by Carey Corp
Begrudgingly, I admitted that even if he was a cretinous jackwagon, he’d been right — at least about one thing. It was best to keep the limbus a secret, for now. At least until Kenna and Duncan arrived, and we could find some answers. The thought of Kenna made me want to collapse in a heap of tears.
If Duncan hadn’t run into any snags, they should’ve been back by now. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe Kenna had refused to return. I needed her desperately, not only because in my vision she had a role to play in protecting the kingdom, but because she was my best friend — my strength.
And I didn’t know if I could do this without her.
CHAPTER 7
Mackenna
Back in my choir days we sang an old Scottish song that debates taking the high road versus the low one — like there’s always a choice. Maybe in a world without zombie fungus that was true . . . but not in Doon.
The path to the high road had been overrun by the limbus. And when I suggested taking the low road, Duncan pointed out it was not parallel but clear on the other side of the kingdom — so nice of the composer to leave that part out! Which meant our only option was off-road, and that turned out to be far worse than it sounded.
We picked our way down the wooded mountainside on an improvised trail that was barely fit for cliff goats. Duncan kept mostly to himself as he led the way. Occasionally he pointed out a particularly helpful foothold or a patch of loose rock to avoid. Even when he held back branches, he was careful not to make any physical contact.
At least we seemed to be making good progress — until Duncan stopped in his tracks. Directly in front of him a deep ravine cut through the hillside. He stared at it in equal parts shock and frustration. “This shouldna be here.”
“Are you sure? I mean, how well do you know these mountains?”
“Well enough not to lead you inta a dead end.” His irritation came out in a sharp huff. “Jamie and I have played capture the flag all throughout this area. I can assure ye that this ravine wasn’t here.”
“But that was a long time ago, when you were kids, right?”
“Nay. We were on this range just a fortnight ago.”
I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Playing capture the flag?”
“It’s a practical application exercise in strategy for the troops. It’s also good to learn terrain, in case of . . .”
“In case of what?”
“Just because we’re protected from the witch under a divine blessing, that doesn’t mean we shouldna be prepared. We honor our Protector by remaining vigilant.”
To me it sounded like an excuse for grown men to smear mud on their faces and play war games. “So what do we do now?”
Duncan looked to the south. The ravine got wider in that direction. To the north it began to narrow, but we’d be heading back toward the zombie fungus. Duncan nodded in the direction of the latter. “Perhaps we can find a way to traverse the chasm if we head that way.”
“Toward the limbus?”
“Aye. Unless you want to turn around and climb back up to Muir Lea?”
Both options sucked. Now would be the perfect time to have Glinda the Good Witch’s skill set. Travel by bubble the rest of the way and gently float into the courtyard of the Castle MacCrae. Ta-da! When I hesitated, Duncan regarded me with somber, brown eyes. “I vowed I would get ye back to Chicago, and I mean to keep my promise.”
For the love of Lerner and Loewe! Did he have to remind me at every opportunity that he couldn’t wait to get rid of me? Still, his determination to deliver me back to the modern world gave me an ironclad confidence that he’d keep me safe — but I was not about to underestimate the limbus either. I’d witnessed the devastation it could cause. All things considered, with my chaffed skin and aching muscles, the option of hiking back uphill held even less appeal than being zombified.
Decision made, I gave him a small nod. “Lead the way.”
We continued downward, tightly following the ravine as we angled back toward the limbus. Even using my scarf to cover the lower part of my face, the stench of decay burned through my nostrils. My eyes watered, making it hard to focus on the treacherous ground. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the darkening skies started to drizzle.
Grateful I had thought to pack my favorite umbrella, I called for Duncan to wait. When I caught up to him, I rummaged in my bag until I found what I needed. Just as the rain picked up, I popped it open.
Duncan quirked his eyebrow at my umbrella and then at me. “Wicked?”
“It’s the name of the play,” I explained. The umbrella had alternating panels, two depicting Elphaba and Glinda separated by the name of the musical. I’d bought it with my allowance after seeing the show for the first time. “It’s about the witch from the Wizard of Oz, and it has all these great songs in it. It’s one of my favorite shows.”
Duncan nodded curtly and resumed hiking. I followed along behind, suddenly seeing things through Doonian eyes. The last time I’d visited his kingdom, I’d been accused of being in league with the witch trying to destroy their world. Of course, it didn’t help that Vee and I had brought a cursed journal into Doon and nearly destroyed the land ourselves. Now I was returning with a statement umbrella that proclaimed me as “Wicked.”
I envisioned trying to explain to the Doonians a story that had a misunderstood witch as the main heroine — that would go over well. I might as well wear a matching raincoat with “Please burn me at the stake” printed on the back.
On impulse I collapsed the umbrella and tossed it into the ravine.
The commotion drew Duncan’s attention. He turned just in time to see my favorite accessory go tumbling down the side of the chasm. Water flowed down his face in little rivulets and he swiped his eyes, before demanding, “What’d ye do that for?”
What could I say? The umbrella was a mistake, just like bringing the journal into Doon . . . and abandoning him on the bridge. Instead, I shrugged. “I just didn’t want it anymore.”
