Pathfinder's Way

by T. A. White

  The time between breaks wasn’t long enough for an elite unit. No, they were waiting for her to fall behind so they could stop and then set off as soon as she caught up, leaving her no time to rest or eat. They’d probably picked the pony just for this reason. Their own personal brand of hazing.

  Inwardly, Shea smiled. She wondered if this was Fallon’s plan or his men’s. In the end, it didn’t really matter. They miscalculated if they hoped to make her miserable. She enjoyed riding alone as it spared her from having to make conversation with Fallon or his men, though she loathed being the one dragging everyone down.

  “Where are you going?” a man questioned as she rode past.

  “Thought I’d get a head start. I’m sure you’ll catch up.”

  He snorted and let her pass without a challenge.

  Shea felt a tingling between her shoulder blades but resisted the urge to turn, knowing who it was drilling a hole in her back.

  A half hour hadn’t even passed before Fallon rode past with his men hard on his heels. They flanked her briefly before she was once again left alone with her thoughts.

  That set the tone for the rest of the day, though Fallon no longer let her pass them, instead having them mounted and moving out as soon as she came into sight.

  She was exhausted that evening when she finally lifted her leg over the pommel and slid to the ground. Even that wasn’t to be the end, as she had to feed, water and then hobble her horse with the others.

  Finished settling the beast for the night, she gave its neck an affectionate pat. They’d come to an understanding of sorts during the course of the day. She wouldn’t try to make it go any faster than a moderate trot, and the pony wouldn’t come to a complete stop and refuse to take another step. Not quite the relationship Shea usually had with her mounts, but she’d take it.

  Sleeping pallets littered the small campsite. As was usual for fast journeys such as theirs, the Trateri hadn’t set up a shelter that would need to be torn down in case of a quick exit.

  Fallon’s bags sat abandoned near the hobbled horses. Shea picked up on the unspoken order, shouldering them and heading for a spot near the middle of the proceedings, intending to set his pallet up where he’d be surrounded by his men.

  “Fallon prefers to be on the edge,” a man spoke over her shoulder as she unrolled his blankets.

  He pointed in the direction he meant. Shea gave him a quick nod and gathered both packs and the half unrolled blankets, before making her way to a little spot just far enough from the fire that its light wouldn’t bother him as he slept. She chose a site at the base of a tree with bark the color of ash and branches that bent gracefully under the weight of its leaves. After placing his pack at the head of the nest she created, she grabbed hers and stood.

  Now, where should she set up hers?

  Immediately, she discarded anywhere inside the circle of Trateri. Like Fallon, Shea preferred to be on the edge of things.

  She found her ideal sleeping area on the opposite side of the campsite from Fallon’s. No one had bedded down within ten feet of her, leaving a nice little bubble of privacy. Just the way she liked it.

  “You might as well pick those up and carry them back to where you set me up,” Fallon said from behind her.

  Shea paused in the act of rolling out her blankets. “I prefer this spot,” she told him politely, determined not to let any action of his fluster her.

  “And I prefer you next to me.”

  There were several responses she could make to that statement. None of them polite.

  “We don’t always get what we want,” she said.

  She was tired. Muscles she hadn’t been aware of in years ached. Her lower back was one giant throb, and her ass hurt something dreadful. All she wanted to do was roll into her blankets and sleep.

  “Indeed. You don’t.”

  Well, she should have seen that coming.

  “I’m not moving,” she told him flatly. “You have nearly a hundred men. I doubt I’ll be able to sneak off without at least one of them noticing, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  It was not quite the diplomatic, non-confrontational reply she had composed in her head, but it had been a long day and a headache was beginning to nag at the base of her neck.

  “I’m done with this conversation.”

  That was good. She was too.

  Shea turned back to what she was doing.

  Suddenly, she was up in the air, blankets and all, before finding herself lying belly down over Fallon’s shoulder. She let out a sound disturbingly close to a squawk.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, struggling to right herself.

  There was a sharp crack and then a stinging in her ass cheeks. A series of catcalls and whistles sent Shea’s face up in flames.

  “I told you I was done with the conversation.”

  “I cannot believe you just did that,” she muttered at his back.

  “You sleep next to me.”

  He set her on her feet next to his sleeping pallet and walked away, his message clear. If she persisted in being stubborn and tried to set up somewhere else, he would escort her right back here, even if he had to manhandle her to do it.

  She threw her stuff down, glaring at his retreating back.

  Stupid, stubborn man.

  Even if an aide normally stuck close to his master, Shea wasn’t doing that. Especially since both of them knew it was a bullshit title, made to keep her in his vicinity. He no more needed an aide than she needed an extra head. He hadn’t even had her perform any of an aide’s normal tasks.

  Fine, if that’s the way he wanted it. No one said what time she had to go to bed. She’d just take a nice walk, maybe catch a nap while she was out. As long as she was back before they took off in the morning, he couldn’t accuse her of running off.

  She stalked away, heading into the woods.

