Testing Lysander

by L. M. Somerton

  He grinned. “Okay, let’s go.”

  It was glorious to be climbing rather than cutting trails and hiking. There were plenty of big moves, good holds and a few gripping run-outs on the damp rock. It was a little slicker than Brock would have liked, but the climbing got better and more solid with every pitch. Crack systems linked into horizontal breaks. The rock was generally stable with a few loose sections.

  Even though Brock didn’t find the climb difficult, it was still draining. In the high altitude he found it tough to get enough oxygen into his lungs. He felt the stress of sighting each new pitch and ensuring it was safe for Kyle to follow. Kyle seemed to have no difficulties at all. He followed every move effortlessly and Brock realized just how fit Kyle must be.

  Brock found a number of small ledges where it was possible to stop and take a breather. Kyle insisted on some rope support while Brock twisted and contorted to get the best pictures of the spectacular view. At one point, Brock handed the camera to Kyle and asked him to take a couple of shots.

  “The magazines always like to have pictures of their photographers in action.”

  “Okay, but don’t blame me if I get my thumb in the shot or cut half your head off.”

  As Brock had hoped, the bird life was spectacular. Inquisitive hummingbirds hovered around them. Swallows played and flew parallel with the walls, narrowly pulling away from impact at the very last second. Colorful parrots chattered away in annoyance at having their roosts disturbed. He took dozens of pictures and even when it began to rain in earnest, they were somewhat protected by the slight overhangs.

  A storm rolled past and the skies thundered while they climbed through the clouds, making route finding a bit more difficult. It all just added to the thrill for Brock. He got some incredible shots, potential prizewinners.

  Most of the climbing was free with the exception of a short traverse. After that, Brock hung from the fingertips of one hand and enjoyed the sensation of muscles stretching to their limit. He shook out the tension in his free arm before locking his other hand across a small outcrop of rock. Above him there was a short stretch of vertical cliff face before the lip of the escarpment—below him a rope showed the path that Kyle would take as he followed him up the climb. The rain made everything even more slippery and wet hands did not make for easy climbing. Handholds were still plentiful but the rock was becoming razor-sharp, insects bit at every piece of exposed flesh and the plants that grew in the crevices seemed to be uniformly covered with thorns.

  Brock took a breath and began his last push toward the top. He knew that Kyle was only a few feet below him, but both men climbed in silence, making as little noise as possible. Brock winced as a sharp edge cut into his hand and gritted his teeth as his body weight opened a wound that he could do nothing to prevent. Blood slicked his fingers, loosening his grip, but he moved upward and grabbed the edge to pull himself over the top of the cliff. He rolled onto his back with relief and took a few deep breaths. As he relaxed and the adrenaline flooding his system subsided, he began to feel the throbbing ache in his hand. He closed his eyes, refusing to examine it straight away. Another body flopped down beside him and a low voice whispered in his ear.

  “Climbing behind you gives me a perfect view of your ass. It’s very distracting.”

  Brock ran his uninjured hand through sweat-soaked hair and sat up. “You shouldn’t be admiring me, you should be focused on the climb. Get the first-aid kit out of that bottomless pack of yours, will you?”

  Kyle instantly sat up, concern etched on his face. “What have you done? Show me.”

  Kyle held out his hand. Brock took it, unrolling his fingers.

  “Ouch. That’s nasty.” He rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a first-aid kit, extracting antiseptic and bandages. “How the heck did you get that?”

  “A handhold with an edge that was much sharper than it looked. I had all my weight on that hand and it was either hold on or fall.”

  “Well, I’m glad you chose to hold on.” Kyle took charge and swabbed the cut, which ran across the meat at the base of Brock’s fingers. Breath hissed from between Brock’s clenched teeth as the liquid penetrated the wound.

