Pathfinder's Way
Authors: T.A. White
Tags: #romance, #fantasy, #science fiction, #fantasy romance, #monsters, #pathfinder, #alpha male, #strong woman, #barbarian fantasy, #broken lands
Pathfinder’s Way
T.A. White
This book is for my family and friends, who were
always willing to listen while I babbled on about plot and
characters. This book wouldn’t have been possible without you.
Copyright © Tobey White, 2016
All rights reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter
One
“For God’s sake, woman, the village will
still be there if we take an hour’s break.”
Shea rolled her eyes at the soaring mountains
before her. This was the third rest stop the man had called for
since setting out this morning.
“We must be half way there by now,” he
continued.
Maybe if they hadn’t stopped several times
already or if they had moved with a purpose, but as it stood the
group had probably traveled less than two miles. Half of that
nearly vertical. At this pace, it would take an extra half day to
get back to Birdon Leaf.
And who would they blame for the delayed
arrival?
Shea. Even though it wasn’t her needing to
stop on every other hill when they felt a muscle cramp or
experienced shortness of breath. Since she was the pathfinder, it
was obviously her fault.
She could hear it now.
The pathfinder sets the pace. The pathfinder
chooses when to take breaks. Yada. Yada. Yada.
She hated running missions with villagers.
They thought that since they’d gone on day trips outside their
village barriers as children, they knew a thing or two about trail
signs and the Highlands in general.
It was always, ‘We should take this route. I
think this route is faster. Why is it taking so long? These
mountain passes are sooo steep.’
Never mind it was her that had walked these
damn routes since the time she could toddle after the adults or
that the paths they suggested would take them right through a
beast’s nest.
Nope. She was just a pathfinder. A female
pathfinder. A female pathfinder who hadn’t grown up in the same
village as them. Obviously, she knew nothing of her craft.
The man yammered on about how they couldn’t
take another step. Any reasonable person could see how worn out
they were. She wasn’t the one carrying the gear or the trade
goods.
Whine. Whine. Whine.
That’s all she heard. Over the last several
months, she’d perfected the art of tuning them out without missing
pertinent information.
It was all in the pitch. Their voices tended
to approach a higher frequency when they regressed to bitching
about what couldn’t be changed. As if she could make the
switchbacks approaching the Garylow Mountain pass any less steep or
treacherous.
“We’ll take a rest once we reach the pass,”
she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.
They had begged for another break since about
five minutes after the last one.
She had a deadline to meet. Sleep to catch.
Most importantly, she didn’t think she could last another half day
with this lot.
“We’re nowhere near that pass,” the man
raged.
The rest break obviously meant a lot to
him.
“It’s just over that ridge,” Shea pointed
above her.
Well, over that ridge and then another slight
incline or two. It was just a small lie, really. If the man knew
the truth, he’d probably sit down and refuse to take another
step.
“That’s nearly a half mile away.” The man’s
face flushed red.
Really if he had enough energy to be angry,
he had enough energy to walk.
“Quarter mile at most.”
“We’re tired. We’ve been walking for days.
First to the trading outpost and then back. What does an hour’s
difference make?”
Shea sighed. Looked up at the blue, blue sky
and the soaring pinnacles of rock then down at the loose shale and
half trampled path they’d already traveled.
“You’re right, an hour’s rest won’t make much
difference.” His face lit up. “However, you’ve already wasted two
hours today on the last two breaks. You also wasted several hours
yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. We should
have been back already.”
She held up her hand when he opened his
mouth.
“Now, we are getting up that pass. We need to
be over it and down the mountain by nightfall. Otherwise you’re
going to have to fend off nightfliers. Do you want to fend off
nightfliers when you could be sleeping? Or would you rather suck it
up and get over that damn ridge?”
The man paled at the mention of nightfliers,
a beast about three times the size of a bat that had a disturbing
tendency of picking up its food and dropping it from a high
altitude. It made it easier to get to the good parts on the
inside.
“We’ll wait to take the break.” He turned and
headed down to the last switchback where the rest of their party
waited.
“Oh, and Kent.” Shea’s voice rose just loud
enough for him to hear. “Please let them know that if anybody
refuses to walk, I’ll leave them here to fend for themselves.
Nightfliers aren’t the only things that roam this pass come
nightfall.”
He gave her a look full of loathing before
heading down to his friends. Shea kept her snicker to herself. Good
things never happened when they thought she was laughing at
them.
Idiot. As if pathfinders would abandon their
charges. If that was the case, she would have left this lot behind
days ago. There were oaths preventing that kind of behavior.
What she wouldn’t give to enjoy a little
quiet time relaxing on the roof of her small home right about
now.
They didn’t make it back to the village until
early the next morning. Shea brought up the rear as their group
straggled past the wooden wall encircling the small village of
Birdon Leaf.
