Wayfarer's Keep

by T. A. White

  Had she not been one of them once, Fallon would have rolled through this Keep slaughtering every last one. No mercy given. It was only Shea’s presence and goodwill that kept him from that course.

  Both were expended now. The guild would either bow or die. She no longer cared which they chose.

  She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Fallon’s men to subdue Victoria and the rest.

  Fallon said, “Question her and see what she knows.”

  “Of course, Warlord,” Zeph responded.

  That was the last she heard as she stalked out of the room, anger fueling her steps as she headed for the battlements.

  She was halfway there when she realized Fallon had followed her, his hands clasped behind his back as he kept pace a few steps behind her.

  She stopped and waited for him to catch up. Together they climbed the circular staircase leading to where his men and the pathfinders patrolled together.

  “How badly did I screw everything up?” Shea asked, after a short period spent staring at the horizon, letting the calmness she felt staring out at the world soak into her.

  She probably could have handled the confrontation below better. Possibly pulled Victoria aside as Allyn had suggested. It was definitely unwise to inform the rest she didn’t care if they lived and died.

  “Not bad at all,” Fallon said. He’d settled behind her, his arms coming up on either side to rest against the railing, trapping her in his embrace but not letting any part of him touch her.

  He set his chin on her head.

  “I damaged any good relations we might have had with the pathfinders,” Shea said. She should regret it. Somehow, she didn’t.

  She sensed more than felt his shrug. “You spoke true. Allies that we can’t trust at our back are useless. Their trespasses can’t be forgiven or forgotten. Besides, your father and cousin came out on our side. We’ll get what we need. Fuck the rest.”

  Shea leaned her head back against him and stared up at the sky. The clouds weren’t the type to hold her attention long, just a low hanging gray mass that blocked out the sun.

  “I miss our people,” she said in a soft voice.

  She hadn’t thought she would. It wasn’t her way to miss those she left behind. Once she was on the road, her thoughts turned to what needed to be done. Nostalgia and homesickness were just a distraction.

  But, right now, she missed the life they had built, including Mist, the little girl she had rescued. Even Daere, pain in the ass though she was.

  He tugged at a lock of her hair, calling her attention to him. “I do too. We’ll be with them soon.”

  Shea nodded and straightened, turning her attention back to the horizon.

  *

  Eamon touched his heels to his horse’s sides, prodding it to go faster. The rendezvous point with the rest of his team waited around the next ridge. They were overdue, delayed by what they’d found. He prayed the rest of the teams were already waiting there.

  He chanced a look behind him, seeing the pale face of Phillip looking back at him as they rode as fast as their horses could carry them on the treacherous path.

  Eamon’s horse, a piebald mare, sped around the last bend. It was with relief that he saw Fiona, Ghost, and Roscoe waiting in a little dip of the land, a natural indention that shielded them from prying eyes.

  They flew into the small space. Eamon didn’t bother dismounting. There wasn’t time for such things. Not now.

  “Mount up. There’s an army behind us. We need to warn the others,” he ordered. He didn’t wait to see if his orders were obeyed, flicking the reins to get his horse moving again.

  The Trateri he’d picked for this team were not the sort to ask stupid questions. They moved with the speed and ease of people who’d run countless missions. In minutes, they were mounted and following close behind him.

  They rode like that for several hours, not stopping to take breaks or to rest.

  Finally, Fiona pulled up beside him. “If we don’t stop soon, the horses will give out and we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

  The words weren’t phrased as a judgment but rather as a statement of facts.

  Eamon felt reluctant to stop for any reason, and he thought about pushing them further. The horses might make it. Then again, they might not. Was the risk worth it?

  He nodded and gave the signal, calling for a brief halt. “Water them and rub them down. We move out as soon as they’ve rested.”

  Fiona acknowledged the orders with a sharp nod. Now that they had the time, she voiced the question that had been on all their minds since he’d pulled them out and sent them in a mad dash back to the Keep. Even more startling, he did this without any concern for concealing their trail, something that was usually at the foremost of every scout’s mind.

  “How many were there?” she asked.

  He took a swig from his canteen, a plain watertight leather vessel, before pouring some water into a bowl and holding it in front of his horse.

  “So many I couldn’t see the ground of the valley,” Eamon said.

  “Human?”

  He shook his head. “Monsters. Every one of them. Every beast I’ve ever seen and many I haven’t.”

  Mythologicals too, if the primers Shea had given them were to be believed.

  “Air and Earth protect us,” Fiona murmured.

  He nodded. They were going to need that protection and probably the protection of several other gods and goddesses as well.

  “We need to warn the rest or they’re going to be blindsided,” he said.

  Fiona looked back the way they’d come, her face pensive. “We have no way to get through the mist at the base of the Keep, and we have four more days until Shea is due to send someone out for us.”

  That’s what he was very much afraid of.

  *

  A knock at the door summoned Shea from a sound sleep. She pressed her face deeper into Fallon’s shoulder, the haze of her dream making her unwilling to face the world. Exhaustion had ensured her dreams were undisturbed for once, and she was reluctant to leave sleep behind.

