THE EAGLE swooped for another pass. Fallon leaned close to his horse, its legs pumping as it ran for all its worth. The eagle grew larger and larger, falling from the sky faster than anything Fallon had ever seen. At the last second its wings snapped out, catching the wind as it sailed over Fallon’s head.
Fallon reined in his horse, slowing its gallop and watching as the eagle bypassed his men and headed to the cliffs. It was joined by a second eagle, both preoccupied by something tucked away and out of sight.
Shea. They were going after Shea. She’d been climbing near there before they appeared. Fallon didn’t want to think a beast could be that smart—to bypass easy prey in favor of a much more difficult quarry—but he didn’t know how else to explain why the golden eagles were acting so counter to their nature.
He saw Reece up ahead, looking at the eagles the same way Fallon had.
“Could this beast call be the cause of this?” Fallon shouted, reining his horse to a stop next to the pathfinder.
Although there were plenty of mounts with each of his men bringing four to enable them to switch off when their first mount got tired, Fallon had not given Reece one. He’d wanted the other man tired and irritated from the journey.
Reece looked lost as he stared at the eagles as they pecked at something in the rocks. Fallon took heart, seeing their continued preoccupation as a sign that they’d been unsuccessful in their hunt.
“I don’t know,” Reece finally said. “I’ve never seen them act like this. It’s against their nature.”
“So, it’s the beast call.”
He shook his head. “A call shouldn’t be able to control them. Its sole purpose is to summon a beast. It doesn’t pick the beast and certainly doesn’t guide its actions.”
Fallon thought they needed to revisit that assumption. What he was seeing contradicted that statement. It was the only explanation.
“We need to get those eagles away from the cliffs.” The words ‘and Shea’ went unspoken. To the men who still stood guard over the pathfinder, Fallon said, “Put him on a horse and get him to the cliffs.”
There would be some protection afforded by tucking in close to the cliffs. For a short time at least.
Fallon let out a war cry, summoning his men as he galloped towards Shea. Half of his army was still strung out along the cliff, looking for the entrance that Fallon was half convinced didn’t exist. Those that heard him galloped towards him, forming a wave around him, Fallon at the tip of the spear. He slowed the gallop. They needed to distract those birds.
In the distance, Braden had formed the men that couldn’t answer Fallon’s call, creating a square, archers inside, spearmen on the outside. The men fell into line easily, having practiced the movement several times during the journey to Bearan’s Fault. They’d learned from the first attack. The golden eagles would not find them such easy prey this time.
“What’s your order?” Caden shouted next to him.
“Have Braden’s men harry the eagles. The rest ride with me.”
Fallon whistled and the men around him broke off, following him without question or doubt as he rode back out onto the wide-open plains. The cliffs receded behind them, but not quickly enough for what Fallon had planned.
They were bait. Harrying the eagles would only do so much. Moving bait would pull them off their victim.
A bugle sounded behind them. It was the signal Fallon had been waiting for. He let out another cry and the ranks split, groups breaking off to form a large square, spearmen on the outside edge and archers on the inner edge of the square.
Fallon took a position inside the square on the side where the eagles would attack. He shouted his order. “Archers to the ready.”
His men reached for their bows.
“Nock arrows.”
Only the sound of heavy breathing and horses shifting was heard.
“Hold.”
The eagles grew in size until Fallon could count the spots on one.
“Draw.”
That was close enough.
“Loose arrows.”
The arrows released with a series of twangs. In a smooth movement, his archers knocked their next arrow and drew back their strings.
“Loose.”
Another volley of arrows flew.
One eagle screeched and pulled back, the powerful beat of its wings taking it higher into the air. Its companion kept coming, attempting to snatch a man off the line. Fallon was there with spear in hand, jabbing up into its stomach. Other spearmen joined him, some glancing off its protective feathers, a few finding their mark.
It peeled off to join its companion in the air. Together they circled.
“Archers!” Fallon shouted. Bows lifted. “Loose.”
A storm of arrows sailed toward the eagles. They swooped and dived to avoid the worst of it.
“Loose.”
The eagles beat their wings and climbed.
Thunder sounded from the cliffs and the ground shook. Such a loud noise that Fallon was half convinced the world was about to meet its end as the horses tossed their heads as their eyes rolled.
They were too well-trained to rear and toss their rider, but they pranced in place. Eagles didn’t concern them, but the ground moving under their feet was enough to upset years of training.
“Look,” one of Fallon’s men shouted. To Fallon’s eyes he looked not much older than a boy. He was familiar. Fallon thought this might be one of the men Shea was friends with.
A small opening appeared in the cliffs. One not visible before.
“She did it,” Buck shouted.
Of course, she did. If anybody could, it was Shea. In the nick of time too.
“One hundred meter sprints,” Fallon said. “On the next pass.”
