SHEA WATCHED the last of Fallon’s men pass through the small set of doors that would give them entry to the Highlands. On each door, a set of runes was carved. Shea didn’t need to know the language to know that it was probably the reason why the denizens of the caverns remained where they were.
They were just in time. The sky had darkened to a deep midnight as the stars and the moon shuttered their faces in preparation of day. Soon, threads of color would begin eating away at the darkness as the sun rose.
Clark stared at the doors with a slightly lost expression on his face. He’d been silent on the way out. None of his normal chipper personality showed. The only time Shea saw a glimpse of the old Clark was when Buck and Eamon had tackled him when they’d appeared.
After the reunion, he’d withdrawn again.
Shea approached him, not knowing what to say. His friend had betrayed him in one of the worst ways imaginable. That tended to leave a mark on a person. No platitude she gave him would make that better.
She settled for standing beside him as the sun began to rise, letting him know without words that she was there for him. That he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, that’s all you could do for a person.
When his head bowed and his shoulders shook from silent tears, Shea took a step closer and wrapped her arm around him. She kept a grip on him even after Eamon came up on his other side. His eyes met hers in understanding. She’d told him what had happened with Charles on the journey out.
Long after the dark had ceded dominion to the light, Clark straightened and gave them each a small, hesitant smile.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Shea said. She withdrew a green jacket from her pack. “We found this while in the city. I believe it belongs to you.”
“My jacket.” Clark reached out to touch it. Shea handed it to him. “How did you find it?”
“It was just hanging from a post in the city. Actually, stopping to retrieve it probably saved Fallon’s and my lives. How’d you lose it?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Clark’s face was perplexed. “I woke up to find it gone after the first time Fiona and I stopped to rest. I’d lain it on top of me to keep warm as I slept.”
His eyes were sad as he looked at it. He fell silent, his thoughts turning inward. Shea didn’t push.
“We’re here for you when you want to talk,” Eamon told him.
Clark gave him a nod before walking away.
“He’ll get over this,” Eamon said.
Shea hoped so, even as she doubted it would be for a very long time.
“Looks like your Warlord has need of you,” Eamon observed. He took his leave, saying, “I’m glad you’re alright and were able to find Clark.”
“I’ll catch up with you later.”
Fallon stepped close and wrapped his arms around Shea. She allowed herself a moment to be supported by his strength. Then she straightened and forced back her tears. “The men should take a brief break and then we need to move on. I want this place far in our shadow before we stop for the night,” she said.
Fallon watched her for a long moment, assessing her mental state. She avoided his eyes. Sometimes she thought he saw too much with that oddly penetrating gaze of his, and right now she didn’t know if she could bear having her inner self on display.
He gave her a nod and let her walk away, before he gestured for Caden and Braden to relay her orders.
*
“This isn’t the path to the Wayfarer’s Keep,” Shea said, staring up at the mountain ridge in front of her. They had stopped halfway up the mountain, just below the tree line. If her memory was correct, this would take them west of the keep by several week’s ride.
Reece took a swig of his water before capping it and putting it back in the saddle bags. Fallon had ordered a horse for him when it became clear his continued walking would only slow them down. Unlike when Shea was his captive, he had ordered a proper horse for the pathfinder, not some stunted growth mule that couldn’t match a horse’s longer strides.
“You’re getting rusty, Shea. I expected you to figure that out several days ago.”
Shea watched him with a calculating expression. It was true that she should have picked up on the divergent path earlier, but grief had made her slower than normal. “That’s the Dragon’s Tail. You would never take a group like this through that ridge to reach the keep, so where are you taking us?” she asked.
Fallon folded his reins over his hand and leaned forward, his hawk-like gaze drilling into Reece. His expression was fierce. “Yes, please, enlighten the group.”
Reece gave Shea a half-smile. “Come now, doesn’t any of this look familiar?”
Shea’s lips pursed as she considered Reece and then their surroundings. Yes, it did, but much of the Highlands was familiar. Like an old friend you had seen over and over again. Only this friend was crotchety and grumpy and would kill you should you take it for granted.
“Birdon Leaf.” It made sense given their relative geographic location, the direction they were traveling and known areas of interest this path would lead to.
Reece’s smile was wry, like a teacher bestowing a student with praise. “Very good.”
“Why would you take us there?” Shea asked.
“Why, to visit the place where this all started.” Reece prodded his horse forward, taking off before Shea could question him further.
Caden rode up on the other side of Fallon and stopped his horse as he stared after Reece. “I thought the whole point of this little trip was to go to this Wayfarer’s Keep and meet with the pathfinders.”
