Pathfinder's Way (16 page)

“Did she have any companions with her?”
Fallon asked.

“Yes. There were six men with her.”

“Bring them to me.”

“Should I give orders they be taken to your
tent?”

“No, bring them here,” Fallon said. “Several
of the clan heads have been making interesting moves as of late,
and I can’t be sure of their loyalty. I don’t want any information
I learn to be broadcast to potential enemies.”

Darius inclined his head and left to give his
men orders that the prisoners from Goodwin of Ria were to be
brought to his tent immediately.

Fallon stared at the spot where Shea should
have been and shook his head again. To be bested a second time by
this mere slip of a woman. She would have much to answer for when
he finally caught her. And catch her he would. He’d never failed in
any of the challenges set before him, and he wasn’t about to start
now.

His eyes glittered in the torchlight. He was
looking forward to this. Almost as much as he was looking forward
to conquering the rest of the Lowlands.

Witt sawed through the last of Dane’s bonds,
thanking every deity he knew that the knife Shea had slipped him
that first night had gone undiscovered. They’d concentrated on
searching his hands and back because of the hug she’d given him.
They hadn’t noticed the pat on the knee right after.

Good thing for Witt the woman was a wily one.
Always thinking two steps ahead.

Dane slipped free, and Witt moved to Burke.
They’d taken Shea’s advice and waited until they reached the main
encampment before attempting an escape.

As always, she’d been right. As soon as they
made it to camp, their captors dropped them off with a new set of
guards. Ones who had no idea why their new prisoners needed to be
watched so closely.

Witt and Dane’s group were escorted to a
corral and given blankets along with a small meal. Their hands were
bound, and they were left alone with the other captives for the
night.

There were nearly fifty other men in the pen
with them. It was unlikely the guards would notice when the six men
in Witt’s group slipped away.

Paul and one of his friends had blustered
about trying to escape that first night. Dane put his foot down
when they tried to push the issue and told them if they made any
attempt to leave, he’d rat them out to their captors.

The fools had no sense. If Shea hadn’t been
so dead set on everybody making it out, he’d have left them to rot.
But if he did that, he knew she’d try to mount a rescue. Dane knew
it too. That’s why they were taking the others with them when they
left. No matter how much of a pain in the ass they turned out to
be.

It was going to be tough getting Dane to
leave without Shea. He’d had a massive crush on the girl since
Edgecomb. Witt couldn’t blame him. Shea was a looker. Only reason
half the men in the village weren’t knocking down her door was
because she intimidated the hell out of them. Her no nonsense gaze
had a way of stripping a man down to size. Witt got a kick out of
it every time she did it. She reminded him of another time. Another
girl who had that same clear gaze.

She wasn’t half bad for a pathfinder. Soft
hearted under the hard exterior, not like the rest of them.

Dane kept watch as Witt freed Paul. He’d
saved him for last because he didn’t want the man trying to run
before he cut everyone else loose.

Now freed, the six picked their way through
prone bodies and one by one crawled past the guards. Though it
wasn’t long since dark had fallen, most of the men in the pen were
already asleep. Their Trateri captors were rigid taskmasters and
worked them hard all day. By the time dinner came around most of
the men were so tired their eyes were beginning to drift shut even
before they finished their last bite. The sheer exhaustion the
Lowlanders felt made even the thought of escaping an impossible
one.

It’s why Witt and his men were making their
move tonight rather than waiting even a day longer. They were
already weary from the forced march. Before they were exhausted
further, they needed to make a break for it.

Dane led the way to the edge of the corral,
timing their movements to when the guards had their backs turned.
At the edge of the enclosure, the men laid flat, as if they were
sleeping, while Dane climbed over to scout the next portion.

Witt kept everybody else in line while he was
gone. It was necessary since Paul and his friend were the type to
get the others riled up.

Witt’s lip curled. Before the night was over,
he had a feeling he’d regret saving Paul. The boy had almost as
much sense as his father. Which was to say, none.

