Pathfinder's Way (2 page)

The building was the primary reason the
founding families decided to settle here and was the village’s one
claim to wealth. The rest of the village, small though it was, had
sprung up around it as a result.

For a place as backwards and isolated as
Birdon Leaf, the town hall was a majestic building they couldn’t
hope to replicate. Even without the skills to maintain it, they
were lucky. Some of the larger towns didn’t have a structure this
versatile that could act as both gathering place and shelter from
danger.

Shea reached the doors and paused to brush
the dirt from the back of her trousers and make sure her thin shirt
was tucked in and her dark brown, leather jacket was lying
straight.

She smoothed a stray strand of honey brown
hair behind her ear and ran her hand over her sloppy bun to make
sure it was holding. Loose, her hair would reach past her shoulders
in a wild mess. That’s why she tied it back for the most part, but
no matter how many times she tried to tame it into a sleek bun, it
would look like a bird’s nest by the time she walked five feet.

It was difficult to project confidence and
professionalism when she wasn’t even the master of her own
appearance.

Giving up the attempt to fix her appearance
as futile, she braced her feet to open the painfully, heavy wooden
door. It was a struggle to move it with just one arm, but she
couldn’t afford to show the villagers weakness, or she would lose
what little respect she had.

A slow creak announced its opening. She
slipped through when there was just enough space before letting the
door bang shut behind her.

Despite the bright day outside, it was dim in
the town hall. The narrow windows let in little light. Candles
flickered with merry abandonment from their place on tables and in
bracers.

Wooden benches were stacked around the edges
of the space. During meetings they were broken out so the villagers
could have a place to sit while they jaw jacked. Today, several
tables dotted the area. When the hall wasn’t used for meetings,
village members used it as a place to meet and drink.

A group of five huddled around one table,
their voices a low rumble in the large room. The middle-aged man
with his back to Shea was Zrakovi, the village leader. He lifted a
mug and drank, tilting back a head of dark hair turning silver at
the temples. Shea came to a stop behind him, waiting for her
presence to be acknowledged.

Another man looked up and nudged the man next
to him. One by one the others shot glances to where Shea waited
patiently.

Zrakovi turned his head slightly.
“Pathfinder.”

“Elder Zrakovi.” Shea inclined her head
respectfully.

“I have a job for you.”

“I just got back from an assignment.”
Technically, she was supposed to get five days off between jobs to
prevent fatigue and to give her time to plan the next route.

That almost never happened.

“Well, you’re needed for this,” he said
sharply.

“Oh?”

“Watch your tone, girl,” a man with reddish
blond hair and blunt features said.

Shea fought against sighing and held herself
still. Expressing frustration would only prolong the encounter.

Silence filled the room as she waited for the
elder to get to the point.

“My son.” He stopped and cleared his throat,
shifting so he could look at her. “James and one other were
supposed to return this morning from a run. I need you to find him
and make sure they’re alright.”

Shea crossed her arms in front of her. “If I
recall correctly, they were heading for the north reaches to gather
lumpyrite for trade. That area should be safe. The beasts avoid it
because of the mineral’s smell. They probably just got delayed. If
they’re not back by nightfall, I’ll head out to look for them
tomorrow morning.”

Shea had turned to go when Elder Zrakovi’s
voice pulled her back. “They didn’t go to the north reaches.”

She stopped dead. Of course they hadn’t.

The villagers were supposed to check with her
when they left the village so she could make sure the areas they
traveled were safe. She dropped her head slightly while she
schooled her expression back to neutrality. Only when her face
showed a placid blankness did she face the men.

“Where did they go?”

“Below the Bearan Fault,” Zrakovi said
gruffly.

“You mean the Lowlands,” Shea said, each word
pronounced very precisely.

More than one man found themselves avoiding
her eyes.

She shook her head slightly. Fools. The
Bearan Fault was a line of cliffs nearly two hundred miles long. It
was the gateway to the Lowlands.

