“They make their nests in the mountains near here.” Shea pointed to a spot at the top of the map, well past their known landmarks; it was just blank space. In reality, their home was further north than she’d indicated, but she thought this made her point quite nicely. “To get to them, you’d have to climb Bearan’s Fault before walking a few hundred miles over extremely rough terrain until you reach the passes that make up the Dragon’s Tooth mountain range—it spans three hundred miles—and then cross the plains of Eire. You’ll be easy pickings for the eagles on those plains, but perhaps you’ll get lucky.”
The other man’s gaze was even more remote and cold when she finished. She didn’t let that bother her, preferring to keep him and his men alive rather than make a friend.
“The golden eagles are not the enemy,” Fallon said, his gaze challenging the other man. “They are just the weapon our enemy has chosen to wield.”
“It seems our enemy has many weapons to choose from,” the other man returned. He lifted his chin in challenge.
All he needed was to flare his nostrils and stomp his feet and he’d look exactly like a bull male skarrygh facing-off with another for the right to rut with his chosen female.
“Gawain.” Henry’s voice held a warning.
The man’s eyes shifted to Henry, but held no less challenge. “I am simply making an observation. The Hawkvale promised us riches and spoils to make up for abandoning our ancestral lands. Since coming to this forsaken place, I have seen little evidence of either.”
“Perhaps, had your people joined us sooner and not waited until we were already victorious, they might have taken a piece of the wealth the rest of us split for ourselves,” Ben said. The head of the Earth Clan’s voice was calm and even. He didn’t spare a look for Gawain and instead remained focused on the maps in front of him.
“So we could face dishonorable deaths?” Gawain arched one eyebrow.
Shea stiffened at that assertion. She did not like the insinuation that dying at a beast’s claws was dishonorable. She’d known many men and women who fell to beasts. This man with his superior attitude wasn’t going to disparage them. Especially when he probably had little to no experience with beasts.
“What’s dishonorable about it?” Shea asked, her gaze direct. He wasn’t the only one who could be challenging. The clan heads glanced at her, some with disdain, as if to say she had no place talking in these meetings. She continued before anyone could stop her. “Tell me. What is so dishonorable at dying at the claws of a beast?”
His response was a derisive stare.
No answer. That was alright; Shea had plenty to say.
“When’s the last time you fought off a revenant pack with nothing but your sword and a few good men?” He didn’t answer. The table was dead silent. “How many eagles did your men bring down? Because the Wind Division brought down two, but not before three men gave their lives to protect women and children. What’s so damn dishonorable about that?” Shea’s chest heaved as she shouted the last words. She refused to look away from Gawain, whose expression had soured as she continued.
When she had made her point, she looked around the table, noting those who met her eyes and those who looked away. Henry, Darius and Braden weren’t afraid to hold her gaze. Ben gave her a small nod of respect. Van looked away. The last man, one of the new clan leaders she’d yet to be introduced to, looked mildly interested.
Shea’s hands shook ever so slightly where they rested on the table. She hated losing her temper. It always felt like she’d overreacted, and she was left dealing with the fallout.
Fallon’s hand slid over one of hers and he gave it a slight squeeze. She glanced at him to find him regarding his clan leaders with an impassive expression.
After a long moment in which no one spoke, Fallon said, “I have a pathfinder in my custody, one who has had much to say about the recent increase in beast activity and the emergence of the mist.”
All eyes turned to Shea, suspicion in several of them. She gave them her best Fallon impression, channeling an impassivity that she didn’t feel. Her stomach was tight with nerves and a sense of dread.
“How convenient that you’ve found one of these people so soon after the attack,” Gawain said, carefully avoiding looking at Shea.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He might not have overtly indicated her as the architect behind this, but she got the point.
Fallon ignored his words. “This person has indicated the pathfinders may have knowledge to share about these attacks.”
Shea kept her surprise off her face. He hadn’t said anything about the beast call or the possibility that the pathfinders might be the ones behind this.
“I’ve decided to take a force into the Highlands at their invitation to see what we can uncover and if there are any weapons we might take advantage of.” Fallon’s tone invited no dissent.
“Why can’t she tell us what we need to know?” the strange clan leader said, jerking his head at Shea.
“Shea has already shared her knowledge,” Fallon said, the words little more than a growl.
“Rather freely, in fact,” Braden said, surprising Shea. “Ember, you should send some of your vanguard to the beast class she started. They could do with picking up a few pointers.”
If he was Ember, then Gawain must be Rain.
“I will keep that in mind,” Ember said with an interested nod.
“If you ladies are done trading secrets, could we get back to the point at hand?” Van complained.
“I am not sure I see the purpose in leading a force into the Highlands,” Ben volunteered, his mouth pulled into a somber line. “You’ve already stated previously that there is no easy way to get the men, mounts and supplies we need into the Highlands.”
“That’s true.” Fallon braced his hands against the table. “I’ve recently learned there might be an alternate route.”
Shea stiffened and her gaze swung toward Fallon to find his eyes resting on her. She held his gaze for a moment. Surely Reece hadn’t told him about the caverns.
The knowledge was there in Fallon’s eyes. Shit, he had. How serious was this for the pathfinders to let that knowledge fall into the hands of outsiders? And how likely was it that they would let those same outsiders live once they’d fulfilled their role?
Fallon pulled the map towards him and pointed to a spot fifty miles west of the Badlands. “This pathfinder claims there are caverns that lead right up into the Highlands. It’s supposed to be considerably easier to navigate than the cliffs, and we’ll be able to take the mounts and supplies.”
The men stared at the spot he pointed at.
“Why weren’t we made aware of this before?” Ben asked.
Fallon’s council leveled gazes heavy with accusation on him. There was the feel in the air that Shea sometimes sensed right before a storm. The mood was about three breaths from violence.
Van’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about ready to issue a challenge, one that Fallon would be forced to fight. Normally, she would bet on Fallon any day of the week. She’d seen him fight. The man possessed an almost supernatural skill with the blade. But she knew he was tired and bruised, having fought with his men to bring down the eagles as well as participated in the tournament.