by T. A. White
Dead. Poor guy. At least he wouldn’t have felt it.
The next man seemed to have all his body parts, but it was difficult to tell with the coating of white that shone with a star like beauty in the moonlight. The skin on his neck was warm, and she let out a gratified sigh when she found the pulse pumping strong against her fingers.
He groaned and struggled to move his arms.
“Sir, you need to wake up.”
When he didn’t respond, she felt her spirits sink. Eamon had been clear what he wanted her to do if anyone was unconscious when things got started. Biting her lip, she looked between him and Fallon and shrugged. If it worked for one maybe it would work for the other.
A crack filled the air and her hand stung from the slap, but besides a slight stirring and another groan he was silent. She slapped him again. He roused a little only to sink back into his bonds. What she wouldn’t give for some water right now.
Third time was the charm. She let her hand fly and then held her breath.
“Will you please stop hitting me?” a groggy voice asked.
“He did that to me too,” Fallon said tiredly.
“Guess he’s got balls then,” the stranger said as his eyes drifted shut.
Shea stepped forward, drawing her hand back. “Oh, no you don’t. Stay awake. There’s no way I’m carrying your ass.”
“Do not hit me again,” the man warned.
Shane snorted. His warning lacked oomph.
“Don’t fall asleep, and I won’t have to.”
“Balls.”
Not really. Just desperation.
“What happened?” Fallon asked, his voice sounding fatigued.
“You wandered into a spinner’s nest.”
“That’s not good,” the stranger said.
No, it wasn’t.
“What about Jason?”
“Who?” Shea asked, looking over at the dead man. She didn’t want to be the one to tell them their friend was dead. Nor did she want to have to cut him out of his web if they insisted on bringing his body with them.
“There was a third man,” Fallon told her.
She held her silence, wondering if she should just say she hadn’t seen him or if that would necessitate a search. Should she tell them he was dead or wait until they were safe?
Fallon shut his eyes as he said, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
He got quiet after that. Shea left him to his thoughts. She edged forward, trying to see out of the webs while listening for anything that suggested Eamon had made his move. Enough time had passed for him to get into position and set up. Had he started already? Perhaps he had and his distraction was being wasted while she hesitated.
On the other hand, if she started cutting them down too soon, the spinners would descend on her and any action he took would be pointless. She wished they had arranged some signal so she could be sure.
As she waffled, a bright red light shot into the sky followed by a high pitched whistle. The red briefly cast the canyon into sharp relief showing dark blotches high up on some of the walls and closer than Shea would like on the ground. A high screech echoed off the cliffs, and the blotches burst into movement, heading towards the light’s origin.
Shea drew her blade, moving to Fallon first. She sawed furiously at the strands holding him, careful not to touch any of the threads with her bare hands. Falling into a euphoric stupor wouldn’t help any of them at this point.
Getting one of his hands free she shoved a spare knife at him, directing him to cut himself free before heading for the stranger. The web strands were thicker around him, nearly cocooning him from the neck down. There might not be enough time to cut through everything before whatever distraction Eamon had created wore off.
She hacked at the strands above him with a single-minded desperation. Counting on the surge of adrenaline to counter the effects of the web, she used her other hand to pull threads away. He fought and struggled against the thread binding him, nearly driving his skin onto her blade a few times.
Only a quarter of the web had been cut away and already she could hear the enraged screams as the spinners realized their prey was escaping.
She cut faster, tugging and pulling, as a sweet euphoria stole through her veins making her head feel light and disconnected. Still, she hacked and cut, nearly jumping out of her skin as hands appeared before her to help pull the last resisting threads from the stranger’s body.
She blinked dumbly up at Fallon as he shoved his shoulder under his friend’s arm and half dragged him out of the web. The stranger’s lower body was still covered in the white strands, but he was no longer chained in place.
All around them spinners screeched in anger and pain.
Free at last, Shea glanced down the canyon, noticing the orange light bouncing off the walls as web after web caught fire. Larger than life shadows were cast against rock as spinners fought to smother the flames with anything they could. More than one cast their own bodies onto the flame. Their black bodies caught fire, and they fell from their webs, the canyon’s walls reverberating with their death screams.
It was a tension fraught run from the spinner’s lair. Shea was still feeling the effects of the webs and knew the other two were probably dealing with a lot more. Her fingers felt thick and her legs heavy. She was overcome with the urge to just stop, lie down, and sleep.
Her mouth opened in a jaw-cracking yawn, and she focused grimly on the task at hand- setting one foot in front of another until they reached safety.
It was easy to find the horses, for which Shea was grateful. She wasn’t too confident about being able to find her way in anything but a semi straight line at this point.
Once there, she stared stupidly at the beasts and then at her companions. There were three of them and only two horses. How were they supposed to ride if there were only two?
Maybe two of them could ride and the third person could run alongside. Then they could trade off after a few minutes. Would it be possible for a half a horse to carry one person?
