by T. A. White
It would be all too easy to break something tumbling down the steep terrain, and none of them needed the added challenge of an injured companion.
She just hoped the mist held off until they were safely back in Birdon Leaf.
The mist was a bedtime story parents told their children to discourage them from wandering off into the untamed expanse. Only, as any person who’d spent time outside the well-crafted towns could tell you, it wasn’t a story. It was real and very dangerous.
Even Shea’s parents had told her stories when she was young, though for her, they’d been less of a tale and more of a cautionary warning of what waited for her out here. Her parents had told her of brave pathfinders and their charges who were swallowed by the mist, never to be seen again. No one knew where they went or how it happened. One moment it would be the sunniest of days and the next, the mist would have swept every living thing from the area, wiping it clean.
Oh, the villagers dismissed such stories as superstition or a gambit to squeeze more money out of them. They’d only ever felt the very edge of its power. You could only experience the true horror of it in the depths of the wilds.
Shea felt a slight shiver, thinking of the mist she’d experienced only a handful of times. That had been more than enough.
The other danger they faced were beasts, which were thick on the ground up here. The Highlanders originally used the term to describe predatory animals, but over time it had come to mean anything that didn’t fit with society’s notion of natural.
There were many types, so many that it would be impossible to list them all. The secondary part of Shea’s position was to catalogue beast habits, territory and hunting patterns and give settlers advice on the safest ways to deal with them.
Too often people didn’t listen.
That’s when they died.
Shea looked at the sun, judging it to be near midafternoon. Time to call a halt. She’d timed it so their journey put them next to a small mountain spring. Since they weren’t carrying a lot of water, they needed to replenish at every opportunity. And, they could use a short break.
Witt nodded willingly enough and dropped his pack. Dane looked like he might argue, but in the end kept his opinion to himself. He must have been more ready for a break than she’d thought.
As the others caught their breath and refilled their canteens, she pulled out her map, comparing the scribbles on it to the surrounding land.
She gazed out at the landscape sprawled below her. No matter how many times she saw it, the lonely beauty of the wild back-country always managed to rip her breath away. It made her pause for a moment, secure in the knowledge that she was just a tiny piece of a greater whole.
It was the sort of view that gripped the soul and said ‘see? This is what it’s all about.’ Moments like these made dealing with the land’s hardheaded inhabitants bearable. Most of the time.
“We’re making good time.”
They were, in fact. Much better than she had anticipated. For all that Dane was a peacock, he had stamina. Though the question remained: could the group hold this pace? Should she start looking for a place to make camp or push on and see if they could make it to Bearan’s Fault by nightfall?
Continuing after dark increased the chance of someone falling and breaking something, further slowing them down, or they could disturb one of the red backs. Shea wouldn’t be able to see well enough to know if they were straying too close to their den.
It was tempting to push hard to make the Lowlands by nightfall and Edgecomb within the next two days.
Shea worried about James and Cam’s condition. Lowland villages could be very insular. They didn’t take kindly to strangers. That was especially the case for villages bordering the Highlands. Too many strange things crawled down from those cliffs to make any on the border friendly.
Expending all of their energy reaching the village might mean they’d be too exhausted to rescue James and Cam should they need it. On the other hand, James and Cam might be dead before they even made it to Edgecomb if they didn’t push hard enough.
“How are you holding up?” Shea asked over her shoulder.
“I can hold any pace you set, woman.” Dane took a bite from one of his loaves of bread. “I’m just waiting on you two.”
Sweat dripped down Dane’s temple, and his blue chambray shirt was about two shades darker than it had been that morning.
Shea dismissed his comment. His pride wouldn’t allow him to show that a woman had more endurance than him. It was unlikely he’d be truthful about his condition.
“And you?”
Witt glanced up from where he sat changing out his socks. “I’ll last.”
They weren’t the only ones feeling the journey. Shea was starting to feel a little fatigue herself. A deep burn had taken up residence in her thighs, and her shirt stuck to her skin under her jacket. Her pack’s straps had made her shoulders one throbbing ache, and her upper back was tight. The pace would fall a little as the afternoon deepened and exhaustion took hold. They would be more prone to accidents.
“We’re approaching where I saw red back activity a few weeks ago. I don’t want to take a detour, but if I think we’re getting too close, we will. I want as much land between us and them by nightfall. If we’re lucky and don’t have to veer too far from this path, we’ll be close to the Lowlands when we stop for the night.”
“Typical woman. Afraid of the dark? Every moment we have is precious. We should keep going even after dark.” Dane said, shrugging into his pack. “If time’s as tight as you say, we can’t stop for beauty sleep.”
“Can you see in the dark? Because I can’t. If we try, we risk someone getting hurt or killed in a fall. Reaching Cam and James would be impossible then. Taking the night to rest also means we can recoup some energy before reaching the village.”
