Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands Book 2)

by T. A. White

  “You’re all going to die,” Shea said with a small smile.

  The four traded uneasy glances.

  Charles rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to scare you.”

  “I don’t know. It’s felt like someone has been watching us ever since we entered.”

  Charles slapped the man who had spoken in the back. “It’s a trick. She’s trying to divide us.”

  Shea watched the interactions with a blank expression. Her eyes moved to Fallon and Braden as their captors herded them closer. “Do nothing. Show no violence, and you may live.”

  “That’s enough out of you.” Charles backhanded Shea. The blow turned her head and opened a cut on her lip. She lifted her head and smiled, her teeth bloody.

  A spine-chilling moan echoed from above them, the sound rising until it turned into a cackle.

  Charles and his men jumped, brandishing their weapons at the city.

  “What was that?” one shouted.

  Shea watched them with an implacable expression.

  One of the men stepped toward her, “You heard him. What was that?”

  She looked at him for a long moment before saying one word, a smile twisting her expression. “Death.”

  A wall of wind hit, blowing Shea’s hair into her face and obscuring her vision for a moment. She was grateful, especially when a great presence, one that held the chill of the coldest winter on the longest day in the darkest night passed her. There were some things not meant to be seen by human eyes.

  “Fallon, shut your eyes,” Shea ordered.

  Screams filled the air, the kind that came from the soul as the body was ripped apart. Shea knew she would hear their death screams in her nightmares until the day she left this world. Screams filled with agony and fear, ripped from the gut, every person’s worst nightmare given voice. There was the sound of running before more screaming came. Shea kept her eyes tightly shut, even as the presence in the air strengthened.

  The screams ended, the silence left behind scarier than anything that had gone before. Shea’s pulse thundered in her ears and the sound of her breathing overwhelmed her.

  Very good, daughter of my enemy’s enemy.

  “Are you going to kill me now?” Shea asked.

  The presence hesitated, filling the air with—was that surprise?

  Would you like us to?

  Shea shifted and frowned. She hadn’t thought she had a choice in the matter.

  Ah, we see. You thought a blood sacrifice would be necessary.

  She had. Otherwise, why had they waited to act? If they had attacked sooner, Fiona wouldn’t have been injured.

  The sacrifice has already been paid, and you and the other four hold no weapons and no ill intentions. Besides, that would have defeated the purpose of saving you now and before.

  Before? Shea couldn’t help it. She opened her eyes, a bluish haze spread across the ground, thick in some places, sparse in others.

  “You’re the one who left the jacket on the post,” Shea said in realization. She sensed rather than saw the beings nod of agreement. “Why did you help us?” Shea asked so she wouldn’t be tempted to argue with the presence. She sensed if she pushed, they might decide she and her friends were fair game as well.

  Curiosity. Necessity. We have a vested interest in your continued well-being.

  “What do you mean?”

  The air swirling around her stilled, a sense of weight coming from it—as if it was sentient and the matter at hand required much contemplation.

  Even as removed as we are, trapped here away from the sun and the world, we can feel it. Feel as the heart awakens bringing with it the old ones. Right now, they are testing this new world, but soon, soon they will rise and seek to finish what they once started. It will be a new order, one based on their warped vision of perfection.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Did you think you could walk into the heart of where it all began and come out unchanged? No, my dear, you stared it in the face, listened to its voice. It’s not a question of if you’ve changed, but how much you’ve changed.

  “I don’t understand.”

  There was a great sigh, one sound coming from a thousand voices. No, I suppose you don’t. You will soon. Take your people and leave this place. You have until the sun hits the doors above the fault. After that, we consume all that has remained.

  The wind brushing against Shea died down, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. The blue haze faded. Shea thought she saw the faintest outline of forms.

  Fallon and her group were the only living beings that remained.

  He crossed the space between them at a run, grabbing her in a hug that threatened to crush her.

  “Fallon, we need to get out of here.”

  “I know. I heard.”

  Shea drew back. “How did you even find us?”

  “I took that tunnel you had pointed out and found Clark and his friend wandering down there. We’ve been traveling together over the past few hours. Your chase through the city caught our attention. When we saw what was happening, we waited until the right moment.” He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and cupped the back of her neck. “That was close.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” Even closer than he knew. The denizens of this place could very well have decided to take them along with Charles and his men. The fact they hadn’t was a curious blessing.

  “If you two are done, perhaps we can leave. You heard what that thing said. Anyone down here come sunrise is a walking meal.” Braden looked at the cavern ceiling. It was still black, no evidence of light filtering down from the cracks and holes, so there was no way to tell how close to sunrise they were.

  Fallon looked at his general. “I’m looking forward to the story of how you two came to be wandering around out here without any protection.”

  Shea grimaced. He was not going to be happy when he heard that story.