“I guess we’re taking a little side trip first,” Shea said, before kicking her horse into a slow-paced trot to follow Reece.
Fallon followed, though he looked no more thrilled at this turn of events than Shea.
Caden shook his head and spit to the side of his horse before he too started up the large back half of the mountain. “Oh goody.”
*
One week later, Shea crested the last hill before the land flattened, giving rise to the small spit of plateau where Birdon Leaf perched. It would have taken less time had they been on foot, but the jagged ravines and steep hills were not friendly terrain to a horse. As a result, they’d been forced to take the long way around.
Shea reined her horse to a stop on the ridge and looked down on the flattened top that contained the little village. The Trateri were spread out behind her as they made their way up the last small incline.
The land between them and the village was mostly long grass, as the altitude made trees rare. From this distance, the village looked picturesque, like an innocent painting of a simpler world. One untouched by strife and pain.
Shea snorted. That couldn’t be further from the truth, especially given the wasps nestled in the very heart of this little village.
There was the faint clop of hooves behind her as Witt came up on her right side. He, like she, had experienced a rather complicated relationship with this place. It should have been home, but its villagers had betrayed the two of them in one of the worst ways imaginable.
“Home, sweet home,” Witt murmured.
Shea made a sound of derision.
“I wonder what they will say when they see us come riding up with an army behind us,” he mused.
“Probably kick themselves for not ensuring we were dead before they handed us over.”
He grunted. It was half laugh and half acknowledgement. “I would like to see Dane again, though.”
“Yeah,” Shea’s voice was soft. She’d forgotten that he’d been close with the other man, too. The three’s relationship had been short-lived, but for a short time they’d been on their way to becoming friends.
“You think he made it back?” Shea asked.
“I hope not. I hope he found a place far from here to hole up.”
Shea nodded. Yeah, that sounded about right.
On both of their minds was the question of what waited down there. Would they find a thriving village, unhappy that the prodigal son and daughter had returned, or would they find a grave site? After all, the pathfinder’s guild was not known for its forgiveness, and Birdon Leaf and its elders had broken the covenant in every way that counted. One way or another, there would be a reckoning.
Shea looked over at Fallon, who stared down at the village with a hard expression, one that lacked even a shadow of understanding or gentleness. Yeah, one way or another.
“Let’s get this over with,” Shea muttered. She flicked her reins, taking the lead down the hill. Fallon wasn’t far away, though he stayed a few lengths behind her. Shea appreciated it, though a big part of her would rather not have returned here at all.
The journey down the hill and across the meadow seemed to take forever. The village and its wooden exterior wall grew as she rode closer. Jagged holes of splintered wood in the wall put paid any hope that the inhabitants had fared well over the last few months.
No villagers came out to greet them and there was no movement on the walls, something that would have been unheard of when Shea had lived here.
Shea let out a heavy sigh. Guess it was option two then.
She led Fallon and Witt and the rest around the wall. The Trateri followed, eyeing it with a deep reserve. More than one man and woman withdrew their blades and strung their bows.
Shea arrived at the entrance of the village. Normally, there would have been men standing on the wall who would give the order to open the double doors, ones so heavy it took several men working in tandem to force them to creak open.
Today, those doors lay broken and splintered, so much tinder on the ground. The village was wide open to any beast or raider who wanted to walk right up.
Shea dismounted and slid the reins over her horse’s head. She left him grazing by the entrance.
“Shea,” Fallon warned, looking at the village with a deep mistrust. One echoed on many of his men’s faces.
She held up a hand. “I’m fine, Fallon. Whatever did this is long gone.”
Fallon made a sound of frustration before dismounting and throwing his reins to Caden. He unsheathed his sword as he strode over to Shea. She didn’t wait for him to reach her, crossing into the village proper as Witt, Eamon, and several of the Anateri dismounted to follow them.
Shea walked into the village, feeling cold and disconnected at the sight of the destruction awaiting her. The wooden buildings had been torn apart, the windows broken, and the doors torn off. Some were burnt, only a few timbers remaining.
Even the town hall, a building that predated the village by many hundreds of years and had withstood many attacks, looked like it had seen better days. The roof had been ripped off the top, and the heavy wooden door at its base breached.
Shea couldn’t help feeling like she had failed these people. It didn’t matter that they had failed her first. Maybe if she’d tried harder, been better, less argumentative, maybe things might have turned out different.
Reece stepped into the village square as Shea stared around her with a stunned numbness. She bent and picked up a child’s toy, one of those mallets you were supposed to catch the ball on. The ball was missing and the handle half broken.
“Why did you bring us here?” Fallon asked Reece.
“So you could see.”
“See what?” he asked.
