Clan and Snake Clan. Fallon’s men fanned out, encircling the
tents. As one they drew their blades. The circle constricted.
Nobody would escape.

They had drawn a large audience.

Shea sat behind Fallon, peering over his
shoulder. He had placed his horse directly in front of the center
tent’s entrance and now waited quietly. His sword sheathed.

“Cale of the Lion Clan, half-brother to
Fallon of Hawkvale, come out and meet your end with honor.” From
his position to Fallon’s right, Caden projected his voice so that
everyone could hear.

A commotion at the end of the lane drew
Shea’s attention. A line of horses rode toward them, Darius at
their lead.

The new additions reinforced Fallon’s men,
creating a second ring behind them. Darius rode to join Fallon,
Caden and Shea.

“I see your trip was successful,” Darius
observed dryly.

Fallon grunted, not taking his eyes from the
tent.

“In more ways than one,” Darius continued,
his gaze falling on where Shea sat behind Fallon.

Shea rolled her eyes.

The group turned their attention back to the
tents. No one was forthcoming. With a hundred of the fiercest
warriors she had ever seen, Shea didn’t blame them.

They waited.

Shea was beginning to think they would wait
until the end of time.

“I was hoping he’d end this with a little
dignity,” Fallon said softly.

“That’s just not who he is. He always did
have to be as difficult as possible,” Darius responded, sympathy in
his tone.

Fallon sighed.

“Go get them,” he ordered Caden.

Caden nodded and then signaled several of his
men.

They dismounted then broke into groups as
they headed into the three tents. Almost immediately, shouts and
the sounds of struggle came. Fallon’s men emerged, first from the
smaller two tents, shoving their captives, looking the worse for
wear with red and swollen faces and various wounds on their bodies,
in front of them.

After another long drawn out moment, men
emerged from the largest tent. Cale was the first to exit, followed
by Paul and one other. Fallon’s men brought up the rear.

Unlike the men from the other two tents,
these men sported no evidence of a struggle. Each was unharmed.

Cale walked to stand before Fallon’s horse,
looking up at his half-brother with a self-absorbed insolence. From
the anger on the faces of Fallon’s men, it was clear they did not
appreciate his sneer.

Darius and Caden were as composed as if they
were out for an afternoon ride.

“What insult is this, brother?” Cale asked,
gesturing to where his men were held at sword point.

“Indra confessed everything. You and any who
supported your plans will face the Warlord’s Judgment,” Fallon
said, his voice a quiet rumble.

“This is ridiculous,” Cale scoffed. “I’m your
brother. She was obviously stirring up trouble and hoping to turn
you from your allies. She lied, brother.”

Shea leaned forward and said softly so only
Fallon could hear, “I recognize his voice. He was the third man
plotting with the cartographer.”

He could do what he willed with that
information.

“No, she didn’t, Cale. You’ve coveted my
position and rank for a long time. We know it was you.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to be able to weasel
out of the charges with claims of brotherly affection, Cale
switched tactics. “You have no proof. Just the word of that Lowland
slattern behind you and that of a traitorous clan leader.”

Shea was not and never had been a Lowlander
or a woman of loose moral fiber.

“You forget, boy. The Hawkvale needs only his
own council for proof,” Caden said.

“We never said Shea brought evidence against
you,” Darius observed.

Cale blustered, “Well, who else would seek to
turn my brother against me. She is trying to destabilize us so her
people can rise against the Trateri.”

When Fallon said nothing in response, Shea
drew back. He didn’t believe his brother’s words, did he? She had
done nothing of the sort. She hadn’t even been the one who fingered
him originally. That had been all Indra.

Shea put as much distance between the two of
them and prepared to jump down if it became necessary.

“My lord,” one of Fallon’s men stepped
forward holding rolled up paper. “We found this in his
quarters.”

Fallon reached down and took the paper tube
from him and unrolled it. Curious, Shea peered over his shoulder
and then bared her teeth.

It was one of her maps or at least a
replication of her map. By the markings, it looked like they had
indeed broken one of the ciphers. Now that she saw Paul was with
them, she even knew how they had done it.

“So, what did Paul promise you?” Shea asked,
running one finger down the map in Fallon’s hands. “Did he say he
would take you to his village and give you their weapons? Too bad
they only have one boomer in the entire place, and that was taken
as part of the tithe when my party was handed over to Darius. That
wouldn’t be near enough fire power to sufficiently arm your
soldiers to gain an advantage.”

Paul would have used his knowledge of
landmarks on their route down to Goodwin of Ria to give Cale’s
people a starting point on the cipher. It wouldn’t have gotten them
all the way back to Birdon Leaf, but it would have gotten them
above the cliffs at the very least.

“Brother, she’s lying,” Cale said
desperately.

His time had run out, and his words held no
weight. He could see that in Fallon’s impassive regard not a single
hint of brotherly affection leaked through.

“Please,” Cale tried again.

“Cale of the Lion Clan, I no longer claim any
ties with you. You are to be excised from the clans and given my
judgment. Your men will follow your fate and any other supporters
of the traitors Indra of the Snake Clan or my former brother Cale
will be put to death.” Fallon’s voice rumbled through the clearing
so all nearby could hear the pronouncement.

He nodded at Caden, who lifted his hand and
lowered it. The two men flanking Cale grabbed him, holding him firm
and forcing him to watch as Fallon’s men slew the other men they
had rousted from the tents.

“Shea, wait. You can’t let them do this,”
Paul desperately pleaded as he backed away.

Shea forced herself to watch as Paul’s
begging abruptly ended with a sword thrust to the stomach.

“Goodbye, Paul,” she said softly.

It was over as quickly as the executions of
Indra and her men. In the end, Cale was the only one left
standing.

Fallon turned his horse and gestured for the
men holding Cale to march in front of him. They forced Cale to
move, with him pleading and screaming the entire time. Fallon and
the rest of his men followed the slow procession out of camp to the
top of one of the nearby rolling hills.

As they crested it, Shea saw a crowd waiting
for them. All of the clan leaders were present, watching grimly as
Cale was led towards them.

Brightly colored rugs covered the grass. Cale
was forced onto them while the two men escorting him bound his
hands behind his back and then did the same with his feet.

Cale’s pleas had fallen silent and his ragged
breathing was the only sound.

The men laid him flat and then rolled him up
in two of the rugs. They wrapped several lengths of rope around the
struggling form and stepped back once he was properly secured.

Shea couldn’t figure out what they intended
or why Cale hadn’t been killed back at the tents.

Seeing her confusion, Darius spoke quietly,
“Since Cale is a member of the warlord’s family and the same blood
runs in his veins, it would be considered treason to spill it with
steel. Instead, they roll him in rugs to protect his skin. They’ll
pile rocks on top of him until he suffocates or is crushed. This
way the sanctity of the blood is protected but those he put in
harm’s way will be avenged.”