by T. A. White
Seeing the look on her face, Eamon asked, “What? What is it?”
They all regarded her anxiously.
“This map is wrong,” she stated the obvious. This next part might be a little tricky. She needed to convince them while not telling them everything.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean whoever worked on this fucked up. Big. Half the routes are wiped out, and it’s out of date. See here,” she pointed at a broken line that was to the right of their current position. “We went through this area last month with Lance’s boys.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, when we were done, I told Vincent that they shouldn’t send any more men that way unless they wanted them to end up dead.”
“Maybe they disregarded your advice. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That’s just it,” she said, touching the map lightly. “The next map they sent out had the updates on it. This one doesn’t. Not to mention there are some routes that aren’t even on here anymore. They’re not marked as either dangerous or safe. It’s like they don’t even exist.”
“I don’t see why this is important,” Eamon said.
Shea was silent a moment as she considered her options. She wasn’t Trateri and had only lingered so long because she liked Eamon and Buck. This was the point of no return. Either she acted on her knowledge or she let nature run its course. Did she really want to get more involved than she already was?
“Let’s consider the facts, then,” she said finally. It wasn’t in her to just walk away even if it was easier. “Every scout that was in or around the encampment was mobilized to locate someone. It’s someone important, which means enemies. Pretty well connected enemies if my hunch is right. What if those enemies gave him a map that was wrong? Kind of like this one.”
The dark prevented her from reading the men’s faces so she was unable to tell the effect her words were having on them.
“Maybe it steered this person toward some of the more dangerous routes, or maybe it was some mistake. All I know is we’re almost through our area and whatever it is we’re supposed to be looking for isn’t here.”
She didn’t want to make it seem too obvious that she knew it was on purpose.
“What do you suggest we do?” Phillip asked. He had been a silent presence until now, and she had almost forgotten he was there.
She shrugged. “We look through some of the routes that should be on here but aren’t.”
Silence met her statement. Not knowing how they were taking her idea, she kept quiet and waited. In the end, she didn’t know the person lost out there, and she wasn’t Trateri. She’d laid out their options and pointed at the inconsistencies in the information they’d been given. Whatever happened next was on them.
She told herself she didn’t care as she busied herself with studying the map, but that was a lie. She did care, and she hated the idea of leaving someone alone in the dark, especially since she felt slightly responsible for not speaking up sooner.
It was the same reason she worked with the people of Birdon Leaf despite the fact she was treated as the village pariah. She knew the fear of being out there in the great wild expanse knowing nobody was coming for you. Now, when faced with the thought of abandoning someone to that same fate, she couldn’t do it.
“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” Buck said uneasily.
“Yup.”
There were a number of trails that had been mismarked or left off the map. It would be impossible to cover all of the area with just the four of them in a time frame that could make a difference to the men who were lost.
“Is there a way to narrow it down a little?” Phillip crouched beside her and peered at the parchment in question.
Shea shut her eyes, allowing herself to feel a moment of relief. This was the reason she hadn’t left yet. Every time she steeled herself against their disdain or disbelief they did something completely incomprehensible like follow her down whatever rabbit hole she found.
“It would have to be a trail that had shown up on other maps but had recently been declared a danger zone,” Buck said, crouching on her other side. “That way if the intended target had any familiarity with previous maps it wouldn’t be too suspicious.”
“I’m guessing the route would have also been left off the maps given to the scouts so none of them got it into their heads to check it just in case.” Phillip picked up Shea’s journal and squinted at it, trying to decipher her scribbling’s in the dim light and compare them to the bigger map.
Shea looked up at Eamon, the only one of them who hadn’t said anything and also the one who would ultimately decide if they would investigate this theory or continue following their orders.
The torch cast harsh shadows on the sharp planes of his features, concealing his thoughts. He placed both hands on his waist and rocked back and forth, bending his head slightly. Shea knew from prior experience that it was the pose he used when he was thinking over his options.
The two at her side pretended to ignore Eamon’s internal struggle, but, like her, they held themselves tight in anticipation.
“It probably wouldn’t be too far off the area we’re searching so as to further allay suspicion,” Eamon finally added.
The three exhaled in relief before bending to compare notes and observations. The hunt was on, and if there was anything Shea had learned in her time with the Trateri, it was that they loved a hunt, whether of man or beast.
They decided their quarry had been coming from the north and a little to the east since most of the scouts had been sent north and slightly to the west. After discarding some of the more mountainous paths and the ones with little probability of beast activity, they were left with four strong possibilities and a remaining three that held an outside chance.
“That’s still too many,” Eamon said, looking at their work.
They all sat back, disappointed. Even if they were right, it wouldn’t help them unless they could narrow their search to a smaller area. While Eamon and the others were convinced of Shea’s theory, there was very little possibility other scouts would be.
Searching outside their designated area was dangerous. If they failed, it could be seen as a sign of insubordination, leaving them open for challenge. If Eamon lost a challenge then he’d be stripped of his rank, and they could all be punished. It wasn’t a happy thought.