There was a chorus of battle cries acknowledging his command.
The eagles passed over head, shying away from the volley of arrows the archers sent in their direction.
“Now.”
The lines broke as the horses thundered back toward the cliffs and the safety they now represented.
They reached their hundred meters, the horses wheeling to form the same square they had before. Archers on the inside, spearmen on the outside so their backs could be protected.
The eagles separated in mid-air, one swooping in from the left while the other angled to attack from the right. Fallon remained focused on the closest, concentrating on shouting commands and trusting that one of his commanders would take care of the other side.
Eamon shouted, “Loose,” a beat before Fallon.
There was a cry as one of the eagles closed its talons around a man, trying to drag him from his saddle. The spearmen next to him closed ranks, thrusting with their spears. An arrow found its way into its eye, the boy Shea had befriended giving a triumphant shout.
Its talons opened, dropping its victim. The man fell to the ground, blood gushing from a stomach wound as the eagle climbed into his sky above him.
“Get him back on his horse,” Fallon ordered. “We move now.”
Two of Fallon’s soldiers threw the injured man onto his horse before leaping onto their own. The group took off at a gallop.
“Fallon, look,” Eamon shouted, pointing to the west and the Badlands.
“I see it.” Fallon’s face was grim as he bent closer to his horse and flicked his reins, trying to summon more speed.
A black cloud—moving in an unnatural way as it changed direction and speed against the wind—was heading in their direction. Fast. It was close, much too close. The eagles had distracted them from the danger amassing in the distance.
Eamon turned, calling over his shoulder. “Ride! Ride as if the hounds of the underworld are nipping at your heels.”
The cavern entrance was close now, looming larger with every hoof beat. Fallon didn’t dare call his men to stop to face the eagles bearing down, knowing that if they did, that black mass would be on them.
He just bent lower and let his mount have its head, trusting that it would make it.
He could hear the beat of wings on the air, coming ever closer. Feel the air on the back of his neck from those wings.
Braden stood at the head of several lines of men that had formed on either side of the entrance. Fallon met his eyes as he charged closer.
Braden’s mouth moved, shaping a word. “Loose arrows.”
Arrows flew once again. Aimed at the sky and the creatures bearing down on them.
Then he was past, his horse plunging into darkness. His men followed close behind.
*
A cough echoed around Shea.
“Trenton, are you alive?” she asked. She didn’t dare move, unsure of how much room she still had on her perch.
“Barely.”
She let out a sigh of relief. As much as the man was a pain for his insistence on shadowing her even when she felt it unnecessary, she would have missed him if he’d died.
“How badly are you hurt?” she asked.
A groan echoed up to her. “Battered and bruised, but otherwise okay.”
Shea debated whether to trust that assessment, knowing he’d probably say the same thing even on his deathbed. “Nothing broken?”
It would have taken a miracle for him to have survived that fall without a broken bone or two.
“I’ll be fine.”
In other words, yes, but he didn’t want to admit it.
“I’m coming down to you,” Shea said.
Her eyes began to adjust to the dim light. There must be an opening somewhere. True darkness in a cave is a black so deep and pervasive, that even the best eyes in the world wouldn’t be able to see a hand in front of their face. No light meant no sight. Since Shea could see, dim though it was, it meant light was filtering through.
She slung her leg over the edge and carefully felt her way down. It was slow going and left her muscles clenched at the anticipation that the next grip would be her last.
“Almost there,” Trenton said as Shea inched her way down. “Few more feet.”
His voice sounded close. Shea descended until one foot touched the ground. She turned to find Trenton propped against a wall. He looked terrible, cuts and bruises on his face, one hand clasped against his ribs.
She knelt beside him, looking him over. The way he held his arm to the side of his body and kept his breaths light and shallow made her suspect he had broken, or at least cracked, a few ribs. Not surprising given the height he’d fallen from.
“I’m fine, Shea.”
She ignored his words. “Can you move your arms?”
She gave him a serious look that said she wasn’t moving from this spot until he humored her. He rolled his eyes but moved each arm, demonstrating that they were working.
“What about your legs?”
He shifted, bending one leg then the other.
At least that was something. It didn’t mean he hadn’t cracked a bone, but he should be able to walk out of here at least. The more pressing concern was internal bleeding. For now, he was mobile, which was good because carrying him out of here would be very difficult. Not impossible, but it would probably take everything in her to accomplish it.
“Do you think they found the entrance?” Trenton asked.
“I hope so.”
Neither one wanted to think what would happen if they hadn’t.
Trenton looked up to where the sky used to be. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to climb out the way we came.”
Shea agreed. “I don’t think you’ll be climbing anywhere in the shape you’re in.”
His chuckle cut off in a wheeze of pain. “Somehow I think you’re right.”
