Pathfinder's Way

by T. A. White

  The fires had gone out and not a soul stirred.

  “Wake up,” her voice came in a hoarse whisper, barely recognizable with how it trembled. She shivered harder and put as much force as possible into it. “Get up.”

  She climbed to her feet clumsily and staggered over to Eamon, dropping to one knee beside him. She shook him. “Eamon, you have to get up.”

  His eyes fluttered but otherwise there was no response.

  She slapped him sharply. “Get up, you slack about.”

  “Wha-” His voice was groggy as he tried to shrug her off.

  “Eamon, you have to get up. Something’s wrong. Please get up.”

  “S-Shane?” She nearly sobbed in relief. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but I think whatever it is, is killing us. So you need to get up and help me wake the others.”

  Together they staggered from figure to figure, shouting, shaking and slapping to rouse the sleepers.

  Shea bent over a man and stumbled back as a shadow moved where no shadow should have been. It rose from the ground, its shape bending and reshaping. She watched it rise, her heart in her throat. A frostling. She’d heard stories. Every Highland child had, but there hadn’t been a sighting in nearly a hundred years.

  Pathfinder. You’ve disturbed my meal.

  She inched back as it took on the amorphous shape of a small human, no taller than her knee. Had there been any clue in how to fight these things in the stories? Her mind couldn’t think as the temperature dropped lower.

  Should you replace it?

  Her heart stuttered and thumped as the shape formed a tentacle reaching towards her. She could barely keep her eyes open as it came closer and closer. What had those stories said? She couldn’t remember.

  “Shane!”

  A bright light came between her and the frostling. It hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper in the dark.

  Until next time.

  A hand shook her sharply. She blinked dumbly up at the flickering yellow light. Fire. She was so cold.

  “Shane, don’t you dare go to sleep.”

  A sharp pain landed on both cheeks. Her eyes blinked open. Eamon’s face came into focus.

  He slapped her again.

  “Eamon, will you please stop hitting me.”

  “Shane! Thank the gods, man.” His face was full of concerned relief as she pushed up onto one elbow. “I saw you drop like a rock and thought something had happened.”

  “Something did happen.” She rubbed her face, feeling the odd sensation of frost breaking apart under her hand. “Did you see the shadow?”

  “What shadow?”

  “You didn’t see it then.” She dropped her hand and looked at the torch held in one of his. “Good thing you had that. It’s probably the only thing that saved us.”

  “I guess.”

  “How are the others?”

  He turned to shake the man Shea had intended to wake. “Groggy and confused.” He slapped the man when he didn’t stir and said in a sharp voice. “Get up.” The man didn’t move. Eamon held his fingers against the man’s still neck and then dropped them with a sigh.

  “Is he?”

  “Yes. He’s dead.”

  Shea sat up with a grimace.

  “That’s not the only piece of bad news,” Phillip said from the shadows.

  Eamon and Shea jumped, their bodies bracing as if for a blow.

  Phillip waited until their hearts had settled before saying, “The men on watch are all dead and one is missing.”

  “What is going on?” Cale asked as he stormed up to them. A group of men followed, their faces drawn and stiff from the cold.

  “We were under attack,” Eamon informed him.

  “Attack?”

  “Every man on watch is either dead or missing,” Eamon filled him in, helping Shea stand.

  The account seemed to shock Cale, and he moved as if he had been struck. His eyes came to rest on Shea, who wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to lock in some of her warmth.

  “This is your fault,” he accused. “You’ve led us into a trap.”

  The men behind him traded looks, their faces darkening with suspicion before all eyes came back to Shea.

  “Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “I voted for not stopping here. You’re the one who said it was too dangerous to continue after dark.”

  “Five of my men have been killed. Someone must answer for this.”

  “Well, don’t blame the kid,” Buck said, yawning as he joined them. “He’s the one who woke all our asses up. I don’t think we would have survived if he hadn’t.”

  “Perhaps he just wanted to play hero.”

  “Careful, there,” Eamon warned. “You’re threatening the reputation of the scouts.”

  “Not all scouts, just his.”

  “Threaten one, you threaten all,” Eamon rumbled.

  There was a quiet moment of strained silence as the two faced off. Then Cale said, “The men will be up and ready to move in half an hour. You’d better be ready, or we’ll leave you and your men behind.”

  “You can’t,” Shea warned.

  Cale turned and glared at her. “I’m the commander, I can do anything I damn well pleased.”

  “I mean you can’t break camp now. We have to wait until morning.”

  “If you think I’m going to wait around for those things to come back-“

  “Fire,” Shea said interrupting him. “As long as we keep the fires lit they won’t come back.”

  Cale hesitated, the promise of safety overriding his need to leave this place behind.

  “How sure are you?” Eamon asked softly. “Have you encountered these before?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard stories. A fire’s warmth is the best way to ward against a frostling.”

  “A story?” Cale scoffed. “You’re basing this off a story?”