“What you’re up against. The consequences if you should fail.”
“We haven’t even agreed to help you,” Caden said. He’d wandered close to one of the buildings and was examining it.
“Or even know what you want,” Buck muttered.
“There were children here, Reece. Innocent of whatever mistakes their parents might have committed.” Shea rubbed her thumb against the wood of the mallet.
His face was placid but not unsympathetic. He offered her no answer.
“You know the rules, baby girl. Sometimes you have to cut the rot from the tree, so the rest of it can survive.” A man unfolded himself from where he’d been sitting in the shadows and stepped forward, meeting Shea’s eyes. He was tall, taller than Fallon, and had crow’s feet at the corner of each eye. Laughter had cut grooves around his eyes and mouth over the years. His skin was paler than you would imagine of a man who spent the majority of his life outside.
He stared at Shea for a long moment, ignoring the weapons aimed his way. His eyes cataloged each feature, noting the grief that showed in the dark circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders. He took in all those details as if he’d come across this rare specimen, one that might disappear if he didn’t memorize everything.
After an eternity of staring at each other, he gave her a half-smile. “Hello, daughter. I’ve missed you.”
Shea took a deep breath but was unable to summon an answering smile. “Hello, father.”
He lifted an eyebrow even as amusement touched his lips. “That’s it? After all these months, that’s all you have to say?” He turned to Fallon and the rest. “All this time her mother and I feared she was dead. We worried; we agonized. I even sent your cousin to hunt down those who might have harmed you.”
Shea watched him with a careful gaze. “How long before anyone noticed I was gone?”
Some of the affableness drained out of his expression as he fixed her with a look and sighed, as if to say he was disappointed in her question. She gave him a stubborn look in return.
“Eight months.”
“So, not that worried.”
She’d figured as much. She was the black sheep. The golden child turned disappointment. The first couple roll calls she’d missed, they’d probably ascribed to her sulking. After that, they must have decided she was simply too busy, or maybe they had more pressing matters to attend to. A stray pathfinder wasn’t that odd.
“That’s hardly nice,” her father rebuked.
She waved a hand at the decimated village around them. “Neither is this.”
Her father nodded, taking in their surroundings with a careful eye. “No, I imagine not.”
Shea spotted Witt over her father’s shoulder. His face was carefully guarded as he took in the village. If she was this upset over the destruction, she couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. He’d already made clear his distaste for the pathfinder method of punishing those who opposed them.
“I had friends here. People who were good to me and helped me while out there.” She pointed to the world beyond the village walls. Many of which had gaping holes in them.
“I met some of them,” Reece said. “A man by the name of Dane.”
Both Shea and Witt looked at him with hope.
“I ran into him and a group he was leading out of the Lowlands. He’s the one who told me what had happened. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have even known where to begin searching for you.”
And in so doing, he had signed this place’s death warrant.
“You couldn’t have talked to them first?” Witt asked, stepping towards them. “Gotten the children out at least.”
Reece shook his head. “It was like this when we arrived. After Dane’s story, I let the guild know what had happened and decided to confront the elders on my own. See the extent of the betrayal for myself. By the time we reached this place whatever had done this was long gone.”
Fallon moved beside her. His fierce scowl signified the end of his patience. “I have traveled a very long way and am not in the mood to play games.” He fixed Shea’s father with a flat stare, the kind that intimidated most men. Her father was not most men, however. The corner of his lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “You sent your man to find us, and immediately after, we were attacked. A smart man would assume you and your people are a threat. Convince me not to end you and your nephew where you stand.”
Her father stared at Fallon for a moment before throwing his head back and roaring with laughter. “Oh, I like this one, my dear. He’s much better than that other one.”
Fallon gave her father a warrior’s smile, one that bared teeth as the light of battle lit in his eyes. He was enjoying this, Shea realized. Of course, he was. He thrived on combat and challenge, and her father had just proved he was capable of both.
The Trateri around them who had lowered their guard when she identified the man as her father, raised their weapons in threat. Their faces reflected similar expressions of mad triumph as Fallon’s.
“Fallon,” Shea warned in a low voice.
“You cannot have two loyalties in this. You must choose a side,” Fallon said back. “If he is a threat to my men or you, then I will act accordingly.”
Shea struggled with a strong urge to whap Fallon on the back of his head. Maybe that would knock some sense into him and force him to stop saying stupid things.
She loved her father more than words could express. He was her calm port in the storm, the person who picked her up when she fell and gave her the motivation to keep on going when she was convinced she had failed. Despite that, she recognized the ruthless and pragmatic man inside. The one who would burn the world to the ground should anything threaten the things he held dear.
