Pathfinder's Way Page 9

  Cale’s slight smile made a shiver rush down Shea’s back as he eyed her with hooded eyes. “I imagine Fallon will reward us well for this.”

  “So our tribute meets with your approval?”

  The white-haired elder had approached while the three men had been preoccupied with Shea. There was hope in his eyes as he clasped his hands in front of him.

  “You’ve outdone yourself.” The elder’s face relaxed and he started to smile, when Darius added, “We’ll expect double the wheat.”

  The man’s eyes widened as he physically drew back in horror. “But we’ve given you what you asked. Both in wheat and people. More than that if you include her.”

  The amusement drained from Darius’ face as his eyes chilled and his expression turned hard. Menace rolled off his body as he leaned down slightly. “Yes, and you tricked others into taking your men’s place.”

  “We’ll starve if we give you double the amount. What does it matter how we fill the quota as long as we fill it?” the elder interrupted.

  Darius pulled sharply on the reins, spinning the horse and kicking it in the sides. The elder backed away as Darius and the horse bore down on him.

  “The quota is meant to affect you. We want to keep you hungry and take your men from you. We want your boys in our army because you’ll be so worried about them that you won’t have time to resist. If they’re in the army, they’re not sowing the seeds of a rebellion they can’t hope to win. Which means we don’t have to come back here and wipe your village from the map.” The elder tripped and scrambled back in a tangle of limbs as Darius continued his advance. “You can either sacrifice your people or starve. This time you’ve chosen to starve. Now, I’ve been generous in not punishing you further. If this deal is no longer to your taste, say the word and my men and I will ride through your village. I warn you, though, that once we ride, we will not stop, no matter how you beg and plead, until everything you know and love is ash upon the ground.”

  Darius drew his horse to a sharp stop as he lifted his gaze from the terror stricken form in front of him. The other two flinched from his wrath.

  “We’ll up the amount of wheat to be transported,” the hawk-nosed one agreed.

  Darius’s gaze didn’t waver for a long minute. Tension built as he held them trapped. There was no laughter, no hint of the handsome man. He looked like death, come to collect his due.

  After a drawn out moment where Shea thought he’d call his men to ride on the town anyway, Darius jerked his head down once. The menace filling the air drained away as he made his way back to the two gathered by Shea.

  “Bring her,” he ordered. “Have the others follow behind on foot and put their horses on a leader.”

  Before Shea could protest, she found herself grabbed under the arms and hoisted into the air. For balance, she grabbed the horse’s neck as she was placed in front of the rider. She blinked back at the brown haired man regarding her impassively before turning forward.

  She felt impossibly high off the ground since the horse was much taller than her former one. It was not a pleasant feeling.

  Dane looked angry, like he wanted do something impulsive and stupid. Shea breathed a sigh of relief when Witt stepped in front of him and shoved him back.

  The others just looked angry, but not like they were going to go crazy and challenge the men with swords, voicing objections when Darius’ men forced them away from their mounts. Paul glared at her as if this was somehow her fault. Though how she would have orchestrated it, or why, escaped her.

  When her eyes strayed back to him, Witt shot her a questioning look and indicated their horses. She figured he was asking if they should make an attempt to overpower the warriors, most of whom had yet to dismount and still watched the surrounding buildings with suspicion. Every warrior had one hand on a weapon.

  Shea shook her head.

  Seeing her response, Dane finally got ahold of himself and pushed Witt’s arm away. Witt let him do this, though he gave Dane a final warning look before stepping back and folding his arms across his chest.

  “You’re an odd one,” the man behind her said as he clicked his tongue at his horse. Suddenly they were moving toward the gate, their bodies swaying to the horse’s rhythm.

  Shea figured a reply wasn’t really necessary and kept facing forward while she logged potential escape routes. The men holding them didn’t have many weaknesses that she could see.

  The silent treatment didn’t deter the man as he added thoughtfully, “Usually when I have to grab someone, especially a woman, they plead or beg or struggle. It’s all very annoying. You act like it’s no big deal. Either you’re scary pragmatic and exactly how Fallon described you, or you lack an ounce of courage.”

  Shea wiggled her jaw and clenched her fists into the horse’s mane to keep her composure. Since he couldn’t see her, she allowed some of the anger she felt to leak past her shields.

  It wasn’t like she wanted to sit here like a coward. Her inner strategist simply recognized the futility of struggling. Why waste energy and risk an injury that might prevent a future escape?

  From the looks on a few of her men’s faces, she knew they agreed with the man behind her.

  Fools.

  Counting herself, her team numbered seven. She estimated that twenty Trateri warriors had ridden into the square. From the way Darius talked, she suspected he had more men waiting right outside the town, ready to rain the Hawkvale’s wrath down on the townspeople if needed.

  Better to present a weak front and lower the enemy’s guard before attempting an escape. It would make them less wary and increase her chance of success.

  The sounds of a scuffle reached her. Shea peered over her captor’s shoulder.

