Pathfinder's Way(23)

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 further, 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.