  “Sorry, but in this climate it’s important that I make sure the cut is clean. Heat, dirt… It would be easy for you to get an infection. If you start feeling ill, if your temperature goes up, you tell me immediately.” Kyle placed a dressing across the cut, then wrapped a bandage around Brock’s hand a few times. “I’ll clean it again later. We need to get to tonight’s campsite before it gets dark.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve made good time so far. We have about four hours of daylight left and the spot we’re aiming for is about two hours away if we keep up the pace.”

  They both drank more water and made use of the natural facilities. They changed back into hiking boots, Brock making sure to tuck his trousers into his socks. Kyle laughed at him.

  “You afraid that something’s going to sneak up your trouser leg?”

  Brock scowled. “Just removing the opportunity. Insects are cunning little bastards.”

  “That is true. A couple of years ago I spent some time out in Vietnam. I was having dinner in an open-air restaurant one night and felt something tickling my leg. It was a centipede. Twenty-three centimeters long.”

  Brock stared at him in horror. “How the hell do you know how long it was?”

  “My host caught it, measured it and took a photo. I think he was hoping for the world record but he didn’t get it. The biggest one on record is twenty-seven centimeters.”

  Brock shuddered. “And that is why I am tucking my trousers into my socks. Can we get out of here before you start remembering other insect-related stories to scare me with?”

  “Well, now you mention it, there was this one time with a bird-eating spider…”

  Brock gave chase as Kyle sprinted toward the trees. Just as he caught up, Kyle turned and pulled him into a hard hug. He followed it up with a kiss that left Brock breathless.

  “There will be time for more campfire stories later.”

  Brock pouted. “I’m hoping for more than stories.”

  Kyle’s eyes glinted. “Well, get walking. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can check you for crawlies—all over.”

  Chapter Ten

  After they’d walked for half an hour or so, Kyle produced a map from his pack that Brock hadn’t seen him make any reference to before then.

  “I thought you knew exactly which way to go? We’re not lost, are we?” he asked, trying not to smile.

  “No, we’re not lost.” Kyle raised his head from the map and narrowed his eyes. “Cheeky brat. We should come to a fork in the trail soon but it’s difficult to spot. We need to take the left fork or we’ll end up at a river in a gorge that’s impossible to cross. I think we’re pretty close… Just making sure that we haven’t already walked past it.”

  Brock peered over Kyle’s shoulder. “Well, have we? Oh, that’s not a map!”

  “No, there aren’t any decent maps of this area. This is a satellite image taken a few weeks ago. I don’t think we’ve missed it.” Kyle traced a line on the picture with his finger. “This is the stream we crossed about a hundred meters back and this”—he followed a vague curve that was a little darker than the surrounding trees—“is the bend we’re coming up to.”

  “What bend?” Brock peered into the trees.

  “You won’t be able to see it yet—not from here—but the split in the path should be a few meters after the bend.” He returned the plastic-coated sheet to his pack. “Let’s get going. Keep those photographer’s eyes peeled.”

  Sure enough, the path did begin to bend. It was very overgrown but didn’t require too much hacking and chopping to get through. They moved forward slowly and it was Brock who found the junction.

  “It’s here, I think.” He pushed aside a curtain of vines to reveal a narrow track. “Or it could just be that an animal has passed through here.”

  The track to
the right was much clearer. Kyle explored it for a short distance before returning.

  “That must be it.” He double-checked their direction with a compass then stuffed it back in his pocket. “The direction is exactly right. Well done.”

  Brock all but glowed at the praise. It was good to feel as if he was making a positive contribution when Kyle carried much of the responsibility for getting them to their destination safely. They both shouldered their packs again and Kyle took the lead as they set off through the dense vegetation at a steady pace. Brock’s natural sense of direction told him that Kyle kept them on track, moving consistently northeast. The trail they followed could hardly be credited with the name and Brock wondered whether a jaguar had made the vague separation in the plants. It would explain why it seemed to be clearer below waist level. It was tough going and even through his trousers, Brock sustained quite a few scratches from the spiky undergrowth. After slogging along for around an hour and a half, they emerged into a small clearing.

