Shea offered up a short prayer that Peyton and Dane figured out a way to survive as she helped Reece and the rest prepare for the journey back.
“Aren’t you worried that there are more of them waiting in the mist?” one of the students asked, giving Clark’s friend Delia a wary look.
“What would you suggest we do? Wait here like chickens ripe for the plucking until they decide to come for us, only this time in greater numbers?” Delia asked, a trace of impatience in her voice.
“I’m beginning to see why Clark became friends with that one,” Trenton murmured in low voice.
Shea arched an eyebrow at him.
He gave her an engaging grin. “She’s a much younger version of you.”
Shea frowned over at the girl, who looked nothing like Shea. Where Shea was taller than most people in the Highlands, the girl was short, at least a head shorter than Shea. Her face was more heart-shaped without the lean lines and sharp bones that made up Shea’s features. Delia looked fierce, her eyes alive with the sort of stubbornness that enabled her to voyage across the Highlands and make it to the Keep where she could train as a pathfinder.
Right now, Delia frowned at the person who’d spoken, her eyes snapping with impatience.
Ah, that was what Trenton had meant. The woman wielded words and logic the same way Shea did, like they were blunt instruments capable of beating people more stupid than her into submission.
She flicked a dirty look Trenton’s way. He shrugged, even as he tied Griffin’s hands together, the rope looping over and under itself to create a knot that would withstand even the strongest man’s struggles. Having been subjected to such bonds once herself, Shea knew intimately how impossible it was to work the knot loose.
She’d have preferred something a little sturdier, like iron manacles and a guard of about twenty men solely focused on Griffin, but until they got back to the Keep this would have to do. It didn’t stop her from feeling like this was exactly what Griffin wanted.
“You ready?” Reece asked her.
She nodded, slipping her hand into the loop and taking the last position, Trenton and Griffin in front of her. Braden before them. Reece would lead, then the students, then Braden and the rest of them.
She gave one last look at the mountain glen and its sunny scenery. One wouldn’t know all that had happened here just from looking. Even the blood of their fallen student had been sucked into the ground, food for the wildflowers that grew here. Shea had a feeling the next time they visited, this place might show the signs of this encounter, changing for the worse and becoming dangerous where it had once been welcoming.
*
Fallon hit the ground floor of the Keep at a near run, a wild feeling in his chest urging him to hurry. That same gut feeling had saved his life on more than one battlefield, and he didn’t plan to ignore it now, not with so much at stake.
Patrick kept up easily, moving at his side with an effortless stride. “What makes you think this is part of a series of attacks?”
The man wasn’t challenging Fallon, his voice calm and collected. He was gathering information so he could have the full picture before reacting.
“It’s what I would do in their place,” Fallon said, not slowing his pace.
Seeing the Ember clan leader, he jerked his head for the man to follow. Zeph waved off the person speaking to him and headed for Fallon’s side, his expression one of alert intensity.
Ember clan produced some of the best warriors in Fallon’s army, in large part due to the prowess of their own leader. He would be a good man to have at Fallon’s back if what he feared was true.
“Why do you say that?” Patrick asked, taking note of Zeph.
“The best way to take down a strong enemy is to hit them on several fronts at once,” Fallon said. “It gives them no time to react or defend, while ensuring you have the greatest element of surprise.”
“What is it?” Zeph asked, his gaze going between the three of them. He noted the blood on Fallon’s clothes and the weapons still held ready in Caden’s hands. He correctly came to the conclusion that they had been attacked. “Who are we killing?”
Patrick looked deep in though. His head lifted and his face paled. He turned and started moving away.
“Where are you going?” Fallon asked, staring after Patrick. “We need to find Shea.”
And he needed Patrick to do it. Not for the first time, he cursed the restrictions this mist placed on him. He loathed being at the mercy of others.
“She’s not the only one in danger.” Patrick’s voice was hard as he headed away from Fallon at a quick clip.
“Do you want me to bring him back?” Zeph asked, looking between the two.
Fallon took a deep breath, reaching for a patience he didn’t currently feel. “Get Chirron. If he’s right that we’re not the only targets, we may have need of the healer.”