  His expression softened when he looked back at her. “Until then, let’s get Fiona patched up and then get moving.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  Fallon gave her neck one last squeeze before he stepped back. Braden gave Shea a considering expression before moving to help Fallon with Fiona. Shea took one last look around, paying attention to the buildings’ roofs before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  SHEA WATCHED the last of Fallon’s men pass through the small set of doors that would give them entry to the Highlands. On each door, a set of runes was carved. Shea didn’t need to know the language to know that it was probably the reason why the denizens of the caverns remained where they were.

  They were just in time. The sky had darkened to a deep midnight as the stars and the moon shuttered their faces in preparation of day. Soon, threads of color would begin eating away at the darkness as the sun rose.

  Clark stared at the doors with a slightly lost expression on his face. He’d been silent on the way out. None of his normal chipper personality showed. The only time Shea saw a glimpse of the old Clark was when Buck and Eamon had tackled him when they’d appeared.

  After the reunion, he’d withdrawn again.

  Shea approached him, not knowing what to say. His friend had betrayed him in one of the worst ways imaginable. That tended to leave a mark on a person. No platitude she gave him would make that better.

  She settled for standing beside him as the sun began to rise, letting him know without words that she was there for him. That he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, that’s all you could do for a person.

  When his head bowed and his shoulders shook from silent tears, Shea took a step closer and wrapped her arm around him. She kept a grip on him even after Eamon came up on his other side. His eyes met hers in understanding. She’d told him what had happened with Charles on the journey out.

  Long after the dark had ceded dominion to the light, Clark straightened and gave them each a small, hesitant smile.

  “Oh, that
reminds me,” Shea said. She withdrew a green jacket from her pack. “We found this while in the city. I believe it belongs to you.”

  “My jacket.” Clark reached out to touch it. Shea handed it to him. “How did you find it?”

  “It was just hanging from a post in the city. Actually, stopping to retrieve it probably saved Fallon’s and my lives. How’d you lose it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Clark’s face was perplexed. “I woke up to find it gone after the first time Fiona and I stopped to rest. I’d lain it on top of me to keep warm as I slept.”

  His eyes were sad as he looked at it. He fell silent, his thoughts turning inward. Shea didn’t push.

  “We’re here for you when you want to talk,” Eamon told him.

  Clark gave him a nod before walking away.

  “He’ll get over this,” Eamon said.

  Shea hoped so, even as she doubted it would be for a very long time.

  “Looks like your Warlord has need of you,” Eamon observed. He took his leave, saying, “I’m glad you’re alright and were able to find Clark.”

  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Fallon stepped close and wrapped his arms around Shea. She allowed herself a moment to be supported by his strength. Then she straightened and forced back her tears. “The men should take a brief break and then we need to move on. I want this place far in our shadow before we stop for the night,” she said.

  Fallon watched her for a long moment, assessing her mental state. She avoided his eyes. Sometimes she thought he saw too much with that oddly penetrating gaze of his, and right now she didn’t know if she could bear having her inner self on display.

  He gave her a nod and let her walk away, before he gestured for Caden and Braden to relay her orders.

  *

  “This isn’t the path to the Wayfarer’s Keep,” Shea said, staring up at the mountain ridge in front of her. They had stopped halfway up the mountain, just below the tree line. If her memory was correct, this would take them west of the keep by several week’s ride.

  Reece took a swig of his water before capping it and putting it back in the saddle bags. Fallon had ordered a horse for him when it became clear his continued walking would only slow them down. Unlike when Shea was his captive, he had ordered a proper horse for the pathfinder, not some stunted growth mule that couldn’t match a horse’s longer strides.

  “You’re getting rusty, Shea. I expected you to figure that out several days ago.”

  Shea watched him with a calculating expression. It was true that she should have picked up on the divergent path earlier, but grief had made her slower than normal. “That’s the Dragon’s Tail. You would never take a group like this through that ridge to reach the keep, so where are you taking us?” she asked.

  Fallon folded his reins over his hand and leaned forward, his hawk-like gaze drilling into Reece. His expression was fierce. “Yes, please, enlighten the group.”

  Reece gave Shea a half-smile. “Come now, doesn’t any of this look familiar?”

  Shea’s lips pursed as she considered Reece and then their surroundings. Yes, it did, but much of the Highlands was familiar. Like an old friend you had seen over and over again. Only this friend was crotchety and grumpy and would kill you should you take it for granted.

  “Birdon Leaf.” It made sense given their relative geographic location, the direction they were traveling and known areas of interest this path would lead to.

  Reece’s smile was wry, like a teacher bestowing a student with praise. “Very good.”

  “Why would you take us there?” Shea asked.

  “Why, to visit the place where this all started.” Reece prodded his horse forward, taking off before Shea could question him further.

  Caden rode up on the other side of Fallon and stopped his horse as he stared after Reece. “I thought the whole point of this little trip was to go to this Wayfarer’s Keep and meet with the pathfinders.”

  “I guess we’re taking a little side trip first,” Shea said, before kicking her horse into a slow-paced trot to follow Reece.