  Brock sighed with relief. He’d started feeling a bit claustrophobic and it was nice to be able to see more than a fleeting glimpse of the sky.

  “This is it.” Kyle dumped his pack on the ground and rolled his shoulders. “What do you think?”

  Brock switched his gaze from upward to ground level and gasped.

  “Wow, it’s stunning.” Three-quarters of the clearing was covered by water in the form of a sparkling green pool. On the far side there was a rocky outcrop, over which a waterfall cascaded into the deep basin. The water churned and boiled at its base and miniature whirlpools appeared and disappeared in the currents. Above the overhang, bare rock glistened with moisture. All around, trees crowded close.

  “How the heck did anyone ever find this place?” Brock exclaimed. The scene was enchanting. “And where does the water go?”

  “To answer the first question, the U’wa discovered this place and directions have been passed down through the generations. It took a combination of satellite technology and rough drawings to come up with a route. And the water goes underground from here. This whole area is riddled with cave systems and much of the water flows underground. It finally joins the Magdalena River, I believe.”

  “It’s amazing. I wish there was more light to take some pictures.”

  “You’ll get your chance in the morning.”

  The light was rapidly fading as Brock took in as much of the scene as he could. He wanted the image imprinted on his mind so he could plan some shots. However, much as he loved the scenery, standing still rather than walking gave him time to realize how many parts of his body ached and just how tired he was.

  “I think the day is starting to catch up with me.” He stretched and listened to a few joints pop. “It’ll be good to settle in for the night.”

  Kyle nodded. “Well, the entrance to the cave system that forms the next leg of the journey should be behind the falls. I’m intending that we camp back there. If we’re behind the water, it should be safe for us to have a fire. We wouldn’t be able to risk it out here. Though the chances of anyone being around to see the smoke are miniscule, there’s still a possibility.”

  As he spoke, Kyle headed around the edge of the pool and disappeared behind the curtain of water. Brock followed behind. He hesitated briefly and let his ears get accustomed to the thunderous noise. The force of the falls drummed up heavy spray but he didn’t get too wet as he crossed the rocky ledge behind it. It wasn’t a drenching, just a cool mist that rested on his skin and clothes like liquid cobwebs.

  “What’s a bit more wet? I’ve been soaked through all day anyway,” Brock muttered to himself. “I’ll be glad to get out of these clammy clothes.”

  “And I’ll be glad to help you.” Kyle leered in Brock’s direction. “However, there are a few things to do before we can relax.”

  Brock ventured a bit farther into the cave. After a few feet the floor became completely dry.

  “What do we need to do?” He watched as Kyle began to empty his rucksack.

  “Well, we’ll need dry wood for the fire an, if you want to eat something other than field rations, I’ll have to set a snare or two.”

  Brock frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Kyle came across to him.

  “It’s stupid, I know, but much as I like the idea of roast meat, I don’t want to kill off the local wildlife to get it.”

  Kyle chuckled. “Rations it is then. Reconstituted chicken supreme has always been one of my favorite meals.” He squeezed Brock’s shoulder. “My sweet, kind-hearted man.”

  Brock leaned into him instinctively and Kyle gave him a hug. Brock shivered at the contact and his cock perked into life.

  “Stop! If you keep touching me, there’ll be no fire, no food and a very uncomfortable night.” He pressed his hardening erection against Kyle’s body in explanation.

  Kyle smirked. “Very nice. But you’re right. That will have to wait. Are you okay to sort out the wood?”

  “Sure.” Brock pulled away reluctantly. As he went back to negotiate the waterfall again, he could feel Kyle’s gaze following him all the way and that put an idiotic smile on his face.

  Out in the clearing, the light was almost gone. Brock stared at the sky. It could have been a piece of cloth dip-dyed in midnight blue ink with the darkest color at the top and a thin edge of pale blue at the bottom. The air was warm and very still. Brock stood motionless and listened. As his ears tuned in to the cacophony of forest sounds, he realized just how much life the place teemed with. He fancied he could see glittering pairs of eyes peeking at him from behind every bush. He could visualize some great night shots but he didn’t have the right kind of equipment with him.

