by T. A. White
Eamon took his time looking over the men glaring silently at him. His shoulders straightened, and he nodded as he reached a decision. “Shane, give them the Hawkvale.”
Shea’s eyes jumped to Eamon’s back and then down as two men immediately started for her. Should she take Fallon and run or trust Eamon’s judgment?
The first man reached her and carefully lifted Fallon down, handling him as if he was something precious before handing him to another. That man turned and strode quickly into the tent, followed closely by three men wearing the same colors as Caden.
Shea sent up a small prayer in the hope she hadn’t just sent him to his death.
A rough jerk on Shea’s arm pulled her from her horse. She barely landed on her feet before her arm was jerked again, and she was sprawled belly down with a boot in her back. A roar came from Eamon, and then there was a thump followed by two others.
Shea couldn’t see much but the dirt beneath her cheek, but she had a feeling it was her friends who had made those thumps as they were treated to the same view as her.
Inwardly, she sighed. When was she going to learn that good deeds only ever landed her in trouble? If someone had asked her if saving Fallon had been worth it, she would have told them no. Both times.
“Get them up,” Caden ordered.
Shea was hauled to her feet, her arms in a tight hold that applied enough pressure to be uncomfortable. If she moved just a little, it would bend the elbow into an unnatural angle and probably result in a break.
Eamon and the other two were yanked to their feet in a similar fashion and brought face to face with Caden. Shea remembered him from the mission with the revenants. She got the impression, then, that he was part of Fallon’s personal guards.
Up close, Shea could see the serious lines bracketing his eyes and the razor sharp intelligence. His dark brown hair was partially bound to tame the tight curls in his shoulder length hair. The hair below the top pony tail was shaved, but this time several swirls decorated his skin, creating an intricate pattern of ink.
He looked carefully between the four of them, his thoughts hidden.
Shea could feel her temper begin to fray, helped along by the lingering effects of the hallucinogenic she’d been exposed to. She took a deep breath and released it and then another. This wasn’t the time to lose it.
That could come later, when she was by herself.
“What am I to do with you four?” Caden asked them.
It was clear he didn’t expect an answer, but Shea wanted to give him one. Preferably with a few choice words about what he could go do to himself.
Looking above their heads at the men holding them, he ordered, “Separate them until I or Darius can question them. They aren’t to be harmed, just contained. For now.”
As the others were dragged in opposite directions, Shea struggled to gain her feet. To do what, she didn’t exactly know. She just knew that being separated was bad. Her captors weren’t expecting the fight, and she managed to jerk one arm free and had twisted to knee her other captor in the stomach.
“Shane, Shane! Stop! Stop fighting,” Eamon yelled.
The man holding her had a grip like iron and refused to release her. Gritting her teeth, she twisted her hand so she was clasping his hand then ducked under his arm and jerked it back so she was standing behind him with his arm bent at an odd angle.
Or that was how it was supposed to go.
Instead he turned with her and kicked one of her knees, hitting it just right so it crumpled beneath her.
“Don’t hurt him,” Eamon yelled at the men converging on Shane. “He’s the one who saved Hawkvale. Shane, stop fighting. Please!”
Shea was on her knees trying to regain her feet when she was bowled over by a force that carried her back to the ground. Her cheek smarted as she once again found herself face down in the dirt with a man pressing an elbow sharply into her back. Her first captor had her elbow locked so the slightest pressure would break it.
A pair of boots came into view and then Caden’s cool voice reached her, “This was your last chance. If you so much as lift a pinky, we will kill you.”
The hands holding her down remained unyielding while Shea stayed tensed and ready to move.
“I want to hear you,” Caden said.
Oh, so that’s why she was still being pressed into the ground. Well, he could wait until his balls rotted off, because she wasn’t going to say shit about surrender. They might have been able to physically subdue her, but that didn’t mean they had won.
As soon as they gave an opportunity, she was gone. This time she wouldn’t allow sentiment to hold her back.
“Shane, please.” Eamon sounded more rattled than Shea had ever heard him, even worse than that time he’d ripped her apart after the run in with the revenants. She didn’t like that tone in his normally authoritative voice. The man should never sound like his world was about to cave in on account of her. It didn’t sit well with her.
The elbow in her back dug deeper while the hand holding her arm tightened.
“Shane.” This time there was a crack in Eamon’s voice that shouldn’t have been there.
Her elbow creaked as it was slowly twisted.
“Fine. I won’t fight.”
Immediately, the elbow pressing into her back lightened and the hand holding her arm loosened. She was still held immobile, but it didn’t hurt anymore. It was just uncomfortable and humiliating.
Shea was jerked to her knees and forced to look up into Caden’s unsmiling face.
“That was your only free pass,” Caden warned. “Next time we won’t bother subduing you, we’ll just cut off your head.”
Shea bit her tongue against the words that wanted to spew out, reminding herself that she needed to watch for her chance. Without waiting for an answer, Caden jerked his chin at the men holding her. They lifted her and force marched her away from the tent and her companions.
They didn’t have far to go as they pushed her before them into another tent one row down from the one Fallon had been taken to. They walked her to a heavy looking metal chair and sat her down before forcing her arms to its armrests. Cool metal slid against her skin as they fastened two handcuffs to her wrists, securing them to the chair before repeating the action with her feet.