Dane, on the other hand, had come a long way
since that trip to Edgecomb. He’d gotten his head out of his ass
and begun paying attention to more than just the simpering village
girls. He was a good man to have on your side at times like these.
Even if their captors had taken his boomer.

“Alright,” Dane’s voice floated over the
wall. “One by one.”

Witt knelt and cupped his hands for Burke,
letting the man use his hands and shoulder as a stepping stool. One
by one the others repeated the process, climbing over the wooden
planks to the other side. As Paul rose for his turn, there was a
commotion at the front gate of the pen.

“Get down,” Witt ordered.

He grabbed Paul by the neck, forcing him face
down and following him. He lay on his stomach, keeping his face
turned towards the men approaching the pen. In this light, they
wouldn’t be able to tell if his eyes were still open.

These new Trateri carried torches and were
dressed in finer clothes than the guards. Witt thought he
recognized one of the men from their journey.

There was a heated discussion as one of the
new men pointed at the sleeping men and then gestured back at the
camp.

“We have to go,” Paul whispered urgently.

“Stay still.”

“They’ll catch us if we stay.”

“If you try to climb out of here right now,
they’ll see you.” Witt snarled. “Do you really want another
beating?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Paul spat, leaping to his
feet and making a run for the wall.

The motion attracted the new Trateri’s and
the guard’s attention. They lifted the gate and entered the pen
quickly. The sleeping men started to wake as the Trateri ran past
them.

Witt cursed loudly. He’d known Paul would
make him regret freeing him. Always good to see his predictions
come true.

Witt leapt after Paul, pulling him down and
grabbing him by the collar while shouting at Dane, “Get out of
here!”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just get out of here.”
Witt hauled Paul after him in the opposite direction of Dane,
forcing his pursuers to decide which group they wanted to
chase.

All but one decided to go after the easier
prey, Witt and Paul. The last leapt over the wall.

Witt figured Dane could take care of one man,
so turned his attention to evading capture as long as possible. It
was difficult while dragging Paul along, who cursed and fought as
they wove through men who minutes before had been sleeping.

He was too old for this shit. This was the
kind of thing the young and dumb did. Not him.

A heavy body tackled him, taking him to the
ground and pressing his face into the dirt before hauling his arms
behind him. He didn’t resist, knowing the game was up. He was
caught.

Paul wasn’t as smart and flailed at the man
trying to grab him. He got off one lucky shot to the man’s nose
before his legs were swept right out from under him. He was kicked
several times in the stomach and took a couple of blows to the face
before his captor secured Paul’s arms behind his back and tied them
off with rope.

“Your friend’s not too smart.” Witt was
lifted to his feet and made to walk before his captor.

“Nope.”

“You, on the other hand,” the man trailed off
as he looked in the direction of the wall.

Witt heaved a sigh. Right now he didn’t feel
very smart.

“We’ll catch them before long.”

Witt shrugged. “Maybe.”

Paul gurgled blood as he was hauled back to
his feet and shoved forward.

“Where are you taking us?”

Witt didn’t think he would actually get a
reply and almost wished he hadn’t given the answer.

“Hawkvale wants to see you.”

Yup. He’d had a feeling that was the
case.

His guards pushed the two captives to their
knees before Fallon. The younger man’s face was a mass of bruises
that were already beginning to swell. His lip had been busted open
a few times. Blood and snot trailed down his chin to stain his
shirt.

The other man was older, with a face made
leathery from the elements and a hardened look in his eyes. He had
a light bruise on one cheek but otherwise was unharmed.

He didn’t look afraid. He looked slightly
annoyed as if he had better things to do and wanted this over
with.

Fallon was grimly amused at this. Man had
balls. He’d give him that.

“Where are the other four?” Darius asked.
“And I thought I told you I wanted them unharmed.”

His man shrugged. “They were trying to run.
This one resisted; we showed him that was a mistake. We were able
to capture these two, but the others escaped. We’ve got men
searching for them now.”