Shea was deep into trying to figure this problem out when Eamon came sliding down the canyon’s sloped wall.
Great, now there were four people and only two horses.
“Shane, what are you doing? We have to get out of here,” Eamon said, moving to his horse and preparing to mount.
“But there are only two.”
“What?”
“Two horses, four of us. The math doesn’t add up,” Shea told him.
“So two people to a horse,” he said, stress making his voice tight and tone sarcastic.
She blinked at the horses again and then at the other two who looked even more befuddled then her. Oh. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Tonight, Shane. Before those things catch up.”
Shea nodded, forgetting it might be difficult to see her in the dark and then kept nodding until she reached up and grabbed both sides of her head to make it stop.
“Fallon’s with you.” Eamon mounted and helped the stranger up behind him.
Shea turned to look at Fallon’s dim figure. “But I don’t want to ride with him.”
“I don’t care,” Eamon said sounding angry. “What’s the matter with you?”
“He must have touched the webs,” Fallon answered for her. “It can make acting normal difficult.”
“We don’t have time for this. Get on the horse, Shane.”
Shea crossed her arms over her chest and glared mutinously up at him. Suddenly, it seemed very important that she get her way, and she wasn’t moving one inch until she did.
“Shane,” Eamon warned.
Fallon abruptly sat down before falling backwards as he passed out. It was so unexpected that Shea started giggling.
“Son of a bitch.” Eamon’s words were heartfelt as he carefully dismounted, doing his best not to disturb his passenger. “Shane, I swear to all the gods that if you don’t stop giving me trouble, I will beat the living shit out of you once we�
�re safe.”
Even in Shea’s slightly drugged state, she knew he meant what he said.
“Fine.”
She helped him get Fallon up so he was laying facedown over the horse’s back before climbing up after him.
Chapter Sixteen
When a few rocks skated down the hill next to them, the party halted abruptly. With a flick of his fingers, Eamon signaled Shea to gain some distance from him while he steered his horse further down the path.
She waited, her hands tense on the reins, prepared to take off at a moment’s notice. Fallon, a still presence before her, hadn’t stirred since they placed him face down over the horse.
Small pebbles skittered down a few feet behind Eamon, and they both looked up. The moonlight shone off the exposed rock in the near vertical slope. While the hill was too steep for the horses, it was manageable for people or beasts. The names of every nocturnal beast that favored these environments ran through Shea’s mind— she didn’t want to encounter any on a night like this.
Eamon circled around and drew his sword, his eyes trained on a dim figure sliding down in a hail of dirt and rock.
Sensing their riders’ mood, the horses were quiet and motionless as if they too waited for the next shoe to drop.
Eamon waited until the two men were midway down before threatening in a low growl, “Stop where you are, or we’ll open a few extra holes in you.”
One of the men looked down, his expression lost in the dark. “Eamon?”
“Buck?” Eamon’s voice was puzzled but pleased. “What are you doing here?”
Buck and Phillip made it the rest of the way down the slope, sliding the last few feet. Safely on the ground, Buck said, “We saw the flare and figured you had found the package. Thought you might need help, so here we are.”
He waited, obviously hoping they would fill him in on what they had discovered, but Eamon kept his council, telling him instead, “We need to head back to camp. Are your horses close? Otherwise you’ll have to follow when you can.”
If Buck was disappointed Eamon didn’t answer his unspoken question, he didn’t show it. He pointed back up the slope and said, “We left them up there. It shouldn’t be too hard to retrieve them and then meet you on the trail.”
“Do that. Catch up when you can.”
Until now, Shea had thought Eamon trusted his men implicitly. It was something he’d harped on to the point of annoyance when she first joined up with them. It didn’t sit well now that he wished to keep Fallon’s identity a secret even from those who’d always had his back.
Over his shoulder, he told Shea, “Stay close and don’t stop for anything.”
“I don’t suppose-” she began wistfully, eyeing Buck and Phillip.
“No.”
She grumbled to herself and pulled faces in the dark. He hadn’t even let her finish her question.
Sensing something was off, Buck asked, “What’s up with Shane?”
“Don’t ask. Shane, follow me and stop asking to trade companions,” Eamon hissed.
“Fine.”
She didn’t see why Phillip or Buck couldn’t take her place. One rider was the same as the other. At least they were passable with a blade and could defend their passenger if need be.
Airing her grievances became impossible as Eamon tore down the trail, Shea following close behind. They couldn’t travel too fast for fear of dislodging Shea’s unconscious passenger, but the pace was faster than before.
For the most part, she kept her eyes focused on the rump of Eamon’s horse as he led the way. As she was usually point, this wasn’t a role she was unaccustomed to. He probably didn’t trust her, which was totally unfair. So she’d been a little argumentative after exposure to the webs. That didn’t mean she couldn’t navigate. Hell, there had never been a time when she couldn’t find her way from point A to point B. She could be on her deathbed and still be able to lead an expedition into the wilderness. His suspicion was totally unwarranted.
