Pathfinder's Way (6 page)

He waited expectantly, his focus entirely on
her as she puzzled through the implications.

James chimed in before Shea could come to a
decision. “The Badlands? I thought it was overrun with beasts. My
father told me stories of men who tried to settle that territory.
They never last long. The people are either found dead, or the
villages abandoned as if its occupants just disappeared one night.
I’ve never even seen a map, not even a generic, rudimentary one of
that land.” He paused and looked at Shea. “How are we supposed to
find our way out if you don’t have a map? Have you ever been
there?”

Shea had shifted to watch their pursuers as
James took up the explanation, hoping her part in the conversation
was finished. The scenery passed by unnoticed as Shea’s focus
turned inward at his question.

“Shea?”

She looked up, her gaze sliding past James to
the string of sharp hills looming large. “Once.” Sadness whispered
through her. She’d barely made it out that one time. Many others
had not. Clearing her throat abruptly, she shook off her thoughts.
“We shouldn’t have a problem. We’re on the very edge, and we won’t
go any further in than we absolutely have to.”

The stranger’s gaze sharpened on her, picking
up on her hidden expressions and making her feel exposed. A sharp
crack forestalled any questions.

“Damn it. I can’t hit shit like this.” Dane
adjusted his grip on his weapon, shifting forward and wedging
himself into the corner of the wagon. He took another shot and then
cursed roundly as it missed. “I’m just wasting ammo.”

“No, wait. Look,” the stranger Dane had
drafted said, pointing as the mob split to either side of the
wagon, while still maintaining their distance.

“That’s not better. Now I have two groups to
try to hit.”

“Yes, but they’re being careful not to get in
range now.” The stranger with the gray eyes turned to Shea. “That’s
what you were hoping for, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Now you just wait until they start edging
closer again before firing,” the stranger instructed.

The next few minutes were tense as Dane tried
to hold off the mob with a few well-timed rounds.

Witt urged the wagon faster. There were a few
hair-raising seconds where the wagon almost tipped as the ride got
rougher. All it would take was one good bump, and they would all be
sent flying.

The Badlands were just ahead.

“Drive along their edge. We need to find a
good entry point,” Shea shouted at Witt.

Steep rolling hills that lurked like giant
beasts announced the boundary of the Badlands. Very little
vegetation broke up the stark browns and grays.

“There.” Shea pointed at a slim dip between
two sheer rock faces. “Get as close as you can before
stopping.”

Shea was hoping the path would be narrow
enough to prevent their pursuers from following on horseback. She
needed the men chasing them to dismount. Otherwise, Shea’s group
would just be run down before they could hide.

Witt pulled the horses up sharply, almost
sending the wagon crashing into their rears. Dane and the stranger
jumped down while Shea and the whiskey-eyed man helped lower Cam to
the ground.

The mob surged forward.

Dane dropped to one knee, cradling the
weapon’s stock to his shoulder and bracing his elbow against his
raised knee. Without the obstacle of the wagon, he picked off two
men while Shea and the others raced toward the small gap.

He followed quickly after them.

Chapter
Three

The narrow space forced their group to run
single file. It wasn’t long before the defined depression between
the two hills turned into a narrow gorge. Granite cliffs towered
over them on either side, allowing only thin rays of light to
filter down. A river must have run through there at one time, the
water eating away at the rock over millions of years before
eventually drying up.

It was perfect. The villagers wouldn’t be
able to ride their horses after them. They’d have to follow on
foot.

A hundred feet in, the crevasse cut sharply
right, hiding them from sight.

They moved quickly.

Witt and one of the strangers supported Cam
as Shea slipped past to race ahead to scout possible routes. A dead
end meant death.

Dane brought up the rear, turning every
couple of feet to make sure their pursuers weren’t getting too
close.

Shea didn’t hold out much hope that the
villagers would let superstition keep them from following.

Sure enough, the sound of pursuit began
quickly, shouts echoing in the tiny space.

Up ahead, the canyon abruptly widened, and
the path became uneven and difficult to traverse, slowing the
group.

She fairly bounced on her toes as she waited
for the others to catch up.

She’d already scouted ahead and needed them
to pick up the pace.

Must move faster, repeated over and over in
her head as the sound of pursuit grew closer.

There was little talk as Shea led them
further and further into the Badlands. The mood was tense, and they
moved quickly, not taking the time for breaks or rest.

They couldn’t. The villagers were never far
behind, and they all knew what would happen if they were
caught.

Shea held up a hand signaling a stop.

“What is it?” Witt asked, coming up beside
her.

“We have time for a short break."

A very short one.

“Are you sure?”

Shea listened. She couldn’t hear the
villagers.

“Yes. We have a few minutes. No more.”

“I’ll tell the others.”

Witt approached the rest and after a short
conversation they began finding places to sit. James helped Cam
sink down and sat beside him. Dane moved back down the path and
found a place to crouch where he had line of sight down the canyon
but could still keep an eye on the group. He raised his canteen and
took a sip before throwing the canteen to James who gulped some
down and passed it to Cam.

The whiskey-eyed stranger approached
Shea.

She spared him a brief glance before turning
to examine the canyon’s walls. She couldn’t see a way up them. They
were too steep. Even without the handicap of Cam, it would be
impossible to climb them. The dirt was too loose, and it was just
shy of being a vertical climb.

Maybe if they had an area of hard rock
face.

“Your boy’s not going to make it,” Whiskey
said, nodding to Cam.

Shea followed his glance, seeing the pain on
Cam’s face and the sweat dripping down his body.

Though it frustrated her, she had to
agree.

“You’d be better off stashing him and leading
the others away.”

Shea grunted.

She’d thought of that but hadn’t found a good
hiding place. Yet.

The two of them fell silent again.

