Pathfinder's Way (29 page)

Nobody paid much attention when she slipped
back into camp an hour later. Most chores had been finished, and
the men sat around playing games. A few had lain down, using their
gear as a makeshift pillow as they ribbed each other or took
naps.

Shea headed to her pack and reached in it for
her notebook. She wanted a plausible excuse for why she didn’t go
back to bathe when the others returned. Studying her notes on the
area was as good a reason as any.

Her notebook sat forgotten in her lap as she
people watched.

The Trateri were an interesting bunch. Very
different from the Lowlanders and Highlanders. Despite the strange
surroundings they found themselves in, they had no fear of the
great expanses between villages.

They embraced the wild country, even going so
far as to pit themselves against it whenever possible. Sometimes
they won. Sometimes they lost, but they never gave up the
challenge.

Every person had a job. They imposed order
out of chaos.

Shea didn’t know if she admired or feared
them. Either way, they were dangerous to the status quo.

“There you are, Shane. Why didn’t you come
back?” Clark’s voice came from right beside her ear.

Shea jumped, almost dislodging the notebook
from her lap. She looked back to find Clark crouched beside her,
Eamon and Buck walking up with towels wrapped around their necks
and their hair wet. Eamon’s hair curled slightly as it dried.
Buck’s hair was so short it was dry already.

“You mean after you tried to throw me in
fully clothed?” Shea arched one brow.

Clark had the grace to grin sheepishly. “Ah,
we wouldn’t have thrown you in if you’d come back.”

“How reassuring.”

Eamon threw his towel over a branch to dry
before packing away the rest of his supplies.

“So? You never answered my question,” Clark
said.

He was a persistent little shit. Shea had
never realized how bloody annoying that trait could be.

“To be honest, I didn’t feel like walking all
the way back there, especially with you two and your grabby hands.”
She lifted the notebook. “I thought it was a good idea to update my
notes and study the map a little more for tomorrow.”

Clark huffed and threw himself onto the
ground, his head landing in her lap.

“You workaholic. You’re no fun.”

Shea shoved him off her lap. “I’m not here to
have fun.”

“Says who?” he challenged.

“Clark,” Buck began.

“Well?” Clark asked again.

Beginning to feel cornered again, Shea
reacted defensively. “Your people did when you conscripted me into
your army.”

She felt bad immediately after saying it. The
boy had been nothing but nice, going out of his way to make her
feel welcome. Giving words of encouragement after the dressing down
Eamon had given her.

Clark’s face just closed down, all the
emotion vanishing, until he was regarding her with the same
impenetrable expression she’d seen again and again on other Trateri
faces.

“Then perhaps I shouldn’t ‘conscript’ your
time any longer.” He put an ugly turn on the word conscript, nearly
sneering.

“Clark,” Shea said.

He didn’t give her a chance to apologize,
springing to his feet and walking away before she got more than his
name out.

“Shane-“

“I know,” she snapped, interrupting Eamon. “I
shouldn’t have said it. He just pushed on a nerve, is all.”

She turned the pages in her book, not really
noticing the words. She hated when she lost her temper and said
stupid shit like that. Saying mean stuff just to hurt people wasn’t
her way.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Buck
said, tossing his towel on the branch next to Eamon’s. “He’s pretty
forgiving. Just apologize and that’ll be that.”

Shea grimaced. She hated apologizing.

Eamon smiled at the expression. “He’s a good
kid. Comes on a little strong sometimes, but has a good heart,
which is impressive given his background.”

Shea felt a bit of interest perk up at those
words. “Oh.”

Buck chimed in from where he had pulled out a
mirror and started lathering his face. “He’s an orphan. His parents
died when he was a toddler. The clan raised him after that. He has
a tendency to collect big brothers. He’s probably overjoyed you
joined up. Until now, he was the youngest in this division. No
doubt he’s hoping to be the one imparting knowledge and wisdom this
time.”