She eyed him with worry. She didn’t know if she’d be able to carry him out of here and leaving him behind wasn’t a choice.
Trenton understood what she didn’t say. “You should go on without me. You’ll move faster.”
“That’s not happening.”
“You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment. You and I both know we won’t make it out of here if you wait on me. Go, find the others and then come back for me.”
“I do that and there’s no guarantee I’ll find my way back. For all you know, this place is a maze.”
“It’s a risk you have to take.” He looked up at her, his eyes fogged with pain.
Shea met his gaze with a steely one of her own. She wasn’t leaving him behind.
“Did I ever tell you about the oath all pathfinders have to make once they pass their ceremony?”
He shut his eyes and huffed. “You rarely talk about that part of your life and then only with Fallon.”
He had a point. She had been closemouthed when it came to life before her adoption into the Trateri. She had been so focused on not inadvertently revealing something that might tempt the Trateri in the direction of the Highlands that she now wondered whether that energy might have been better spent elsewhere.
“Once we pass our last phase, we take an oath.”
Trenton closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his face one of resignation. Shea smiled knowing he could guess where she was going with this.
“We vow that those we lead into the wilderness will not be left behind—even if it costs us our lives. So, you see, I can’t leave you behind. It would violate my oaths.”
He snorted. “You’re not a pathfinder anymore. You’re Trateri remember? And we do what we need to survive.”
“I’ll always be a pathfinder. It’s not a piece a clothing you can put on and take off at your convenience. It is the bedrock upon which I am built. Just like now I am Trateri. Both form who I am, for better or worse. Split loyalty or not.” Shea needed to find a way to reconcile the two pieces of herself. It was the only way to survive with her sense of self intact. The only way she could live with herself.
“That still doesn’t change the fact that our resources are limited and our time is short. You can’t afford any delays,” Trenton said, his face a grimace.
“Then I suppose you’d better dig up some of that Trateri stubbornness and get your ass moving.”
Trenton aimed a glare her way. “I was trying to be conscientious of you.”
“Well don’t,” Shea snapped. “I can take care of myself.”
“You know Fallon is going to be livid if you don’t make it out of here,” he groused.
“Well then, I suggest you get your ass in motion, so we can avoid that turn of events.”
She grabbed him by the arm and helped him stand. He grimaced as he gained his feet, his weight leaning hard against her.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
*
“Do you hear that?” Shea asked.
It was faint, the bell-like sound falling and rising as if wind were playing a symphony.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.” She listened and walked a few steps further, keeping one hand on the smooth rock of the passageway and the other in front of her. Trenton held onto the back of her pant loop as she tested the ground before her with every step.
She’d managed to make a torch out of scraps before they began their trip but had chosen to conserve its light until they really needed it. It had left them wandering blind and necessitated a slow and steady progress.
The sound now felt like it filled the chamber, vibrating in her bones as it rose and fell. There were tones that rippled and tangled together. It sounded very similar to the wind chimes the Airabel hung outside their wooden hunts, only here, the sound was purer.
“There’s a breeze,” Shea said as wind tickled the hair on her neck. “Could be a natural phenomenon.”
Wind rushing over a natural hole in the rock could create a similar sound. However, given the number of tones, she would say there were several holes of varying sizes for the wind to play. It gave her hope. Where there was wind, there was usually a way out.
“Come on, let’s keep going,” Shea told Trenton.
As they traveled, the music-like sound became louder and louder, echoing off the rock until the air vibrated with it. Shea could feel it in her chest as her entire body tuned itself to the sound.
She bumped into something and took a step back. The chimes came to a discordant halt. She reached out to feel for whatever had brushed against her, but her hand met air. With no sight, she couldn’t tell if what she felt was a danger to them or not.
Fumbling with the torch that she’d created and then stuck in her belt, Shea brought it around front before fishing the flint and steel out of her pocket where she’d placed them so she could find it easily.
“I’m going to light the torch,” she told Trenton.
“I thought you wanted to wait so you could preserve it in case we need it later.”
She had. “There’s something in front of me that I can’t make sense of. I’ll light the torch, figure out what’s blocking our path and then douse it again.”
Shea sensed the shrug he gave her and took his lack of argument as agreement.
With a few strikes of the flint, she got the torch going and held it up. The way in front of her was unobstructed.
Her eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. How was that possible? She had run into something. She was sure of it.
She stepped forward and her foot brushed against something. Shea brought her foot back and crouched down next to the object.
On the ground in front of her was a branch of some old tree, much like the one she held in her hand. Wrapped around the end was a wad of white fabric. She thought she even detected cobwebs, which made lighting torches simple because they acted as kindling would for a campfire.
She picked up the torch and held it close to her face. The smell wasn’t familiar, but Shea would bet everything she had that it was some sort of slow burning accelerant.
“Is that a torch?” Trenton asked from behind her.
