Pathfinder's Way(79)

     



 

"See that you do."

Following his lead, Shea grabbed her gear. After adjusting her pack, she  looked up to find Fallon watching her with an enigmatic gaze. Meeting  his eyes with a neutral gaze of her own, Shea waited for him to break  the silence.

He did after a drawn out moment. "We're off then."

Not waiting for a response, he headed outside with Shea hurrying to keep  up with him. They hadn't far to go, just to the small clearing next to  his guards' tents.

The men had arranged themselves in several neat little lines, the  horses' nose to tail and each man sitting ramrod straight. Their dress  was the same as most of what Shea had seen on the trail, well made, dark  cloth for pants and varying darker colors for the loose shirts. There  had to be over a hundred men assembled, considerably larger than the  parties Shea was used to escorting. The truly impressive thing, however,  wasn't the clothes, the number of men, or the horses, though Shea would  be interested to find out how they managed to get the infernal  creatures to form such crisp lines. No, what was truly impressive was  the way every single man came to attention as soon as their warlord  stepped into view.

As one, they saluted, banging closed fists to their chests in a near  synchronous clap of sound, then bowing slightly from the waist in a  gesture of deep respect.

Fallon observed with an inscrutable look and when they had returned to  their upright positions, he slapped his fist to his chest in return.

Without another word, he headed for a pair of horses at the front of the  line. The first was a sleek, black stallion, prancing and tossing its  head. At a glance, Shea could tell he'd be a handful. Willful, spirited,  and probably temperamental.

No thanks.

Her eyes went to the second. She couldn't quite call it a horse. It  could best be described as a short, furry pony, with a barrel chest and  thick stocky legs. It chewed enthusiastically at a piece of grass at its  feet. Compared to the every other mount out here, it was the ugly step  cousin of horses. It didn't belong at all.

Fallon immediately headed for the stallion, which meant the squat creature was Shea's.

Great. Guess that settled how she would be treated. Not as the person  who had saved their Warlord's life, twice she might add, but as a lowly  aide who couldn't even be trusted with a real horse.

Shea sighed inwardly. She had a feeling she knew how the next few days  were going to go. She doubted it would be as easy to earn these men's  regard as it had been the men of Dawn's Riders.

"She's steadier than she looks," Fallon told Shea as she fastened her ruck sack to the back of her saddle.

Shea mounted and gathered the reins in her hands. "They always are."

He gave her an appreciative grin. Lifting one hand, he pointed forward,  and they were off. The party getting underway as Fallon led the way out  of camp.

Shea gave her beast a kick to prod it forward. It stubbornly remained  still. She prodded harder. It waited a beat longer as if to tell Shea  they only moved when the beast wanted.

Even when it began moving, the animal did so grudgingly. They weren't  even out of camp before the lead horses and their riders passed her.

Shea kept her face stubbornly pointed forward, not acknowledging the  amused grins passing over her head as the riders passed on either side  of her.

By the time the party crested its first hill, Shea and her stubborn  mount were firmly at the back with only the rear guard behind her, and  that only because they absolutely refused to pass her.

Being utterly unable to inspire the beast to go any faster, Shea sat  back to enjoy the ride. If she ignored the three men behind her and  tuned out the distant sounds of the group in front of her, she could  almost pretend she was on a solo journey in the Highlands with the sun  on her face, the wind in her hair and hundreds of miles of empty expanse  between her and the nearest person.

The path curved and the last two riders in the party came briefly into view, ending Shea's fantasy.

The pony kept a steady, short legged trot, completely different from the  smooth gaits of the larger horses. It was by no means a comfortable  ride, sending the teeth rattling in her head.

Shea caught up with the main group between one twist of the path and the  next, surprised to find they had taken a break so soon in the trip.

A man intercepted her as she began to dismount. "Better to just stay  seated, girl. You took too long catching up. We're taking off directly."