  Paul dodged under a horse and around another as Witt and Dane shouted for him to stop. He didn’t make it two steps before a man on a pale cream horse rode up and kicked him in the head. Paul stumbled. Before he could recover, he was surrounded by warriors. Shea caught a glimpse of a rage-filled face. Then he was gone.

  “Don’t worry. They won’t kill him,” her companion informed her. “New recruits often have that reaction. They’ll beat him as a warning not to do it again, but mostly they try not to break bones since that would make him useless for several weeks.”

  Shea flinched at the thud of flesh against flesh and the pain filled cry that followed.

  “Still no reaction?” the man looked at her profile as the horse carried them out the front gate. “You’re one cold bitch.”

  “What’s your name?” Shea was gratified when her voice came out almost normal despite the tight feeling in her throat.

  “She speaks,” the man answered sarcastically. She twisted to glare up at him, her eyes showing just a hint of fire. He cocked his head when she faced forward again. “There she is. I was beginning to wonder if I had a mouse riding with me when everyone swore you were a lioness.”

  “You’re very chatty.”

  He chuckled, his chest vibrating against her back. The way she sat on the horse in front of him didn’t allow for a lot of space between them, but he was being relatively good about keeping himself to himself.

  She appreciated that. Though she would have appreciated her own horse more.

  They fell in with the string of horses heading out of town, taking their place in the middle. Darius and his friend with the scar were several horse lengths ahead, engaged in conversation. Witt and the others brought up the rear and were monitored by a team of rotating guards who followed along behind them. Wagons filled with wheat rolled out after them.

  “You’re not the first person who’s told me that. My name’s Damon.”

  Shea didn’t care. She just wanted him to stop speaking so she could think. He, of course, didn’t.

  “Did you really climb a cliff to escape Fallon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hm.”

  Blessed silence reigned while Shea watched the countryside drift by. It was pretty land. Not breathtaking like the H
ighlands were, where the view gripped your soul in an iron fist as you were brought face to face with the wild, untamed fierceness that came from being on the edge of the known world. This land was too settled for that kind of beauty.

  This close to Goodwin of Ria, the land was civilized and over-populated compared to the Highlands. Everything in its spot and hardly a leaf out of place. Nice, but not the wild beauty that Shea’s soul craved.

  Goodwin of Ria got most of its water from the mountains that lurked in the distance. They weren’t the mountains of the Highlands. Their peaks weren’t so high that they stabbed the sky’s belly, but they were big enough and high enough to serve as a reminder that the relatively flat land of Goodwin of Ria was not the norm.

  “Why did you put me in front rather than behind you?” Shea voiced a thought that had been bothering her.

  She felt his chest move as he shrugged. “Less likely that you’ll try to run away if you’re in front. Not that you’d get far, but this way you won’t be tempted. That means I won’t have to punish you for the attempt, and Fallon won’t be upset that his new toy has a few scratches.”

  Shea smoothed her fingers through the horse’s mane. It might be more difficult to escape then she had thought.

  Having nothing else to say, she lapsed back into silence, keeping an eye out for anything that might be useful.

  She craned her head around Damon for a look at her men. They seemed to be doing fine, though a little angry at the forced march.

  Paul was the exception. Shea couldn’t help the wince of sympathy when she got a good look at his face. One eyelid had swelled closed and blood coated his chin and shirt. The skin on the right side of his face had already turned purple and blue. Not a good sign. It would be worse tomorrow.

  He walked gingerly, as if his ribs were bruised. Burke and Owen shadowed him, keeping close watch in case they had to steady him.

  Damon was right. His beating hadn’t left any broken bones, just a lot of bruises and some painful memories.

  Witt and Dane walked near each other and every so often they would converse quietly, until one of the warriors guarding them would bark a sharp word, at which point they’d separate again.

  Witt looked up just then, meeting Shea’s eyes briefly. The look on his face was blank, as if he was looking at a stranger, before he looked away.

  She turned around.

  A large group of men rested in the shade of the trees off the side of the road about two miles out of town. The group was double the size of the one that had ridden into the village. When Darius jerked his head at the waiting men and kept riding, Shea figured this was the other part of his company. The men moved quickly, mounting and joining the procession.

  Damon lifted a hand in greeting as they passed.

  Two men rode up to join Darius and his companion, while the rest fell into the back, swelling their ranks considerably.

  “Who’s this?” a man asked, riding up beside them. “Did you finally find a girl you wanted to keep? She’s pretty.”

  Shea swayed back from the hand reaching to touch her hair. Damon swatted him away before he could touch her.

  “Hands off. She’s not for you,” Damon said. “This one’s the Warlord’s property. She’s the cliff climber he let slip through his fingers.”

  The other man’s jaw dropped. Still in his early twenties, his face lacked the weight of experience or suffering that a lot of the older warriors carried like a badge of honor. His eyes were a faded blue, and his lips were full. Those lips would have made the girls in Birdon Leaf swoon.

  He looked Shea over curiously. “Not what I pictured.”

  Damon snorted. “Yeah. You and me both. Hard to picture a twig like her doing all the things they say she’s done. So far she’s been kind of quiet. Guess we’ll see.”

  “You sure it’s her?”