The village was a place that time had
forgotten. It looked the same as it had the day it was founded, and
in fifty years or a hundred, it’d probably still be the same. Same
families living in the same homes, built of wood and mud by their
father’s, father’s, father. Most of the buildings in the village
were single story and one room. The really well off might have a
second room or a loft. Nothing changed here, and they liked it that
way. Propose a new idea or way of doing something and they’d run
you out of town.
They didn’t like strangers, which was fine
because most times strangers didn’t like them.
They tolerated Shea because they needed the
skills her guild taught to survive. Shea tolerated them because she
had to.
Well, some days she didn’t.
A small group of women and children waited to
welcome the men.
A large boned woman with a hefty bosom and
ash blond hair just beginning to gray flung her arms around a tall
man with thinning hair.
“Where have you been? We expected you back
yesterday morning.” She smothered his face with kisses.
“You know we had to keep to the pathfinder’s
pace. The men didn’t feel it would be right leaving her behind just
because she couldn’t keep up.”
There it was. Her fault.
Anytime something went wrong it was due to
the fact she was a woman. Even looking less feminine didn’t help
her. A taller than average girl with a thin layer of muscles
stretching over her lean frame, Shea had hazel eyes framed by round
cheeks, a stubborn mouth and a strong jaw-line she’d inherited from
her father. Much to her consternation.
“What the guild was thinking assigning a
woman to our village, I’ll never know,” the woman said in
exasperation. “And such useless trail bait. They must have sent the
laziest one they had.”
Trail bait. Dirt pounder. Roamer. Hot footed.
Shea had heard it all. So many words to describe one thing.
Outsider.
Shea turned towards home. At least she would
have a little peace and quiet for the next few days. She planned to
hide out and not see or talk to anyone.
Just her and her maps. Maybe some cloud
watching. And definitely some napping. Make that a lot of napping.
She needed to recharge.
“Pathfinder! Pathfinder,” a young voice
called after her.
Shea turned and automatically smiled at the
girl with the gamine grin and boundless enthusiasm racing after
her. “Aimee, I’ve told you before you can call me Shea.”
Aimee ducked her head and gave her a gap
toothed smile. She was missing one of her front teeth. She must
have lost it while Shea was outside the fence.
“Pathfinder Shea. You’re back.”
Shea nodded, amused at the obvious statement.
Of all the villagers in this backwoods place, Aimee was her
favorite. She was young enough that she didn’t fear the wilds lying
just beyond the safety of the barrier. All she saw was the
adventure waiting out there. She reminded Shea of the novitiates
that came every year to the Wayfarer’s Keep in hopes of taking the
Pathfinder’s exam and becoming an apprentice.
“Um, did you see any cool beasts this time?”
Aimee burst out. “Nightfliers, maybe? You said they liked to nest
in the peaks around Garylow’s pass. What about red backs?”
“Whoa, hold up. One question at a time.” Shea
took a piece of paper she’d torn from her journal last night in
anticipation of this moment. “Here. I saw this one diving to catch
breakfast yesterday morning.”
Shea handed her a sketching of a peregrine
falcon in mid dive. It was a natural animal, but to a girl raised
in a village where all non-domesticated animals were considered
‘beasts,’ it would seem exotic. Shea had sketched it during one of
the numerous breaks the men had taken.
“Pathfinder Shea,” a woman said from behind
them, disapproval coloring her voice. “The elders wish to speak to
you.”
Shea’s smile disappeared as she schooled her
face to a politeness she didn’t really feel. Aimee hid the drawing
in her skirts.
The woman’s eyes shifted to Shea’s companion.
“Aimee, my girl, your mother’s looking for you. I suggest you get
on home.”
Aimee bobbed in place, suitably chastened and
followed as the woman swept away, but not before aiming a small
smile in Shea’s direction.
Shea lifted a hand and waved. Aimee had
become something of Shea’s shadow in the past few weeks. It was a
welcome change, given how most of the villagers pretended she
didn’t exist or treated her with barely concealed hostility.
Shea looked woefully towards the tightly
packed dirt trail leading to her little cottage. Her muscles ached
and three days of grime and dirt coated her body.
She wanted a bath, a hot meal and then to
sleep for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to deal with the
grumpy, blame-wielding elders who no doubt wanted things they
couldn’t or shouldn’t have. But if she didn’t deal with them now,
they would just show up and nag at her until she gave them her
attention. They wanted something from her. Again. Better to deal
with things now so she could have an uninterrupted rest later.
Her well-deserved break would have to
wait
Her steps unhurried, she turned in the
opposite direction of her bed. Even moving as slowly as she
reasonably could, she quickly found herself in front of the town
hall. It was also a pub and gathering place, basically anything the
village needed it to be.
There were only two stone structures in the
entire settlement. The town hall was the first and greatest,
holding the distinction of being the only building large enough to
shelter the entire village in the event of an attack. There was
only one entrance, a heavy wooden door that could be barred from
the inside. The thin slits in the upper levels kept attackers of
both the four legged and two legged variety from slipping
inside.