  Fallon stirred, carefully lifting her and setting her on the bed before pulling the covers up to her shoulders as he slid away.

  She listened with half an ear as he put on pants before padding to the door, his footsteps muffled by the rugs littering the stone floor.

  The door opened and there was the soft rumble of voices.

  “Warlord, there’s something you need to see,” one of the Anateri said.

  Tension invaded Shea’s limbs and she lifted her head, sleep now the furthest thing from her thoughts.

  “I’ll be right there,” Fallon said.

  Shea was already sliding out of bed by the time he shut the door, reaching for her clothes. Whatever this was, must be important for them to be summoned in the dead of night.

  Fallon moved back toward the bed, stopping to collect his weapons. Shea did the same. Given their luck, she had a feeling she might need them before the night was through.

  *

  They stepped onto the battlements to find Gawain and Braden waiting for them, their faces directed to the south and the mountains that were little more than hulking shadows on a night like this.

  “What is it?” Fallon asked.

  Shea joined them, noting several pathfinders standing along the wall below, their focus turned in the same direction as the Trateri standing at her side.

  “A firebug went up about fifteen minutes ago,” Gawain said.

  Fallon frowned. “Where?”

  Gawain pointed.

  “That’s where we left the rear party,” Shea said.

  Reece padded up the stairs, his hair sticking out on all sides and his eyes lazy with sleep as he yawned. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

  “The rear party just sent up a signal,” she told him in a low voice, conscious of the men beside her deep in discussion.

  Reece’s
face became more alert some of the sleepiness fading. “You know why?”

  She shook her head.

  “We should send someone out there to find out what’s going on,” Gawain said.

  Braden was silent, studying the night with a pensive expression.

  “We don’t know why they signaled,” someone else said.

  “That’s why we need to go and find out,” Gawain said, impatience in his voice.

  “They could be telling us to stay inside the Keep’s walls,” Reece replied.

  Shea noted Zeph and a few of his people had joined at some point. They watched the rest with interested gazes but didn’t contribute to the conversation.

  Fallon listened, his head tilted as he considered.

  “Maybe they need help,” Bax said.

  “Could it be the scouting party?” Fallon asked Shea, his voice quiet.

  Shea leaned against the stone and frowned. “They’re not due back for several days.”

  If it was them, it meant they’d run into trouble. What concerned her was the fact they used the firebug. Eamon wasn’t stupid. He’d know using the firebug would alert anyone nearby to his exact position. Launching the alert meant the danger, while not great, might be urgent. Or, he judged the situation so dire he was willing to put his safety and that of his squad on the line to warn the rest of them.

  She couldn’t be sure which scenario was most likely.

  Before she could voice an opinion one way or another, a second firebug shot up. This one was aimed across the valley in a low arc. It was followed by another.

  “It’s a warning,” Shea said. “We need to shore up our defenses. Now.”

  Fallon turned to his men. “Wake the rest. I want the number on the wall doubled.”

  Gawain looked hesitant to comply. It was obvious he wasn’t sure how far he wanted to trust Shea’s word. As long as he acted, Shea didn’t care if he thought her a nervous ninny prone to over reacting.

  The two firebugs were a signal she and Eamon had agreed on when they’d worked together on the same scouting team. The way he’d shot, low to the ground, almost as if he was aiming at something, reminded her of when they’d rescued Fallon from the spinner webs. It meant danger was close.

  “How sure are you of this?” Reece asked in a quiet voice.

  “Very.”

  He studied her in the dark for a moment. He nodded as if coming to a decision, then leaned over the wall and shouted at someone below. “Rick, get men into the towers and call back anyone you have outside the Keep.”

  A man with shaggy hair leaned back and shouted back, “Understood.”

  Reece straightened and found himself the focus of several gazes. He shrugged. “Might as well be prepared.”

  Shea couldn’t argue with the logic in that.

  “Now what?” Reece asked after a long moment where no one spoke.

  “We wait,” Fallon said.

  *

  Waiting turned out to be quite boring. It was an insufferable length of time that stretched into eternity. Each minute sliding past entirely too fast, and not fast enough at the same time.

  It gave Shea time to question herself, to second-guess the decisions she’d made and think perhaps she should have sided with Gawain and sent someone out to check on the rest.

  She stood off to the side, leaning forward on the battlement wall, her sword at her hip. Dane stood not too far away from her, Peyton at his side. Reece had tried to give her a boomer as well, but Shea wasn’t very good with them. Her aim was terrible. She’d told him to pass it on to someone who wouldn’t be next to useless.

  She glanced up to notice Gawain moving down the line toward her and pretended to be interested in what was happening below. She hoped if she treated him like a beast and didn’t make eye contact, maybe he would pass her by.

  The son of a man Fallon greatly respected, she knew Gawain wasn’t her warlord’s biggest fan. She’d never been able to tell if it was due to jealousy or just a difference in personality. Gawain had the luxury of only having to concern himself with his own clan’s well-being. Fallon was tasked with the entirety of his people—consisting of all the clans following him—many of whom didn’t make it easy. It led to friction between the two.