  Her feet whispered through dead foliage as she made her way silently. She’d chosen to head into the deep forest, following a nearly nonexistent game trail. Coming to a steep hill, Shea veered off the path, picking her way past boulders and up a steep slope until she stood on the ridge.

  Behind her lay the valley Fallon and his men camped in, while in front of her was a panorama of jagged hills and shadowed hollows. And trees. Lots and lots of trees.

  She walked along the ridge line, careful of where she put her feet, not wanting to misstep and roll down the hill. It required all of her concentration and soon the frustration and anger from her encounter with Fallon drained away as the peace and serenity of her surroundings soothed her soul.

  She missed the wide open expanses of her Highlands something fierce, where the only thing that shielded her view were steep mountains so tall they touched the stars. The heather and wild flowers in spring that turned an austere landscape into a thing of beauty. The enduring glory of the terrain that had existed for thousands of years and would continue doing so for thousands more.

  After a day of constant riding, her legs and back welcomed the movement, though they began protesting before long. Noting an interesting formation of boulders in the distance that would give her an excellent vantage point over the valley and surrounding area, she pushed on with a goal in mind.

  Finally she stood at the top of a rocky ledge jutting out from the side of the ridge, allowing her to walk out and sit on its edge, her feet dangling over the side. The sun was a giant orange ball as it set over the valley. In an hour, maybe two, it would be hidden from sight behind the mountains and the entire valley would be cast into shadow until true night fell.

  Shea would have to head for lower ground before then or be stuck up here for the night. The path she had taken to her perch was too uncertain to attempt in the dark. For now though, she enjoyed the last of the day’s light and breathed deep as she basked in the calm of the world around her.

  Shea shut her eyes to listen harder. Something didn’t belong. A sound, so faint and discordant from the normal sounds of animals, wind or trees,
that she would have discounted it if she’d had less experience. Shea couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was about the sound that seemed off. All the dips in the hills made sound travel and rebound.

  Shea tilted her head.

  There.

  Voices coming from not too far away.

  Crap. Had Fallon sent men after her?

  No. The voices were coming from the wrong direction. Furthermore, she thought she heard horses as well. No way could his men have gotten the horses up the path she’d taken.

  Shea moved away from the ledge, keeping low. Since she didn’t know who these people were, it was best to approach the situation with caution. They might just be traders traveling from one town to the next. They could be Lowlanders out hunting. Or they could be decidedly less friendly. Staying hidden afforded her better protection than the sharpest blade and best weapons training ever could. You couldn’t harm what you didn’t know was there. She could always reveal herself later. Or not.

  The noise sounded like it was heading directly towards her. Shea moved further away from the ledge, finding a little hollow between two of the rocks and tucking herself inside it.

  Then she waited.

  “Do you really think her plan will work?” a man asked plaintively.

  “Of course, it will. The lady hasn’t been wrong once.”

  Their voices were slightly muffled but perfectly understandable. Shea resisted the urge to stick her head out for a glimpse of the speakers. Hearing their conversation was more than enough. There was no need to risk discovery. Especially since they were making no attempt to be furtive.

  “She did say she was forming a union with Fallon,” the first man pointed out. “That never happened, and she never made good on her promise to elevate our clan’s status.”

  Fallon? What did these two have to do with him?

  “You know he led her on, making promises until she allied with him and then breaking every single one. The man’s an oath breaker.”

  “It doesn’t feel right, though? What we’re doing. This is dirty business. If she wanted him out of power, she should challenge him, face to face, as is our way.”

  “And be killed? Where would our clan be then? You know he’s never lost a challenge.”

  There was a pause. Then the first man declared, “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to like it,” the second man scoffed. “Just do what you’re told.”

  Another silence followed, broken only by the sounds of the two moving around. It sounded like they were on the outcropping Shea had rested on earlier.

  “Where is he anyway?” the first man burst out. “We’ve been looking for him and his men for hours.”

  “Oh for the love of all that is holy, will you quit whining?”

  “He may not even be out here. How do we even know the intel is good?”

  “He’s out here.” Shea could hear the struggle for patience in the second man’s voice. “The lady herself came this time. The information’s from a very reliable source.”

  The two lapsed back into silence.

  After what felt like an eternity of waiting, but was no doubt minutes, the second man said, “Let’s go. I don’t think we’ll be able to take the horses any further, and we can’t see anything here. Too many trees in the way. We’ll head back and see if any of the others have pinpointed their location.”

  There was a murmured assent and then the sounds of movement heading away. Shea waited several minutes after the last sound had faded before peeking out of her hiding spot. Seeing no one, she stepped out.

  That was a very interesting conversation. One that could have ramifications for her.

  From what she could tell, the two men were part of an ambush party led by a mysterious woman. A woman, Shea strongly suspected was the same woman she had overheard the cartographer talking to right before Shea rescued Fallon.

  This would make the second attempt on Fallon’s life that Shea knew of. If she was a betting woman, she’d say her first encounter with Fallon in the village of Edgecomb had been another. Three attempts on one man’s life. An important man with an army at his back controlled only by his iron fist.

