Pathfinder's Way(26)

"We need to turn back."

Vale and Buck stopped arguing.

"There are beasts ahead," she tried again when he ignored her.

"Beasts?"

Ignoring the ridicule in his tone, Shea said, "Yes. Beasts."

"And you know that how?" Lorn finally deigned to look at her, eyeing her  with distaste and skepticism. Her hands clenched on her reins. "You? A  boy who hasn't even had his first shave or fucked his first woman.  Somehow you know more than men who've been doing this since they could  walk? I'll believe that when fire falls from the sky."

Shea's ears turned red. A dozen pithy remarks wanted to spill from her tongue.

She held them back. It wasn't like she wasn't used to being dismissed.  People rarely listened. Even when she was leading. They scorned her  experience and ultimately they died. Why should these barbarians be any  different?

To Eamon, she said, "Look at the cliff. It has gouges in it from  something with claws. Given how high up they are, it means the thing is  big."

A sharp crack sounded through the air. Her head turned with the force of  the blow, her right cheek smarting. She touched the corner of her  mouth. Her fingers came away red.

Blood.

Bastard.

Almost trembling, she met Lorn's furious eyes.

"I'm scout master," he said tightly. "Me, not him. You do not go to him when you have issues with my orders."

He looked at the suddenly quiet men around him. A few of them held his  eyes for a moment before looking away. Eamon watched Shea closely,  noting the slight tremor in her hands and the rage she quickly snuffed  out of her expression.

"Is that clear?" Lorn asked.

Her throat felt tight. Words fought inside her for release.

He raised a fist slightly. "I asked, is that clear?"

"Yes," Shea choked out.

"Good. Because next time I'll beat you bloody." To the others, he said,  "Vale, take three men and go down the left passage. Eamon, you and I  will take the rest down the right. We'll go on foot, and after you're  done scouting, meet back here."

She shouldn't have been so surprised at the blow. Really. She'd have  done the same if someone had questioned her orders on a mission. Maybe.

Still, they were heading into danger.

While the men prepared to split, Lorn blocked Shea's horse with his.  "Not you. Since you're so scared of whatever's out there, you can stay  here and guard the horses. Alone."

He dismounted, affixed his blade to his belt and joined Eamon and his men.

"Not too bright are ya, Daisy?" a man said, walking past her to join Vale.

"Never try to undermine a commander's orders," a voice said from her  side. She looked down at light brown eyes over a big nose and pitted  cheeks. "It just pisses them off and makes more work for the rest of  us."

Having said his piece, the man walked off. Within minutes, Shea was alone with the horses.

They were all going to die.

Or perhaps not. Maybe they would get lucky and those marks she saw were old. You never knew.

She dismounted and pulled her pack with her. Either way, this gave her the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

She was finally alone. It was time to head back to Birdon Leaf.

She unhooked her pack from the horse. The pack she'd picked up on a whim  in that tent had turned out to be a godsend. Not only had it given her  clothes to disguise her gender, but it was packed full of supplies that  had come in handy over the past few days.

Granted, it wasn't as well packed as Shea could have done. There were a  few items missing, and a few things that were just dead weight, but it  had all of the essentials.

Things like a fire making kit, a canteen for water, basic food stores  and a change of underclothes. It even had a knife to supplement the one  Shea had, and to her delight, Eamon had outfitted her with a short sword  before leaving camp.

The only thing missing was rope, which Shea planned to remedy by picking  through the other men's belongings. If she remembered correctly, Buck  had used rope to cobble the horses together a few nights ago when they  had to seek shelter from a storm.         

     



 

Opening his saddlebags, she dug around until she felt the rough hemp  against her fingers. She pulled it out with a feeling of satisfaction.  She'd been eyeing if for a while now and knew it could come in handy on  her journey. Rope always did. She took a few strips of jerky from his  bag as well, telling herself he didn't need it as much as she would.

She headed to the cliff opposite of the scratches and peered up.

