“FORM A LINE. Spearmen at the front, archers to the rear,” Caden ordered. “Don’t let any of those creatures inside.”
The cavern they had sought shelter in protected them from aerial attacks, but any of the beasts could follow on the ground. Several of his men had already lit torches to see what might be lurking inside that could attack their rear. The light illuminated a chamber so big and vast that Fallon could fit his entire army in it and still have room leftover. The ceiling was so high above them that the torches did little to penetrate the shadows.
They needed to keep the winged beasts out or they’d have similar problems as before.
One of the torches’ light reflected off wooden panels carved with strange symbols.
“Stop,” Fallon told the man holding the torch. He advanced toward him, taking the torch and holding it up to the wood. It was a door, one nearly as tall as the chamber they stood in. Caden, seeing what Fallon was interested in, grabbed another torch from one of the men and crossed to the other side of the entrance, illuminating a similar wooden panel.
“They’re doors,” Witt said, his voice surprised and full of wonder.
“That they are,” Fallon said.
Braden called a retreat from outside and the Trateri that had covered Fallon’s escape poured in. Fallon grabbed several men.
“Get these doors closed,” he ordered, putting his shoulder to the one closest to him. Braden fell into place beside him. Gawain and Zeph put their shoulders to the door on Caden’s side.
With a scream of protest, the wood slid forward.
“Again,” Fallon shouted.
His men heaved at the doors, as the archers filled the mouth of the cave with volleys of arrows, the pikers defending the line from any creatures that got too close. The heavy doors resisted for a long moment, the centuries they had stood in the same position making them stubborn, but Fallon’s men persisted. With a groan they began to slide shut.
Eamon called for the men to retreat as the opening narrowed. They backed up in an orderly fashion, the last few slipping inside as Fallon and the others got the doors closed. He stood back, grabbing the metal bolt next to him and sliding it into the loop on the other door. Caden repeated that with the bolt above him. There was a third bolt below that Fallon shoved forward.
The doors secured, they stepped back, prepared to jump forward should the locks fail. The wood bulged inward once, dust cascading down, before settling.
There was a whoop as his men realized the battle was over and they’d come out victorious.
Zeph stood beside Fallon and gave the doors a cautious look. “This is a very odd land. I have never seen creatures acting in such a manner. I counted at least five winged species out there.”
Fallon grunted. He had seen the same.
“Since when do these beasts attack in a coordinated fashion? If your Telroi hadn’t opened this place when she did, we would have been slaughtered,” Zeph said.
The Ember clan leader made a very good point.
“Bring me the pathfinder,” Fallon ordered one of his Anateri. He needed to locate Shea. Every moment that passed without seeing her safe while giving him her grumpiest expression tied the knot in his chest tighter.
Van and Chirron approached, the two men giving each other a wide berth. Fallon fought the oath that he wanted to spit out at the sight. The two had never gotten along. Chirron, a man who spent his time healing and saving people, was the exact opposite of Van, a man who used his skills to keep Chirron busy.
Fallon had need of both in his army. Though he preferred to deal with each separately and not when he had more pressing matters on his mind then their ongoing feud.
“We need to get moving,” Van said without any preliminary conversation. He gave the doors Fallon stood by a look of distaste. “There’s no telling how long these will hold, given how old they probably are. The beasts could break through at any moment. It would be best if we were far from this place when that happens.”
“We can’t leave,” Chirron said, giving the other man a scathing look. “There were many wounded. I need time to stabilize them, or you risk them perishing on the move.”
Van turned to fix Chirron with an exasperated glare. “Chi, we can’t risk these doors breaking. You’ll have way more patients than you can handle at that point. Sometimes you have to make hard choices; this is one of those times.”
Chirron scoffed. “Don’t give me that load of horse dung. There’s been no sign of the doors weakening. There’s no reason not to take the extra time to ensure these men get the care they need.”