Duncan looked at me critically. After a moment he shook his head. “I fear I shall never understand you.”
“Then don’t try.”
“As you wish.” With that, he turned to continue our descent. But after two emotionally charged steps, he spun back around. “Why did you leave me?”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you in my world.”
His eyes widened. In the heat of the moment, my hurried words had come out all wrong. I’d meant that he belonged in Doon. Even if he came to Chicago willingly, I couldn’t allow him to leave the kingdom he loved behind. But before I could clarify, he crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Was it because of him?”
Although the timing wasn’t ideal, I needed to set the record straight about my director. “No. Wes and I did date a bit. I was trying to move on with my life. After you and I broke up — ”
“We broke up? We didna break up; you broke — everything.”
“I’m sorry. If you’d just let me — ”
“Tell me this. After you left me on the bridge, did you go to him straight away? Or did ye have the decency to wait a week?”
That wasn’t fair. I’d never have dated Wes if I hadn’t been desperately trying to get over the boy I actually loved. But if Duncan thought so little of me, why did I even care? A sob clogged my throat, but before I could fight my way through it, Duncan’s expression hardened.
When he spoke, his icy brogue bordered on haughty. “Thank you for clarifying your position. I shall make every effort to deliver you to Castle MacCrae posthaste so you will not have to endure me a moment longer than necessary.” This time as he turned away, I suspected it would be for good.
As Duncan launched himself forward, the ground crumbled beneath his feet. One moment he was there, the next gone. I rushed forward in time to see him sliding feet-first down the side of the steep canyon. His hands grasped at the wet, muddy ground, desperately seeking anything they could cling to.
Inside, I was screaming, my
soul plummeting alongside him. On the outside, I seemed to be frozen, helpless to do anything other than watch him plunge to his death.
About twenty feet below, just before the ravine went vertical into darkness, Duncan hit a small ledge. His duffel strap snagged on a rock and stopped. But Duncan was sliding too fast. He arched over the side, only managing to grab a root at the last second.
Duncan’s dirty hands, clinging to the plant root, were clearly visible, but the rest of him disappeared over the side. How far down did the chasm go? Would that lone root continue to support his weight or give way? And how could I help him before it did?
After a couple of false starts, I managed to find my voice. “Duncan?”
“Aye. I’m here, woman.” His grunted response was strangled by the exertion of holding on to something the size of an iPod cord, but other than that he sounded okay.
The rain intensified as I sank to my knees and crawled to the edge of the landslide. “Hold on. I’m coming to get you.”
“Nay! It’s not safe.” His hands wobbled, and I assumed he was scrambling with his feet for a foothold. The root that was his lifeline started to come free from the earth, and I screamed at him to stop. Thankfully he listened for once and his hands stilled.
I rolled to my stomach and scooted backward until my feet dangled over the edge. The descent to the ledge was at a steep angle. I would have to go slow, try not to gain momentum. My heart jackhammered against my chest, and I felt like I needed to barf. Pushing my fear aside, I began to make my way down the mud-slicked canyon at a turtle’s pace.
For the first time in my life, I was grateful for high school phys. ed. and the rotation on rock climbing. Clinging to the tiny bit of skill I had gleaned in those weeks on the wall, I managed to find footholds that allowed me to descend with some control. About a third of the way down, I called out, “I’m on my way.”
Duncan groaned before bellowing, “I said no! Stay where you are. Thas an order!”
“You’re not the boss of me, you stupid ogre!”
What did he think, that I’d just watch him die? I was supernaturally stubborn when I wanted something. Right now I wanted Duncan MacCrae to live. Otherwise, what would have been the point of all this? Of abandoning him so that he didn’t have to choose between me and the kingdom he loved. If he didn’t go on to build a life rich with love and purpose, then all this agony would be for nothing.
I continued to pick my way downhill. Mud oozed between my fingers, around my ankles, and seeped into the rips in my pajamas. Tiny rivers rushed down the ravine, washing the ground out from under me. And to make matters worse, the stench of death grew as I descended.
Finally, I felt the solid ledge beneath my feet. Easing my canvas bag to the ground, I rolled from my stomach to my back so I could get a better look at the situation. The rock shelf appeared thick and sturdy, about four feet long but only two feet wide. The plant root that supported Duncan protruded just above the ledge on the far right. Most of it had been pulled free of its earthly tether and the rest was in danger of giving way at any moment.
Sinking into a seated position, I shimmied forward onto my stomach so that my head faced where Duncan’s hands clung to the makeshift rope. Reaching out, I grabbed his wrists and scooted forward to look down at him. “I’m here.”
Rather than gratitude, he glared up at me. “I told ye not to come.”
“And I didn’t listen.”
“When do ye ever?” he grumbled.
Cold rain pelted my back as the canyon water flowed uncomfortably around me. “We can fight, or, since I’m here, I can save your sorry butt. Your choice.”
Blinking the rain from my eyes, I surveyed the ground below. A thin crevasse bottomed out about five feet below Duncan — which would’ve been good news except it was covered in dark slime. I tracked the zombie fungus up both sides of the ravine. As I watched, a clump of grass level with Duncan’s abdomen withered and black blossoms sprouted in their place.