Once they had her secured, one of the men left the tent while the other stepped back and folded his arms across his broad chest. She twisted her wrist surreptitiously, testing her restraints without being too obvious. Her guard’s watchful eyes noted the movement and narrowed slightly.
She glared back at him. She jerked hard against her restraints, giving up on hiding her actions. They were secure. She wouldn’t be breaking the chair arm to get away, and the limited range of movement made it impossible to attempt picking the locks.
As long as she was handcuffed to the chair, she wasn’t going anywhere. Evidently, they’d learned a few things from last time.
Giving up on escape, for the moment, Shea relaxed into the seat and looked around.
The Trateri had made an art form of turning their tent’s into luxurious homes. They were typically better decorated than most Lowlander or Highlander homes, containing beautiful, hand carved furniture made from old oak and rugs dyed the richest shades of blue, green and yellow that Shea had ever seen. As a people, they appreciated surroundings that were comfortable as well as beautiful to make up for the times when they had to live rough.
This wasn’t one of those tents. Empty of all furniture except the chair Shea was handcuffed to, there were no rugs, no tables, no sitting pillows or brightly colored fabrics. The walls were just the unadorned white base canvas over a weed covered patch of ground. Only two hanging braziers kept the space inside well-lit with an orange glow.
Something told Shea this was where they brought prisoners when they needed to extract information. It wasn’t even as nice as the area Darius had stuck her in that first day.
The second man ducked in, allowing a brief glimpse of a campfi
re before the tent flap dropped. He was in his late twenties and slimmer than his companion with a leaner, rangier frame. His face was thin and his eyes spaced the slightest bit too far apart, but their pretty hazel color made up for that. If Shea had never met Fallon, she would say this man’s eyes were the prettiest she’d ever seen.
They were a dark brown that was almost black and his skin was darker than most of his companions. His was broad and chiseled out of stone and his body big and filled with muscles. His hands were the size of boulders. One hit from them would crush her.
Shea really hoped they wouldn’t be hitting her before the night was through.
The second man approached, carrying a bag of water. He also held one of the meat pastries the soldiers packed when heading outside the camp. They were filling and traveled well.
Her stomach growled, loudly, and her mouth was suddenly dry and filled with sand. Until the smell of food taunted her, she hadn’t realized just how hungry and thirsty she was. Hours had passed since she’d last eaten.
She eyed the food warily, her mouth filling with saliva. Just what was he going to do with that stuff? Maybe he and the other guy had missed dinner too.
He held the pastry to her lips. She moved her head back.
“Eat,” he ordered.
Her eyebrows lowered as she looked from him to the next guy. What was this? How did they go from threatening to kill her to wanting to feed her? It could be some trick, but why? She doubted it was worth the effort of poisoning her. They were much more likely to torture a prisoner to death.
“It’d be easier to eat if my hands were free,” she tried.
“No. Eat.”
The smell of meat was making her hungrier. She could refuse, but the only one she’d be hurting would be herself. Eating would refuel her strength. Strength she might need shortly.
In the end, there was really no choice.
Feeling like an idiot she moved her face forward and took a tiny bite out of the pastry. She chewed and swallowed and then took another one. When neither man acted threateningly, she allowed herself to relax, just a tiny bit, and applied herself to eating as fast as possible.
Finished sooner than she would have liked since her stomach still twisted itself into knots from hunger, she couldn’t help darting her eyes to the water bag in his hand. Seeing where her attention had gone, he held it to her lips until she was finished.
Fed and hydrated, Shea sat back and scrutinized the two of them as the second man took up a position next to his companion. Neither attempted to question her, letting the time pass in silence as they stayed locked in a three way staring contest.
This was a fine mess she found herself in. She hoped the others were safe and well. Were they being treated the same or were they right now faced with less friendly service?
It was tempting to let worry consume her over her friends fates, but she couldn’t let that happen. She had to keep her wits about her and see what she could do about getting out of this situation. Only then would she think about what could be done for the others.
Several hours later, exhaustion was tugging at Shea as the adrenaline faded and nothing, good or bad, happened. Her eyes kept wanting to slide shut, and her head jerked up as she felt herself nodding off. She squirmed in her seat and tried to tap her foot to keep herself awake.
This worked for a bit before the effects of the past few days and the sleepless night began taking a toll. She fell asleep, her head sagging forward and her body slumping in the chair.
After what felt like seconds a forceful hand shook her awake.
Startled from the abrupt departure from slumber, she tried to stand but was brought up short by the bindings on her wrists and ankles.
She squinted up and felt her heart almost stop at the sight of Darius staring down at her with a slight quirk to his lips. Caden flanked him with the cool expression from before.
Shea cleared her throat and looked around in confusion before focusing back on the two men in front of her. She’d have liked to stand or maybe disappear into her chair, but that was impossible. All she could hope for now was to bluff her way through this and hope Darius didn’t recognize her.
“Glad to see we’re not keeping you from your sleep,” Darius said as the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.