“If you and your healers haven’t been able to stabilize them by now, the chances of them surviving this journey are slim,” Van returned, his face drawn into grim lines. “We can’t leave them here nor can we accommodate their pace going into the Highlands.”
“You want me to give them mercy,” Chirron accused.
Van’s expression didn’t lighten or offer quarter. “You do them no favors by prolonging their deaths.”
“I’m not going to do that just so your life can be a little easier,” Chirron hissed.
It was easy to forget that the smaller man had gone through the same training as the rest of the Trateri. The same training that produced some of the best warriors in the Broken Lands. His interests might have turned to healing instead of killing, but in many ways Chirron was just as deadly as any other man in Fallon’s army.
“Enough,” Fallon said, breaking up the brewing fight. He couldn’t afford to have two of his highest officers break into fisticuffs over a disagreement. The blow to morale would be crippling. Not to mention, he had more important things to turn his attention to, like finding Shea, and then finding a way out of here. “How many are beyond even your skills?”
Chirron expression turned stubborn, his mouth turning down and his body tightening as if in preparation for battle.
Fallon gave him a warning look, in no mood to humor his principles.
Chirron relaxed, his expression smoothing out, though some of his unhappiness showed. “Three are in a bad way. I am not sure they will survive until sunset.”
“And the rest?”
“Two might pull through, if given adequate rest and care. The rest have minor injuries that, if treated immediately, shouldn’t pose a risk to their health as long as they keep the wounds from getting infected.”
“Offer mercy to the three. If they choose not to take it, we’ll give them a week’s worth of rations and water and find them a place with decent cover to remain. Stabilize the rest. We’ll leave as soon as that’s done.” To appease Van, Fallon told Zeph, “Gather several men and have them stand watch at these doors. At the first sign that they’re failing, we’ll leave, regardless of whether the injured are ready or not.”
Seeing his Anateri approaching with Reece in tow, he dismissed the other men and summoned Caden and Braden with a flick of his hand.
“Where is she?” Fallon didn’t waste any time cutting to the heart of the matter.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Fallon said. He was ready to rip this man’s head from his shoulders. “She opened your damn caverns. She should be here, so where is she?”
“I’m sure she’ll be here. She’s probably just delayed.” Reece didn’t look too concerned about Shea’s fate. A fact that had Fallon clenching his hands to keep from attacking the other man. He still had need for Reece, which was the only thing that saved him. “We should get going as soon as possible. I’m sure she’ll catch up when she’s able.”
“We’re not going anywhere until I know she’s safe.” He took a step closer to Reece. “You’d better pray she survived, or this trip and your life are going to be very short.”
Reece sighed. “I’m growing weary of all of these threats.”
“Are you now?” Had Shea been here, she could have told Reece that the amusement on Fallon’s face was a dangerous sign. She wasn’t here, so her warning went unspoken.
“If you’d planned to kill me, you would have done it by now.”
Fallon’s hand landed around Reece’s neck. He squeezed, relishing the gurgling sound the pathfinder made. “Perhaps I should make good on some of my threats then. Since you are so weary of them, of course.”
Reece’s voice came out in a babble, not making much sound.
Fallon drew him forward, turning his ear towards Reece. He shook his head. “Nope, sorry, I’m afraid I still can’t hear you.”
Fallon released him. Reece staggered back, his hand to his throat as he glared. Fallon regarded him with amusement. The pathfinder looked like a stray pup debating whether to go for its master’s throat. Fallon almost wished he would. It would give him pleasure to put the pup down.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Reece croaked.
Fallon didn’t respond, knowing silence was sometimes the best weapon.
“I’m going to remember this,” Reece said.
“We hope you do,” Caden said, amusement on his face and in his voice as he walked up. “Perhaps it will serve as a reminder not to antagonize the Warlord.”
“Now that we’ve established that my threats contain some bite, perhaps you would care to share your theories on what might have happened to Shea.” Fallon’s voice was silky. His time playing with this man was almost at an end. If he didn’t learn what he needed to know, he’d be all too happy to kill him.