Holding Dane’s gaze with her own, Shea waited until he nodded grudgingly before she turned her back and set out.
Witt paused by Dane as he followed her down the hill. “Perhaps you shouldn’t do any more thinking. It really doesn’t suit you.”
“Everyone know the plan?” Shea asked.
The three of them crouched between two buildings on Edgecomb’s perimeter.
Aside from the unrelenting pace they’d adopted to reach the village, the journey so far had been unremarkable. They’d sailed through red back territory with no problem and made camp at the top of the Bearan cliffs, then descended before dawn the next morning.
Some scouting had confirmed the villagers held James and Cam. They were to be executed that afternoon, which was why Shea and the other two were huddled close, hoping to avoid notice as they plotted their next move.
Like Birdon Leaf, the buildings in Edgecomb were built from wood. Unlike their village, no outer wall protected Edgecomb’s inhabitants, forcing the villagers to rely on the natural landscape to deter would be intruders.
A large herd of cattle were kept for trade and as food supply. As a result, a large number of horses were stabled in a fenced field right outside of town. Shea couldn’t help being a bit envious of the ease of transportation the horses represented. They were a scarce resource in the Highlands as they were next to useless in the gorges or on the mountain passes.
“Dane, I want you on one of the roofs overlooking the town square.” Shea turned to Witt. “Do you think you can create a large enough distraction so I can get them free?”
He nodded.
“Good, I’ll leave that to you then.”
“What about you?” Dane asked. “Where will you be?”
Shea brushed her hands down her pants. “Someone has to cut those two idiots loose.”
Dane frowned and looked down. “Perhaps you should be on the roof then.”
“Can’t. My aim’s not as good as yours.” Shea busied herself adjusting a cloak she’d stolen from one of the houses. She pulled the hood over her head. Hopefully, the cloak’s anonymity would get her close to the execution platform without drawing n
otice from the inhabitants. “Once things get started just make sure you pick off anybody between me and the platform with your boomer. I’m not going to have time to wrestle my way up there. Oh, and don’t shoot me in the confusion. When I get James and Cam loose, get off the roof. They’ll come after you pretty quick once things start happening. If we get separated for any reason, meet back at the rendezvous point.”
The three gave each other a long look. It surprised Shea when neither argued with her. She’d expected them to protest much more than they had.
Without another word, the two set off on their tasks. Shea watched them go.
Please don’t let them get cold feet. The plan required each of them to do their part. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She would need a miracle to pull this off. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. Why had she decided to stick her neck out? Especially since they’d blame her if anything went wrong. If things did go right, everybody else would take the credit. She couldn’t win. She knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying. It wasn’t in her to walk away. She didn’t want any more deaths on her conscience.
Shea walked to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. She was counting on the locals being so excited about the impending bloodshed that they wouldn’t notice an extra body among them.
She sauntered confidently past house after house, trying to look like she belonged. People had a tendency to see what they expected. A stranger walking through town while they prepared to execute two outsiders would fall under the realm of unexpected. After all, nobody was that crazy.
With her hood up, she hoped the villagers would simply assume she was one of the herders just in from the field for the execution.
As she moved towards the center of the village, butterflies took wing in her stomach. They’d never covered last ditch rescues in pathfinder training.
A man exited a building in front of her, pausing at the sight of her.
She froze and sucked in a sharp breath. Please. Just keep moving. No need to start a conversation.
It took effort to appear casual. Like she belonged. He nodded a greeting and continued in the same direction as Shea.
She followed him at a distance, not daring to duck away, afraid that would arouse suspicions.
He wasn’t the only one moving around. Shea had several similar experiences as she moved closer to the village’s center. Each encounter got a little easier, though her heart never seemed to settle back into her chest. It remained lodged in her throat as she followed the crowd.
Her senses became hyper alert as she moved. Her hearing attuned to every sound. Beneath the hood, her eyes darted around, looking for some sign that she’d been noticed.
Did that woman’s eyes linger too long on her? That man seemed to be paying unusual attention to her cloak. What about the child she had just passed? Her back itched from the feel of his eyes.
The village square was framed by several buildings and served as the village’s central hub. Four wide dirt streets intersected at the square, making it possible to approach from any direction. A wooden platform was front and center with four posts rising into the air.
That was odd.
There should only be two. One for James and another for Cam. Shea felt a shiver of foreboding run through her at the sight. She hadn’t planned for the unexpected.
She could only hope there were extras because more outsiders had been caught and not because Witt and Dane were last minute additions.
She chanced a glance at the people chattering near her. The men had clumped into several small groups as they discussed business.
The women had gathered in their own little groups as well. Several held young children by the arm so they wouldn’t wander off, while the older children were left to their own devices. Some chased others through the crowd as the adults caught up on the day’s happenings. If not for the ominous presence of the platform, it could have been a regular village gathering.
Shea wondered if executions were so commonplace that they were treated as social hour.