He was still the youngest, but they didn’t
know that.

Now she felt doubly bad about being so short
with him. It was like kicking a puppy. You could do it, but man did
it make you feel about an inch high afterwards.

“Craaap,” Shea breathed, snapping the book
shut and rising.

Seeing the answering grins peeking out of the
lather both men now had on their faces, Shea couldn’t resist a bit
of payback. “I hope you three took a piss when you got out of the
water.”

“Huh?”

“You know there are little fishes that will
swim up your pisser and lay eggs. Only way to get that out is to
take a piss right after getting out. Forces them back out.”

Buck shot a wide eyed glance at Eamon, “He’s
kidding, right?”

Shea hid her grin as she headed after
Clark.

“You’re kidding, right?” Buck shouted after
her.

“Am I? Guess you’re about to find out,” she
shouted back.

“Son of a–“

Shea chortled when both men stopped what they
were doing to find the nearest bush.

Sometimes revenge was oh so sweet. It never
paid to mess with a pathfinder.

Later that night, Shea picked her way through
the forest by the light of a moon that had already passed its
zenith when she slipped away from camp. Lucky for her it was two
thirds full or else it would have been difficult to navigate
without the benefit of a torch, which was off limits since the
whole point of going at night was to avoid notice.

She headed for the pool she had scouted that
afternoon above the falls. Although it was late, that was no
guarantee somebody else hadn’t decided on a midnight swim.

This was the best way she knew to minimize
the risk of exposure while still reaping the benefits of getting
clean.

Soon, she was standing before the softly
rushing water. The pool she found was really just an eddy of the
larger stream and was the result of a small rock outcropping
jutting into the water and causing a lazy back current. The water
moved slowly enough that she wasn’t in much danger of being swept
downstream and over the waterfall as long as she didn’t step into
the middle of the stream.

It was shallower than she’d like. She’d have
to kneel and hunch over for the water to reach her shoulders.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and she was happy just for a
chance to get clean again.

Being constantly on the move and away from
the benefits of civilization made water a luxury that took a far
greater willpower than hers to pass up.

She carefully checked the area before
disrobing and laying her clothes on the rocks above her bathing
area. The night air swept goose bumps up and down the bare skin of
her stomach and legs. She shivered and walked into the water.

Cold. So cold.

Argh, if only she’d been able to sneak away
earlier when the sun had been up to lend its warmth. She nearly
vibrated in place in an effort to get warm. Not wanting to prolong
the experience she fumbled for her soap. She quickly sluiced water
all over before building up a nice lather and rinsing it away. Her
hair, she left alone, not wanting the gunk keeping her hair dark to
wash away.

Not willing to linger longer than she had to,
Shea was done washing within minutes of stepping into the water.
Years of hurried baths with men steps away had given her an ability
to be quick about her business.

Voices came from below just as she stepped
out and was reaching for the small towel she’d brought.

Her first instinct was to freeze in place.
Pressing the towel to her, she surveyed the night. With the moon
up, the scene was a monochromatic wash of greys and shadows, making
it easy to see general forms but not distinct details.

No shadowy figures waited there in the dark
that she could see. They could be just beyond the tree line, but
she doubted it. The voice sounded like it was coming from
below.

Wrapping the towel around her, she crept over
the damp rock towards a slight drop off next to the falls and
peered down.

A muffled curse escaped, and she flattened
herself against the rock face as she ducked back out of site.

Of all the rotten luck.

She dared another glance over the edge.

The scene hadn’t changed since her last look.
A torch was stuck in one of the crevasses near the pool,
highlighting the surrounding area. That wasn’t what nearly sent her
over the small drop.

No. The sight of Fallon disrobing did
that.

Shea knew she should head back to her clothes
and dress. Now that she had solved the mystery, there was no reason
to linger, but she did. Oh, how she did.

