Pathfinder's Way(68)

"Not easy to bait, then."

"Doesn't seem so." Caden's lips twitched. Barely. The motion was so small Shea wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined it.

"Quiet." The old man hadn't taken his eyes off Shea since his first observation, but now he gave Caden a sidelong glance.

"Her squad said she prefers to keep her own council."

The white haired man hacked deep in his lungs. Shea started when she realized it was his version of a laugh.

"That's not good. The Clan Heads will run right over her."

"Maybe." Caden folded his arms and leaned back against one of the tables  stacked high with clothes before crossing his legs at the ankles. "But  not necessarily. Her squad leader said she won't shut up if she thinks  she's in the right. Said he's never seen someone do quiet  insubordination so well."

Meynard gave his hacking laugh again. "So there's a little bit of fire behind those pretty eyes. That's good. She'll need it."

"Fallon wants her outfitted in his colors." There was a distinct pause. "She's to be one of his personal guards."

The old man's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "Not his Tolroi?"

"She refused."

The old man's lips pursed as if he'd just tasted something sour.

Shea hadn't expected anybody to know about that. Fallon was popular with  his army and some might be insulted on his behalf that she had rejected  his offer. Of course, the other half would have been enraged if she'd  accepted.

"Did you now?" he asked her.

Her chin jerked once in affirmation.

"And why is that?"

One shoulder rose. "I'm a scout, not a bed mate."

"Not anymore," Caden informed her. "You're a guard now."

Shea's composure cracked momentarily as a visceral denial fought to be  released. The implacable expression on Caden's face froze her. He let  her know without ever speaking a word that he was willing to beat that  fact into her body until she agreed.         

     



 

She closed her mouth on what she had been about to say and looked away briefly as she brought her emotions under control.

"So? Why are you here?" Meynard asked.

"I need you to give her the test."

The man shuffled over to Caden. "Does the Hawkvale know about this?"

"It's his order."

The old man's head dropped forward as he studied the ground at his feet for a moment before giving Shea an assessing glance.

"I don't think I've ever given it to a woman before."

Caden grunted.

Shea shifted under their regard. Had she ever heard anything about a test? The way Caden said ‘The Test' made it seem important.

She fidgeted slightly as they discussed details, the tight feeling of being closed in on all sides coming back.

She hoped this was just a skills test. Maybe a personality test.

This wouldn't be as bad as the last test she'd taken. Probably.

Shea jerked back as a crack rent the air. The old man flicked a thin  whip again, curling it around her thigh and leaving a smarting welt  behind. She hadn't even seen him pick up the weapon.

Shea reached for the dagger at her back and cursed silently when she  felt nothing but air. She'd been disarmed yesterday before meeting  Fallon, and they never returned the blade. She dropped into a crouch and  watched the man's torso carefully as she prepared for the next blow.

"Her pain tolerance is pretty high."

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

"She speaks," Meynard cried. He fainted to the left with the whip. Shea  went right only to gasp as he nailed her in the ribs. "I had begun to  wonder if you were a mute."

He cracked the whip several times on either side of her, driving her  back with each flick of his wrist. Despite her best efforts he caught  her twice more. Once on the ribs and another on her left hand.

"You can avoid these any time you'd like," he told her.

She snorted. "Why? I can barely feel it."

"Oh?"

She wanted to hiss as fire raced down one arm before blood slowly  trickled out of the cut he'd opened. He had excellent control. Until  then, he hadn't drawn blood, just raised a few welts.

"You'll have to do better than that," she told him.

Taunts and bluffs were all she had to defend herself with at the moment.  Caden had very carefully made sure she was unarmed for this meeting,  and the old man was good enough with his weapon that every attempt to  sidestep or escape was thwarted.

Perhaps this was the test.

The last ‘test' she had taken had nearly killed her. All pathfinders  were subjected to the trial at the end of their apprenticeship. Many  died in the dangerous rite of passage. She didn't like to remember that  time.

"So does this test consist of torturing your target until they try to kill you?" Shea asked idly.

The old man cocked his head, observing her from under bushy eyebrows. "No. What makes you think that?"

"Oh, because you keep hitting me WITH YOUR WHIP."

Two more cracks and welts formed under her pants.

"Don't be a goat brained Lowlander. This is the easiest way to test your mental fortitude."

Of course. She winced as one of his blows landed across a previous one.

She'd had enough. She didn't care if she failed. Maybe if she couldn't  pass their little test, they'd let her go back to being a scout, or  better yet forget all about her so she could get back to her life.

She reached back, grabbed a stack of clothing and then threw it in the  air between the old man and her. He drew back, raising one hand to  protect his face. Shea dropped low and lunged, reaching out and twisting  the whip out of his hand in a smooth movement.

She backed away quickly. She looked from it to the old man. He wasn't getting this thing back.

"Took you long enough," the old man said, making no move to take the whip from her. "Takes a little to get her going."

Caden nodded once. "That was my assessment as well, Meynard."

"But once she gets going, she acts with clear decisive intent." The old  man made a ‘hm' of approval. He clapped his hands together. "Next phase  then."

There were phases. This was going to be worse than she thought.

She could always purposefully fail.

As if reading her thoughts, Caden said, "I should warn you that if you  fail, your friends, both the ones from your village and the men you've  been riding with over the past few months, will suffer for it."

Shea was quiet as that sunk in.

"What makes you think I care for a bunch of Trateri trail pounders?" she finally asked.

"You're still here, aren't you?"         

     



 

"Uh huh." She let a bit of amusement bleed through, hoping it would cast  just a little bit of doubt in his mind about her motives. Maybe it  would be enough that they would stop threatening the other three to  ensure her good behavior.

By the pitying look he gave her, she was willing to bet he didn't buy her attempt at subterfuge one bit.

Not that she was surprised. She'd never been very good at misleading  others through word or gesture. Her teachers had always lamented her  directness.

Yeah, Caden wasn't buying her lies for one minute.

"So what's this next test?" Shea asked.

"Physical endurance."

Shea felt a cautious relief. The life of a scout and a pathfinder was  geared towards one thing above all others and that was endurance. If you  didn't have the ability to walk or run for miles on end for hours upon  hours, you wouldn't last through your first year. Shea had spent her  entire life building up those abilities.

Despite her confidence, she knew everybody could be pushed beyond their breaking point. Even her.

"And that entails?"

The old man's lips parted in a wrinkly smile. "You'll see."





Shea's thighs burned as a sharp ache dug deeper and deeper into the  muscle right between her shoulder blades. Her shirt had turned several  shades darker, and her hair was plastered to the side of her head. She  blinked away the sharp sting of sweat and concentrated on her grip on  the blade.

She had been right to be leery of the old man's endurance test. His  workout menu was as bad as any pathfinder she had ever studied under.  Worse, because pathfinders were cautious not to permanently break the  youths who had been given into their keeping. She didn't think this man  had any such reservations.

The morning began like every morning, with a brisk run around the  encampment four times. Not the tent city but the outer circumference,  just past the sentry lines that were patrolled by Trateri soldiers. One  time around was roughly three miles. The old man followed behind on  horseback and any time he thought she was going too slowly, he'd flick  the whip against the backs of her legs.

When the fast paced run from hell was finally finished, he had her strap  a carrying pole across her shoulder and added a full bucket of water on  either side and then had her carry it up the steep quarter mile hill on  the far side of camp.

At the top of that hill, he threw a round, leather sand-filled ball at  her, making her catch it. More often than not, it hit her stomach before  she could grab it. There was blood on her shirt from when she missed  and gotten hit in the face, causing her nose to bleed.