He nodded at me as he hefted the pack onto his shoulders. “Unfasten me one of those carabiners.”
When I squeezed the gate, the carabiner opened. I unhooked it from the cluster and handed it over. The man had holstered his hammer in a hardened leather ring attached to his belt. After unthreading a piton from the cord, he squinted at the wall behind Paono.
“Move this way, please,” he said to Paono, nudging my friend toward the chimney. The thief then set the iron spike against the crack no farther than a hand’s width from Paono’s skull.
“Uh,” Paono said, turning his head in alarm at the nearness.
The thief grinned. “I’m used to night climbing. But it’s a rare treat to bring a glowing human torch along. Makes it easier to find good placements for my pins.”
With that, he smacked the end of the piton with the hammer. Metal rang, the pitch getting higher with each hammer strike as the thief drove the spike into a crack in the stone. Finally satisfied, the man clipped the carabiner through the eyehole on the exposed end of the piton, reached over his shoulder into his pack and came up with the end of a heavy silken rope, and fixed it to the carabiner. Moments later, he’d turned a couple armfuls of the same rope into a harness that wrapped Paono’s legs and hips.
“Good,” he said. “Now you can help me bring up the packs without the weight throwing you back down to the bottom of the cliff. As for you…” He looked at me as he removed another piton from the cord and eyed the rock wall in search of a suitable fissure. “Once I get this anchor reinforced, I’ll belay you—let out rope, I mean—while you lead across.”
I blinked. “Me?”
He nodded as he whacked the next piton, sending it singing into the stone. “You’re lightest. Easier to catch if you fall. Plus, you have small fingers that fit into narrow cracks.”
I glanced across the sheer cliff face. “But I don’t know how to put in those… What did you call them? Pins?”
“That’s the easy part,” he said, holding out the cord with the jangling metal. “You wedge them in the crack and smack them. Hard.”
Reluctantly, I accepted the rack of pitons. Made of iron in different shapes, some narrow and flat like the blades of butter knives, others of thicker metal folded at an angle to wedge into wider cracks, the spikes were heavier than I’d anticipated. But Tyrak quickly flooded me with extra strength, nudging my weight the other direction to keep the sudden heft of the clanging iron from knocking me off balance.
“You sure this is a good idea?” I asked.
He grinned as he started wrapping loops of rope around my legs and waist to form a harness. “Better you than me.”
With nothing but air beneath my heels and my fingertips pressed onto narrow ledges, I felt freer than I had in weeks. I concentrated on every move, the drop to the slope below tugging at me and reminding me of the consequences if my focus slipped. The harness was snug around my waist, and a loop of a knotted cord was slung over my shoulder and across my body. On it, the pitons were held on individual carabiners. With the precarious traverse I was making, I wouldn’t be able to get both hands free to slip a piton off the length of cord without dropping the whole bundle.
The soft-soled shoes bit into narrow ridges of stone as I placed the edge of the ball of my foot against the cliff. Weighting my foot, I wedged my fingers into a vertical crack and used the hold for balance while I rocked on to the new foothold. The change in position started to lever me out from the wall, and I clamped harder with my trailing hand while crossing my free leg behind the planted foot for balance.
A grin landed on my face. This was fun.
Back on the ledge, four of our party had climbed up and joined Paono and my belayer at the anchor. The thief had added to the single piton he’d driven into the stone, pounding two more spikes into cracks. That way, he’d said if someone did something stupid like jump off the edge, the group wouldn’t be relying on a single placement to keep them secure.
“Now would be a good time for another pin,” the thief called out.
I glanced back at the loop of rope between my harness and the last piton I’d pounded into the rock. At least three arm’s lengths separated me from the spot where the rope ran through the carabiner. If I fell, the thief would lock down the belay to keep more rope from paying out. But still, I’d swing back beneath that last placement, no doubt bouncing off the rock a few times before I came to a halt, dangling from the little iron spike.
Okay, so maybe he had a point. Another pin would be good.
Squinting, I examined the stone near my face. No cracks split the rock except for the vertical fissure I’d used to make my last move. I leaned to the side to try to peer inside it. I thought I had a piton that would fit. Unfortunately, my fingers were currently jammed into that spot.