  “Shane hasn’t led us wrong yet,” Eamon said firmly.

  “He’s pretty much the expert in beasts,” Buck added.

  Shea stood up straight trying to put all the confidence she didn’t feel into her gaze. There was always a chance she was wrong.

  “The frostling left me alone when Eamon waved his torch at it.” She nodded to the torch in his hand.

  “If I lose any more men to this frostling, I’ll have you both strung up,” Cale warned.

  “Understood,” Eamon said.

  “What did it look like?” Buck asked Shea as the others moved through the camp spreading the word that a fire needed to be kept lit.

  “A shadow.” Shea’s eyes were haunted as they stared out into the silver night.

  The rest of the night passed in a tense fashion as they waited for the comfort of day. Shea didn’t sleep. Every time she nodded off she startled back awake at every brush of chill breeze. The others did the same and moods were dark and tempers frayed by the time they set out the next morning.

  They traveled much faster not beset by the same setbacks as the previous day. No doubt thoughts of frostlings and the close call the men experienced had something to do with that.

  The rest of the trip passed uneventfully and two days later they were winding their way through the last hills before the encampment. It had been moved since the first time Shea had seen it, and this time it crouched in a clearing, trees dwarfing it on one side and a high cliff on another.

  “I will be so happy when we can dump these whiners,” Buck muttered beside her.

  She grunted in agreement. Cale had been a snarling terror to work with the past few days.

  They split from the caravan as soon as they passed the first string of guards and rode to the Dawn’s Riders’ corrals and dismounted. Once finished caring for her mount, Shea picked up her pack and followed the other three into the tent city.

  After finding their temporary quarters, Eamon headed out to give his report to the task commander. Shea followed since she had to return the map to the cartographers so they could incorporate her
observations into the next generation of maps. It also prevented the maps from falling into the wrong hands.

  Eamon stopped in front of a blue and beige patterned tent and took a breath before stepping inside. Shea didn’t envy him the report he had to give and continued on to the next tent. It had a banner planted in front picturing twin mountains with a horizontal wavy line under them that depicted water. She brushed aside the flap and stepped inside, blinking at the sudden dimness. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she headed to a long table where several men were hard at work.

  She sighed. It looked like Owen wasn’t working. That wasn’t good news for her as one of the cartographers on duty tended to take it personally when she made her own notations on the maps. She faced questions and recriminations, and she was so tired. All she wanted was to drop it off so she could head back to her tent for a couple hours of shuteye before dinner.

  “Every moment you stand there is a moment wasted.” Vincent looked up and gave her a sharp-toothed smile.

  Shea fought the urge to drag her feet as she approached the desk and handed him her rolled up map, complete with changes and corrections. She knew from experience that he’d just snatch the map from any of his underlings. Might as well give it directly to him if it was going to end up with him anyway.

  “What have you changed this time?” he taunted, unrolling it before setting it in front of him. “I see you crossed off an entire set of ridges. And a river. Silly us to have put those in there.”

  “I’m just doing as I was told. Updating the map according to what we encounter in the field.”

  “I see. I see.” He nodded and looked back at the map. “It just amazes me that no other scout seems to make the amount of corrections you do.”

  He knew as well as she that most of the other scouts didn’t know how to make those changes. When she didn’t answer, he rolled up the parchment and tossed it to another man who caught it before rolling his eyes at Vincent’s back. Seemed Shea wasn’t the only one who thought the man was a pompous sack of wind.

  “Here.” Vincent held out a rolled up piece of parchment tied with a red ribbon.

  Shea unrolled it, her eyebrows lowering in question. It was a map. “What’s this?”

  He gave her an ‘are you stupid’ look. “It’s a map.”

  “I know that. Why? We just got back.”

  “Well, I guess you’re being sent back out.” He made little shooing motions. “Run along, now. We’ve got work to do.”

  Shea lingered, her gaze drawn to the partition behind Vincent. From what she’d been able to piece together from overheard conversations and what she’d witnessed in all her visits to the cartographers, she guessed that the back room held the majority of the Trateri’s maps. It might even hold the maps she’d left behind all those months ago. Unfortunately, the room was constantly occupied and she hadn’t been able to think of a reason to go back there and snoop around.

  Vincent cleared his throat, drawing her attention and then gesturing outside.

  She rolled the map back up and turned on her heel, pushing out of the tent. Sometimes she just wanted to strangle the man.

  Outside, she blinked and shaded her eyes as they adjusted back to the bright light. It looked like Eamon was still talking to the task commander about whatever this next mission was.

  Wanting to speak to him before she procured supplies, Shea stepped to the side and unrolled the map, figuring she’d familiarize herself with their route in case they really did have to head right out.

  She’d seen this map before or one very like it. The information in it was wrong though. A lot was missing or mismarked.

  Damn, she’d have to talk to Vincent again to get it fixed. Just what she needed, another encounter with the finicky map maker.

