She didn’t give voice to her concerns, just clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you will.”
James, watching the conversation, added, “Of course you will. Who’s going to remind me of what a bad idea this trip was if you aren’t?”
Cam gave a half laugh before wincing and clutching his side. “That’s true. With this latest scheme, I have ammunition against you until we’re old and gray.”
Shea was glad the two could joke with each other. Sometimes when things got especially bad, laughter was the only way you got through it. The journey back to their village, given Cam’s physical shape, was going to be one of those times.
“We’re being pursued,” the first stranger said, his entire attention focused on the village as it grew increasingly smaller.
Shea looked where he indicated, not noticing anything at first. Dust rose into the air and then small shapes took form as their pursuers thundered after them.
Witt chanced a glance back. “Damn, I was hoping it would take them longer to round up the horses.”
“How far to the cliffs?” James asked.
Shea knew what he was really asking. How long until they reached the Highland border? If they could just make it to the cliffs, they would be able to lose their followers. Shea knew a few of the hidden passages at the cliffs’ base in this area. If they put just a little distance between them and the hunters, they could disappear fairly easily.
It wouldn’t take them to the Highlands, but it should hide them long enough that the people chasing them would give up or move on.
She tilted her head as she calculated. It’d taken two days to reach Edgecomb once they’d finished their descent from the Highlands. The wagon could cut that time considerably, but they would run out of flat ground well before they reached safety. The clunky shape of the wagon just couldn’t navigate the bumps and ridges of the uneven land. The first large rock they hit would break the wagon’s axel, rendering the vehicle useless. Their pursuers’ horses could move much faster even if the terrain delayed them.
“Too far.” She glanced back at their persistent shadows. Even in such a short time they’d managed to gain.
Her mind raced over options, disregarding one after another. Witt flicked the reins, urging the horses to greater speeds. The wagon shuttered and wobbled under them. Shea prayed it didn’t shake itself apart before they reached their destination.
There was one possibility. Though it was dangerous. More risky than traveling through red back territory. More nerve racking than trying to rescue prisoners from the execution platform.
“Dane, how much ammo do you still have?”
“Not much. Why?”
“James, trade places with Dane. I need him back here.”
James patted Cam on the shoulder, before moving slowly to the front of the wagon.
Dane crouched beside her and looked at her questioningly.
“I need you to pick off as many of them as you can.”
He looked skeptically at the mob gaining ground on them. “I can try, but my aim’s not going to be very good while we’re bouncing around like this.
“I don’t need you to hit them, just make them cautious. I’m hoping it scares them into keeping their distance for a little while. Wait until they get a little closer before firing.”
Dane shrugged and pulled the boomer into place, making sure it was loaded. He gestured one of the strangers up, handing him the bag of extra ammo with instructions to hand him more rounds when he called for it.
Shea left him to crawl back up to Witt. “I need you to veer right.”
He shot her a hard look before looking front again.
The wagon continued on its course.
“Witt, you need to go right.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You have to,” she snarled.
His jaw clenched. Damn, stubborn man.
“Witt. We won’t make it to the Highlands, and there are too many of them to fight.”
“That way leads to the Badlands. That way leads to madness.”
“I know.”
Shea did know and just thinking about taking this group past that land’s border made her feel sick.
The Badlands were part of the Highlands. Technically. Only people who were crazy, desperate, or had nowhere else to go went there. People said it was the home of evil, that all beasts came from there and that its shadowed interior hid even greater monsters.
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.”