“No placements here. I’ll have to go a little farther,” I said.
It looks harder ahead, Tyrak commented.
Yeah, well I don’t think I can reverse that last move. Not without falling. And I can’t exactly stay here. I’ll run out of energy.
Now that I’d let myself admit it, my arms were getting tired. Standing on the small ledges, I’d burned through much of the strength in my calves, too. I glanced back at my last point of safety. When I’d pounded the spike into the rock, it had felt solid. But what did I know? I’d never tested one of these pitons.
I swallowed and scanned the rock again, hoping I’d missed a little gap I could use for one of my smaller pitons. Nothing. A crystal crumbled from beneath my right toe as I adjusted my stance. The sudden bolt of fear caused my leg to start to tremble.
I took a deep breath and examined the next moves of the traverse. Tyrak was right. The holds got thinner. My hands began to sweat, the moisture slick against the rock. One hand at a time, I let go and wiped my palms on my trousers.
Just focus. You can do this, Tyrak said. My gaze flicked back to the ledge where the others watched in tense silence. The thief holding my rope had it in a white-knuckled grip.
I closed my eyes and turned my face back to the rock, swallowing. After a deep breath, I opened my eyes and scanned the rock ahead. Where the fingers of my right hand were wedged in the crack, Ioene’s energy tingled through my scars. I focused on that, imagining the island’s magic guiding me. As I abandoned myself to the sensations, I envisioned the stone as a large map. Somehow, feeling Ioene within me, I could sense where the rock might fracture. With my lips pressed together, I released my left hand from the knob it was pinching. I focused on my balance as, one by one, I wiggled the fingers of my left hand into the gap where my right hand was jammed.
I breathed shallowly through pursed lips as I worked my right hand free. From my shoulders to my knees, I held tension in my body to keep from swinging out from the rock while I stretched for a hold I couldn’t see. The fingers of my right hand crabbed along the face until they latched an incut edge that had been hidden from sight. But it hadn’t been hidden from my mind’s eye. Ioene had shown me the way. Hopping to switch my weight from my right to my left foot, I edged my right toe around a bulge in the stone and curled my foot until the leather of my shoe landed on a large toehold.
With a whoop of joy, I transferred my weight to the new stance. The balance was much more secure, and I was able to unclip a piton from my shoulder sling and shove it into a crack just above my head. Three solid whacks of the hammer sank the spike deep into the rock, and I clipped my safety rope through the carabiner. Back on the ledge, I heard my belayer sigh with relief.
I looked back and grinned as if I’d never been concerned.
Ahead, the traverse looked easy by comparison. As I dried my hands on my pants one more time before continuing, Raav’s head popped out of the chimney.
“What is she doing?” he asked Paono.
“Just being herself,” my friend responded.
A swirl of wind capered down the mountainside, lifting my hair as I hurried across the remaining moves before the pedestal. Far below and out to sea, waves
crashed against the reef. My forearms were aching from the strain of holding my body weight on edges no wider than my fingertips, but I wasn’t concerned.
Soon enough, I stood on the pedestal, a wide table big enough for our entire group to gather. As my belayer had instructed, I searched out fissures for three more piton placements and pounded the spikes into the rock. On the last one, I managed to smash my thumb. I yelped, and the rope at my waist came tight. When my belayer saw me sucking my thumbnail, he rolled his eyes and paid out slack. After knotting the rope to the new anchor, I took a deep breath of the sea air and turned to examine the path ahead.
Glassy eyes and a too-bright grin greeted me. Mieshk’s follower jumped at me from behind a pile of rubble where the pedestal met the cliff face.
I yelled and raised my hammer in defense.
Chapter Fifteen
THE WOMAN’S HAIR was ratted. Dirt smudged her face. But beneath the filth, I recognized her. The cleaver in her hand confirmed it. Weeks ago, I’d known her as the head cook aboard the Evaeni. She wore ratty sandals, the soles woven from dried seagrass, strapped on by ragged strips of leather. As she advanced, the shoes folded under her toes, catching on sharp ridges of rock. I cringed. Any moment, she’d trip and go flying over the edge. Not that that would be terrible, seeing as she was attacking me.