  As she rolled it up, Vincent strode past her, moving at a fast clip. Not wanting to have to come back, Shea darted after him.

  Some instinct warned her against calling out so instead she trailed behind, wrestling with the need to address the error filled map but also knowing something was off.

  Why would he leave his post in the middle of a shift? During the busiest part of the shift? Everything she knew about the Trateri indicated this was against character. There was a rule about it or something. One of those she was supposed to know but could never seem to remember. Eamon waxed on about them all the time.

  When he abruptly turned a corner to disappear between two tents, Shea darted after him, stopping at the last minute. Hearing voices, she flattened her back against the tent.

  “Is it done?” a woman asked.

  “Yes. I’ve distributed the maps you gave me to the troops.”

  “The correct ones?” another man asked. His voice was familiar, though muffled, as if she had heard it before. And recently.

  “Misplaced, as you ordered.”

  “Are you sure that he got the fake ones? We need the trap to work. He’s escaped too many time in the past,” the woman said.

  Who was this he? Whoever it was seemed to be important enough to sabotage?

  The voices moved away. Shea stayed where she was, knowing if she followed her chances of being discovered spying increased. It didn’t seem like the sort of conversation she wanted to be caught listening to.

  Shea walked away, taking the first path to the right, taking another and another until she was well and truly away from the trio.

  What had she just heard? It was momentous, whatever it was.

  There was a plot against someone in the Trateri ranks. Someone extremely important from the sound of it.

  The question now was, what should she do about it? She wasn’t Trateri. Their politics didn’t affect her since she still had plans to escape. For all she knew, these plotters had a legitimate reason for their actions.

  Shea frowned. No, that was unlikely since Vincent was involved. That guy had greedy, bottom feeder written all over him.

  If she did tell someone, would they even believe her?

  One thing was clear; the map Vincent had given her was absolutely worthless.

  “Shane! Shane!” a voice called.

  Shea turned to find Clark darting toward her waving, a hank of brown hair flopping over his eyes as he stopped in front of her.

  “Thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure since you didn’t respond when I called.”

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” That and occasionally she sometimes forgot people knew her as Shane as opposed to Shea.

  “No problem.” He waved her apology away. “You just get back?”

  “Yeah,” Shea’s voice was distracted as they stepped to the side of the dirt road to give others right of way. “Oh, last time we were out, we encountered something Lowlanders call frostlings. They look like shadows and seem to fear fire. Not sure how to kill them, though.”

  His eyes lit up and he nodded as he made note of her information. “That reminds me. You need to see this.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her in his wake, winding through the tents as they left the more commonly used paths and went down one of the smaller routes. She ducked under a line securing the tent to a stake as she followed him.

  “Is this going to take long? Because I still need to gather some supplies and to talk to some people. Our team just got another mission.”

  “You’re on that too?”

  She nodded. “Wait a minute. You’re going?”

  He looked back and grinned. “All the scouts are. Someone important didn’t show up as scheduled and now every scout in camp has orders to look for him. Don’t worry though, they’re still discussing how the manhunt will be conducted. It’ll probably be a couple hours before everything is settled.”

  “Looks like we got back just in time,” Shea said. This had to be part of the plot she overheard. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Clark, but she held back. She didn’t want to get him involved in something that could be dangerous.

  “Looks like.”

  They zig zagged down another set of alleys and
across a wider road.

  “Here we are.”

  “Where is here?” Shea asked, stepping over a saddle and apologizing as she bumped into one of the servant caste carrying an armful of laundry. She got a glare for her pains as the servant hurried off.

  She looked around curiously, following Clark over to an awning. Several lines anchored the canvas in place, causing the edges to dip down with the tension. The only fabric present was the roof and back wall.

  Under it, someone had set up a large wooden board and tacked small sheets of paper to it. They fluttered in a stray breeze.

  Shea stepped closer to examine the paper. A rough sketch was drawn on each one and names were written under the sketch. She reached out and flattened one sheet to read it better.

  Revenant: Compensates for poor eyesight with highly developed sense of smell and hearing. Pickleberry juice can be used to slip past its senses but fades fast and needs to be replenished or they will pick up your scent. Tactics that have worked in the past…

  Shea removed her hand and bent to examine another flyer, and when she was done with that another one. Clark fidgeted anxiously next to her while she read one after another.

  “I thought the book of beasts was a great idea, but then it occurred to me that other scouts could benefit from the information or even have information of their own to contribute.”

  Shea’s face was unemotional and her thoughts shuttered as she glanced over at him.

  Not seeing the reaction he expected, Clark continued with his explanation. “I asked a couple other scouts I knew if they had anything they wanted to add to any of the entries. Next thing I knew, they wanted books like mine. So we started this.” He nodded at the board. “Any scout can come and update an entry or add a new one. If they see information they need, they can copy it into their own book.”

  Shea looked back at the board. There were over fifty flyers up there, each with its own list of observations. Some were nearly black with the amount of information while others only had one or two lines of description.