by T. A. White
“I was in it alone.”
Shea couldn’t help feeling a grudging smidgeon of respect. Not much. Just a hint really.
Caden heaved a sigh and stood. Fallon joined him.
“Shea, come here,” Fallon ordered.
Shea didn’t care for being called to heel but obeyed. She didn’t know how he would react to any resistance in his current frame of mind.
Fallon’s hands lightly skated over the bandage on her arm and leg before one came to light softly on her neck. A thumb lightly caressed the skin there, sending a shiver racing down her back.
Speaking to Indra without taking his eyes from Shea’s face, he said, “You hurt the one most precious to me. Do not imagine for a moment that I retain even an ounce of mercy for you.”
“Your precious one,” Indra nearly spat out the last two words, “is nothing more than a mongrel’s leavings. She is not fit for even the lowliest of our people. I only wish I had finished her when I had the chance.”
“But you couldn’t,” Shea snapped. “You weren’t good enough. This lowly mongrel beat you. I won. You lost.”
Fallon’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile as his hands dropped from Shea. “This woman is going to rule at my side as I conquer these lands and lead my people into a golden age of prosperity. Our children will rule long after we have left this world and their children after them.”
Shit. He really did plan on children.
No, she hadn’t agreed to that yet.
“They will do this never having heard of you or the Snake Clan. In my future, there are only six clans. I am going to wipe every person who ever claimed kinship with the snake from this world. You have a child among the snake, if I remember correctly.”
“No,” Indra moaned, her mask of calm superiority crumbling. “You can’t. He’s just a babe. He has nothing to do with this.”
Shea felt a stirring of unease.
“Fallon-,”
Caden grabbed her and rasped, “Hush. Trust him.”
“I can and I will. You know me well enough to know I never say anything I don’t mean. Give us a name, and I will merely disband your clan. Those who were ignorant of this plot will be allowed to petition the other clans for entry. This is the best offer you will get.”
“No other clan will take someone from a clan tainted with this,” she said bitterly. “You will doom my son to grow up clanless.”
“At least he will grow up,” Fallon said fiercely. “Now, a name. I will not ask again.”
Indra sobbed. Snot ran down her face as her skin turned red and blotchy. “Please!”
“You brought this on yourself,” Caden said. “You knew the consequences if you failed. You’ve even enacted them on failed challengers yourself.”
When she didn’t answer, Fallon made a sound of frustration and stood.
“Cale. It was Cale,” she cried as he turned his back. As if released from a dam, her words poured out. “It was his idea to alter the maps given to the scouts. He said the more men you lost, the lower the morale. He was the one who had your maps exchanged for an older set and marked the route next to the spidren nest as safe. It was all him.”
Fallon bent his head and rubbed his forehead. The curve of his neck spoke of sorrow.
Caden looked sour but unsurprised. Neither man looked shocked, more like resigned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Indra suddenly said. “You may have won this battle, but we’ve finally managed to decipher the Highlander’s maps. When I don’t return, Cale will take them and head north. Once he gets his hands on those weapons, it won’t matter how great your army is.” Sobbing nearly hysterically now, Indra collapsed, sinking facedown into the ground.
What? Shea started for the woman. She needed to know details. Had they deciphered all of it? Or just parts?
Fallon nodded once, sharply to his men.
The one on the left drew his sword and swung down on her neck, cutting Indra off in mid sob. The air came alive with the sharp zing of metal clearing scabbard and then the aborted quick cries of men before they died.
It was over almost before it had begun. At the end, every conspirator lay dead in a pool of their own blood.
“You ride with me,” Fallon ordered, grabbing hold of her good arm and hustling her towards the horses. “Caden, prepare the men to ride. We need to get back to Darius. Shea, how accurate are those maps?”
“They’re dead.”
“Yes.”
“You killed them.”
“Yes.”
“You killed them all.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Shea couldn’t help the question spilling from her mouth.
She understood death and violence. She couldn’t get away from it as a pathfinder. Both existed out in the remote wilds. It was a dangerous world, one where death shadowed your footsteps, waiting for you to make that one mistake that would destroy everything.
This, she did not understand. Not this wholesale slaughter.
“They betrayed me. There was no way they were leaving this place alive.”
That was not an answer.
“I don’t-“
“Shea.” He hauled her around to face him. “We are not Lowlanders. We rarely exile our people. We have no jails. This is the only way to do things. I could not leave them alive to try again, nor could I let them go to unite with my other enemies. It was quick and merciful. Previous warlords have been known to drag it on for days. I would have preferred not to have killed all these men or the ones I’m preparing to end, but that’s the world we live in. I will do anything to safeguard you and the future I’m building, even stain my hands with blood. Do you understand?”
Shea searched his eyes, struck by the feeling that if she gave the wrong answer this would be the end of them.
“No,” she said. Steeling herself against the disappointment in his eyes, she continued, “I will never understand bloodshed of this scale. I abhor it with every fiber of my being.” He started to turn from her, and she grabbed the front of his shirt. “No, I don’t understand, but I don’t have to. I will not agree with it; I can’t. It goes against the very bedrock of my being, but I will trust you. And I will not judge you. Though, I had questions she could have answered.”