“What is it with these people?” Darius asked,
pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re nearly as bad as she
is.”

“I know you,” Fallon said, watching Witt
intently.

Witt stared back impassively.

“You were there in Edgecomb.” Fallon tilted
his head. “With Shea and one other.”

The slightly labored breathing of the beaten
man was the only response. Darius jerked his head at the guard.

The man slapped the back of Witt’s head.
“Answer.”

The other guard kneed Paul in the back

“I don’t know anything,” Paul whined. He
hunched in on himself and held his arms up over his head,
protecting it.

Witt didn’t respond. Even his expression
remained pleasantly bored. Fallon observed the man. Assessing him,
weighing weaknesses. Not much seemed to scare the man. He had the
look of someone who had it all and wasn’t impressed by much. It
would take a lot to get him to spill his secrets.

“You friend has escaped,” Fallon told
them.

Witt closed his eyes briefly, his body
sagging minutely with relief. He tensed up almost as soon as he
relaxed.

Fallon’s attention sharpened on the small
movement. Ah, the older man felt something for her. Loyalty,
perhaps?

The younger man with the swollen face
sputtered as he fought to rise.

“Shut it, Paul.” Witt’s eyes were flinty as
they locked on Fallon.

Fallon’s gaze went between the two. The older
man was stubborn. The way he locked his jaw said he wasn’t going to
give up any information easily. The younger man, on the other hand,
would share every scrap of information he had and some he didn’t if
it meant he wouldn’t be hurt.

This Paul would talk.

Fallon sat back and rubbed his chin with one
hand.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for
that lazy slut,” Paul snapped back.

Witt’s body locked tight, but he refused to
look over at Paul.

“You heard them. They all know her. Let’s
just tell them what they want to know.”

“Not another word.”

“What do you want to know? If we tell you,
will you let us go?” Paul asked Fallon desperately, lisping
slightly as he spoke through a swelling lip.

Fallon could have been chiseled from stone,
for all the movement he made. “Who is she?”

“Shea, her name’s Shea.” Paul made a movement
forward but a harsh hand at his shoulder jerked him back. When
nobody spoke, he figured they wanted more. “She’s our village’s
pathfinder.”

There was sudden interest from all of the men
surrounding them.

“Explain this term.”

“Hold your tongue,” Witt hissed.

“What do I care for her?” Paul said. “She
left us here to die.”

“This isn’t just about her,” Witt warned. “Be
silent.”

“A pathfinder is a village’s link to the
outside world.”

Paul’s words were almost drowned out by
Witt’s roar.

Fallon nodded at the guard, and a blade was
held to Witt’s throat as a warning.

At the touch of cold steel, Witt went
still.

“A person who has passed the test can act as
a pathfinder to other villagers or escort expeditions into the
wilds. They’re able to navigate the mist that creeps across the
lands. Our elders say they guard the knowledge lost during the last
cataclysm.”

Darius and Fallon shared a look.

The inability to circumvent cliffs and
intermittent mist at the Highland borders were the biggest reasons
they hadn’t invaded the Highlands yet. If this woman could do what
they said, she had a talent worth seeking out even if Fallon hadn’t
already been interested in her for other reasons.

This other issue about the cataclysm would
need to be explored more in depth. Both men had noticed that some
of the villages held weapons they’d never encountered before
invading this land. Fallon’s people had no weapons that could kill
over that distance with the same accuracy and efficiency.

If the Lowlanders had had the weapon in
greater numbers, they would have been able to hold their land
against any invader.

Fallon had already given orders to have any
of these so called “boomers” confiscated and brought back. If these
Highlanders really knew where to find more, he could only imagine
what he could do with such a useful tool.

“I thought finding your way once the mist had
fallen was impossible. How are they able to guide people through
it?” Fallon queried.

Paul’s face took on a truculent look and he
said, “They have some special technique they refuse to share. You
have to pass several tests before they reveal their methods. It’s
probably just a way to keep us dependent.”