Shea didn't believe it was evil, but she had first-hand knowledge that there were creatures dwelling within its borders that hadn't been seen since the first great cataclysm.
It was close to Edgecomb, closer than the passage Shea and her party had used to descend from the Highlands. Gaining entrance to the Badlands would be infinitely easier than trying to climb the cliffs with an injured man.
But, there was a reason they hadn't made a straight path for its borders after the rescue. People who went in to the Badlands rarely came out.
"I don't think Cam can make it up some of those passes," Witt told her.
"Look. I don't like this option any better than you, but we won't make it to the Highlands. They're gaining too fast, and we're about to run out of safe ground for the wagon." Shea nodded at the shadowy hills that marked the Badland's edge. "The incline up is gentler and less rocky. We can use the wagon longer, and we can get to high ground before Edgecomb's villagers catch up to us."
A beat passed before the wagon veered sharply right.
"The Badlands?" a gravelly voice said next to her ear. "Sounds ominous."
Shea turned to find whiskey eyes very close to her hazel ones. He waited expectantly for an answer, but Shea hesitated. Everyone from Highlander to Lowlander knew about the Badlands. They shared stories around campfires and scared little kids about what waited there.
"I take it you're not from around here?" She watched as they pulled closer and closer to the Badlands.
He shrugged his massive shoulders.
Shea frowned slightly. Evasion.
They really knew nothing about these strangers, though she very much suspected they were some kind of warriors. Neither had a mark on them whereas James and Cam were covered with bruises. They both had small scars on their hands and forearms, the sort that came from extensive sword practice. From what little Shea had witnessed, she knew both could handle themselves in dangerous situations.
He waited expectantly, his focus entirely on her as she puzzled through the implications.
James chimed in before Shea could come to a decision. "The Badlands? I thought it was overrun with beasts. My father told me stories of men who tried to settle that territory. They never last long. The people are either found dead, or the villages abandoned as if its occupants just disappeared one night. I've never even seen a map, not even a generic, rudimentary one of that land." He paused and looked at Shea. "How are we supposed to find our way out if you don't have a map? Have you ever been there?"
Shea had shifted to watch their pursuers as James took up the explanation, hoping her part in the conversation was finished. The scenery passed by unnoticed as Shea's focus turned inward at his question.
"Shea?"
She looked up, her gaze sliding past James to the string of sharp hills looming large. "Once." Sadness whispered through her. She'd barely made it out that one time. Many others had not. Clearing her throat abruptly, she shook off her thoughts. "We shouldn't have a problem. We're on the very edge, and we won't go any further in than we absolutely have to."
The stranger's gaze sharpened on her, picking up on her hidden expressions and making her feel exposed. A sharp crack forestalled any questions.
"Damn it. I can't hit shit like this." Dane adjusted his grip on his weapon, shifting forward and wedging himself into the corner of the wagon. He took another shot and then cursed roundly as it missed. "I'm just wasting ammo."
"No, wait. Look," the stranger Dane had drafted said, pointing as the mob split to either side of the wagon, while still maintaining their distance.
"That's not better. Now I have two groups to try to hit."
"Yes, but they're being careful not to get in range now." The stranger with the gray eyes turned to Shea. "That's what you were hoping for, isn't it?"
"It is."
"Now you just wait until they start edging closer again before firing," the stranger instructed.
The next few minutes were tense as Dane tried to hold off the mob with a few well-timed rounds.
Witt urged the wagon faster. There were a few hair-raising seconds where the wagon almost tipped as the ride got rougher. All it would take was one good bump, and they would all be sent flying.
The Badlands were just ahead.
"Drive along their edge. We need to find a good entry point," Shea shouted at Witt.
Steep rolling hills that lurked like giant beasts announced the boundary of the Badlands. Very little vegetation broke up the stark browns and grays.
"There." Shea pointed at a slim dip between two sheer rock faces. "Get as close as you can before stopping."
Shea was hoping the path would be narrow enough to prevent their pursuers from following on horseback. She needed the men chasing them to dismount. Otherwise, Shea's group would just be run down before they could hide.
Witt pulled the horses up sharply, almost sending the wagon crashing into their rears. Dane and the stranger jumped down while Shea and the whiskey-eyed man helped lower Cam to the ground.
The mob surged forward.
Dane dropped to one knee, cradling the weapon's stock to his shoulder and bracing his elbow against his raised knee. Without the obstacle of the wagon, he picked off two men while Shea and the others raced toward the small gap.
He followed quickly after them.
Chapter Three
The narrow space forced their group to run single file. It wasn't long before the defined depression between the two hills turned into a narrow gorge. Granite cliffs towered over them on either side, allowing only thin rays of light to filter down. A river must have run through there at one time, the water eating away at the rock over millions of years before eventually drying up.
It was perfect. The villagers wouldn't be able to ride their horses after them. They'd have to follow on foot.
A hundred feet in, the crevasse cut sharply right, hiding them from sight.
They moved quickly.
Witt and one of the strangers supported Cam as Shea slipped past to race ahead to scout possible routes. A dead end meant death.
Dane brought up the rear, turning every couple of feet to make sure their pursuers weren't getting too close.
Shea didn't hold out much hope that the villagers would let superstition keep them from following.
Sure enough, the sound of pursuit began quickly, shouts echoing in the tiny space.
Up ahead, the canyon abruptly widened, and the path became uneven and difficult to traverse, slowing the group.
She fairly bounced on her toes as she waited for the others to catch up.
She'd already scouted ahead and needed them to pick up the pace.
Must move faster, repeated over and over in her head as the sound of pursuit grew closer.
There was little talk as Shea led them further and further into the Badlands. The mood was tense, and they moved quickly, not taking the time for breaks or rest.
They couldn't. The villagers were never far behind, and they all knew what would happen if they were caught.
Shea held up a hand signaling a stop.
"What is it?" Witt asked, coming up beside her.
"We have time for a short break."
A very short one.
"Are you sure?"
Shea listened. She couldn't hear the villagers.
"Yes. We have a few minutes. No more."
"I'll tell the others."
Witt approached the rest and after a short conversation they began finding places to sit. James helped Cam sink down and sat beside him. Dane moved back down the path and found a place to crouch where he had line of sight down the canyon but could still keep an eye on the group. He raised his canteen and took a sip before throwing the canteen to James who gulped some down and passed it to Cam.
The whiskey-eyed stranger approached Shea.
She spared him a brief glance before turning to examine the canyon's walls. She couldn't see a way up them. They were too steep. Even without the handicap of Cam, it would be impossible to climb them. The dirt was too loose, and it was just shy of being a vertical climb.
Maybe if they had an area of hard rock face.
"Your boy's not going to make it," Whiskey said, nodding to Cam.
Shea followed his glance, seeing the pain on Cam's face and the sweat dripping down his body.
Though it frustrated her, she had to agree.
"You'd be better off stashing him and leading the others away."
Shea grunted.
She'd thought of that but hadn't found a good hiding place. Yet.
The two of them fell silent again.
She snuck a sideways glance at him, noting the way he seemed to notice everything around him. He didn't seem worried about their situation. Neither did his companion.
Why?
She envied him his apparent calm. Nerves and tension were the only things she could feel. Being in the Badlands again, even if it was only the edge, was playing havoc with her emotions. The added obstacles of the villagers and an injured man only heightened the tension.
"We shouldn't rest too much longer," he advised. "Our pursuers will be getting close."