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  “Alright, enough talking,” the first man said crossly, losing patience. “We’ve already lost enough time tonight. Saddle up, we’ve got a ways to go before we can stop.”

  Eamon dragged Shea to a horse and then left without another word. Guess that meant this was her horse.

  She patted its nose and smiled when it whickered back at her in greeting.

  This was almost too easy.

  Minutes later they were riding into the inky darkness. Shea spared a single glance behind before following. She only hoped Witt and Dane met with the same luck.

  Chapter Seven

  The men stood as Fallon strode into the tent. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

  “She’s through there.” Darius nodded at the partition.

  Fallon moved past the others, tugging aside the piece of fabric and ducking through to the other side. It was empty.

  He turned in a full circle to make sure. No sign of the woman.

  He raised his voice and asked, “Is this a joke?”

  Conversation stopped. There was an abrupt silence before Darius ducked into the chamber.

  “Damon,” Darius barked.

  Fallon and Darius stared at the post. The now empty post that Darius used to detain important prisoners, had neither manacles nor girl attached to it

  Damon shouldered in behind them and walked over to the pillar.

  “Where is she?” Darius asked him.

  He seemed just as confused as them. “This should be impossible. I put her in the irons.”

  Darius swore. “If you put them on her, how did she escape?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ignoring the escalating argument behind him, Fallon examined the post closely. There were scratches on the wood as if something heavy had scraped against it. These marks scarred the post all the way to the top. If he had to guess, she used the chain to climb the pole and then worked it over the top, leaving her free to escape.

  Damon crouched by a slit in the siding and stuck his head out. “However she got loose, she went this way.”

  “Follow her,” Darius snapped. “Take men with you.”

  Damon nodded, calling for his men before following the woman’s path.

  “Fallon,” Darius started, an explanation already on his tongue.

  Fallon raised a hand, still looking at the top of the post. He shook his head. Darius wasn’t to blame for this oversight. This post had been used to chain much stronger men than the girl.

  She possessed an unusual amount of cunning to have escaped one of his best generals. Very tricky. His shoulders shook. Before long his laughter echoed in the room.

  Darius watched cautiously, not used to seeing amusement on the normally stony face. Darius followed Fallon’s gaze. His lips twitched as he saw the humor of the situation.

  “Once the troops learn of this, they’re going to start calling her the phantom,” Darius observed.

  Fallon grunted in agreement.

  “I wonder how she plans on getting rid of the chains,” Darius mused. “With the level of effort she puts into escaping, you’d think we planned to torture her or something.”

  “At least it’s not up a cliff this time,” Fallon said.

  “My heart nearly stopped when she almost fell.”

  “Mine as well,” Fallon admitted.

  The woman was foolhardy. Brave, but seriously lacking in judgment. Though this was no cliff, it wasn’t any safer venturing into a camp full of hardened warriors. One of them might decide to keep her. He’d hate to have to kill a man loyal enough to follow him this long.

  She was his. And he’d make sure she knew that, just as soon as he caught her.

  Knowing Darius had captured her and she was here waiting had given him the patience to deal with his war council’s petty squabbling. He’d been in an unusually good mood for the rest of the session, despite having to referee the gripes and subtle undermining that was rampant in his advisors. It had taken another two hours before he could pull himself free. In that time, his quarry had slipped away once again.

  “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 f
urther, 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.”

  Fallon sat back and propped his head on one hand, tapping his cheek with a finger. This guild sounded like the first form of overarching authority he’d encountered since coming to this land. Smart of them to control who learned of the mist’s weaknesses. Gave them a way to influence events without having to use force.