Pathfinder's Way(35)

Shea followed his gaze. All this time writing her observations down  thinking nobody would ever see them, much less think them relevant. At  times she had struggled to keep going as she wondered at the point of  continuing.

This, in some small fashion, was her dream realized but not in any way she had ever imagined.





Chapter Ten





Shea tilted her head back to examine the gnarled branches of a tree. The  dead forest inhabited a thin strip of land only a few hundred meters  wide but stretched in either direction. Charred from some long ago fire,  the trees' bark gleamed white and smooth against a sky pregnant with  rain clouds.

With every step, fine ash floated up from the scorched earth. It was a  barren wasteland where nothing grew, marking the beginning of the  revenant's territory.

There should have been some sign that the earth was healing, a glimpse  of green against the unrelenting gray and black, birds returning to make  nests. Something. Instead, it was just a strip of land that the living  had permanently abandoned.

What could have happened here to so totally consign the area to the realm of the dead?

Clark had told her that when Perry's men fled past the first dead tree  the revenants refused to step foot onto the scorched land, instead  pacing back and forth as if an invisible wall separated them from their  prey. Shea shivered. She could see why. Even the still air made her  think of dead and decaying things.

Even knowing that revenants waited on the other side, she looked forward to putting this dreadful place behind her.

Quiet gripped the morning. There was none of the neighborly chatter that  usually characterized a movement. Everyone jumped at shadows. Even  yesterday's cheerful Clark had gone missing, leaving a watchful stranger  whose hand never strayed far from the blade at his hip.         

     



 

There was a collective inhale when the men stepped over the clear line  dividing the dead zone from revenant territory. A pall dropped over the  group, turning the mood thick and heavy with grim anticipation.

A heightened awareness took hold as everyone anticipated an attack.

As the morning wore on, the group moved further into revenant territory.  The forest here was thin and sparse and the underbrush thick. It made  it challenging to move quickly, especially since they were going out of  their way to avoid making noise. The rolling hills made it difficult to  see any distance, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing  because it might hide them from the revenants but it would also prevent  them from seeing the revenants approaching until it was too late.

It was decided last night that riding horses would make them easy  pickings for the revenants as the creature was too small to hit with a  sword from horseback but was perfectly capable of leaping up to tear out  a horse's throat or drag a rider off its back.

Sweat dampened Shea's hair as she trailed behind Eamon. They'd walked a  fair amount, but not nearly as far as she'd have liked. Having a large  party like this made it difficult to move with speed, especially when  they were trying to be as stealthy as possible.

They were heading west and slightly south, hoping to skirt along the edge of the beasts' territory.

A low warble from the front of the line alerted Shea and the others. A  man held up his closed fist, signaling them to stop and find cover if  possible. He pointed at the ridge running parallel to them.

A single revenant was silhouetted against the sky, its head lifted  proudly as it glared out across its territory. Shea held her breath. If  it let loose an ululating wail, they were all dead.

A sigh went through the company when it disappeared back into the brush.

"That's it? That's what everybody is so afraid of?" Sam asked. "It can't be too difficult to kill that thing."

Eamon cuffed him on the back of his head. "Quiet."

"It might be easy to kill one on one," a man said softly from behind  Shea, "but it hunts in packs. I've never seen a more cunning animal."

"Looks like your little berries worked, boy," the man told Shea.

She glanced at her companions. "It works better if you all would just. Quit. Talking."

A choked noise came from Eamon.

She frowned at him. He looked away, but not before Shea caught a hint of a smile.

Thought it was funny, did he? Well, she'd see how funny he thought it  was when the revenant returned to check out all this noise. The berries  disguised their scent. They didn't mask sound.

The march resumed. The men held themselves in a constant state of readiness, with hands clutched around weapons.

The first test was passed. If they were going to retreat, now was the time.

The commander ordered them forward, further into revenant territory.

The sounds of animal life were muted in these woods. That had less to do  with the company's presence and more to do with the revenants acting  like a scourge on the earth. They had no sense of self preservation.  They killed and killed until there was nothing left. Then they would  move on like a pestilence. Intelligent they might be, but they had no  sense of restraint. They were extremely aggressive to everything.

They had an amazing sense of smell, which made up for their poor  eyesight. Pickleberries were one of the most pungent smelling plants in  the Highlands or Lowlands, and even a human could smell a small bush  from a fair distance. Before they had set out that morning, each man had  been instructed to rub crushed pickleberries on his pulse points, neck,  chest, groin, and under the arms, in the hopes that the smell would  conceal his scent.

It was better to slip through unseen than try to fight them off one by one.

And it seemed to be working too, until one of the beasts stumbled through the brush right on top of them.

Before Shea could move or shout, a man from Saw Grass drew his blade and  threw himself at the revenant. Two men followed, killing the beast  before it could emit more than a pained yip.

"Shit," Shea breathed.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then a chorus of screeching howls  mourned their pack mate's death. The din of dozens of revenants rose as  they raced through the hills all around them.

"That is not a small pack," Shea observed softly, listening.

"Let's move," Perry's low voice carried down the ranks.

The men surged up the hill, breaking into several smaller groups as they  went, hoping that they could escape detection from the revenant's weak  eyesight.

Shea's legs pumped as she stayed with Eamon and Buck who ran parallel  along the hill. She saw one of the men who had slayed the revenant  running to the right of them.         

     



 

"Get rid of your blade," Shea shouted.

His head jerked toward her, but he ignored her, picking up his pace. She growled and surged forward, dogging his steps.

"Your blade. Get rid of it. They can smell the blood."

Her message given, she veered back towards Eamon and the rest. It was up to him if he wanted to listen.

A revenant surged into view, his lips bared in a snarl, drool dangling  in thick ropes from its open mouth. Shea's group froze as the beast  lifted its nose, sniffing the air suspiciously, its milky white eyes  moving right over them.

The creature's skin, leathery and black like a bat's wings, was closer  to a reptiles than a mammal's. Its front legs were slightly longer than  the ones in the back. There were no ears on its broad, flat head, only  small slits for the ear canal. It also had no tail.

It bared its teeth again before darting off.

"Thank the gods," someone whispered.

"Let's go," Eamon said softly. "We need to make the rendezvous."

In single file, they moved through the wood. Every time a revenant's  distinctive hunting call echoed over the hills, Shea tensed then relaxed  when there was no accompanying human scream.

So far, it looked like the plan was working. But for how long?

The men in Shea's group were moving at a fast clip towards the next  landmark where they would regroup with the others. It couldn't be far  now.

Shea's breath sawed in and out of her lungs as she raced after Buck. He  was a quick little fucker and keeping up with him took every ounce of  concentration she had.

She wasn't the only one breathing heavy either.

"Revenant!" came the shout.

"Idiot," Shea muttered. He should have stayed silent.

There was a high-pitched scream.

He wouldn't be the last to fall. The pickleberry juice was wearing off.  It was bound to happen with all this sweating. Shea had warned them that  it was likely to fade the more they moved. It's why they had spent half  the night working on contingency plans.

The juice had done its job by getting them over halfway through the  territory and to the rally point, but now that the ruse had been  discovered, it wouldn't work on this particular group of revenants  again.

"We've still got a quarter mile to the next point," Eamon swore.

"Told you, these fuckers are smart," Shea panted.

"Pick up the pace, you slackers."

The pace quickened, the haunting wails of the revenants lending motivation to those who were tiring.

"There," Clark shouted.