“Eamon,” Shea shouted, finally noticing his passenger swaying dangerously. “Secure your man.”
Eamon reached behind him, saying sharply, “Stay awake.”
The man jolted upright and looked around.
“Stay awake. The last thing we need is for you to fall off. We didn’t save you from the spinners only to have you break your neck on the way back to camp,” Eamon warned.
The man nodded wordlessly and straightened in an attempt to stay more alert.
“Shane-“
“I know,” Shea interrupted. “Keep an eye on him. I will.”
After the close call with his passenger, Eamon slowed the pace a little, which was for the best as the terrain became rougher.
She felt slightly more herself as two large forms approached, traveling fast enough to overtake Shea and Eamon. One of their horses neighed a greeting, and Shea’s horse answered by snorting loudly.
Buck rode past to take up position on Eamon’s flank while Phillip did the same with Shea. There wasn’t much conversation as they continued in grim silence, pushing their horses harder once the other two had caught up.
Hours later the camp’s many fires and torches lit up the sky, creating a halo effect against the mountains. Eamon pushed the group even faster and, with a grimace, Shea leaned forward to urge her horse to keep pace.
Reaching their destination’s edge, they paused only long enough to answer the sentry’s challenge question before riding directly for the heart of camp, not stopping for anything.
Even though it was well past midnight, the camp was filled with a frenetic energy as men moved quickly through the open spaces between tents. With the amount of people moving around, Shea doubted anybody was left in bed.
Heads turned to stare as they made their way through. Only a few at first and then more as others caught sight of the person draped over Shea’s horse. She fought to keep her expression bland as a man did a double take and then shot a horrified glare at her.
Eamon rode directly for Fallon’s personal tent. Because Shea was following him, she rode that way too, feeling a sense of déjà vu.
No matter how many times the camp moved, it was always configured in the same way. When Shea had first been brought to the encampment from Goodwin of Ria so many months ago, she’d been chained to a post in this same grouping of tents. What she hadn’t known then was that Fallon’s tent was the big one right next to Darius’s.
Now, despite everything she had done to hide herself right under Fallon’s nose, here she was, back where she had started.
Men converged on their group, spilling out of the surrounding tents as word reached them that Fallon was alive and needed help. Rough hands reached up to jerk him down, and Shea pulled hard on the reins causing her horse to shy away.
The two men trying to take him swore at her and reached for him again. Shea knocked them back, baring her teeth and glaring. She knew it was useless unless she drew a weapon, even as the men geared up to grab for Fallon again.
Eamon’s horse was suddenly between them and her, and his roar caused the chaos to grind to a halt. “Enough! Hawkvale is seriously injured and doesn’t need you lot jerking him around.”
Buck quickly flanked them, his hand dropping to his weapon as he eyed the soldiers nervously. He looked worried but nevertheless took Eamon’s back.
“Then give him to us so we can get him to a healer,” a sharp faced man with a flat nose shouted back.
“We won’t release him to any but Darius or a healer,” Eamon said tersely.
“Are you insane, man? We’re his personal guard.”
Shea started eyeing the possible escape routes, mentally analyzing the quickest path out of camp just in case a fight erupted. She had done it once before and that time she didn’t have a horse or knowledge of the area.
Fallon’s guards outranked Eamon and under normal circumstances an order from them within the boundaries of camp would be undisputed. Because of the suspected betrayal that had led to Fallon falling prey to
the spinners, they didn’t have the luxury of trusting blindly. Someone, or several someone’s, had betrayed Fallon.
Whether Shea liked him or not, his death would have devastating consequences for not only the Trateri but the rest of the Lowlands as well.
When Eamon refused, Caden, having arrived just moments ago, said in a low voice, “Scout, do you know who we are? Think carefully because the wrong answer will see you dead.”
Eamon’s voice was respectful but firm when he said, “I’m aware, but I still can’t give him to you. He can’t protect himself right now.”
The meaning behind Eamon’s words registered with the man, and he was quiet as thoughts turned behind his eyes. His glance flickered to where Shea was poised to run before returning to Eamon.
“I understand your intentions, but you’re wrong. We’re his personal guard. We were chosen specifically by him for our loyalty and abilities. Not one man under my command would harm a hair on his head, and each would gladly die for him.”
“Loyalty can change,” Eamon said softly.
Holding Eamon’s eyes, the man nodded slowly. “It can, but not for us. Now, I’m willing to overlook your accusations since you’ve been out all night searching for him and judging from your actions have seen some things that don’t sit well with you. But, you will give him to us.”
Eamon’s passenger had been quiet up until now, but after the threat inherent in Caden’s words said, “I’ll vouch for their integrity. I’ve fought alongside every man, and what Caden said is true. They won’t let any harm come to him.”
Eamon listened intently before looking at the angry faces around him. Many showed displeasure at having their honor questioned. In a society where a man was only as good as his word, Eamon’s doubts were a grave insult. Shea licked her lips, knowing whatever happened over the next few seconds were critical.
