by T. A. White
Shea turned back to the dramatic scenes depicted in the mural, each one a little different than the one preceding it.
“The story my people tell is that a great gift was given to our ancestors,” Shea began. “It was mysterious, almost magical, too powerful for any one person to have.”
In the first few panels, the scene depicted the world as it had been, buildings strange and wondrous, strange conveyances that sailed on the air and over the ground. Great cities that hadn’t been seen in a millennium.
Shea moved along, touching each panel as she spoke. “It was something so wondrous and miraculous that it changed everything. The decay began slowly, so slowly that no one knew what was happening until it was far too late.”
Fallon and Shea stepped over to the next one. This one was simple. Two people, one seemingly dead, cradled in another’s arm, grief written into the person’s body.
From there, the tone of the murals became increasingly dark. Scenes of war and death, the weapons like nothing Fallon and his people would have ever seen. The only reason Shea knew what they were was because they were stored beneath the Keep, locked up, the records of their use written into her people’s historical archives.
The third panel from where they’d started was of a pile of bodies. Unlike the first, there was nothing weathered or worn about it, the faces clearly frozen in terror.
“This is the only panel with beasts,” Fallon said, staring at the second to last panel. On it, someone had carved an army of the most horrifying beasts the Broken Lands had ever seen—some not even known in modern knowledge.
“Yes,” Shea answered.
“What does it mean?” Fallon asked.
She looked at the panel, her eyes sad. “It means that once upon a time, before the cataclysm, before a great and terrible war, there was no such thing as beast. They are a product of our ancestor’s pride, a remnant of their greed for more. More power, more land.”
She finally stopped in front of the last panel. It was a map, one the Trateri would likely not recognize.
“Haliway,” she said in a soft voice. “One united nation that prospered for thousands of years.”
She traced the different lines that divided what had once been. She drew her finger down what became Bearan’s fault, before skating up and marking the outline of the Badlands, the Lowlands and the Outlands. All that was left of that once great nation.
She pointed to a spot deep in the Badlands. “I suspect, once upon a time, your ancestors most likely called this home.”
Gawain drew close. “Impossible.”
Shea didn’t take offense, knowing he meant he thought it was more unlikely, than he believed she had lied.
“How do you know all this?” Fallon asked, focusing on the core of the matter.
Shea took a deep breath before turning and walking over to the spiral staircase. She talked as she walked. “You know we’ve gathered information on our world, recorded it, then passed it down to our children and their children after them.”
Fallon and the others continued up after her, only Van and Caden lingering for another long moment by the murals, taking in details they’d missed before.
“Countless cities fell during the cataclysm. Those who were smart got out, taking only what they could carry on their backs, which wasn’t much. The founders of this guild were different. They saw the writing on the wall long before the end came.” More artwork came into view, this time on canvas or by thread, not the carved murals of before.
“They stockpiled their knowledge and anything they thought might help them after the world fell. Then they waited for the smoke to clear. When it did, they decided to gather what little was left of the once great nation here in this place. This isn’t the only place that acted in such a way, but somehow, they were more successful than the others. It allowed them to survive and prosper while their contemporaries disappeared.”
“What caused the cataclysm?” Zeph asked. “Do your people even know?”
Shea nodded. “They have an idea. It wasn’t just one event, more of a slow decay. By the time anyone wanted to do anything it was too late. The wars came, as did famine and plague. Even if you survived, the world was so drastically altered that they had to learn a new way. Eventually, they forgot who they’d once been.”
Shea stepped over to a painting. It was full of colors and darkness, the subject unclear.
“There was a split in the way of thinking. People disagreed with how the gift should be used. Enough, that eventually, brother turned on brother, mother against daughter, and they went mad, using this gift against each other and reshaping the world into the mess it is now.”
She fell quiet after that, leaving each to their thoughts.
“Why have you shown us this?” Fallon asked.
Shea’s eyes were pained. “My people believe that the past is too dangerous to know. They could have used the tools and knowledge left to them to help the Highlands; instead, they hide in their keep and only send out pathfinders to keep the bargain between us and them active.”
She looked around. “The pathfinders and the rest of the Highlands are dying a long, slow, agonizing death. I fear that what is coming is only going to speed that up.”
CHAPTER NINE
Shea ducked behind a column in the open-air courtyard. Set in the middle of the Keep, it was surrounded by stone walls rising high on all sides. In the middle was a nice sized space of green grass, pebbled paths and various shrubs the pathfinders had planted. There was a covered pathway on all sides, which was where Shea now hid, avoiding a trio of pathfinders headed her way. Thankfully, they hadn’t noticed her before she moved, otherwise she would have been forced to greet them and either endure the cold stares or the uncomfortable smiles.
She was so preoccupied with going unnoticed that she almost didn’t spot Clark where he stood, staring out one of the archways into the courtyard where a group of young men and women were listening to an old man.
Curious, Shea walked over, noting the fascination on her young friend’s face.
“You can go out there, you know,” she suggested.