“I don’t know. She should be here.” It was a bold thing to admit, given how clearly Fallon had demonstrated his feelings for the other man. It almost made him respectable. Almost.
Witt’s presence behind Reece drew Fallon’s attention. “Warlord, you’re going to want to see this.”
Fallon cocked his head as he considered the other man. He hoped for Witt’s sake, that he’d interrupted for a good reason, and not just some misbegotten assumption that he could redirect Fallon’s wrath.
Fallon headed for Witt, telling his men, “Bring him.”
They followed Witt into the gloom, the torch he held the only light revealing their way.
Fallon didn’t miss the way his men eyed their surroundings with a deep unease. It was a feeling he shared. Men weren’t meant to exist underground. It felt like he was walking in a tomb, one Highlanders had created for their forgotten dead. The Trateri didn’t believe in burials, thinking that interment underground trapped the spirit in the decaying body. They usually left the dead to the elements, or burned the corpse, so the person’s soul could return to the world, closing the circle of life.
“There.” Witt pointed the torch down into a deep trough that had been dug into the dirt. In the trough were skeletons, many of them. There were half-gnawed bones and discarded weapons, the metal rusted and brittle with age. Whatever garments these poor bastards had worn to their deaths were preserved by the cool air in the caverns, denied the chance to decay and fall apart.
“Horse lords protect us,” Caden said.
Witt knelt next to one of the bodies, using a stick to raise the arm. “The flesh was stripped from their bones, otherwise I suspect the climate in here would have preserved the bodies. I can’t tell if whatever beastie ate them was also the one to kill them.”
“Either way, I’d say we’re not the only things in here,” Caden said, giving Fallon a look.
No, Fallon would agree. Which meant the pathfinder had a lot of explaining to do.
All eyes followed Fallon’s to Reece where he stared down at the remains with a fixed expression.
“Would you like to explain?” Witt asked, his voice calm.
“He’s had his chance to explain,” Fallon said from where he crouched near the trough. He jerked his head. Reece was seized from behind, the faces of the Anateri implacable masks.
Caden unsheathed a knife at his waist, turning to Reece with a hard expression.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Witt asked.
Fallon cast a sharp glance at the other man. Witt held his hands up in supplication.
“I’m not questioning you. It’s just he’s the only person besides Shea who has any hope of guiding us out of here. He may very well be the only person who can find her.”
“Those are good points, both of them,” Fallon conceded. “But if we can’t trust him, there’s no point keeping him around. He’s had many chances to earn our trust and failed at all of them.”
“This place is a maze,” Reece said. “You’ll never get out of here without me.”
Fallon smiled, the movement lacking any warmth or amusement. “I’m not convinced you can get us out of here either way. Shea is the one that found the entrance if you’ll recall.”
“I brought you here.” Reece struggled against the men restraining him.
“I would not brag of that, if I were you,” Caden observed, his face coldly amused. “Since we’ve listened to you, we’ve been attacked by eagles and a whole lot of other beasts. The Telroi is now missing, and we are stuck in a place that reeks of death.”
“What do you care for some woman who’s fucking your master?” Reece’s expression was watchful, as if he was testing them. It was the only reason Fallon refrained from striking him down where he stood.
The men holding him tightened their grip to a painful point. Reece didn’t make a sound, a determined expression taking over—one Fallon had seen on Shea’s face on more than one occasion when she’d felt like she’d been backed into a corner or when she was testing the waters for one of her bigger stunts. It made him question Reece’s motivations. Enough that he decided to watch and observe before deciding one way or another.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” one of the men holding Reece warned.
“That’s our Telroi you’re insulting,” the other said.
Both men had been with Fallon for many years. Their loyalty was unwavering, and it seemed it extended not just to Fallon but to Shea as well. A curious and welcome development. The first sign of acceptance.
“My men take insults against the Telroi rather personally,” Caden warned. “She’s saved our Warlord’s life on more than one occasion. That, if nothing else, commands your respect.”
