Pathfinder's Way(24)

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.

If Paul's story was true, Fallon may have just found a solution to the  problems his army was currently having and a powerful weapon for the  future.

Blade to blade, his army could defeat any force the Lowlands or these  Highlands, for that matter, threw at him. So far the battles had been  few, and his army had annihilated all foes.

However, there was the little matter of locating new villages and  circling back to the places they'd already subdued. It was one of the  reasons they had been camped in this valley for the past three months  rather than pressing on to their next target.

One out of every three supply trains went missing, and the scouts he  sent out ended up dead or lost. The ones who straggled in were missing  the majority of his soldiers and spoke of monstrous creatures ambushing  them on patrol.

Shea might be the answer to all his problems.

"Can you take me to where she's heading?"

Paul opened his mouth to say yes, but Witt spoke first. "He can't."

Witt grimaced as steel broke the skin and a trickle of blood trailed  down his neck. Fallon waved the blade away, interested in what the man  had to say.

Witt straightened, not bothering to wipe away the blood. "If he tells  you he can, he's lying. He'll lead you in circles, because he doesn't  know the way."

"I could find them," Paul hissed.

"Why do you think we use pathfinders?" Witt asked, daring to meet  Fallon's gaze head on. "Most of us have a general sense of the way home,  but the Highlands have a way of expelling those it considers intruders.  And everybody is an intruder." He allowed himself a snort of derision.  "But go ahead. Let the boy lead you to your deaths. It won't matter;  you'll never catch her. She's long gone by now."

"Shut up, you old fool," Paul said, his voice rising in pitch. "This  wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were only supposed to take her.  Not us."

All eyes turned to Paul.

"What are you talking about?" Witt asked softly.

"The elders knew what Goodwin of Ria were planning," Paul spat. "Why do  you think they kept James back? They sent only those they could afford  to lose. Trouble makers, every one of you."

Witt closed his eyes slowly and bowed his head. Yes. He'd wondered why  they'd chosen these particular expedition members. They were all men  who'd had a problem with the elders at one point or another. Even him.

"They knew he," Paul lifted his chin at Fallon, "was looking for her and  that he'd reward any who brought him information. So they made sure she  was placed in his path."

Darius looked faintly appalled by this proof of betrayal, and his guards shared similar looks of distaste.

"Why?" Fallon asked.

"They asked for a new pathfinder to be assigned time and again. One that  wasn't as useless. She was always telling them no. She was a woman  trying to tell our elders what she would do. We were tired of it," Paul  said readily. "Well, the guild wouldn't give us a new one so the elders  took matters into their own hands."         

     



 

"You and your foolish elders have destroyed your precious village," Witt  retorted as he made a grab for Paul. His guard grabbed his hands and  twisted them behind his back. "The guild doesn't have to assign a new  pathfinder."

"They will. They have to. It's in the village bylaws."

Witt's lips twisted into a sneer. "They don't have to do shit. You think  they're going to send another pathfinder to a village with a history  like yours? One that lost their previous one?" Witt gave an ugly laugh.  "Oh no. Shea will be the last pathfinder your village ever sees. I'm  glad too. You backwards, goat arsed traitors don't deserve another one.  Not after this stunt. Your village will be culled from the maps. Nobody  will find their way there ever again."