She could barely see the top, high above her head. The rock was dimpled  and pockmarked. Ponderosa clung to nooks. But for the most part, it was  bare and grey. That was good. Hard rock was easier to climb than dirt.  Safer too.

Shea reached down and grabbed a handful of soil, rubbing it between her hands. It would make them less slippery while climbing.

Though scaling another cliff wasn't exactly how she wanted to escape,  she felt it was better than trying to backtrack with the horse. For one  thing, the path they'd come through was narrow, and there weren't a lot  of offshoots. The scouts would just need to ride until they caught up  with her, and she'd be hemmed in.

Also a horse couldn't go all the places a person could. Lastly, few  would think she had escaped up a cliff and so wouldn't look in that  direction when it came time to hunt her.

And she had no doubt they'd hunt her. They would consider her a  deserter. They'd come after her even if it was just so they could make  an example of her to other would-be deserters.

She placed her hands against the wall and wedged one foot into a small  dip in the wall, so small that it was virtually nonexistent. Hand over  hand, foot over foot she made her way up the vertical rock face, using  tiny handholds and even tinier foot holds. More often than not she was  hanging onto the cliff's side with just the tips of her fingers.

It wasn't her favorite place to be, especially when a gust of wind came  tearing through the canyon, pulling at her body and causing her stomach  to drop right into her stomach.

Finally though, she gained the top where she could rest with her legs  dangling over the edge. She sighed and leaned back to watch the heavy  gray clouds above her.

Her rest was short. The clouds weren't the sort to hold her attention  long. There were no shapes to be discerned or stories to be imagined.  They were just one large gray blob. Not interesting at all.

Shea sighed and stood, brushing the dirt off her hands. She turned to go  and hesitated, looking down at the canyon the men had ventured into.  Everything inside her said they were heading into danger.

Perhaps she should follow just to make sure they were okay.

She tapped her leg with one finger.

Why should she? They'd been warned. Whatever happened next was on them.  It wasn't like they'd done anything to deserve her consideration. She  grimaced and touched her cheek gingerly. The opposite in fact.

She started to walk away when a scream rent the air, echoing eerily in the enclosed space.

She took a step in that direction and stopped.

No.

It was on them. It had nothing to do with her anymore. She was out.  Free. She could head back to Birdon Leaf with a clear conscience and  knowledge about a previously unknown danger.

The sounds of battle and an animal scream pulled at her.

On the other hand, perhaps she could gain a little insight into how these strangers dealt with beasts.

Before she could change her mind again, she found herself running along  the edge of the canyon in the direction Eamon and Lorn had disappeared  down, telling herself this was just an information gathering exercise.  She wasn't going to interfere. Just see what was what.





Shea lowered herself to her stomach and peered into the narrow canyon  below. She pressed her lips together at the visible carnage.

From the looks of things, they had been ambushed on their way back. Two men were already in pieces on the ground.

The first man's torso had been separated from his lower body and the two  pieces lay a few yards from each other. The second man's body was  missing an arm and half of its chest. The dirt beneath him had turned  the color of rust from all the blood that watered it.

An enormous shadow beetle reared back onto its hind legs. Its razor  sharp pinchers glistened with liquid. Blood, no doubt. It was easily  twice the size of a horse. Its mottled grey shell was beginning to  darken to obsidian as it entered a feeding frenzy.

The thick carapace shell protected its insides from blades and claws,  making them nearly impossible to kill. When the shell was grey, it  blended with the surrounding rocks easily, making it difficult to spot  unless the creature moved. When it got the taste of blood, though, its  shell darkened to black.

Though deadly, it was slow and couldn't change direction easily. The  narrow canyon was the perfect hunting grounds, as its prey couldn't  dodge out of the way. It turned the narrow space into a killing field,  making escape impossible.         

     



 

Run and it would use all its legs to propel itself after you. The thing  was fast too. There would be no opportunity to dodge and trying to  defend would be pointless.