"I see." Shea settled back into place, looking at the commotion around her. Sure enough, the men were heading for their mounts.

Looked like she wasn't getting any rest during this stop, or any stop, given how slow this infernal creature was.         

     



 

Sure enough, the pattern repeated with Shea and her mount falling behind  almost immediately after setting off. When she caught up with them a  few hours later, she didn't even pause before continuing. She'd had a  lot of time to think, riding along by herself and had worked out what  was happening.

The time between breaks wasn't long enough for an elite unit. No, they  were waiting for her to fall behind so they could stop and then set off  as soon as she caught up, leaving her no time to rest or eat. They'd  probably picked the pony just for this reason. Their own personal brand  of hazing.

Inwardly, Shea smiled. She wondered if this was Fallon's plan or his  men's. In the end, it didn't really matter. They miscalculated if they  hoped to make her miserable. She enjoyed riding alone as it spared her  from having to make conversation with Fallon or his men, though she  loathed being the one dragging everyone down.

"Where are you going?" a man questioned as she rode past.

"Thought I'd get a head start. I'm sure you'll catch up."

He snorted and let her pass without a challenge.

Shea felt a tingling between her shoulder blades but resisted the urge to turn, knowing who it was drilling a hole in her back.

A half hour hadn't even passed before Fallon rode past with his men hard  on his heels. They flanked her briefly before she was once again left  alone with her thoughts.

That set the tone for the rest of the day, though Fallon no longer let  her pass them, instead having them mounted and moving out as soon as she  came into sight.

She was exhausted that evening when she finally lifted her leg over the  pommel and slid to the ground. Even that wasn't to be the end, as she  had to feed, water and then hobble her horse with the others.

Finished settling the beast for the night, she gave its neck an  affectionate pat. They'd come to an understanding of sorts during the  course of the day. She wouldn't try to make it go any faster than a  moderate trot, and the pony wouldn't come to a complete stop and refuse  to take another step. Not quite the relationship Shea usually had with  her mounts, but she'd take it.

Sleeping pallets littered the small campsite. As was usual for fast  journeys such as theirs, the Trateri hadn't set up a shelter that would  need to be torn down in case of a quick exit.

Fallon's bags sat abandoned near the hobbled horses. Shea picked up on  the unspoken order, shouldering them and heading for a spot near the  middle of the proceedings, intending to set his pallet up where he'd be  surrounded by his men.

"Fallon prefers to be on the edge," a man spoke over her shoulder as she unrolled his blankets.

He pointed in the direction he meant. Shea gave him a quick nod and  gathered both packs and the half unrolled blankets, before making her  way to a little spot just far enough from the fire that its light  wouldn't bother him as he slept. She chose a site at the base of a tree  with bark the color of ash and branches that bent gracefully under the  weight of its leaves. After placing his pack at the head of the nest she  created, she grabbed hers and stood.

Now, where should she set up hers?

Immediately, she discarded anywhere inside the circle of Trateri. Like Fallon, Shea preferred to be on the edge of things.

She found her ideal sleeping area on the opposite side of the campsite  from Fallon's. No one had bedded down within ten feet of her, leaving a  nice little bubble of privacy. Just the way she liked it.

"You might as well pick those up and carry them back to where you set me up," Fallon said from behind her.

Shea paused in the act of rolling out her blankets. "I prefer this  spot," she told him politely, determined not to let any action of his  fluster her.

"And I prefer you next to me."

There were several responses she could make to that statement. None of them polite.

"We don't always get what we want," she said.

She was tired. Muscles she hadn't been aware of in years ached. Her  lower back was one giant throb, and her ass hurt something dreadful. All  she wanted to do was roll into her blankets and sleep.

"Indeed. You don't."

Well, she should have seen that coming.

"I'm not moving," she told him flatly. "You have nearly a hundred men. I  doubt I'll be able to sneak off without at least one of them noticing,  if that's what you're worried about."