  “Some remote camera traps in a place like this would be amazing,” he mused, picking out the best spots. A twig snapped behind him and he whirled around to find a slightly damp Kyle standing there with his hands on his hips.

  “I should have known you’d get distracted. I came out here to see if you’d been eaten by something.”

  “Sorry.” Brock was glad that the dim light meant Kyle couldn’t see the flush on his cheeks. “I couldn’t help it. How long have I been out here?”

  “At least fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for a passing jaguar to take a few chunks out of you.”

  “Aw, you were worried about me. That’s adorable.” Brock smiled.

  “Don’t try to beguile me with that smile. I’m out here to crack the whip, not fall for your witchery.”

  “Witchery? Is that even a word?” Brock fell about laughing. “All right, I’m on wood duty. I promise not to get sidetracked again.”

  “Good, because photographers who don’t do their chores get punished. As you will be anyway if you ever call me ‘adorable’ again.” With that, Kyle whirled on his heel and headed back to the cave. Brock swallowed and pulled at the neck of his shirt, which had grown strangely constricting.

  “Bastard did that on purpose.”

  He soon discovered that there was plenty of dry material to gather, despite the wet conditions. Huge leaves and low branches provided plenty of sheltered spots. After a few close encounters with some scary-looking insects, he used a big stick to disturb the undergrowth before collecting his haul and he gave every piece of wood a good shake to dislodge as many crawly things as possible. He had to make several trips to ensure that they had enough fuel to last the night and he had to cover his armloads with his raincoat to keep the wood dry—consequently, after multiple trips through the falls, he was soaked through. His last collection was done in complete darkness so when he got back inside the cave, Brock was glad to see that Kyle had already started a small blaze.

  “Come and sit by the fire while I build it up a bit. You look half drowned,” Kyle called.

  “I am.” Brock took a seat close to Kyle. “It’s not cold, though, just a bit uncomfortable.”

  “I laid out the sleeping mats to give them a bit of an airing. They were damp, but they’ll soon dry off in here. As soon as the
heat builds, I’ll boil some water for coffee.”

  As well as the glow from the flames, a solar lantern stood to one side on a low rocky shelf. A capsule of flickering light surrounded them but beyond it there was nothing but darkness and eerie shadows. Brock got up and wandered back into the cave as far as the light would allow. He could see several enticing tunnel openings and felt an almost childish excitement at the prospect of exploring them the next day.

  He returned to the fireside.

  “You were right about this place being riddled with caves. There are several entrances back there. I hope you know which one we need to take or we could be here for weeks.”

  Kyle raised an eyebrow and gave him a disdainful stare.

  “Fine! You are the all-knowing guide. If I’ve got time, I think I’m going to freshen up a bit. I stink.” Brock sniffed at himself and cringed.

  “Sure. The water will take a while to boil anyway.”

  Brock wandered back to the falls and stripped off his clothes. The tumbling cascade was so inviting and he couldn’t wait to wash away the sweat and grime accumulated during a day’s hard effort. He found a flat ledge where he could stand in safety, where the water’s force was not quite so brutal, and stepped under the spray. He yelped as the chilly torrent hit his hot skin and hopped from foot to foot while his body adjusted to the temperature.

  “Oh wow, this is good.” He luxuriated in the sensation of cool water beating against him, running his hands through his hair and sluicing the flow across his body. Shiny droplets sprayed into the air and landed with a gentle patter on the floor behind him.

  Kyle tried to stay interested in taking care of his fire but the thought of Brock standing naked under the cascade was too much to resist. Just the image in his head had him hard and aching. He gulped and drew in a deep breath, then headed toward the front of the cave. He moved quietly, sticking to the shadows, and found a spot where he could watch Brock undress. Unless Brock turned and stole a deliberate peek into his corner, Kyle could get away with indulging his voyeuristic streak.