“We could split up,” Phillip offered. “Each take a separate route.”
Eamon was already shaking his head. “No, that’s not going to happen. If they were set on by beasts, I don’t want any of us out there alone trying to save them.”
“How about groups of two?” Buck said.
Eamon bent his head in thought.
“That might work,” he said. “I still don’t like it, though.”
“It’s probably our only option,” Shea said softly. “If we narrow the search any further, we risk eliminating a path they could have taken and missing them entirely.”
Eamon nodded in agreement, though his expression in the flickering light made it clear he didn’t like it. Shea sympathized and knew that he’d blame himself if anybody didn’t make it back to the rendezvous alive. That was the burden that came with being in charge, and it was one she didn’t envy him.
He unhooked one of the oblong canisters from his hip and handed it to Buck. “Alright, but if you find him or get into any trouble, shoot one of the firebugs into the sky for help. I’ll pair up with Shane, and we’ll take the three that are the furthest northeast. You two take the rest. When you’re done, meet at the fork in the river that we passed this morning.”
Back at the horses they mounted and together traveled through the shadowy valley, with the white cliffs nearly glowing in the moonlight.
Buck and Phillip angled away. Buck lifted one hand in farewell, his dark figure disappearing quickly into the gloom. Shea watched them go, praying that this theory of hers didn’t get them all killed. Her horse followed Eamon without any urging from her,
and they rode in silence as they made their way to the closest route Shea had marked off as theirs.
Hours later Shea was kicking herself for opening her mouth. They were halfway through the second path and still no sign of their quarry.
Shea stopped her horse suddenly. Something was off.
“Eamon.”
No questions asked, he pulled his horse to a stop, looking around alert for possible danger.
Shea’s horse moved under her and tossed its head. Patting its neck in wordless comfort, she paid close attention to any details that might tell her why her senses were screaming danger.
This happened every so often when her subconscious recognized a threat. She’d learned the hard way to pay attention to these little warning signs and let her consciousness relax enough to find that detail that could explain why the skin on her neck was trying to crawl its way down her back.
Nothing on the ground seemed amiss. There were no sounds she would classify as overtly threatening either. No beast screams or growls or soft, nearly silent movements in the dark.
So what was it? Why did she feel like she was missing something?
A thin almost barely perceptible glint of moonlight caught her attention, and she looked up, noticing the fine, nearly invisible threads spanning from one canyon wall to the next. She looked down, suddenly able to see the anchors in the rocks and the bushes that seemed to be bound in a filmy white.
“Spinners,” she hissed.
Eamon curse was soft but heartfelt as he looked around seeing what she did now that he knew it was there.
Spinners were giant insects with broad flat heads that contained four eyes and fang filled mouths under short snouts. With four legs and a set of arms complete with hands, they spun webs that had a hallucinogenic coating to make their prey euphoric and lethargic. This kept their prey content and incapacitated enough to stay put in the web while the spinner stopped by now and then to have a nibble. When breeding, they laid eggs in their live food so the babies would have something to eat immediately upon hatching.
“We won’t be able to take the horses any further,” he said darkly.
Shea swung her leg over and dismounted before leading her and Eamon’s horses back the way they’d come. She tethered them close to the mouth of the canyon where there weren’t as many webs. Hopefully, they’d be safe here. At least until Eamon and Shea returned.
“Ready?” Eamon asked.
Shea blew out a breath. No, but that hadn’t stopped her before.
They moved quickly and quietly down the canyon, taking turns watching the cliffs for signs of spinners. Unlike the shadow beetle, spinners didn’t have the ability to completely blend in with their surroundings.
Would their quarry really have come this way? Especially in the day when the webs would be much easier to see?
Eamon held up a fist, his entire body going still as he scanned the night. Shea braced, planting her feet while her senses tuned to any sound or movement.
Eamon looked over his shoulder to make sure she was paying attention and pointed off to the right. Shea squinted but couldn’t see what had sent him into high alert.
The spinner webs were thicker here with entire sections of the canyon wall hidden by thick ropes of white.
Finally she heard what Eamon must have as a guttural groan reached her ears. She tapped him on the shoulder to indicate she heard, and together they crept across the ground strewn with huge boulders towering above their heads. Shea’s skin crawled just thinking of a spinner sitting unseen on top of one as they lay in wait for unsuspecting prey.
The fourth time she stole a glance at the shadowy heights, she stumbled nearly knocking Eamon down in the process. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, she cringed, silently mouthing several choice words. When nothing happened, she released a breath and heaved herself to her feet, brushing the dirt from her stinging hands. She must have scraped them when she fell.
Eamon waited, his silent presence still managing to radiate disbelief and humor despite being cast in shadow.
They made their way to where the webs were thickest, following the indistinct groaning.
So far no sign of spinners. Shea hoped it stayed that way.
The two split up to investigate the area. Eamon headed deeper into the canyon while Shea moved along the webs.
