Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2)

“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.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“HOW LONG have we been down here?” Clark asked, keeping pace with Shea. “It feels like an eternity.”

Shea looked to find him craning his neck back to give the rock above them a dissatisfied glare. He looked back down with a huff, the small patches of visible sky, where the ceiling above had collapsed in places, seeming to have put him in an even more morose mood.

It was a sentiment many in their party shared as their time underground stretched to days.

“I told you; this way is longer because we have to go under the cliffs. Be grateful for the horses. If we were walking, it would take us a few weeks to make the journey. As it is, we’ll probably be back aboveground in a few days,” Shea told him.

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