“Don’t move,” I cautioned. “The limbus is all around you.”
Duncan let loose a curse — one of the only times I’d ever heard him do so. “I can see the flowers, but naught else.”
“Just stay still. I’m going to pull you up.”
“Nay, Mackenna, ’tis impossi — ”
“Shut up and let me try!” I’d had it with his noble knight routine. The only way we would survive this would be to work together. I stretched forward, trying to get a better grip on his wrists, but the mud caking my hands made it impossible to improve my hold. “I need to clean my hands off. Don’t move.”
The minute I let go, the root gave way with a sharp crack. His fingers slid through mine as I reached for him. Then he was gone.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think . . . until I heard an agonized shout. Tears stung my eyes as I wriggled toward the edge. Just below the rock ledge was another root. Duncan’s right hand grabbed it as his body smashed against the side of the ravine and into the limbus. A nightmarish shriek echoed from his mouth as the zombie fungus wrapped around his lower half. My own screams mingled with his as I scrambled forward until my torso hung over the ledge.
I grabbed for his hand again and again, straining against the distance between us until my fingers grasped his free hand. The instant I touched him, my uncle Cameron’s ring began to glow green. In answer, the ring on Duncan’s pinky flashed a brilliant red. The ruby light surrounded him like a spotlight causing the zombie fungus to wither away and his inhuman howling to stop.
Terrified to see what the limbus had done to him, I focused on his hand in mine. He let go of the root and clung to me with his whole being, which was much heavier than I’d realized. My arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets but I was determined to hold on.
Dangling halfway over the ledge, I had no leverage and no way to hoist him to safety. His weight began to pull me over. As I slipped forward, my lower half scrambled for some sort of way to brace myself.
His pale, stoic face told me he understood the situation. He showed no pain, or terror, just a soft expression that caused my heart to ache. “You have to let me go,” he said calmly.
“No!”
Despite my obstinate refusal, I couldn’t hold on much longer . . . and we both knew it. His eyes were huge and warm as he nodded. “Let me go, woman.”
My eyes began to sting, and I furiously blinked back tears. If the Protector of Doon had a purpose for us, he wouldn’t let this be the end of Duncan MacCrae. And if this was it, I wouldn’t let him face the zombie fungus alone. I’d go with him.
“Please!” Not sure who I was begging, the universe or the Protector, or any other cosmic being within earshot, I pleaded, “Please. Help us.”
The space around us began to swirl with green and red rays of light. The colors merged, bathing the canyon in brilliance. As the light surrounded me, I felt hands fasten around my ankles. A glance toward my feet confirmed I was still alone — yet not alone. I suddenly felt stronger and less afraid. Those invisible hands anchored me to the rock while other hands surrounded mine, shouldering the burden of Duncan’s weight. Glorious bodies of light lay on both sides of me to help pull the prince to safety.
With minimal effort, I hoisted Duncan onto the rock ledge where he collapsed on top of me. As soon as he was out of danger, the sensation of unseen help vanished. For the longest, time we didn’t move. We were both filthy and exhausted, but alive.
Duncan’s forehead rested against my dirty flannel pants on the curve of my calf. His hands wrapped around my leg as if he would never let go. Perhaps he wouldn’t. My face nestled into the muddy, tattered fabric covering his thigh. Below the knee, he looked as if he’d been through an explosion. The leather of his boots had been shredded. His socks and trousers hung in rotting scraps, but the exposed skin underneath appeared miraculously unharmed.
After an indeterminable length of time, Duncan asked, “How did ye do that?” His reverent voice caused chills to tremble up my wet back.
“I — don’t know.”
Something supernatural had happened, just like it had when Vee and I first crossed the Brig o’ Doon. But I couldn’t begin to explain it beyond that.
Duncan sat up and I followed. This was the point where he would take me in his arms and forgive me. Then I could confess Weston meant nothing and I was still crazy in love with him. I would tell him how I remembered everything about our Calling and how I wouldn’t let go because I couldn’t live without him.
Instead of declarations of love, his expression hardened as he became a soldier once again. “You should have obeyed me.”
“You mean I should have let you die . . . or zombify . . . or whatever happens when the limbus gets you?” He clearly had a head injury if he thought I’d walk away because he told me to.
Duncan raked his hand through his muddy hair to create chaos. “What I mean is, you shouldna have risked your life for mine. Doon still has need of you.”
Ignoring the sharp pain in my chest, I countered by saying, “Maybe Doon still has need of you. Did you ever think of that?”
“Regardless of my life, we need to get you across the ravine and away from the limbus.” He stood and nodded to the edge of our perch, where black petunias were sprouting.
There was apparently no rest for the angsty. Duncan reached out to help me to my feet, but I batted his hands away. If he wanted it to be every man — or drama diva — for themselves, then so be it.
The zombie fungus had encroached at least six inches in the time that we’d been recuperating. Soon it would overtake our little ledge. “Got any bright ideas?”
