Pathfinder's Way(73)

There must have been something in the smoke, she realized finally.

After that she didn't do a lot of thinking, but simply experienced  things with a wide-eyed wonder as images and thoughts raced by.  Sometimes these things collided in a brilliant cascade of color and  light.

The first warp took her back to her childhood.

She was holding tight to a woman's hand. In Shea's eyes, that woman was  the most beautiful woman in the world. Shea paid close attention as the  woman explained the difference between a thistle thorn paw print and  that of a red tail's.

"Understand, Shea?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Lainey, are you teaching that girl tracking again?" a deep voice asked affectionately.

Shea's mother gave the man a crooked grin. "It's never too early to start. Huh, sweet pea?"

Shea was engrossed in studying the paw print her mother had pointed out and her little forehead puckered as she concentrated.

The man slung an arm around Lainey's chest, pulling her firmly against him as he settled his chin on her head.

"I see you're determined to have her follow in your footsteps."

Shea's head shot up, and she frowned at him. "I'm not going to be like  Mommy. I'm going to be a gatherer and go on many adventures where I  learn things nobody else knows."

"Are you now?" Shea's mother asked.

Shea nodded once, firmly.

Both her mother and father laughed. Her father leaned down and scooped her small body up.

"I guess you'd better soak up everything your mom has to teach you,  then. It's even harder to become a gatherer than it is a pathfinder."

The world froze before twisting and bursting into a starburst of bright light.

"Pick up the pace," Shea barked, looking back at the rear. "We need to find cover before nightfall."

A chorus of weary groans answered. She allowed herself a brief moment as  she looked over her group of twenty travelers. They, like her, were  exhausted.

The journey's stress and the constant worry of being in the Badlands were taking their toll.

Already, ten in their party had fallen. Mostly to beasts, three to the  mist that fell while they'd navigated the border between the Highlands  and Badlands.

A small part of her was beginning to think the elders had been right.  Highlanders were simply not meant to explore this desolate land of dust  and death.

"Eagle!" shouted through the ranks, as each man on the line repeated it until the shout resounded over the plateau.

Terror struck deep as a large shadow fell over them.

A draft of wind passed right over her and she tripped and fell. Brown  wings trimmed in white spread wide, blocking out the sun as its owner  brushed past. Screams pierced the quiet and the eagle dipped and then  rose again, two men clutched in its claws.

Something inside Shea shriveled as the beast winged its way higher and  higher. That same something withered further when two more eagles  dropped out of the sky to claim more of her men. She'd never seen so  many of them. Shea watched, motionless and helpless, as her dreams died  all around her.

Her arrogance had gotten them killed.

She could do nothing but wait for her turn.

Light burst all around her and then the world went dark.





Shea opened her eyes slowly to stare up at a night sky marred by the  warm glow of the fire next to her. The low murmur of voices was  accompanied by the crackle and snap of the burning logs.         

     



 

Her body felt as if it had been wrung dry. She swallowed, feeling like sand had been poured in her mouth.

"I see you're finally back." Fallon's voice came from the dark on her left.

She turned her head, slowly, so slowly. It felt like it weighed three times what it did normally. "Did I go somewhere?"

That rough, scratchy noise didn't sound like her voice. A cool cup of  water was passed to her and a large hand on her back helped her sit. She  gulped the water down gratefully, not even minding when some of it  missed her lips and spilled down her front.

Fallon tilted the cup away from her. "Easy."

When he let her drink again, she forced herself to go slow even though  it felt like the water evaporated as soon as it touched her parched  tongue. She was numb, as if all the emotion had been stripped from her  and the only thing left was a pervasive nothingness.

"What was in the fire?" Shea asked. She didn't really care if he  answered, it was just that questions had been a part of her life for so  long they rose without thought.

"It's wilder root," Fallon told her. "My people refer to it as our  venom. It's used when a door needs to be opened between the present and  the past. It's supposed to strip away the blinders and make everything  clear again. It's not without danger, though. Some get lost in the  dreams and never find their way out."

She'd never heard of such a thing. Part of her knew she should be filing  that little tidbit away to be documented later, but she couldn't bring  herself to care.

"You're one of us now." Fallon picked up her hand, his felt warm against her chilled skin.

"What does that mean?" Shea found herself asking. "I'm one of you?"

"You have the same rights as a Trateri. You can claim war spoils as one  of us, proclaim challenge. Any children you bear will be raised Trateri.  In essence, you have become as much a Trateri as if you'd been born of  us."

"Isn't that nice." A little of Shea's normal personality began to peek through. "So in the end you're just like them."

Fallon tilted his head and watched her carefully.

"Let me ask you something. Once you've conquered all of the Lowlands, what do you plan to do with this land?"

"They will be integrated into my own people as we create a country under one ruler."

"Ah. So you mean they'll be your servants. Good enough to work in your army and die for you but not really be one of you."

"That's right." Fallon had no hesitation in his answer.

Shea snorted back a laugh. That's a conqueror for you.

"That's how it works. The strong rule the weak. They had their chance,  and they've squandered it. Without my men, these people would be dead in  another generation or two." Fallon's voice hardened, and Shea saw the  ruthless intellect behind the warrior's mask. "Look around, my people  never should have been able to conquer this land. There hasn't been a  significant battle since we invaded. The biggest threats aren't from men  but beasts. This land is fertile and capable of supporting a population  three times its size whereas where we come from every drop of water has  to be measured so as not to be wasted. Every scrap of food that passes  our lips has to be rationed carefully. Hunger isn't something you feel;  it's a state of being.

And yet nothing has stopped us from sweeping across this land. Your  villages are laughably small and even your cities are capable of  sustaining many more. You have entire towns that disappear in the night.  These people have done nothing to save themselves. It will be my people  who brave the wilds to secure their safety. They will reap the  benefits."

She agreed with everything he'd just said. The Lowlands and the  Highlands were dying a long, slow death. Populations were declining and  every year another village seemed to disappear. It's why she'd helped  Eamon and Buck for so long.

Despite the short term loss of life, Fallon's people could save  thousands if he was successful. The Trateri might have been brutal in  their interactions with themselves and others, but they worshipped  knowledge and continually strived to understand their surroundings. They  fought to tame the world around them and adapted when they could not.  Both of these were qualities that Lowlanders sorely lacked. It was the  same for Highlanders as well.

It was also the reason she could never take Fallon and his men across  the mist. Her people were just disorganized enough that he would have a  real chance at conquering the Highlands, that and the weapons left over  from the ancients made her cooperation with him impossible. Although it  would make sense to unite the lands under one ruler, Shea could not see  her people ever submitting to being the servants of another. It would  never work. They would fight to the last man, and she could not subject  them to that.         

     



 

"You know I will never take you past the mists," she told Fallon. The  steel resolve in her voice filtered through. Something about the wilder  berry clarified things for her, if there had been any doubt about this  fact in her before, it was gone now.

She needed to get this over with. She needed him to understand that no  matter what he did, show her the world or torture her, she was never  going to help him.

Her loyalties weren't divided anymore. She felt no regret for helping  them in the Lowlands but she would never take them to the Highlands.

"I would rather die."

She tightened her grip on her knees and waited.

A light touch ran up and down her back, and a pair of lips pressed against her head.

"I know that you believe that," he told her softly. A finger turned her  head towards him. "You're Trateri now. The wilder root assured that. It  would be best to forget past loyalties. It'll only make things more  difficult on you the harder you hang onto your previous life."