Lowlanders were dangerous. Crazy too. Shea
had dealings with them in the past, but it was always with one eye
on the exit and a hand on her weapons. You just never knew what
they were going to do.

One time, they had set fire to her clothes.
While she was still in them.

She hated Lowlanders almost more than
Highlanders.

“I told you not to send anybody into the
Lowlands without me there to act as guide,” Shea said, her voice as
polite as she could make it given the pulse pounding at her
temple.

Zrakovi slammed his hand down on the table.
“I won’t have my judgment questioned by a slip of a girl barely
past her majority.”

“Then how about a Pathfinder with fifteen
years’ experience who told you that heading to the Lowlands at this
time without proper preparation and without a guide was too
dangerous.”

Slip of a girl, her ass. Shea was twenty five
and had been guiding folks since she was ten years old and could
finally keep up with the adults.

“You were on assignment,” a thin man with
stringy hair and a beak nose on the other side of the table
complained. “We didn’t know when you would be back, and the
opportunity was too good to pass up. This wouldn’t have happened if
we had more than one pathfinder.”

Shea’s shoulders tightened and her back
became even more rigid. “You’ve been told in the past that
pathfinders are rare and in high demand. Your village is too small
and too new to warrant more than one.”

“Too new? We’ve lived here for more than
eighty years. More like we’re being punished,” one of the men
muttered.

Shea took a deep breath and bit her tongue.
She had to do that a lot while she was in Birdon Leaf. Sometimes
she was amazed there wasn’t a hole in it.

The simplest explanation was that there just
weren’t enough pathfinders to go round and none who wanted to
destroy a promising career by coming to this backcountry
village.

No. Shea was the one to receive that
privilege.

“What village did they go to?”

If Shea was lucky they had chosen one of the
more stable villages. Though just as dangerous as the rest, they
usually had a reason before they went bat shit crazy.

“Edgecomb.”

She sucked in a breath. Well, then.

Edgecomb was crazier than most. They did not
like outsiders and were very easy to insult.

“We had reports earlier,” another elder said
gruffly. “Mist is rolling down from the eastern border. It’ll cover
this place in less than two days. They’ll be cut off.”

Mist. Damn. That complicated things.

She’d had a feeling it was coming. It was one
of the reasons she pushed the men so hard going up Garylow’s pass.
They were overdue.

Pointing out just how foolish these people
were would be a waste of breath and cover the same ground as
previous arguments. Shea decided not to address the issue. But she
wanted to. Boy, did she ever.

“I’ll need four men if we hope to recover
them.”

“Can’t you do it by yourself?” a man sitting
next to Zrakovi asked.

“No.”

“You’re a pathfinder. Isn’t that your
job?”

The rest of the men spoke over each other to
voice their agreement about how this was impossible.

Shea didn’t bother listening, instead tuning
them out while she went over her packing list. She’d need at least
five days rations for five people, best-case scenario. Her field
pack was still packed, but she’d have to replenish some of the
items used on her last journey. Hopefully, she had clean underwear
and socks in her cottage. Hmm. When did she last do laundry? A week
ago? Two? She could live in the same clothes if she had clean socks
and undergarments.

“Are you even paying attention, girl?” Elder
Zrakovi asked.

Shea brought her attention back to the matter
at hand. “My contract stipulates that I may request help from the
local population if I think it’s necessary.” She looked each man in
the eye as she continued, “If your men are still alive, I will have
to rescue them, and I can’t do that alone. You will give me four
able-bodied men accustomed to trail work and able to keep up on the
distances we will be required to travel.”

“We may not be able to spare that many men,”
Zrakovi said. “The tali will be flowering in a few days and if the
mist holds off long enough, we’ll need all the people we can get to
bring in the yield.”