That man would not have come unarmed to this fight. He would not have confronted Fallon without having some type of exit strategy.
Her father watched them with half-lidded eyes. He seemed perfectly content despite the fact there were several arrows pointed at him, in addition to the men who had raised their swords. He was calm and cool and amused by the situation.
No, he had a plan. She just didn’t know how to explain that to Fallon.
“I’m not here to make war on you,” her father told Fallon. “I’m here for my daughter.”
Fallon’s body tensed. “No.”
Her father continued as if he hadn’t spoken. He spread his hands to indicate the village around them. “You’ve seen what is happening. This village is not unique. We’ve lost several others over the past few months, some much bigger than this. The Lowlands are suffering as well. I’ve come to take her to stand trial before her people.”
Shea sucked in a breath. Of all the things she thought he’d say, that had been nowhere on the list. The kernel of hurt that had taken root—after he had failed to stand up for her before her demotion—grew.
She knew he loved her, but she also knew that in many ways, she was a disappointment. Someone who had failed, broken faith, and since meeting Fallon, severely compromised her vows. Yes, he loved her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make her pay the price of what he considered justice.
Fallon snarled, the sound angry and brutal in the desolated village. “That will not happen.”
He held one arm out, pushing Shea behind him. She couldn’t take her eyes off her father. She knew she needed to speak up, if only to warn Fallon to be careful that he had something up his sleeve, but she couldn’t. Hurt had stolen her voice.
Family could raise you up, but they could also damage you worse than any force out there. She would rather fight a thousand beasts, lead hundreds of missions for ungrateful, obtuse villagers, than listen to her father once again tell her how she had failed, that she would stand trial.
“Fallon,” she said in soft voice, raising a hand to touch his back. She tried to step around him, to come up to his side, and then had to grit her teeth as he forced her back behind him. She thumped him on the back before stepping out from behind him. She wasn’t the kind of person who would hide, even if it felt like someone had just come up and sucker-punched her.
“It’s not happening,” he told her in a no-nonsense voice. As if by giving her an order, he could make it come true. He turned on her father, “You won’t be taking her.”
Her father studied him, his expression curious even as his eyes were remote as if he calculated a hundred different scenarios. He gave a sharp whistle.
Around them, in the buildings and on top of them, figures moved. They had been well camouflaged before, using the structures to hide their presence.
Fallon again shoved Shea behind him, even as half of his men pivoted to face these strangers, many of whom were clad in clothes designed to blend in with the forest and mountain terrain. The pathfinders held boomers, all trained on Fallon’s men.
Fallon observed them with a sardonic arch to his eyebrow before giving them a mad grin, his teeth on full display and his eyes alight with challenge. “Your men are good. I’ll give you that. My scouts saw no evidence of their presence.”
Shea’s dad watched him with curious eyes.
Fallon’s expression turned crafty, like a wolf when its quarry had just fallen into its trap. “I’ve known your daughter for a while now and have gotten used to the unexpected. I haven’t gotten this far without being prepared.”
He let out a war cry. There was a rustle of sound as men appeared behind the pathfinders, some with knives held at their back, others with arrows nocked and drawn and pointing at Shea’s father’s men.
Shea’s father watched with a slight smile on his face. “You’ll still die,” her father warned.
“We won’t be the only ones. I can promise you that. We number many. Should we fall, there will be those who can replace us. Can you say the same?”
Shea’s father studied him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Enough,” Shea barked before anyone could do anything stupid and start something that would end in needless bloodshed. “I’ll go with you. There’s no need for any of this.”
“You won’t,” Fallon snapped back. He didn’t budge as she tried to step around him. “That’s final.”
This time she did slap him on the back of his head, dodging out of his arms to stand glaring at him a few feet away.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled. “You ask nicely, and if I feel like it, I’ll listen.”
Fallon glared at her, his whiskey eyes molten with anger. They spent a long moment locked in a stare down, before her father chuckled.
“Just like her mother. Never could get that woman to do anything she didn’t want to.” He whistled again, and the pathfinders lowered their weapons. Fallon waited a beat before giving his men the same signal. They stepped back, but kept their weapons at the ready.
“You’re not taking her,” Fallon told her father.
He studied Fallon with a thoughtful look. Shea waited as the two men took each other’s measure. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined introducing Fallon to one of her parents. Though to be fair, she had thought she’d never get the chance.
“Very well, then you will promise to fix this little problem we’re having.” He looked at Shea. “You went where you weren’t supposed to go and woke something that never should have been woken. One way or another, you must take responsibility.”
Shea’s lips tightened. “I told you we never made it past the second marker. This is not the result of our expedition.”
