hoarse whisper.
“I’ll climb.”
We wait for a spill of light, then, every nerve raw with resistance, I shuffle to the edge. Ronan sits against the cliff with the rope around his hips, his feet wedged against a protruding rock. I don’t see how he can hold me, but he mouths at me to go.
Fear sends shivers wriggling like graveyard worms across my skin as I lean backwards over the precipice, the rope taut between us. I try not to think of the drop behind me, the rocks waiting, of pulling us both to our deaths. One step. Two. My breath comes in sharp gasps as I battle the urge to crumple inward and cling on with my fingers. By the fourth step, Ronan is hidden by the lip of the ledge. Ten paces down I’ve begun to relax into a shuffling waddle. Another ten and my boot snags a rock, turning my ankle sideways. I lose my balance and swing in, my knee cracking against the cliff. Pain arcs up my leg. The rope jerks down a few inches and a little moan of panic flies from my mouth. My hands claw across the rock, searching for a hold. My foot wedges in a crack and I push up. There’s a moment before the rope pulls taut. I snatch at a breath then take another, slower, relieved to take some of my weight off the rope.
I have to go on. Ignoring the throb that radiates from my knee, I relinquish my meagre handholds and straighten my legs. My limbs shake, but they obey my instructions. The rope gives a small downward jerk and I respond with a step, then another.
When my heel finds the ledge, I slither hastily to sitting, back pressed hard against the cliff. My fingers shake as I fumble with the knot. Once I have it undone I give two sharp tugs on the rope and it twitches away from my hands.
The waiting unnerves me. The moonlight gutters and wanes like a flickering candle as the storm front Lara warned of chases rags of cloud across the sky. Above, twice, I catch glimpses of Ronan clinging tight to the rock. When the rope suddenly pours into a pile by my legs, I jerk in alarm. One end still runs upwards. “Ronan,” I hiss. There’s no answer.
The wind that licks across me is cold. Dense minutes pass before I hear his feet find the ledge. The darkness is disorienting. “Is everything all right?”
He doesn’t answer. His breathing is hoarse as he sinks down beside me. “I’m out of practice,” he mutters at last.
“We can rest for a bit.”
“No.” I catch a glimpse of his face and something else: a dark stain across his shirt. “The wind’s rising. The sooner we reach Explorer the better.”
The rope is still tied around his waist. I lean to help undo the knot, frowning as my fingers meet a damp stickiness. Reaching for his hand I turn it within mine. “I cut my palm,” he mumbles.
A thread of moonlight shows me that it’s still pulsing blood. My med kit is with my pack in the dinghy. I curse myself for leaving it. Pulling my knife from my belt, I slash a strip from the hem of my shirt. The gash runs from between his first two fingers to the base of his thumb. I bandage it tightly. “Close your fist,” I tell him. “How’d it happen?”
“Jagged bit of rock.”
“You can’t climb like that.” He doesn’t answer. Darkness closes around us. I listen to his breathing, trying to assess whether it’s more strained than the climb warrants.
“Is there somewhere we can tie off the rope?” His voice sounds thin and disembodied. “Means we’d have to leave it behind.”
I scramble up, ready for the next break in the clouds. When it comes I search the ledge. There’s a bulge of rock like a broken button at one end. Ronan doesn’t look convinced.
“There’s nothing else.”
One-handed, he loops a couple of knots in the rope then slings it around the jut, pulling it each way to test it.
“You go first,” I say. His colour looks odd.
He doesn’t argue. With the rope locked in his good hand he disappears over the edge. I keep my fingers on the rope where it runs over the lip so that I’ll know
“I’ll climb.”
We wait for a spill of light, then, every nerve raw with resistance, I shuffle to the edge. Ronan sits against the cliff with the rope around his hips, his feet wedged against a protruding rock. I don’t see how he can hold me, but he mouths at me to go.
Fear sends shivers wriggling like graveyard worms across my skin as I lean backwards over the precipice, the rope taut between us. I try not to think of the drop behind me, the rocks waiting, of pulling us both to our deaths. One step. Two. My breath comes in sharp gasps as I battle the urge to crumple inward and cling on with my fingers. By the fourth step, Ronan is hidden by the lip of the ledge. Ten paces down I’ve begun to relax into a shuffling waddle. Another ten and my boot snags a rock, turning my ankle sideways. I lose my balance and swing in, my knee cracking against the cliff. Pain arcs up my leg. The rope jerks down a few inches and a little moan of panic flies from my mouth. My hands claw across the rock, searching for a hold. My foot wedges in a crack and I push up. There’s a moment before the rope pulls taut. I snatch at a breath then take another, slower, relieved to take some of my weight off the rope.
I have to go on. Ignoring the throb that radiates from my knee, I relinquish my meagre handholds and straighten my legs. My limbs shake, but they obey my instructions. The rope gives a small downward jerk and I respond with a step, then another.
When my heel finds the ledge, I slither hastily to sitting, back pressed hard against the cliff. My fingers shake as I fumble with the knot. Once I have it undone I give two sharp tugs on the rope and it twitches away from my hands.
The waiting unnerves me. The moonlight gutters and wanes like a flickering candle as the storm front Lara warned of chases rags of cloud across the sky. Above, twice, I catch glimpses of Ronan clinging tight to the rock. When the rope suddenly pours into a pile by my legs, I jerk in alarm. One end still runs upwards. “Ronan,” I hiss. There’s no answer.
The wind that licks across me is cold. Dense minutes pass before I hear his feet find the ledge. The darkness is disorienting. “Is everything all right?”
He doesn’t answer. His breathing is hoarse as he sinks down beside me. “I’m out of practice,” he mutters at last.
“We can rest for a bit.”
“No.” I catch a glimpse of his face and something else: a dark stain across his shirt. “The wind’s rising. The sooner we reach Explorer the better.”
The rope is still tied around his waist. I lean to help undo the knot, frowning as my fingers meet a damp stickiness. Reaching for his hand I turn it within mine. “I cut my palm,” he mumbles.
A thread of moonlight shows me that it’s still pulsing blood. My med kit is with my pack in the dinghy. I curse myself for leaving it. Pulling my knife from my belt, I slash a strip from the hem of my shirt. The gash runs from between his first two fingers to the base of his thumb. I bandage it tightly. “Close your fist,” I tell him. “How’d it happen?”
“Jagged bit of rock.”
“You can’t climb like that.” He doesn’t answer. Darkness closes around us. I listen to his breathing, trying to assess whether it’s more strained than the climb warrants.
“Is there somewhere we can tie off the rope?” His voice sounds thin and disembodied. “Means we’d have to leave it behind.”
I scramble up, ready for the next break in the clouds. When it comes I search the ledge. There’s a bulge of rock like a broken button at one end. Ronan doesn’t look convinced.
“There’s nothing else.”
One-handed, he loops a couple of knots in the rope then slings it around the jut, pulling it each way to test it.
“You go first,” I say. His colour looks odd.
He doesn’t argue. With the rope locked in his good hand he disappears over the edge. I keep my fingers on the rope where it runs over the lip so that I’ll know
Similar Books