The tali was a flowering vine that grew all
through the rocks and mountains near the village and was a primary
staple of the village’s diet. Its stalk could be used in weaving
and cloth production, while the fruit could be dried out or eaten
raw. It was used in nearly every dish they made. It only flowered
twice a year and during that time every man, woman, and child
helped with the harvest.

“I’m not asking, elder. If you don’t give me
the men I require, I won’t be going out after your son.”

Shea knew harvesting the tali fruit was
important. Without it the villagers faced the possibility of
starvation, but she wasn’t about to venture into the Lowlands by
herself. It would be suicide. The elders had been warned of the
dangers. If they couldn’t supply the men, they could accept the
consequences of ignoring sound advice.

The five conferred among themselves while
Shea waited. Finally, they sat back.

“I can’t give you four,” Zrakovi said.

Shea nodded and turned to go.

“I can’t give you four,” he reiterated,
raising his voice. “But I can give you two. It’s all I can spare
during the harvest.”

Shea waited a beat. To be safe she needed
four, but she’d known from the start the elders wouldn’t spare the
manpower. The contract’s wording said she could refuse since they
hadn’t provided the necessary resources.

Doing so would mean death for the two men. If
they weren’t already dead.

Despite what the villagers thought of her,
she didn’t make her requests to make their lives difficult. James,
the elder’s son, was one of the few who didn’t try to make her feel
like a hindrance. He was a decent sort who had a smile for
everybody. When she needed assistance on some of her more dangerous
jaunts, he would sometimes volunteer.

She needed four, but she could make do with
two.

“Tell them to be at the front gate at
midday.”

Relief filled the chamber. A few looks were
traded back and forth, and several men nodded.

“Good.” Zrakovi turned his back on Shea and
took another drink. As she turned to go, he said, “I’ll be sending
a missive requesting a new pathfinder be assigned to replace you in
Birdon Leaf.”

“If that’s what you feel is best.” Shea
inclined her head and strode away without a backward glance.

It would be the third such request since she
arrived. The first two had elicited a carefully worded refusal that
politely told all parties to suck it up and figure out a way to
make it work.

As soon as she was outside, she put all
thoughts of the elders and their barely concealed disapproval out
of her head. There was a lot to get done in two short hours.
Edgecomb was a two-day journey if they traveled fast and took few
breaks. Depending on who they gave her, she might be able to cut
that time down even more.

That wasn’t what worried her though. Last
time she had scouted the route she’d noticed several of the more
dangerous beasts had nested in some of the cliffs. This wouldn’t be
a problem under normal circumstances because she could detour
around the nests. This time, however, the quickest route skirted
right along the edge of their territory.

She spent most of the next two hours securing
supplies for her journey. Since they had to carry their own packs
and would be on foot, every item had to be absolutely necessary.
That meant no more food than necessary and just enough water to get
them to the next watering hole. It was a delicate balancing act
that required Shea to draw from previous experience as well as
intuition.

Her last stop was her cottage, the only other
stone building in the village. In many respects, it reminded Shea
of the older ruins found deep in the Highland’s heart. It just had
that feel to it. The kind of feeling that said it had been
forgotten by time and man.

It was small. A grown woman could barely
stand inside without bumping her head. The walls were close and
cramped. Nature had threaded twisting vines through its stone walls
in an attempt to reclaim the structure. In spring, it looked as if
a blanket patterned with pinks, purples and blues had been wrapped
around it as flowers bloomed on those vines. In winter, the
unpatched holes gave little protection against the cold.

Shea loved it. Even when it was colder than a
witch’s tit. Despite the neglect of humans, it persevered and even
managed to be beautiful while existing in symbiosis with the land
around it.

Nobody knew its past purpose. Regarding it
with deep suspicion, the villagers allowed it to fade from their
collective memory. Pretending it didn’t exist was easy as it was
located at the rear of the village, close to the wall.

They gave it to Shea when she arrived because
nobody wanted to live here and because, as an outsider, she was
regarded with the same level of suspicion.