But any deaths would only add to Mieshk’s power. Rotating the wooden handle of the rock hammer in my hands, I stepped to put my back to the wall and examined her for weaknesses. I needed to disable not kill her. It was critical.
With a shriek, the woman sprang. One of her shoes flapped when she left the ground, folding when she came down. She went down on a knee but turned the motion into a desperate scramble, beastlike toward me.
I raised my leg to kick her in the shoulder, maybe knock an arm out and send her sprawling. But she was faster than I expected and with a howl, wrapped grubby hands around my ankle. As I tried to shake her free, she yanked my leg and sank her teeth into my shin.
“Ow!” I yelled, kicking hard enough to dislodge her.
The cook landed on her butt and elbows and snarled, wide-eyed. Behind me, the rope leading from my anchor across the face snapped tight. People were shouting on the other ledge. I ignored them and kept my eyes on my attacker. She scuttled like a crab over to a boulder and used it to help herself up.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. We were more than a thousand paces from Mieshk’s fortress. Her compulsion didn’t hold here. I just had to convince the cook that we meant her no harm.
At my words, her face screwed up in a mask of despair followed by rage. And then, her face stilled, looking almost dead. With uncanny calm, she stood and unstrapped the sandals from her feet. I recovered from my surprise at her sudden transformation. This was my opening. I jumped, hammer raised high. A blow to the head would knock her unconscious without killing her, provided I aimed it right.
I focused on her temple as I flew through the air, but suddenly a hard band jerked across my hips, stopping me short. I fell on my knees and hands, and the hammer skittered toward the edge of the pedestal, stopping just a hand’s width from the edge.
The woman laughed though her face remained as emotionless as before. Maybe she’d gone insane from so long suffering under Mieshk. Still stunned by the sudden loss of momentum, I patted my hips. Of course. The harness. When I’d tied the rope to the anchor, I’d given myself just an arm's length of slack to move around.
As the woman stood straight and hefted her cleaver, I back-stepped and pulled Tyrak from his sheath. My free hand landed on the rope tying me to the rock wall. I didn’t have time to cut it, not if I wanted to be able to parry a blow from that cleaver.
Swallowing, I raised Tyrak and fell into a defensive crouch.
From the open cliff face I’d crossed, I heard grunts, the clang of metal, and boots scraping over rock. A flick of my gaze showed one of Caffari’s rogues using the rope as a hand line as he paddled his feet sideways across the cliff. I licked my lips, hoping my pitons would hold.
With a feral shriek, the woman sprang. The cleaver glinted in the light of the aurora as it swung in a wide arc overhead. I got my forearm up, blocked her hand with the bracer, and struck hard with the pommel of my dagger to smash her fingers between the hardened leather on my arm and the metal of the dagger. Her grip on the cleaver loosened, and it fell to the ground, narrowly missing my toes.
She growled, low and loud, but when she tried to reach for her weapon, I kneed her in the face.
The cook staggered backward, hands coming to her nose as blood sprayed. Yet still, her face showed no expression. I didn’t understand it.
With a shout, the rogue jumped the last distance across the cliff face and landed on the pedestal. He ran at the woman, slamming his shoulder into her ribs. They both went down, but the cook regained her feet first. She turned her face to me, and finally, the mask cracked into a grin. With a shrug, she turned to face the sea and the outer edge of the pedestal and started running.
No!” I yelled.
The rogue saw what was happening and leaped for her. He caught her ankle and pulled her down just before she jumped. The woman folded at the waist, her torso falling over the edge of the cliff. Her hands slapped vertical stone. Caffari’s man outweighed her. Otherwise, they’d have surely been pulled over the brink together. Grunting, he dragged her back, and as she struggled, he clubbed her on the side of the head.
Finally, she stilled.
After the thief and I had bound the prisoner and fastened her to the piton anchor, I paced while I waited for the others to make the traverse. I examined the trail ahead. At the far edge of the pedestal, a wide ledge cut across the stone buttresses, flat enough we’d be able to walk without needing a rope for safety. No doubt the cook had used it to reach the pedestal, which meant we’d have little difficulty accessing Mieshk’s fortress.