  Fallon followed, though he looked no more thrilled at this turn of events than Shea.

  Caden shook his head and spit to the side of his horse before he too started up the large back half of the mountain. “Oh goody.”

  *

  One week later, Shea crested the last hill before the land flattened, giving rise to the small spit of plateau where Birdon Leaf perched. It would have taken less time had they been on foot, but the jagged ravines and steep hills were not friendly terrain to a horse. As a result, they’d been forced to take the long way around.

  Shea reined her horse to a stop on the ridge and looked down on the flattened top that contained the little village. The Trateri were spread out behind her as they made their way up the last small incline.

  The land between them and the village was mostly long grass, as the altitude made trees rare. From this distance, the village looked picturesque, like an innocent painting of a simpler world. One untouched by strife and pain.

  Shea snorted. That couldn’t be further from the truth, especially given the wasps nestled in the very heart of this little village.

  There was the faint clop of hooves behind her as Witt came up on her right side. He, like she, had experienced a rather complicated relationship with this place. It should have been home, but its villagers had betrayed the two of them in one of the worst ways imaginable.

  “Home, sweet home,” Witt murmured.

  Shea made a sound of derision.

  “I wonder what they will say when they see us come riding up with an army behind us,” he mused.

  “Probably kick themselves for not ensuring we were dead before they handed us over.”

  He grunted. It was half laugh and half acknowledgement. “I would like to see Dane again, though.”

  “Yeah,” Shea’s voice was soft. She’d forgotten that he’d been close with the other man, too. The three’s relationship had been short-lived, but for a short time they’d been on their way to becoming friends.

  “You think he made it back?” Shea asked.

  “I hope not. I hope he found a place far from here to hole up.”

  Shea nodded. Yeah, that sounded about right.

  On both of their minds was the question of what waited down there. Would they find a thriving village, unhappy that the prodigal son and daughter had returned, or would they find a grave site? After all, the pathfinder’s guild was not known for its forgiveness, and Birdon Leaf and its elders had broken the covenant in every way that counted. One way or another, there would be a reckoning.

  Shea looked over at Fallon, who stared down at the village with a hard expression, one that lacked even a shadow of understanding or gentleness. Yeah, one way or another.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Shea muttered. She flicked her reins, taking the lead down the hill. Fallon wasn’t far away, though he stayed a few lengths behind her. Shea appreciated it, though a big part of her would rather not have returned here at all.

  The journey down the hill and across the meadow seemed to take forever. The village and its wooden exterior wall grew as she rode closer. Jagged holes of splintered wood in the wall put paid any hope that the inhabitants had fared well over the last few months.

  No villagers came out to greet them and there was no movement on the walls, something that would have been unheard of when Shea had lived here.

  Shea let out a heavy sigh. Guess it was option two then.

  She led Fallon and Witt and the rest around the wall. The Trateri followed, eyeing it with a deep reserve. More than one man and woman withdrew their blades and strung their bows.

  Shea arrived at the entrance of the village. Normally, there would have been men standing on the wall who would give the order to open the double doors, ones so heavy it took several men working in tandem to force them to creak open.

  Today, those doors lay broken and splintered, so much tinder on the g
round. The village was wide open to any beast or raider who wanted to walk right up.

  Shea dismounted and slid the reins over her horse’s head. She left him grazing by the entrance.

  “Shea,” Fallon warned, looking at the village with a deep mistrust. One echoed on many of his men’s faces.

  She held up a hand. “I’m fine, Fallon. Whatever did this is long gone.”

  Fallon made a sound of frustration before dismounting and throwing his reins to Caden. He unsheathed his sword as he strode over to Shea. She didn’t wait for him to reach her, crossing into the village proper as Witt, Eamon, and several of the Anateri dismounted to follow them.

  Shea walked into the village, feeling cold and disconnected at the sight of the destruction awaiting her. The wooden buildings had been torn apart, the windows broken, and the doors torn off. Some were burnt, only a few timbers remaining.

  Even the town hall, a building that predated the village by many hundreds of years and had withstood many attacks, looked like it had seen better days. The roof had been ripped off the top, and the heavy wooden door at its base breached.

  Shea couldn’t help feeling like she had failed these people. It didn’t matter that they had failed her first. Maybe if she’d tried harder, been better, less argumentative, maybe things might have turned out different.

  Reece stepped into the village square as Shea stared around her with a stunned numbness. She bent and picked up a child’s toy, one of those mallets you were supposed to catch the ball on. The ball was missing and the handle half broken.

  “Why did you bring us here?” Fallon asked Reece.

  “So you could see.”

  “See what?” he asked.

  “What you’re up against. The consequences if you should fail.”

  “We haven’t even agreed to help you,” Caden said. He’d wandered close to one of the buildings and was examining it.

  “Or even know what you want,” Buck muttered.

  “There were children here, Reece. Innocent of whatever mistakes their parents might have committed.” Shea rubbed her thumb against the wood of the mallet.