  This meant she avoided Gawain as much as possible—especially since he’d made it clear on more than one occasion he found her lacking as a warlord’s telroi. She suspected he’d find anyone Fallon chose to share his life with lackluster, so she didn’t take his opinion personally.

  She wasn’t so lucky this time. Gawain stopped, joining her at the railing.

  She held in her sigh. There was no reason to offend the man when he hadn’t even said anything yet.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Gawain murmured without looking at her. “If we had the chance to help the people on the other side of the mist and didn’t, that blood will be on your hands.”

  Shea bit her lip as she stared at the place where the firebug had come. She couldn’t bring herself to give him any sort of smart remark. His words too closely echoed her own thoughts.

  This was why she preferred not to lead. When she made a mistake, it was her ass on the line. Now, however, her every choice affected everyone around her. Life and death decisions lay in her hands, and she didn’t feel up to the task.

  His message delivered, Gawain moved on. In a soft voice to his back, Shea said, “Me too.”

  Trenton shifted behind her, stepping forward once the other man was far enough away. “What did he say?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing of importance.”

  Trenton stared after the clan leader, a hard look in his eyes. Fallon’s Anateri treated Gawain with thinly veiled suspicion, as if they expected him to betray Fallon at any moment.

  “We should go inside,” Trenton said.

  Shea kept her snort to herself. He and Wilhelm had taken turns repeating a similar refrain for the past hour. She hadn’t listened then and she wasn’t going to listen now.

  There was a scream from below. Shea peered over the edge, looking for the person who had made the noise. Other screams rose in the next second. Below the battlements, massive beasts scaled the walls by hooking their claws into the small spaces between stones. Once at the top, they plucked men and women off, tossing them to the ground far below.

  “We’re under attack!” someone screamed.

  Far below, Shea could hear Fallon’s roar, “Stand your ground. Do not falter!”

  The reminder seemed to steady those fighting. The Trateri acted as a unit, banding together as they rushed some of the beasts, beating them back over the wall.

  Boomers barked as the pathfinders on the upper levels aimed at the enemy below.

  For a moment, it looked like they had turned the tide, that the beasts were going to be easily defeated. Then a scream sounded from above and something plummeted past her. A man hit the ground below, his body broken and twisted.

  “Nightfliers,” a voice screamed.

  There was a rush of wings as several more shapes plunged from the sky.

  Shea watched in dismay, unable to believe they were being dive-bombed by nightfliers. It wasn’t possible. The nightfliers left the pathfinders at the Keep alone. They had considerable experience in how difficult the pathfinders could be as prey, so they tended to avoid them.

  Several boomers barked as the sentries suddenly found themselves under siege.

  “Shea, get back,” Trenton shouted, grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her out of the way.

  Just in time, as an oddly shaped bat-like creature landed in the spot she’d occupied. It had a humanoid face with overly large, pointed ears on the sides of its head. It was pitch-black and seemed to blend with the night—probably one of the reasons no one saw it coming.

  What it wasn’t, was a nightflier.

  “Shea,” Trenton shouted, snapping her out of her examination.

  The thing leapt forward, its rea
r claws outstretched as it tried to snatch her off the balustrade. She leaned back, scrambling out of its way. She had no wish to be dropped from this height to splatter below.

  Trenton was there in the next second, swinging his sword in a swift arc. It cut across the creature’s neck, severing it in one clean swing.

  All around them, similar creatures dropped, harrying those stationed along the wall.

  Beasts poured from the chasm below the Keep, their thick claws digging into the stone as they continued to climb up to where the pathfinders and Trateri fought for their lives.

  Fallon’s voice drifted up as he barked order after order, rallying both pathfinders and Trateri alike, to meet the sudden surge. Even as she watched, more of Fallon’s warriors poured outside, armed and ready for battle—their faces alight at the promise of violence.

  Eamon’s warning—and Shea had no doubt that was what it had been—gave them valuable time to prepare. Fallon had spent the hour prior to the assault marshaling his men, putting together a strategy if they were to be attacked.

  The Trateri were more used to being on the other side of the battle—the aggressor rather than defender—but Fallon had a good idea of what was needed to hold the Keep. His men moved together as they put those plans into place.

  A Trateri battle horn sounded below, a signal to those on the wall.

  From her spot above, she could see even with all their preparation, it might not be enough. A bat creature rose into the air, a body clutched in its claws as another latched onto the person’s legs. Together, the two creatures tore the person apart before dropping the two pieces back to the ground.

  “You need to get below. Now!” Trenton snapped, seeing the same thing she did. It was becoming too dangerous for anybody to be outside—pathfinder and Trateri alike.

  Shea’s gaze lifted to the sky, darker than it should be. The light from the stars and moon was obscured. It could be clouds had drifted overhead. Somehow, she doubted that, instead fearing the bat creatures had massed above.

  “I think you’re right,” she said in a soft voice.

  She didn’t wait for him to respond, darting for the stairs at the end of the wall. Trenton scrambled after her as she dodged battling people and beasts.