He shook his head. “Maybe so, but you also told me that you lost a week that you can’t remember. You could very well have strayed further than you thought. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The elders are looking for someone to blame and you’re the only one who survived. Either you face trial, or lover boy helps end this threat with that army of his.”
“His army isn’t at your beck and call,” Shea argued.
Her father shrugged. “Your alternative is trying to fight your way out of here. Don’t think you’ll get far though, and a lot of people on both sides will die.”
Fallon didn’t look away from him. He knew the destructive power of the boomers. Had even seen them in action a time or two. He didn’t need to be told who had the advantage.
“We die or fail to make it back and my men have orders to drench the Highlands in blood. They will destroy any city or village they come across. You won’t need to fear the beasts then,” Fallon said in an idle voice.
Shea fought the urge to scream. Both men were being ridiculous.
“Fine, I’ll sweeten the pot,” her father said. “You come to the Keep with me and hear what we have to say. You do that, and we’ll give you the Highlands with our blessing.”
Shea’s jaw dropped. She closed it with a snap. What was he saying?
“We’ll even throw in enough boomers and other weapons we have in store to supply a good bit of your army.”
Shea sucked in a shocked breath. This was unheard of. Even admitting how many of the boomers they had was shocking. Generations of secrecy and protecting what they hid, and her father had essentially just told Fallon where he could find a huge stockpile of weapons that would make him invincible.
A chill rushed over her. How bad were things that the pathfinders were willing to resort to this?
Fallon cocked his head. He looked interested. Shea knew he’d always planned to conquer the Highlands, and here was her father offering them to him on a silver platter.
“Shea will be free of any repercussions?”
Her father nodded. “I give you my word.”
“My men will come with me.”
Shea’s father hesitated, his eyes going to those Trateri whose expressions had less warmth than a stone, as they watched her father and his men.
“That can be arranged,” he finally said.
“Done.” Fallon looked at Shea with a fierce light in his eyes. She could see the wheels already turning.
Her father kept his gaze fixed on Fallon. “As I said, you and your men will come with us. You can send some back to explain to the rest of your army, so they don’t get ahead of themselves with the bloodshed and all. I’ll give you the rest of the day and evening to make arrangements. We’ll leave at first light.”
Fallon gave him a sharp nod. Her father left, not even sparing Shea a glance, as if now that he’d gotten what he wanted he’d lost interest in her presence. The hole in her heart iced over.
Fallon summoned Caden with a look. “Pick ten men you trust to send back to our army below the fault. Darius will need to be prepared if things go bad up here.”
Caden looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “This seems like a trap.”
Fallon nodded. “Probably, but the potential reward will be worth it.”
“I’m coming with you,” Shea informed Fallon. He wasn’t sending her with the ten if that was what he had in mind.
He gave her a sideways glance. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Someone has to watch my back.”
Her lips tilted up. “Yes, we wouldn’t want you getting stuck in another spinner web.”
Caden snorted. “She can barely keep Trenton at bay during training. How is she going to protect you from an assassin’s blade?”
Shea agreed with him. She gave the two men a shrug. “You’ll need my help with the beasts up here. You’re on your own with the humans.”
Caden shook his head and strode off.
Buck stopped at her side as he stared after her father. “Your father has some serious balls. I’m beginning to see where you get some of the craziness from.”
He didn’t wait for her to reply before wandering off shaking his head.
Shea stood next to Fallon and watched as the Trateri prepared to make camp in the ruins of the village.
“Not exactly how I pictured meeting your father,” Fallon said.
Shea snorted. “What? You didn’t expect to meet him in the middle of a destroyed and abandoned village and have him threaten you with death?”
“Somehow, no. Though I should have, given he’s the one to raise such an unexpected woman.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
She bumped his shoulder with hers.
“It would have been easier for me to just stand trial,” she told him. “They’re probably going to ask us to go into the Badlands and face whatever has been directing these beasts.”
“I wasn’t willing to chance it,” he said. “Besides, I got the Highlands out of it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s as much of a prize as you seem to think.” She gestured to her surroundings. “This is what you would be ruling over.”
He looked around. “This is what I would be protecting.”
Shea stared up at his face. Yes. Protecting. She thought the pathfinders might have forgotten that was their role once upon a time. Perhaps Fallon and his army could take up that mantle.
“Are you ready to go home?”
She stared at him for another moment. Her father had made it clear with his talk of trial that the Keep was no longer her home. A thread of sadness fought to linger before Shea forced it away. That was before. This was now.
A smile dawned, it was slow and spoke of new beginnings. “What are you talking about? My home is standing right next to me.”