She snuck a sideways glance at him, noting
the way he seemed to notice everything around him. He didn’t seem
worried about their situation. Neither did his companion.

Why?

She envied him his apparent calm. Nerves and
tension were the only things she could feel. Being in the Badlands
again, even if it was only the edge, was playing havoc with her
emotions. The added obstacles of the villagers and an injured man
only heightened the tension.

“We shouldn’t rest too much longer,” he
advised. “Our pursuers will be getting close.”

He was right. Though she didn’t like the
thought that he had the kind of experience to know that.

“I’ll tell the others,” Shea told him.
“Thanks.”

She walked over to Cam and James first and
crouched next to them.

“We’ll be moving again momentarily.”

James protested, “We just stopped. Everyone
needs more time.”

“You can rest when you’re dead. If we take
any more time, the villagers will catch up,” Whiskey said over her
head.

Shea looked up, not too surprised to see he
had followed her and was watching the other two with a stone-faced
expression.

She hadn’t expected his help and didn’t know
whether to thank him or hit him where it hurt for interfering.

To her surprise, James didn’t argue, but gave
Whiskey a nasty look and started helping Cam to his feet.

Shea stood and said just loud enough for Dane
to hear her, “Dane and Witt, I want you on the rear watching for
trouble.”

“You want us to drop back a little? See if we
can thin the herd a bit?” Witt asked.

Shea thought about it. The suggestion was
tempting, but Dane’s ammo was running low, and they might need it
if things got worse. It would also make it difficult if Shea
decided it would be better to hide and misdirect their
pursuers.

“No. Stay close. Just let me know if you
think they’re gaining.”

Shea let the two strangers take the lead
since there was really only one way to go. She dropped back so she
could walk just in front of Cam and James.

“Shea, how did you know we were in trouble?”
James asked.

“I didn’t. Elder Zrakovi sent me because you
were late and mist was sighted in the upper reaches. He knew you
wouldn’t make it back before it covered your path home.”

Shea picked her way over the uneven trail,
checking for snakes and other dangerous animals.

“I’m not surprised you ran into trouble,
though.” She stood on a rock and reached back to give Cam a helping
hand up. The trail was becoming more difficult. At some time in the
distant past there had been a rock slide. Picking their way through
meant having to climb up and over the large boulders blocking the
path. “Edgecomb’s got a bit of a reputation.”

“Would have been nice to know that before we
left,” James said.

Shea grinned. It wasn’t a particularly nice
grin. More a baring of teeth. “I would have, had you bothered to
consult me before taking off.”

“My father’s been after you to put together
an expedition to Edgecomb for months.”

“And I’ve been telling him it’s too dangerous
for months. Now you know why.”

Shea jumped down and turned back to catch Cam
if he fell. James supported him as Cam sat and then slid the rest
of the way.

“You should have explained this to my
father.”

Shea put her hands on her hips and caught her
breath, before looking up at James as he made his own descent.

“Whether your father and you like it or not,
I’m a pathfinder,” she told him as she caught him when he started
to slide. “I’m not required to justify my decisions to you.”

Shea checked on Cam. He didn’t look so good.
His face was pale, and he was panting from exertion while she and
James’ were barely winded.

“What set the Edgecombers off?”

“I don’t know.”

Shea gave James a look that said exactly what
she thought of that response.

“I really don’t,” he said defensively. “One
moment they seemed amenable to establishing a trade partnership,
and then the next they were dragging us out of our beds in the
middle of the night.”

Hmm.

Cam spoke for the first time. “I think it had
something to do with the strangers.”

“How so?”

“They kept us apart after we nearly escaped.
It’s why they beat me. They’d been keeping us in one of their
sheds. The wood at the back was rotted. I managed to break it and
crawl through. Before James could follow, they spotted me. After
that, they kept us in separate areas. I heard talk through my
window, and they kept calling us spies.”

That made no sense.

“Spies? Why would they think you were
spies?”

“I think the other two were discovered
outside the village stealing horses. The villagers assumed we were
there to spot weaknesses our supposed companions could exploit
later.”

That could definitely have convinced Edgecomb
that James and Cam were spies. That village took paranoid to a
whole new level.

That didn’t give her much information on
their new friends though. It left her with nearly the same amount
of questions she had started with.

James peeked to make sure the strangers
weren’t in hearing range. “Do you think they’re bandits?”

Shea thought about it. The description didn’t
quite fit.

“I doubt it.”

“Why do you say that?” Cam had to labor to
get the words out.

“They move like they’ve been trained to
fight. I’m not talking about one of the village militias
either.”

“You think they could be from one of the city
armies down south?” James sounded skeptical. Shea couldn’t blame
him.

The armies in the south had firm allegiances
to their cities and almost never came as far north as the Lowland
and Highland border. They were needed to defend against the
barbarian hordes who lived in the Outlands.

That was the only plausible explanation Shea
could think of. Their new friends just didn’t move like normal
people. They weren’t farmers or herders. With the speed they moved
and Whiskey’s clear grasp of strategy, she couldn’t believe they
were simple villagers.

The other possibility, she threw out almost
before it could fully form.

“You think they could be part of a Trateri
raiding party?” Cam asked quietly.

“Impossible,” James scoffed. “They never come
this far north.”

The Trateri were the dominant barbarian tribe
in the Outlands. Their people led numerous raids against the
southern Lowlands. Mostly they were a story northern Lowlanders
told their young people to discourage them from moving to the
bigger southern cities, where beast attacks were fewer and life
easier.

Shea had never seen a Trateri or met any who
had. Not in any of her journeys in the Highlands or the
Lowlands.

“Either way, it’s clear our new friends are
more than they seem,” Shea finally said. “We’ll have to make sure
we’re careful in how we deal with them.”

“Agreed.” James voice was firm.