Shea made noncommittal sound.
“How did a torch happen to land right in front of you?”
That was a very good question. One she suspected she knew the answer to.
“So, the stories were true,” she said in a soft voice.
“What stories?”
Shea stood and dusted off her pants. “The ones that say we’re probably not alone in these caverns.”
Trenton’s hand went to the knife sheathed at his side as he looked around the passageway with a sudden suspicion. She shook her head. Whoever had left this was long gone.
Shea looked at the torch for a moment before tucking it into the belt of her pants. She lifted her other torch high above her and looked around. The passage they were in was narrow with no offshoots that another person could hide in.
How did their gift giver get so close without making a sound? As the chimes picked up again, Shea conceded that it was likely that the person’s approach had been masked. But how had they known where to set down their gift so that Shea would find it? It was far more likely that she would have walked right past it.
Shea gave up on solving the mystery. It was far more important to get back to the group than to go hunting for the denizens of these caverns.
She knew whoever had left this was likely long gone by now, but still she didn’t feel right without giving thanks. Shea was pretty sure that they would have been in a lot of trouble without the gift.
She bent her head and said a silent prayer of gratitude, before lifting it and humming a melody that rose and fell with the chimes. It sounded rather nice, if she did say so herself.
“What do you mean we’re not alone?” Trenton asked.
“Let’s get going,” Shea said, not wanting to lose any more time. That sense of urgency was still riding her hard. “I’ll explain as we move.”
Trenton hobbled after her as Shea prepared to tell him a story—one she barely remembered since it had been so long since she’d heard it herself.
“I don’t remember what started it or why it came to be, if I ever knew in the first place, but it’s said this place is named after a man called Lodi. He was said to be a great protector in the old world, someone who led his people with strength and wisdom.” Shea held the torch so Trenton could see where to duck. “I’m not sure if this happened during or after the Cataclysm, but it’s said that he and his people were attacked by a great army. To save them, he retreated to this place. That plain we were on—a great battle waged there as he and his men made a last stand to give his people time to retreat and seek shelter in the Highlands. It’s said that after that battle finished, Bearan’s fault grew by several feet and the entrance was smoking rubble.”
Shea paused to catch her breath. Spelunking through a small passageway was more physically demanding than she remembered—all of the twisting and bending.
“If the entrance was reduced to rubble, how were your people able to uncover it,” Trenton asked as he took a break.
Shea shrugged, the dim light making the movement more dramatic than it was. “I don’t know that part. All I can tell you are the parts I remember, which aren’t many.”
“How does that story relate to what left us that torch?”
Shea unfolded from the bent over position she’d had to use to get through that last section. The tunnel before her opened up, allowing her to stand upright and proceed without having to turn sideways. She was grateful for that fact because Trenton’s progress was getting slower each time he had to bend over.
The torch she held flickered. It was close to being spent. She pulled out the one that had been left for them and held it against the guttering flame. It caught fire easily, the flame brighter and steadier than it had been on the torch she’d created.
“Well, Lodi’s battle was waged with magic and sword. When it became clear that he was going to lose, his magic users cursed his men to become terrible beings that would haunt these caverns, keeping those that meant his people harm from passing.” Shea looked over at Trenton, concerned about his labored breathing. She might have to leave him somewhere after all.
“Magic?” he scoffed. “I’m surprised to hear that from you. You’ve always struck me as too practical to believe in such things.”
“I’ll admit that most events that are ascribed to magic have perfectly logical and natural explanations.” Shea tilted her head in thought. “But I also know that magic is very real. I’ve seen it. Some say magic, or rather the war over its use, is what caused the cataclysm and the world as we know it today.”
Trenton’s face was skeptical as he made his painstaking way through the cave. “I’ve never seen anything but a few tricks that could easily be explained by sleight of hand.”
Shea shrugged. “The major magics have been gone for a long time, but echoes still remain. Even among the Trateri. Take Chirron for instance.”
“His healing isn’t magic,” Trenton said.
“You are correct. Most of what he does isn’t magic, but have you noticed how his patients seem to heal faster than they should? I bet people prefer him over another healer. Even when he does the exact same thing as others, it is more effective when coming from him. Take the wound on my head for instance; that should have taken weeks instead of days to heal and left a scar.” Shea touched the spot in question. “Instead, it’s all but disappeared.”
“Maybe it’s all in your mind.”
“Maybe.” Entirely possible, but Shea didn’t think so. There had been a brief moment when he’d had his hands on her head where she could have sworn a numbing coldness had spread through her. “No one is sure if it’s the original soldiers, their descendants, or beings that had nothing to do with Lodi and his battle, who haunt this place.”
“Great. Another mystery. Is there anything in these lands that isn’t mysterious and deadly?”
Shea shot him a grin. “What would be the fun in that?”