  She knew that despite Fallon’s brutal tactics in conquering the Lowlands, things could be much worse for the people here. She shuddered to think what his army would do should he be murdered.

  The traitors in his own camp would likely cast doubt on the Lowlanders in the area to distract his men from finding the real murderers.

  The Lowlands would run red with rivers of blood as the Trateri avenged their fallen leader. Someone they counted as a hero who would lead them into a golden era. At the end of it all, the traitors would probably have exactly what they wanted, control of the Trateri and all the Lowlands but without the vision Fallon brought to his conquest.

  Or, conversely, it could cast the Trateri back into turmoil with each clan battling with the next. And the Lowlanders with a front row seat to it all.

  Either scenario didn’t end well for the Lowlanders.

  But.

  This could also be a golden opportunity for Shea.

  On one hand, Fallon’s men were well trained, elite fighters. Shea had never seen them fight, but from what she’d seen of Fallon and his skills, she had no doubt they were lethal men.

  With the element of surprise and an attack at precisely the right time from an overwhelming force, even an elite group could fall.

  Shea could go home. With Fallon dead, there would be no one to exercise the penalty on Eamon, Buck and the others.

  Home.

  Back to Birdon Leaf. The people who had sent her on a mission knowing that she and the others would be sold into Trateri hands. People who, in the entire time she resided in their village, had not made one attempt to get to know her, show her any respect or extend even an ounce of compassion.

  Of course, she didn’t have to return to Birdon Leaf. Given the village’s crimes, Shea was sure the guild would station her elsewhere.

  She missed her Highlands.

  But.

  If she left, Fallon would die. That vexing, frustrating, man with the godlike body and a razor sharp mind would cease to exist in this world.

  Shea hurt, her heart actually hurt, at the thought of never matching wits with him again. At never verbally sparring with him.

  For the first time in almost longer than she could remember, Shea felt like she was a part of something. She had friends here. People she trusted. She would not, could not abandon them for a people she felt no kinship for and furthermore did not trust to have at her back.

  Going home would feed a need in her. Yes. But the sad truth was that the home she wanted no longer existed. All that was left for her back there was heartbreak and disappointment.

  If it had been otherwise, she would have taken one of the countless opportunities she had to escape. They had been there, over and over again, but she always found some reason to stay a little bit longer.

  Feeling her decision settle around her, Shea smiled. It was bittersweet. Full of loss and hope. One path had closed to her. It had been gone a long time. She had just been too stubborn to see it. There would be no winning redemption. No rejoining the fold.

  She missed her Highlands. Yes. But she knew better than anybody, home wasn’t a place; it’s a state of mind. It’s the people you’re with. And for her, those people were all here.

  Perhaps, if she had truly believed that Fallon’s death would have been the better option for the Lowlands, she might have taken this easy way. But the cork was out. The Trateri wouldn’t stop coming, even with Fallon gone. She’d rather he shape what this land could be than allow others to pervert it.

  Shea headed along the ridge, careful to keep her silhouette small to limit the potential of someone seeing her. At the first opportunity, she slid down the hill, moving as quietly as she could as she made her way back to camp.

  Night was coming fast now. The sun had sunk behind the mountains, leaving only dim shadows behind
.

  Shea snuck past the two men they had left on lookout. She hadn’t been gone long and hoped they hadn’t noticed her absence. It was a faint hope, but she didn’t want to start this off with a confrontation between herself and Fallon. She needed him to believe her and the chances of that happening dwindled if he was already furious.

  She had just stepped into camp when a dark form hurtled at her from the side, tackling her and sending her face down into the dirt. Rough hands yanked her arms behind her back, tying them with a rope.

  The man dragged her to her feet and marched her to a trio engaged in an intense conversation. Fallon was one of those men. He looked furious.

  Perhaps it had been foolish to think he might dismiss her disappearance and attribute it to the call of nature. She had a feeling the next few minutes were going to be rough.

  Eamon’s advice from their first mission echoed through her mind. She really hoped this wouldn’t be the scenario he’d warned her against. She needed these men to trust her.

  “Fallon,” Caden said. “Your little mouse has returned.”

  The men broke off their conversation to fix her with varying degrees of threatening stares. None looked particularly relieved to see her. If anything they seemed even angrier.

  “Hello,” Shea said weakly.

  Fallon stepped forward, looming over her. He brushed her hair away from her face and then rubbed his thumb lightly at a spot of dirt on her cheek.

  Dropping his hand, he said calmly, “Where have you been?”

  “I thought I’d take a walk.”

  It was the truth. Such as it was.

  “A walk.”

  “Yes, a walk.”

  “And why did you feel you needed to take a walk?” his voice never once varied from its eerie calm.

  Shea felt more anxiety from that calm tone than she would have if he’d just started yelling.

  “Well.” She stopped. How could she put this in a way that would make her actions seem perfectly reasonable? “I was angry.”

  “You were angry?” The first sign of emotion began to show on his face.