Reece’s mask fell for a moment, and Fallon thought he saw the faintest shadow of relief on the other man’s face before his emotions were hidden again. It was enough that he was willing to take a chance on the pathfinder. A small one.
“You say you don’t know where she is. What’s your best guess?” Shea often said she didn’t know, but she usually had a guess that turned out to be right more often than not. Fallon had to wonder if it was a family trait or part of the training these pathfinders underwent.
Reece turned guarded. “It’s possible that there is another entrance to these caverns that she would need to take once she found the symbol. It looked like she was pretty high in the cliffs when the eagles descended.”
“And can you find this other entrance?” Fallon queried with a lift of his eyebrow.
“No.” Reece hesitated a moment. “But she should be able to find her way here. She has an uncanny way of getting out of scrapes.”
“I’m well acquainted with that trait.”
Reece’s chuckle was brief. “You should have grown up with her. She turned both our parents’ hair gray before she took the pathfinder mantle.”
He almost sounded like a cousin should. It made Fallon tempted to respect him, but he was loath to drop his guard with this man who represented everything he could lose Shea to.
“Looks like we have no choice then, we’ll wait for her to find us,” Fallon decided.
Caden’s sigh was weary. “The clan leaders are going to have a shit fit over this.”
Fallon allowed real amusement to touch his eyes. “They are welcome to bring me their grievances.”
“Yeah and be eviscerated for them.” Caden’s words were dry, even as his mouth quirked in a half-smile.
*
Shea heard a distant rumble of sound. She stopped and listened. Voices. She thought she heard voices. She rounded the corner and nearly fell over an edge, the drop of which was shrouded in complete black. Shea grabbed the wall as her steps sent rocks skittering over the edge.
She counted. One. Two. Three. Four. She’d hit twelve before she heard the clatter of it landing. That fall would have probably killed her.
She looked around, searching for what she’d heard. It was possible it was nothing but the wind playing tricks. With the way this place echoed, it wouldn’t surprise her.
Bright, flickering light in the distance to her right drew her attention. She squinted. Those were torches.
She started to shout out, but hesitated at the last second. It was possible those lights didn’t belong to Fallon. Alerting them to her presence could be a death sentence, if it was an enemy. She bit her lip and looked back the way she’d come.
Trenton was waiting. After all her talk of not leaving him behind, she’d eventually had to make the tough decision, knowing she could summon help faster than if she tried to carry him. She suspected that if she took much longer to find a healer, she would be returning to a corpse.
She squared her shoulders. Time to take a chance.
“Fallon! Anybody there?” she shouted.
She waited a moment. No reaction from the torches. She didn’t let herself give up hope. It was possible that her voice hadn’t reached them or that the echoes had made the words indistinguishable.
She tried again. “Fallon, help! Fallon!”
*
“Do you hear that?” Witt asked. He stood and walked a few paces from the fire Fallon’s men had started to ward off the chill of the caverns.
“What are you talking about?” Eamon asked.
“That.”
They all listened. A voice reached them, the words almost indistinguishable except one. A name. Fallon.
Caden looked at Fallon. They both came to the same conclusion at the same time.
“Shea.” Fallon popped to his feet, grabbing a torch and rushing to where he thought the voice was coming from. “Shea!”
“Fallon!” Her voice was getting stronger and clearer.
“Where are you?”
“Up here! I’m up here,” she shouted.
Fallon looked up and saw a dim light high above.
“Of course, she’d be somewhere high,” Caden said in a sour voice.
“Any idea how we get her down?” Fallon asked.
Witt’s expression was doubtful as he observed the cavern wall. Eamon looked just as lost but equally unsurprised. Both men were well acquainted with Shea and her penchant for finding herself in high places.
Eamon nudged some wood lying broken on the ground. There might have been stairs at one time connecting the passage above to this great chamber, but they were long gone.
“Trenton’s hurt. He needs help.” There was a long pause. “I think he’s bleeding internally.”
“I can probably get up there,” Witt said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to make a climb.”