She stopped near where she thought the sounds originated and peered closer at the way the webs strands crisscrossed in an intricate pattern that might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so damn scary.
Seeing the dim shadow of a figure, she stepped closer and was able to make out an arm that led to a slumped man, only the strands holding him upright. His head lolled making it impossible to see his face.
“Eamon.” Shea’s excited whisper sounded like a shout after the tension filled quiet. “I found something.”
He moved back to her as Shea tried to find a way to the man without disturbing any of the spinner strands. The slightest brush would alert their makers, much like a fly struggling in a spider’s web would the spider. That or she might become entangled and find it impossible to escape.
As she slipped closer, she made out the slouched figures of two others in addition to the man she’d found.
“Shane,” Eamon said in a low voice, tension threading into it. “I’m not sure you should get any closer.”
Shea dipped beneath another complicated set of threads and straightened in front of her man.
“Is that them?” Eamon asked.
“Not sure, but who else could it be?” Shea whispered back.
The man groaned again, and Shea took a chance that he was conscious enough to understand her.
“Try to stay still,” Shea warned. “The strands have a hallucinogenic that will get stronger the more you struggle.”
She needed him semi-conscious so he could run when they freed him.
“Who’re you?” the man asked, his voice hoarse with pain.
“Shane.” As she tried to get closer to see some of the others, she kept talking trying to keep him calm and awake. “I’m a scout. What’s your name?”
“Fallon.”
Son of a bitch.
What was he even doing out here? He should be drawing up battle plans, strategizing or whatever, safe in the confines of the encampment, not caught in a spinner’s web somewhere in the Lowland wilderness.
“I take it from your silence you know who I am.”
That was a stupid statement considering she’d told him she was Trateri, and every Trateri knew who Fallon Hawkvale was. Guess he was a little more out of it than she thought.
Lifting her voice a bit, she said, “Eamon, we’ve found our quarry.”
Damn it.
“Who is it?”
“Hawkvale.” Her voice was flat and unemotional.
There was a moment of stunned silence and then a low, “Fuck.”
That about summed it up.
“There are two others as well.”
The other two men were set further back in the webs and didn’t seem to be moving. Neither stirred at Shane and Eamon’s voices. She was afraid to shout in case the noise attracted a spinner.
The venom coated on the webs had most likely already been absorbed into their skin. It was amazing Fallon was as awake and alert as he was considering the amount of web wrapped around him.
“Can you cut them out?” Eamon asked.
Shea observed the threads skeptically, not daring to touch them. “Not unless we want to attract the whole nest.”
There was restrained cursing from Eamon. In any other situation it would have been funny given how quiet he was trying to be.
Shea’s skin itched with the need to get out of there. They were entirely too exposed. It was only a matter of time before their luck ran out.
She could always abandon Fallon and his men to their fate. Take Eamon and run. No one had to know they found the Trateri’s leader. That would be the smart plan – the safe plan.
Shea wasn’t going to d
o that though. No, she was going to try to save them just as soon as she figured out a semi decent strategy. She blamed her mother for this overwhelming sense of duty and responsibility to those who didn’t always deserve either.
But the only plan she could come up with meant someone acting as a decoy.
“Shane, wait ten minutes and then start cutting. If you can’t get the other two to wake up, leave them and get Hawkvale away from here.”
“I can’t-“
“You can. I’ll keep the spinners distracted while you work, but you won’t have much time before they’re on you.”
“Wait, Eamon,” Shea whispered as his shadow moved.
“Someone has to act as the decoy, boy.” Eamon’s voice was strong and firm. “Don’t worry about me. I’m Trateri. We’re not so easy to kill as you Lowlanders.”
Knowing that arguing with him was useless, she dropped her head and stared at the ground, wishing she could be honest with him about who she was, that she could tell him that he was an amazing leader and an even better friend.
Clearing her throat, she forced down words that might make her feel better but were ultimately useless. “They’re not overly fond of fire so setting their webs aflame might give you enough time to get away.”
She couldn’t see it in the dim light, but she knew he nodded before his shadow disappeared.
She whispered, “Good luck and thanks for everything.”
Her fingers found a loose thread at the bottom of her shirt and pulled nervously as the minutes crept by.
Seeing Fallon’s head sag, Shea made her way over to him and said his name softly. When he didn’t respond, she slapped him.
Fallon’s head jerked when she slapped him again. She needed him awake. There was just no way she could carry him out of here.
He lifted his head and shot a glare her way. It wasn’t very impressive as his eyes were unfocused and slightly glazed, but she shrugged in feigned sympathy just in case he did remember this later.
“Stay awake,” she ordered. “I can’t carry you so you’ll have to walk out yourself.”
He mumbled something indistinctly. Seeing that he was struggling to stay awake, she moved on to the other two. The first one’s form was small and misshapen. Even with the poor light she could tell pieces of him were missing, and there were black stains on the ground near his body. He was dead or likely wished he was if he was still conscious. Still, she reached out and felt his neck, flinching at the waxy feel of cold flesh under her fingers.