Shea shifted in her seat and looked at Caden. How was she supposed to respond to that? Unable to think of something that would be appropriate for the situation, she kept quiet.
“You look familiar,” Darius told her.
Her heart gave a painful thump before hammering away in her chest at a breakneck pace.
“Uh,” was the only thing she could think to say.
“I’ve met you before.” He looked at Caden and then snapped his fingers. “You’re that scout, the one who came up with the beast board.”
Shea’s mouth was frozen open in astonishment for a moment before it snapped shut, and she nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes. That’s how we met.”
“What’s this?” Caden asked.
Darius partially turned and filled him in on their previous encounter. “Henry was curious why Dawn’s Riders had significantly fewer field casualties from beasts. During our most recent tour of their operations, we came across this strange looking board covered with paper. Someone had come up with the idea to compile the scouts’ experiences in a central location where they could compare notes before heading into the wilderness.” He looked back at Shea. “It was an ingenious idea. Don’t know why we didn’t think of it before now.”
Shea kept very still, hoping that would be the only encounter he remembered. Her brown eyes were wary and her body stiff under his penetrating regard.
“That was your idea, wasn’t it?” Darius asked casually.
Shea licked her lips and shook her head. “That was all Clark’s doing.”
“But it sprung from something you created.”
“I guess.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Darius told her. “There’s talk that that board is to going to be implemented by some of the other clans as well.”
Why was he telling her this?
“It’s something that could save lives,” Caden said softly, his eyes steady on her face.
Shea’s gaze shot to him while her wrists twisted against her bindings uneasily.
“Talked to your scout master and fellow scouts,” Darius inserted out of the blue, bringing Shea’s eyes back to him. “They said it was your idea to check the other trails.”
Again Shea shrugged.
“That was pretty smart. You probably saved the Hawkvale and his guard’s life.”
He was leading up to something, Shea realized. That’s why he’d brought up where he knew her from and then praised her initiative. He’d probably known exactly who she was before he ever walked in here. Chances were he’d talked with anybody she’d ever interacted with. That’s why she was in here for so long. Long enough for the adrenaline to fade and for her to fall asleep.
But to what purpose? Maybe to catch her in a lie or get her to boasting about all her achievements.
Impressive. He was good. He probably expected to shake some information loose before she even realized what she had revealed. It was clearly a tactic he’d used before. Caden too, if the way they played off one another was anything to judge by.
“How’d you know which routes to look for him on?” Darius asked.
“Didn’t know. I got lucky.”
Darius arched an eyebrow and pulled a face as if to say he was impressed. “That’s some luck, you happening on the exact right place.”
Yeah, some luck. She was handcuffed to a chair facing an interrogation. If this was good luck, she kind of preferred having no luck.
“No answer?” Darius asked, arching an eyebrow.
Caden was a dark shadow at his back, his hands hanging loose by his sides as he cataloged every fleeting expression that crossed Shea’s face.
“You didn’t ask a question.”
Darius straight
ened and gave her a sidelong glance. “I don’t know quite what to make of you. From what I’ve gathered from your fellow scouts, they don’t know either.”
Shea met his gaze with an impassive look of her own.
He clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Shane, last name unknown. A Lowlander. Village also unknown. You’ve got skills that are highly unusual for a Lowlander and most Trateri. Not only can you read a map, but you’re skilled in creating them as well.” Seeing little reaction, he continued, “I’ve talked with our scout trainers.” That got some reaction, though a minor one. “They’ve never heard of any Lowlander named Shane. In fact, they said no Lowlander had ever completed an apprenticeship. They were quite insulted when we suggested one had. Seems they don’t think much of your people.”
Well, crap.
Darius wasn’t done. “Now normally, at this point, it would be assumed you’re either a liar or a spy. You’re not entirely a liar because your companions tell me you’re the best scout they’ve ever worked with. You are also in possession of an exceptional amount of knowledge about beasts. If you’re a spy, you’re perhaps the worst one in history. Not only have you been turning in accurate maps for months now, but you led a scouting party to the Trateri leader and then put yourself in great danger to save him.”
Shea resisted the impulse to shift or look away. She may not have been a spy, but she was definitely a liar. They had no idea how deep her lies ran.
“Yes, you’re a total mystery,” Darius said, running his eyes over her.
That had not been her intention. Her hope had been to appear boring and ordinary so nobody would think to look closer.
“How did you know to look there?” Darius asked, a trace of steel threading through his voice.
Shea bit the inside of her lip as thoughts turned over in her head. As far as she could see, it hurt nothing to share about the conversation she’d overheard and the rest that had led to finding Fallon.
Hiding the truth or downplaying what she knew might even be seen as more suspicious.
“The maps they gave us were wrong.” Shea watched them carefully for a reaction, but whatever they felt was kept locked down. Caden’s face stayed serious and stony, but Darius was just as good at keeping his emotions locked down behind his blandly amused expression. “Routes were missing and others were mismarked as dangerous when they weren’t. I tried to talk to the master cartographer on duty about it, but he left his post before I could. When I followed him, I overheard him and two others, a man and a woman, discussing the fact he’d distributed false maps. From there, it was just a bunch of little things that added up considering the situation.”