Relief, an expression she never thought to pair with him, dawned behind his whiskey colored eyes, and he touched her hands lightly.
“As to the maps, it depends on which part of the cipher they broke. There are several. Also, if the mist still covers the cliffs, those maps will be useless. They’ll never be able to get through it. Probably. It’d be best if we could stop them from attempting it, though.”
“It’s agreed then,” he said.
Shea let go, smoothing the fabric back into place as she did. “Well. That part is. The rest is still up in the air.”
“It’s agreed,” he reiterated.
To his back, she muttered, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Chapter Twenty Four
The trip back to the encampment went much faster with Shea riding passenger with Fallon. The group took only one short break to rest and water the horses, then they were off again, riding as fast as the uneven terrain would allow.
It came as no surprise when they rode into camp hours earlier than the trip out had taken. There was no pony to slow them down, nor did they have to wait for the enemy to take the bait.
The camp was much the same as they left it, though there were signs here and there of the impending movement. Many of the sleeping tents had been disbanded and not one fire was lit.
Their pace didn’t pause as they rode through the tent city. People dove out of their way to avoid being trampled. Fallon and his men had a single-minded purpose, and they were going to let nothing or no one stand in their way.
The man was damn near unstoppable once he put his mind to a task.
It didn’t take long to make their way to a trio of tents located right on the border of the area allotted to Lion Clan and Snake Clan. Fallon�
��s men fanned out, encircling the tents. As one they drew their blades. The circle constricted. Nobody would escape.
They had drawn a large audience.
Shea sat behind Fallon, peering over his shoulder. He had placed his horse directly in front of the center tent’s entrance and now waited quietly. His sword sheathed.
“Cale of the Lion Clan, half-brother to Fallon of Hawkvale, come out and meet your end with honor.” From his position to Fallon’s right, Caden projected his voice so that everyone could hear.
A commotion at the end of the lane drew Shea’s attention. A line of horses rode toward them, Darius at their lead.
The new additions reinforced Fallon’s men, creating a second ring behind them. Darius rode to join Fallon, Caden and Shea.
“I see your trip was successful,” Darius observed dryly.
Fallon grunted, not taking his eyes from the tent.
“In more ways than one,” Darius continued, his gaze falling on where Shea sat behind Fallon.
Shea rolled her eyes.
The group turned their attention back to the tents. No one was forthcoming. With a hundred of the fiercest warriors she had ever seen, Shea didn’t blame them.
They waited.
Shea was beginning to think they would wait until the end of time.
“I was hoping he’d end this with a little dignity,” Fallon said softly.
“That’s just not who he is. He always did have to be as difficult as possible,” Darius responded, sympathy in his tone.
Fallon sighed.
“Go get them,” he ordered Caden.
Caden nodded and then signaled several of his men.
They dismounted then broke into groups as they headed into the three tents. Almost immediately, shouts and the sounds of struggle came. Fallon’s men emerged, first from the smaller two tents, shoving their captives, looking the worse for wear with red and swollen faces and various wounds on their bodies, in front of them.
After another long drawn out moment, men emerged from the largest tent. Cale was the first to exit, followed by Paul and one other. Fallon’s men brought up the rear.
Unlike the men from the other two tents, these men sported no evidence of a struggle. Each was unharmed.
Cale walked to stand before Fallon’s horse, looking up at his half-brother with a self-absorbed insolence. From the anger on the faces of Fallon’s men, it was clear they did not appreciate his sneer.
Darius and Caden were as composed as if they were out for an afternoon ride.
“What insult is this, brother?” Cale asked, gesturing to where his men were held at sword point.
“Indra confessed everything. You and any who supported your plans will face the Warlord’s Judgment,” Fallon said, his voice a quiet rumble.
“This is ridiculous,” Cale scoffed. “I’m your brother. She was obviously stirring up trouble and hoping to turn you from your allies. She lied, brother.”
Shea leaned forward and said softly so only Fallon could hear, “I recognize his voice. He was the third man plotting with the cartographer.”
He could do what he willed with that information.
“No, she didn’t, Cale. You’ve coveted my position and rank for a long time. We know it was you.”
Seeing he wasn’t going to be able to weasel out of the charges with claims of brotherly affection, Cale switched tactics. “You have no proof. Just the word of that Lowland slattern behind you and that of a traitorous clan leader.”
Shea was not and never had been a Lowlander or a woman of loose moral fiber.
“You forget, boy. The Hawkvale needs only his own council for proof,” Caden said.
“We never said Shea brought evidence against you,” Darius observed.
Cale blustered, “Well, who else would seek to turn my brother against me. She is trying to destabilize us so her people can rise against the Trateri.”
When Fallon said nothing in response, Shea drew back. He didn’t believe his brother’s words, did he? She had done nothing of the sort. She hadn’t even been the one who fingered him originally. That had been all Indra.