His gaze was startled as it lifted to hers. She gave him a reassuring smile and nodded at the group who held his attention.
He straightened his shoulders and drew his thin frame upright. “I’m sure they wouldn’t welcome an interruption.”
He looked away, affecting a nonchalance. Shea frowned. That wasn’t a response the Clark of old would have given. That version had been filled with boundless enthusiasm. He was almost like a puppy, energetic and eager to please, and not yet acquainted with the notion that some wouldn’t welcome his interest.
“I know Seth. He wouldn’t say no to anybody with a genuine interest in the subject material,” Shea said, her voice coaxing.
“I think it’s best if I just watch from here,” Clark said, his jaw tightening as he visibly withdrew into himself.
Shea moved around so she could see his face. She studied him, her arms crossed over her chest as she gave him a thoughtful look.
She’d thought before they got here that a little bit of her old friend was coming through, but it seemed that had just been temporary. Perhaps it had been a reaction to the danger they’d faced. Now, he was back to being as withdrawn and sullen as he had been before.
“What’s this really about?” Shea asked.
He jerked his shoulders up.
His refusal to answer or interact would have hurt more if she thought it was just directed at her, but she’d spoken with others. He was doing this with everybody. It wasn’t healthy, and if it continued it would make it just that much harder for him to come back to them.
She knew how guilt could eat at you, how it could fester and rot everything that was good inside. If Fallon had taught her anything, it was that guilt and self-pity were useless emotions. It was a wound that you had to lance to begin the healing process.
Just like that, she decided he’d had long enough to dw
ell and sulk. “Don’t give me that. I talked with Eamon and Buck before he left. Both said you haven’t spoken to them either.”
His head jerked up and the glare he aimed at her contained a heat she hadn’t known him capable of. “There’s nothing of import that I need to say. Telroi.”
Shea’s lips tightened at the way he’d used her title like it was a curse designed to hurt. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that he’d had the rug pulled out from under him and been betrayed by one he counted as friend.
Reasoning with him wasn’t going to work. Demanding that he stop acting like a child wouldn’t either.
“Fine, then as your Telroi, I’m ordering you to get out there and learn something useful,” she said, her eyes narrowed and her words cutting. “We’re not here to take in the sights. We’re here because everything we love and have worked for is in danger. Now, pay attention and keep your ear to the ground. I’ll expect you to give a report to either myself or Eamon every morning while we’re here.”
His eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. There was a scruff of a boot from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Trenton giving him a neutral look.
Clark’s mouth snapped shut on whatever he’d been about to say. He might court disrespect when it was just him and Shea, but the Anateri’s presence instilled a sense of self-preservation that might have been missing otherwise.
“As the telroi wishes,” Clark said between gritted teeth.
The telori did not so wish, but she couldn’t relent now that the order was out and witnessed. Not without making herself appear weak.
Sometimes, it sucked when being a good friend meant you had to be a bastard.
She waved a hand in dismissal. Clark ducked his head and walked past her out into the sunny courtyard. She watched as Seth saw him, his face lighting up as he gestured for Clark to join him. The students made room for him to sit among them, their faces mildly suspicious but not hostile.
“He’ll recover in time,” Trenton said. “It’s not easy for him right now.”
Shea almost let the statement pass, but something in his words made her think there was more he wasn’t telling her.
“What do you mean?” Shea asked.
Trenton scratched his chin. “The others know how close he was to Charles. They weren’t just friends, they were namaka.”
Shea’s face creased in question at the word. She’d never heard it before.
Trenton looked away as he thought of a way to explain. Many Trateri words didn’t have direct translations. They encapsulated complex concepts that could be difficult to understand without knowing the culture they derived from.
“It means someone closer than family. Someone who travels the same path in life. It’s often used for those who fight by our sides.” Trenton’s face was somber. “It’s a bond that’s not easily broken. Many believe that Clark had to have known on some level what Charles planned.”
“He didn’t,” Shea said without hesitation. “I was there. Clark helped us. Charles even tried to kill him when he refused to support him.”
Trenton raised his hands in a placating motion. “I believe you, but from what I’ve seen and heard, I believe the boy has had some difficulty since.”
Shea’s face was pensive as she considered what he’d told her. She looked back out to where Clark had a slight smile on his face as he explained something to the girl sitting next to him.
Trenton’s explanation made sense. Hadn’t she experienced something similar before? People liked to gossip. They took half-truths and twisted them until they resembled something entirely new.
She hated what her friend was going through. Hated even more, that there was very little she could do to help him. Whoever was spreading lies had been very careful to make sure she didn’t catch wind of it. She suspected they’d been cautious of Clark’s other friends as well, or else someone would have done something by now.
“Shit,” she muttered. She disliked feeling useless, and that was what this situation left her feeling.
“It was a good idea to give him something to focus on,” Trenton said. “Doubly so, since it’s something the boy is fascinated with anyways.”
