Pathfinder's Way(49)

"Gods save me from having deal with the lazy scut ever again," Buck muttered.

"Watch it, friend," Eamon warned. "Lazy and useless he might be, but his brother is the most powerful man in the army."

Buck spat to the side. "Half-brother. Hawkvale would do well to force  him to make his own way in the world rather than letting him ride on his  coat tails."

"He's related to Hawkvale?" She would never have guessed. The two  couldn't have been more different. They looked and acted nothing alike.

"They're half-brothers," Phillip said, riding up.

A new addition to the team, he was on his first mission with the three.  Shea didn't trust him. He asked too many questions and saw too much. She  had to constantly be on her guard. Though he made her suspicious nature  run rampant, he was also one of the best trackers she had ever seen.

She could tell the other two weren't sure of him either. They were polite, but there was none of the normal easy joking.

"Either way, just watch yourself," Eamon cautioned Buck, "You never know who is listening."

Both were careful not to look at Phillip, but it was clear they wanted  to change the subject when Buck said, "What kind of expression was that,  Shane?"

"Hey! What the hell?" Shea raised a hand to her head. "I was trying to look delicate and frail."

Buck hooted and cackled. "Delicate? You looked like you were about to take a dump."

"I did not."

Eamon roared in laughter. "Yes. Yes, you did. I thought I was going to fall off my horse trying not to laugh."         

     



 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shea muttered, spurring her horse to move faster. "That was my delicate look."

The two just roared louder as Shea cantered away. Rounding the bend,  Shea shook her head. Something she had learned over the years, men could  be immature regardless of age.





Chapter Fourteen





"Whoa, halt."

"Again?" Phillip muttered, pulling on the reins.

Shea stood in her stirrups, craning her head to see around the supply  wagon in front of them. It was their turn to pull rear guard while Eamon  and Buck scouted in front.

"I'll ride up and see what's taking so long," she told him.

He nodded, frowning sourly. Her mood echoed his, though she was careful  to keep her face neutral as she rode down the line looking for the  reason for this most recent delay. It had been one obstacle after  another for the past several days, and the men were getting impatient.  Everyone wanted to reach the safety of camp, and the delays were making  them careless.

"What's the hold up?" she barked as she rode up to several men gathered at the back of one of the wagons.

"Wheel's stuck," a man with a crooked nose said crossly, gesturing at the wheel in question.

Cale rode up, his expression darkening as he caught sight of her. "Why are we stopped?"

The glare he shot her said he blamed her for this delay. She met him with a stony look of her own.

"Wheel's stuck," the man said again.

"Well, how long will that take?"

"No idea. It takes as long as it takes."

"Hurry it up," Cale said crossly.

"It'll take as long as it takes," the man enunciated clearly. "If you  want it to go faster, get down here and help us dig it out."

"Just do your job." Cale whirled his horse and cantered back to the front.

Shea and the man watched him go with similar looks of disgust.

"I'm impressed," she told him.

"I wasn't always a softie." He held up one mangled hand curled into a twisted claw.

Shea winced, the question of what happened forming in her mind but remaining unspoken.

"Got smashed when a horse trampled it," he said with a self-deprecating  grimace. "After that, I wasn't fit to serve on the lines or in the  scouts so they sent me to collect tithes with all the other sluggards."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Could be dead or cast out for being dead weight."

"Cast out?"

"They do that sometimes when you're no longer a productive member of the  clan." He gave her a gap toothed grin when he saw the horrified look on  her face. "They don't do that so much anymore, not since Hawkvale took  charge. Now, they just send you to units like these where you can help  but not be a burden to anyone." A distant look came over his face. "I  don't know which is worse."

He shook himself and turned to examine the stuck wagon. It had veered  off the path and wedged itself against a couple of rocks. One wheel was  wedged deep into the mud while the other was spinning idly in the air.

"Do you need some help? I can push," Shea offered.