But why had she been here? Had she known we were coming? The prisoners I’d interrogated had believed only Mavek could sense anything specific about our position or plans. But maybe they were wrong.
“Lilik,” Paono said quietly. He’d made it across the traverse and now stood at the rim of the pillar, looking down over the far side. “I want to show you this.”
As I walked up, I cocked my head at my friend. “An interesting route you found for us. Back home, you weren’t such a good climber. I’m surprised you even attempted that section, especially without a rope.”
Paono grinned crookedly, his bangs falling over his eyes as he ducked his head. The gesture reminded me of the look he used to sweet talk the laundresses into scrubbing his shirts for him.
“You hadn’t crossed it,” I said.
He shrugged. “Not exactly. When I was scouting, I turned around and found a different—longer—way past the steep part. But it had looked climbable, so I figured we should just take the shortcut. Figured someone would speak up if the traverse looked too difficult.”
I rolled my eyes as I stepped up next to him.
“We made it, right?” he asked. “And look. This is the other reason I wanted to come this way.”
Peering over the drop, I grinned. “Come see, Raav!” I called, forgetting the brooding tension that had been hanging around him.
Far below, an aquamarine pool was encircled by cliffs. Tiers of ledges ringed the pool. On one, buildings backed up to the cliff. A wave of nostalgia hit me. It was our lagoon.
Raav stepped up beside me, his movements rigid. As he looked down on our first sanctuary, a storm of emotions crossed his face. Our first kiss had happened while we sheltered inside that refuge. Was he remembering that? Or was his guilt too strong? I wanted so badly to help him forget it, but I just didn’t know how.
Steeling myself against the possibility of rejection, I slipped my hand into his. The cartilage in his neck bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t pull away, at least.
“Lilik,” Daonok called. He was crouched beside our new captive. The woman was stirring, eyelids flutter
ing. I hurried over, followed by Paono and Raav.
As the woman came to, her gaze swept the gathered group. Everyone had made it across the traverse, though many had muttered curses as they did so. Her expression remained flat as she stared at us.
Paono crouched beside her, opposite me, and laid a hand on her shoulder. His eyes grew distant, and I could only assume he was forging a link with her. Before I’d left Ioene last time, he’d spoken into my mind in a way similar to the nightstrands’ communication. I assumed he was attempting to do the same thing, or at least to sense her emotions like he had mine.
But after just a brief moment, he jerked away, grimacing.
“She’s not alone,” he whispered. “I tried to link with her spark. But it’s shrouded. There’s another spirit blanketing hers.”
Possessed by a nightstrand… of course. No wonder the woman had attacked us while so far from Mieshk’s fortress. Mieshk’s powers of compulsion were limited with the living, but her true strength lay in commanding the nightstrands.
I grabbed the cook’s hand. “Throw the spirit out.”
The woman’s face twisted. She struggled against her bonds.
Opening myself to the aether, I reached for the strand inside her mind. You can resist the compulsion. She commanded you to attack us. You did, and now your duty is fulfilled. You’re released.
Faintly, I sensed the spirit’s presence. Still bound to Mieshk’s will, the soul existed in her domain. Not mine. As I’d learned on Araok Island, physical space had little meaning in the aether. As long as Mieshk controlled the nightstrand, I had little hope of influencing the spirit.
I shuffled around the woman’s feet until I crouched shoulder to shoulder with Paono. “Maybe if we try together,” I said. “Speak to the woman. Help her cast out the strand while I try to break Mieshk’s hold on it.”
Nodding, Paono closed his eyes. At the same time, I cast down my walls and allowed my perception of the physical world to fade. With my awareness on the aether, I sensed Paono. He reached for me, a sensation much like a crystalline net launched from his mind to mine as he forged the spirit link that was his specialty as a life-channeler. Through that bond, I sensed the nightstrands of the Vanished. Nearby, but unreachable. Paono was right, they were locked within him. I wanted to pry at the walls of their prison but now wasn’t the time.
Darkborn (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 4) Page 12