Some irresistible force held her in place as
Fallon first discarded his shirt then his pants, leaving him
standing in nothing but the skin he was born with. And what a fine
skin it was.

Sharp ridges defined every muscle in his
body. Even the raw white and red marks from scars crossing his
torso did nothing to detract from the fine specimen of manhood
before her.

The male bodies she’d seen that afternoon in
no way compared.

Fallon stepped into the pool, the cold not
seeming to have the same effect on him as it had on Shea. He sunk
down, dunking his head and then sluicing the water off his
face.

A pleasant voice rang in the air as he sung a
bawdry tale about the woes of a Trateri warrior kidnapping his
Lowland wife only to find out that the “wife” was actually a male
with all of the accompanying parts.

Shea snickered at the risqué lyrics. Typical
Trateri view of Lowlanders.

Another voice joined Fallon’s as he sang the
last chorus again. Shea had been so focused on Fallon that she
hadn’t even noticed when Caden stepped onto the rocks bordering the
pool.

Shea hugged the ground harder, not wanting to
chance being seen. She’d only ever seen the second man from a
distance, but Eamon had told her enough for her to know that she
did not want him to see her spying.

On that note, it was really past time she
leave.

Shea scooted back from the edge, careful not
to make any noise that would alert the two below. She made her way
back to her clothes and dressed quickly.

As she found her way back, being careful to
avoid the path that Caden or Fallon would travel, she couldn’t help
the small piece of her that wondered what would have been her fate
had she remained tied to that post.

“So, what exactly is the punishment when a
town refuses to pay a tithe?” Shea asked as Fallon’s troops rode
towards the small string of huts that was the village proper.

It was a hovel, not like Goodwin of Ria or
even Birdon Leaf. This place was cobbled together with mud and
spit. Not necessarily the worst village she’d ever seen, but she
didn’t understand why anybody would want to lay claim to it, not
even the Trateri. These people had little to nothing, and none to
spare for tithes.

Eamon’s face was grim as they rode at the
rear of the party.

“Buck?” she asked when Eamon didn’t
answer.

Buck looked slightly subdued as he answered.
“Not good things.”

Well she’d kind of figured that part out for
herself. They were in a war party after all.

“Yeah, I got that. What does that mean?”

Buck shook his head and looked away, refusing
to meet her eyes.

She looked back at Eamon.

He finally spoke. “The severity of the action
will depend on what they say to Fallon.”

So something would happen regardless, but
nobody was willing to tell her what that something was.

She closed her eyes and bent her head. No,
she didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

“Shane, whatever happens, just stay beside me
or Buck and keep your mouth shut. You can’t stop whatever’s coming
so don’t even try. You’ll just get yourself in trouble.”

Eamon waited until she met his eyes before
dealing a worse blow, “Our necks would be on the line too. So keep
it together, yeah?”

She nodded. That bad feeling was turning into
a ball of granite in her stomach.

Before she could ask any further questions,
they were riding into the little hamlet. She guided her horse after
Eamon’s as he rode to the left. When they stopped, their horses
surrounded all of the people in the village who had been pulled
from their homes and then ushered into the village center. There
couldn’t have been more than thirty of them.

Fallon rode forward, much like Darius had
during her first encounter with the Trateri. The villagers drew in
on themselves, their small circle constricting until no space
existed between their bodies.

The fear on their faces was chilling.

Shea couldn’t help but feel that whatever
happened next could be laid partially at her feet. The Trateri
wouldn’t have made it this far without her interference.

Her mentor from her apprenticeship would say
that a pathfinder wasn’t responsible for anything that happened
after their party reached its destination. Standing here, feeling
that cloying terror on the air, seeing the way the villagers
clutched at each other for false security, she was no longer sure
how much stock she put in his words.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Fallon’s deep
voice thundered in the air. Although loud, it didn’t sound as if he
was shouting.

He wheeled his horse and cantered in the
opposite direction.

No response greeted him.