He snorted. "Your scrawny body would just get in the way, scout. You just concentrate on finding the best path out of here."

She smiled shyly at him. "I'll do my best."

Turning to the men staring at the stuck wagon, he roared, "Alright you  slack abouts, I want this wheel dug out in the next thirty minutes, and  then you'd better be prepared to push this back onto the road. Next time  you veer off the path, you'll answer to me."

A deep war cry filled the air in response.

Shea rode down the line to Phillip and informed him of the holdup. He  squinted at the sky, the sun sinking lower and lower by the minute, and  sighed.

"We'll probably be making camp here."

Shea protested. "Once it's on the road, we can make several more miles before dark."

"If you say so." The expression on his face said he didn't hold out a  lot of hope and was just humoring her. Phillip dismounted. "We might as  well stretch our legs while we wait."

Seeing the sense in those words, she swung her leg over and hopped down,  letting the reins dangle to the ground. Trateri horses were well  trained, and it wouldn't run off unless she called for it. She stepped  away, twisting this way and that to stretch out her back. Down the line,  others dismounted as well with the same purpose. It seemed no one held  much hope that this would be a short delay.

Two hours later Shea had just won her third game of Bones.

"Looks like it's time to move," Phillip observed as men began heading towards their horses.         

     



 

Her current opponent groaned. "I was just about to beat him."

"Ha," his friend snorted. "He's trounced you every time you've played. You'd think you were tired of losing by now."

"I was just about to unleash my secret strategy."

"I'll look forward to this ‘secret' strategy next time," Shea teased.  "In the meantime be sure to do my chores when we stop for the night. Oh,  and I'll make sure to get that piece of jerky from you when we make  camp."

"We won't be traveling long," Phillip said as he prepared his horse for  travel. "Just far enough to find a decently defensible campsite."

"Fine with me. Every little bit of distance means we're that much closer to camp."

"Not a fan of the warlord's brother, are you?"

Shea was silent as she waited for the caravan to move. It could take a  while yet. They probably should have waited a few minutes before getting  back on line because it was the same old story every time. Everybody  rushed to mount and then waited and waited for the person in front of  them to go.

"I wouldn't say that," Shea finally said. "Just prefer to be on missions that have fewer people is all."

"Oh?" It was a clear invitation to continue.

The caravan began moving again, and Shea was saved from answering.  Phillip was always poking and prodding, trying to get people to say more  than they should. For someone like Shea, who preferred to keep her own  council, it was an uncomfortable experience every time he started asking  questions.

When it was clear she had no intention of answering, he said, "Is it the  people you don't like or is it collecting tithes from the villages?"

Shea shot him a glance. So that was what he was after. He gave every  semblance of being uninterested in her answer as he kept his attention  on examining the hills.

"Is that what you think?" she finally asked. "That I care about the  villagers? That maybe I'll lead everybody into a trap as revenge."

He shrugged. "It does seem odd that you have no qualms about working with the people responsible for conquering your land."

Logical assumption. If this was her land.

"Hmm. How many villages have you visited?"

He frowned. "Just these three."

She gave a cold smile. "So you have no real idea of what the people of this land are like, then."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Everything. What is it your people call people like me? Throwaways, wasn't it?"

"I doubt your loyalty is so fleeting as to be destroyed by a single act of self-preservation," he responded.

"You know me that well?" Shea said. "Well, how about this? Do you know what these people do to keep the beasts from their door?

He didn't answer.

"They sacrifice men and women, often times even children, to give  themselves a few more days of safety." Her laugh was low and ugly and  utterly devoid of humor. "Can you believe that? Ignorant savages think  spilling blood can protect them." The humor dropped from her face. "It's  what attracts them. The ironic part is that if they just shared  information they might figure out how useless such acts are. But, no,  everyone in this fucked up land hates everyone else. The only people you  can trust are those that you grew up with. Everyone else is just an  outsider. So they bury their heads and pretend they're safe if they just  stay behind their fences and walls."