As she’d said before, border towns were crazy.
These people’s clothes were simple, with men wearing plain pants and undershirts covered by light jackets in varying shades of color, though most were muted and faded. Some wore hats, but most left their head bare. The women were almost universally in dresses long enough to reach their feet and sleeves that went past their elbows. The patterns were simple and most were one or two colors. Blue seemed to be a favorite.
She noticed that few wore a cloak similar to hers and none had the hood up. Perhaps she should put hers down. She hesitated, fearing that she’d be discovered immediately as the village, at only a few hundred adults strong, wasn’t that big. All of whom would have grown up in Edgecomb. Surely, they would notice a stranger in their midst, even with all the excitement.
She lingered on the edge of the square to avoid notice, trying to blend in and fought against looking at the roofs. She really hoped the others hadn’t bolted or else she might be joining James and Cam up on the platform.
Silently, she urged the people to hurry. Every second she stood there was a second closer to discovery.
More than one person had begun to give her curious glances, a few even looked like they were about to approach when a cheer rose.
Thank God. It was starting.
The captives stumbled out of the building next to the scaffolding, blinking at the sunlight.
Hisses of anger, quickly followed by boos greeted the men. The children weaving through the crowd hurled rotten pieces of fruit.
Shea’s lips tightened with anger when she got a glimpse of her men.
James looked lost and confused with his hands bound tightly behind him as his captors prodded him forward. Cam’s face was one giant, swollen bruise. He could barely stand upright and had to be supported by one of his captors.
Two dark haired men, hands bound in a similar fashion, marched behind them with straight backs and lifted chins. They looked neither left nor right, showing no signs of fear.
By contrast, James looked terrified and struggled against his captors at the platform’s steps as if suddenly realizing what was about to happen. The men guarding him grabbed him roughly by the arms and wrestled him up the steps. He fought as they tied his arms to the post, even as his jailors rained blows down on his body. The fight seemed to have already gone out of Cam, and they bound him easily.
The strangers took their places stoically before staring coldly at the crowd as it cheered for their blood.
Shea felt a hint of admiration for the strangers’ poise. Not many could face certain death with that amount of dignity.
She took a deep breath. It was time.
She ventured deeper into the crowd, winding her way between the heaving bodies. She needed to be as close as possible before Witt set off the distraction. It’d be best to be standing by the platform when it happened. She’d just have to avoid being identified as an outsider as she moved.
Easy.
Ducking her head, she tugged her hood down as she walked into the crowd. Several startled exclamations followed her as she shoved her way forward, trusting that her companions hadn’t abandoned her.
She felt a slight tug on her cloak. Her hood jerked back.
For a brief moment, there was no reaction.
“Outsider! She’s with them! There’s another outsider.”
Several people close to Shea craned their heads to look at the shouter, their eyes coming to rest unerringly on her. At first just a few, and then others took up the cry as space opened around Shea.
She froze for just a moment.
Too late to turn back now. Too late to escape.
She darted forward.
For a long moment, Shea thought Witt and Dane had abandoned her. Left her to face the mob on her own. Her eyes lifted briefly to her goal, the platform, and were caught by the fierce whiskey-colored gaze of the stranger.
A hand caught he
r arm, spinning her around and breaking the connection. Her eyes widened with fear as a man, his face a mask of hatred, raised one heavy fist.
This was it. She was dead.
The ground shook slightly under her feet. At first, she thought it was a tremor in the earth, like the small quakes that occasionally plagued the area. Then a scream rent the air.
“Stampede!”
Several screams followed and suddenly there was mass chaos in the square as people shoved each other in panic.
A crack pierced the air. A fine mist sprayed Shea’s face as the man holding her dropped to the ground. A hole the size of her thumb marred the side of the man’s head.
A sob of relief left her. Witt and Dane had come through.
She spun and ran up the platform’s steps, not even pausing when a villager carrying an ax appeared. Another crack split the air. Red blossomed on his chest. He fell back; Shea leapt over him. There were two more cracks, and then Shea was alone on the platform except for the four captives.
“Shea!” James struggled against his bonds, his body working frantically to get loose. Cam dangled limply from his wrists.
Shea pulled a knife from her waist as Dane picked off anybody who got too close.
Say what you will about his whining, the man came through in a pinch.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James pleaded as she cut him loose. “I didn’t know.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.”
Her adrenaline thundering through her body, Shea sawed through the last of the rope, pulling James free. She shoved a knife in his hand and pushed him towards Cam.
“Get Cam loose.”
He stumbled, nearly dropping the knife before reaching over Cam to work at the ropes.
Shea drew another knife and went to work on the nearest stranger’s hands. She flinched each time Dane picked off another villager but kept at the rope.
“Powerful weapon, that,” the whiskey-eyed stranger observed.
Shea grunted in agreement as he pulled free and moved on to the next man.
“Shea,” James shouted. “Come on. We have to go.”