  “Darius swears it is.”

  The man nodded. “He would know.”

  Shea wondered if she could spin their assumptions to her advantage. Maybe she could play up the weak female angle and buy herself a bit of wiggle room.

  Soon, the two moved on to talking about hunting and the best method for stalking prey. Shea listened at first, fascinated with the debate, but it wasn’t long before she tuned them out entirely, preferring to review her knowledge of the area.

  They’d headed east, away from the Highlands when they left Goodwin. Not the best direction, as this would make her eventual escape more difficult since she would have to travel until she found familiar ground, but not impossible.

  The real challenge would be freeing the others. If their captors continued to keep them separated, it make planning difficult.

  The sun was sinking behind the mountains when Darius decided to make camp for the night.

  Damon dismounted and then lifted Shea to the ground. A youth ran up and confiscated the horse’s reins and led the beast off to be hobbled with the others. Shea stretched, glad to be on firm ground as she worked the kinks out of her back and shook out one leg after another. They were cramped from having to stay in one position all day.

  Done with her stretches, she looked up to find Damon watching her.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Not one escape attempt? I’m a little disappointed.”

  Shea gave him her most innocent look. He snorted and took her elbow to escort her to a tree, forcing her down beside it.

  “I have to see Darius. Stay here.”

  Shea waited until he was on the other side of the clearing before looking around. Mostly the men just ignored her, going about their tasks of setting up the camp for the night. They gave her a wide berth. She was alone in the shade of the old stooped tree.

  The same couldn’t be said for her companions as they made their way wearily into camp. Their shirts were stained with sweat, and their skin streaked with dust the horses had kicked up during the journey.

  She leaned forward and rolled to her feet as the men were led to a copse of trees. Witt was the only one to look her way before being shoved along by a Trateri with shoulder length, greasy brown hair.

  Witt and the others were forced into seated positions and their hands bound before the Trateri warrior tied them to a tree with another rope.

  A guard stationed himself nearby as the rest peeled off to help with camp setup.

  Shea stayed where she was for several minutes, keeping an eye out for anyone paying her attention. No one seemed to notice as she took a few steps towards her companions.

  Good. Before she could talk herself out of it, she strode confidently, looking neither left nor right, to where the men were tied.

  Their guard straightened from his slouch against a tree, looking like he wanted to stop her, but also like he didn’t know if he should. Shea took advantage of that and nodded at him before plopping herself down between Dane and Witt’s tree. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her palms.

  They watched the well-executed dance as the warriors erected tents, started a fire, and prepared the site for the night.

  “Have a nice ride?” Dane asked, breaking the silence.

  Shea looked out of the corner of her eye at the guard. He had settled back into his slouch when he saw she just intended to talk but watched her intently. She figured she only had a few minutes before the Trateri separated them.

  “Very nice. I got to watch the countryside go by while having a chatterbox yap at me all day. And you? Did you enjoy your stroll?”

  “Oh yes. Being forced to walk miles with these warriors threatening every few minutes to cut off my legs since I obviously wasn’t using them efficiently was great fun.”

  Shea allowed herself a small smile at this tart response.

  “If you two are done comparing notes, perhaps we should get down to business,” Witt said crossly.

  The humor in Dane’s eyes faded as he looked at her grimly. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Working on it.”

  The mood turned heavy as they
absorbed her response. Shea always had a plan. It might not be a good one, but she usually had something.

  “You should escape.”

  Shea rolled her eyes to him and gave him a look.

  “He’s right, girl,” Witt agreed. “Leave us and run. I know you’ve already worked out your exit. We’re just holding you back. So go.”

  Shea exhaled loudly. She had worked out her exit, but she wasn’t going to leave them. A pathfinder didn’t abandon her charges. Not if they were still alive.

  Besides, her maps were still in her saddle bags. It wouldn’t be a good thing if they fell into Trateri hands. They contained details on the safest routes past the Bearan Fault. Granted it was in code, but a good cryptographer would be able to decipher them given enough time.

  Even if she was willing to break her vows as a pathfinder, she couldn’t leave those maps behind or the entire Highlands would pay the price.

  She couldn’t let the boys know that, though. Dane and Witt wouldn’t say anything, but Paul and the others wouldn’t be able to keep their mouths shut. They’d use the maps as a bargaining chip for their freedom. No doubt about it.

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Shea-“

  “No,” she said forcefully. She lowered her voice so only they could hear. “I’m not going to do that. At least not yet. I don’t see a way to get us all out. Right now they’re watching us too closely to make any sort of attempt. But I figure once we get to their main camp that’ll change. There’ll be too many people, and they’ll eventually be lulled into believing we have no intention of escaping. We’ll probably be separated again.”

  Hopefully, the maps would remain undiscovered until then. So far, they’d left her saddle bags alone.

  She looked at Dane and Witt, making sure they knew she was serious. “That’s why if you see your chance, you take it. Don’t try to rescue me. Don’t come back for me.” The look on her face silenced any disagreement they might have had. “You do that, and I promise to do the same. Once there, if I see my chance, I’ll take it.”