“Still, keep an eye on things, would you?” Shea asked. As Anateri and a Trateri born and bred, Trenton could go places she couldn’t.
“I’ll keep you informed.”
She turned back to the scene outside. Not too long ago, she would have been out there with them. She’d always liked helping others find their way and learn pathfinding. It was just her people’s tendency to keep their knowledge to themselves she objected to.
Wilhelm rounded the corner in a slight rush.
“What is it?” Shea asked, not budging from where she studied the class.
Wilhelm’s expression was urgent. “Fallon sent me to find you. They’re ready, it seems.”
Shea took a deep breath. “Finally.”
*
Fallon waited for her in front of two tall wooden doors, his Anateri arranged around him.
When Shea appeared, his head lifted and his whiskey gaze fixed on her. His masculine charisma was always like a punch in the gut, striking and shocking all at once.
She stopped next to him and looked up. “Are you prepared for this?”
He grunted, his focus already turning to what was behind those doors.
She was glad he seemed confident, even if she was a little disgruntled by it. They had no idea what they’d be facing. Not really. All they had to go on was what her father had told her, and she didn’t dare trust his words, not with something as important as Fallon’s life.
All of that waited on the other side of that door. No pressure or anything.
Fallon noticed her distraction and flashed her a conqueror’s smile. “You worry too much. I’ve told you before if they cause a problem—”
“You’ll kill them all,” Shea finished with him. “Yeah, yeah. And as I’ve told you, I doubt it will be so simple.”
He shrugged his muscular shoulders, her words bouncing off him, his face indifferent. “I’m not overly concerned. If we don’t like what they say, we can go home.”
He wouldn’t be. Not the man who had waltzed unobstructed through the Lowlands in less than a year’s time.
Shea took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s see what this has all been for.”
His feral smile set his eyes alight. Shea realized he was enjoying this. For him, the Lowlands had been a warm-up for what was to come. This was the real challenge and he didn’t intend to lose.
He gave a small signal to his men, and one stepped forward to knock on the door. Shea was unsurprised to see Caden accompanying Fallon. The two of them shared a glance, each recognizing the same worry in the other. Fallon might be unconcerned, but those around him felt slightly differently.
The doors creaked open, revealing the chamber within. It was a circular room with several tiered levels overlooking the middle. Each tier was filled with men and women in robes, their hoods up.
Shea kept her snort to herself. Her people were certainly dramatic, she’d give them that.
Two pathfinders stepped in front of their group before they could go any further. “Only the warlord and the pathfinder may proceed. The rest will wait along the walls. They may observe but not address the council.”
Caden looked like he was about to object, his face wrinkled with displeasure. Shea would like to say she was surprised at the command, but she wasn’t. This was normal procedure. It left the person standing down there feeling like a child called to task by a parent. It was carefully designed to dig away at your confidence and leave you feeling off balance.
She’d only been called before them once, but they’d done something similar then too.
Caden bent so his words could only be heard by Fallon and Shea. “We won’t be able to protect you down there if they have archers above.”
Fallon clapped his first on the shoulder. �
�We’re not here to make war. Besides, you know what to do if it comes to it.”
Fallon and Caden shared a long look before Fallon stepped past, turning to hold his hand out to Shea. She took it without hesitation, lifting her chin and taking a deep breath.
He squeezed her fingers gently before letting go. Together, they stepped forward to face the consideration of the council together. A council of ten men and women, who had decided to meet with an outsider for the first time in their recorded history.
A woman in a dark green robe stood in front of the rest, one step above Shea and Fallon.
For a long moment they waited, Fallon looking around the chamber, his face reserved and his focus intense.
Shea didn’t look away from the woman. From the moment she’d entered, the leader had held her entire attention.
Silence filled the chamber, the pathfinders on one side of a great abyss, Shea and Fallon on the other.
The woman reached up and slid her hood back. Shea’s mother shook her hair loose as she stared down at the two of them.
Lainey’s attention turned to Fallon, ignoring Shea for the moment. Her mother’s gaze held the sharp intellect of a tactician every bit as skilled as Fallon. “It is a surprising thing to hear a barbarian tribe from the Outlands has managed to throw the Lowlands into such disarray.”
Shea took a deep breath. So that was how it was going to be then? Backhanded insults that poked and prodded to see what kind of reaction they could engender?
Fallon stared at Shea’s mother for a second before his lips twitched into a smile, and he threw his head back to let out a roar of laughter. “Is that what the vaunted pathfinders have called me here for? To waste my time with such inane conversation?”
Unfortunately for the council, Fallon was as unlike Shea as any person could be. His temper was every bit as fierce but not something he would allow free rein in a situation like this.
Fallon’s face turned cruel. “I suggest, lady, you get to the point. Your relation to my telroi will only work in your favor so far.”
Lainey gave him a cutting look, lifting her eyebrows in a superior expression as her lips tilted up in a cold smile. “Very well. Let’s set niceties aside then. You barbarians aren’t exactly known for such matters anyway.”