Caden frowned at him. “Do all of you Highlanders make a habit of climbing cliff faces like mountain goats?”
Witt gave a careless shrug. “Those who spend any significant time outside the villages. Eventually, everyone comes to something impassable by normal means. It helps to know how to climb.”
Caden made a sound that prophesized the grumpy old man he’d eventually become, if he lived long enough.
“I’ll need supplies though. Between me and Shea, we should be able to fasten some sort of device to lower him down.”
Caden waved a man over to take note of everything Witt said he needed. Once the supplies had been delivered, he stood back with his hands on his hips to observe the wall.
“I’m coming with you,” Fallon said.
Witt gave him a skeptical look, one that was at home with the weather-beaten lines around his eyes. “No offense, Hawkvale, but I doubt you know what you’re doing. Best to just stay down here and wait.”
The expression Fallon fixed on Witt was the sort that had caused grown men to nearly piss themselves. It made his feelings on Witt’s statement very clear without a word having to be spoken.
Witt sighed and then shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s only me who’s going to catch the sharp end of her tongue if you end up with a broken arm.”
“While you guys are debating who’s coming up here, I’m going to go back and get Trenton,” Shea called from above.
“You’re to do no such thing,” Fallon yelled back. “Stay right where you are.”
There was a grumble above and the distinct words of bossy, arrogant, and ass drifted down. The rest of the men carefully didn’t look at Fallon, whose eyes narrowed as Shea continued. He would enjoy exacting his revenge when he caught up to her.
Eamon, Buck, and Witt turned away to hide their grins, each having been on the end of a similar tirade before. Sometimes for having told Shea what to do. Sometimes for doing something she considered stupid.
“Question,” Buck said once her voice had died down. “How are you going to climb with no light?”
Witt looked at the other man and then back at the wall. The lights from the torches created harsh shadows. It would be difficult to discern hand holds in it. “This is going to be a problem.”
“Is there another way, maybe another passageway?” Eamon asked, looking at Fallon.
He shook his head. “If there is, there’s no guarantee that it won’t triple the journey or end in a maze of tunnels.”
“Guess the only way is up,” Eamon said, stepping back.
“You could always try holding the torch in your mouth,” Buck volunteered.
Witt snarled. “I’m not letting fire that close to my face.”
“Afraid you’ll scar your pretty mug?” Buck taunted with an arched brow.
“Enough. We’ll take our chances,” Fallon said. “Let’s start.”
“I’d like to go with you, Warlord,” Eamon volunteered. “Shea has taught me a few things about rock climbing so I might be an asset.”
Fallon nodded.
“I’ll lead,” Witt said, waiting for Fallon’s agreement before starting up the rock face. Fallon and Eamon followed soon after.
*
Shea waited as the men below made their ascent. It was tempting to disregard Fallon’s order and go back for Trenton. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to move him very far without their assistance. Given his wounds, she suspected she might do him more harm than good if she tried to drag him through these tunnels.
After what felt like an eternity, Witt reached her. She bent down to help him over the ledge, and then stepped back as he offered the same help to Fallon and then Eamon.
Fallon stepped past the other two, his hand coming out to haul Shea into his arms. Once there he clung to her, his hold tight. She buried her face in his shirt and inhaled, grateful to have a moment like this. For a minute, she had feared such things would be part of her past.
They didn’t waste breath on voicing the fear that had lived with them since the eagle attack, content to hold one another and just be. Eamon and Witt directed their attention out into the cavern, letting the two have a private moment.
Finally, though it hurt her to do so, Shea stepped back. They had important things to do. First among them—getting Trenton help.
“I’ll lead you to Trenton.” Her eyes met Fallon’s in the flickering light of the torch, their warmth conveying how glad she was to see him alive and well, before she turned toward where she had left her guard.
Hopefully, he would still be there when she returned—alive and threatening her with more training. Gods, she hoped he was still alive. She didn’t want to have to live with having left him to die alone.