Shea put as much distance between the two of them and prepared to jump down if it became necessary.
“My lord,” one of Fallon’s men stepped forward holding rolled up paper. “We found this in his quarters.”
Fallon reached down and took the paper tube from him and unrolled it. Curious, Shea peered over his shoulder and then bared her teeth.
It was one of her maps or at least a replication of her map. By the markings, it looked like they had indeed broken one of the ciphers. Now that she saw Paul was with them, she even knew how they had done it.
“So, what did Paul promise you?” Shea asked, running one finger down the map in Fallon’s hands. “Did he say he would take you to his village and give you their weapons? Too bad they only have one boomer in the entire place, and that was taken as part of the tithe when my party was handed over to Darius. That wouldn’t be near enough fire power to sufficiently arm your soldiers to gain an advantage.”
Paul would have used his knowledge of landmarks on their route down to Goodwin of Ria to give Cale’s people a starting point on the cipher. It wouldn’t have gotten them all the way back to Birdon Leaf, but it would have gotten them above the cliffs at the very least.
“Brother, she’s lying,” Cale said desperately.
His time had run out, and his words held no weight. He could see that in Fallon’s impassive regard not a single hint of brotherly affection leaked through.
“Please,” Cale tried again.
“Cale of the Lion Clan, I no longer claim any ties with you. You are to be excised from the clans and given my judgment. Your men will follow your fate and any other supporters of the traitors Indra of the Snake Clan or my former brother Cale will be put to death.” Fallon’s voice rumbled through the clearing so all nearby could hear the pronouncement.
He nodded at Caden, who lifted his hand and lowered it. The two men flanking Cale grabbed him, holding him firm and forcing him to watch as Fallon’s men slew the other men they had rousted from the tents.
“Shea, wait. You can’t let them do this,” Paul desperately pleaded as he backed away.
Shea forced herself to watch as Paul’s begging abruptly ended with a sword thrust to the stomach.
“Goodbye, Paul,” she said softly.
It was over as quickly as the executions of Indra and her men. In the end, Cale was the only one left standing.
Fallon turned his horse and gestured for the men holding Cale to march in front of him. They forced Cale to move, with him pleading and screaming the entire time. Fallon and the rest of his men followed the slow procession out of camp to the top of one of the nearby rolling hills.
As they crested it, Shea saw a crowd waiting for them. All of the clan leaders were present, watching grimly as Cale was led towards them.
Brightly colored rugs covered the grass. Cale was forced onto them while the two men escorting him bound his hands behind his back and then did the same with his feet.
Cale’s pleas had fallen silent and his ragged breathing was the only sound.
The men laid him flat and then rolled him up in two of the rugs. They wrapped several lengths of rope around the struggling form and stepped back once he was properly secured.
Shea couldn’t figure out what they intended or why Cale hadn’t been killed back at the tents.
Seeing her confusion, Darius spoke quietly, “Since Cale is a member of the warlord’s family and the same blood runs in his veins, it would be considered treason to spill it with steel. Instead, they roll him in rugs to protect his skin. They’ll pile rocks on top of him until he suffocates or is crushed. This way the sanctity of the blood is protected but those he put in harm’s way will be avenged.”
Shea watched as they began piling large stones on the form. Two men worked in tandem to complete their work.
“It is a brutal and long way to go,” Darius said almos
t as an afterthought. “I think I’d prefer to meet my end by the sword instead.”
“I second that,” Caden said.
Shea’s gaze went to the back of Fallon’s head. She could tell nothing about his emotional state from here. Was he glad to be rid of the traitor? Did he mourn for his brother? Did he feel nothing?
She touched his back lightly. There was a barely perceptible flinch. Invisible to any of the onlookers.
Grief then.
It couldn’t be easy to know your own flesh and blood had taken part in repeated attempts on your life. Having to watch as someone you grew up with be slowly crushed and suffocated must be agonizing.
Shea slowly slid her arms around his waist, ready to withdraw if he indicated she wasn’t welcome. When he didn’t move to reject her, she hugged him and slid forward pressing her front to his back and then laid her cheek against his shoulder, offering comfort in the only way she could in this moment.
So gently, she could almost believe she imagined it, he touched the top of her hand in a brief caress before lacing his fingers with hers.
Together they waited as the body struggled less and less until it finally went still. The men continued to stack the rocks until long after all movement had stopped.
“That should be enough,” Fallon said.
The men nodded and began to reverse the process, removing the stones one at a time. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they uncovered the rug and cut the rope off before unwrapping it. The body rolled out, its limbs flopping as if boneless.
Shea knew even before they checked the pulse Cale had drawn his last breath.
“He’s dead, my lord.”
Fallon nodded. “Bury him in the rug. He is no longer Trateri and will not be released from this world in our way.”
The same two men gave him respectful nods and reached for the shovels lying next to the rugs.
One by one the onlookers drifted back down the hill, leaving only Fallon, his two friends and Shea behind to watch.
“Caden can give you a ride back to our tent,” Fallon told her.
