Maeve thought for a moment then said, "I don't know, but I'm sure we can think of something."
###
Ginger cried out as her leg hit the side of the cliff, and Gray winced. Hampered by her broken leg, Ginger was unable to use both feet to push off from the cliff face, resulting in more bumps than Gray had anticipated. Emery kept up a steady stream of encouragement as Ginger slowly rose to the top.
"Not much farther, Ginger," Emery said. "You're almost there."
Gray could see the tears streaming down Ginger's face as she tried to hold back her cries of distress. Just as Ginger reached the top of the cliff, a strong gust of wind forced Gray to take a step backward. He flattened himself against the cliff face to keep from being blown off the narrow ledge. He heard Tristan say, "I've got you" and glanced upward again to see Emery leaning over the edge of the cliff, grabbing one of Ginger's hands while Tristan held the rope and grabbed the other one. Gray watched until Ginger's feet disappeared over the edge of the cliff top. His gaze continued up to the sky as another gust of wind hit. Clouds skidded across the sky, covering the sun and turning what had been a hot, sunny day into a windy, gray one. The clouds roiled into tall towers, and Gray knew they would soon be soaked. They didn't get a lot of rain in Palumbra, but the little they did get came from storms like the one brewing. He just hoped he was off this ledge before it hit.
"Throw me the rope," he called to Tristan.
"We're working on it," Tristan replied. "We need to get you up here before that storm breaks."
As if on cue, lightning flashed across the sky, and Gray wondered if this day could get any worse. A large drop of rain splattered on his nose.
"Hurry it up. We're about to get wet."
The rope appeared over the edge of the cliff and was quickly lowered to the ledge, swinging wildly in the increasing wind. Gray tried to grab it, but a wind gust sent it careening to his left. He waited patiently for the wind to die down. Rain began to fall in earnest, and the ground beneath his feet quickly turned to slippery mud. Finally, the wind lessened for a moment, and he squinted through the rain to see the rope dangling just off to his left. He stretched, but the rope remained just beyond his fingertips. Holding onto the side of the cliff and planting his feet as well as he could in the mud pit on the ledge, he stretched again, his fingertips just brushing the rope. The slight contact with the rope set it swinging once again. Still squinting through the ever-increasing rain, he waited until the rope's momentum brought it within range and grabbed it, the motion causing his foot to slip. He fell to his knees on the ledge, causing chunks of ground to fall away.
With hurried motions, he wrapped the rope around his waist. His wet hands struggled to knot the now soaked rope. He hoped the knot would hold his weight as he gave the rope a tug to let Tristan know he was ready and held it tight. The rope drew taught, and he placed his feet on the cliff face, planning to walk up the side as Tristan pulled. Another gust of wind forced Gray away from the cliff face where he began swinging wildly. He thought he heard Tristan yell something, but he couldn't make out the words over the roar of the wind and rain in his ears. He winced as his shoulder hit the rocky cliff face. He twirled in the air, his back slamming into the cliff.
The rope around his waist shifted, and he peered through the rain, trying to assess the condition of the knot. Another gust of wind forced him hard against the cliff once again. The rope around his waist shifted. Unable to see the knot, Gray released the rope with one hand and felt the rope at his waist. The once tightly cinched knot had loosened enough for him to slip his hand easily between the rope and his stomach. He tried to tighten it but only succeeded in getting rope burn on his hands. He considered wrapping the rope around his wrist but worried that if the knot gave out, the tension in the rope would sever his hand. Instead, he gripped the slippery rope as tightly as he could with both hands, turned his face upward to see how much farther he had to go and got a face full of water for his efforts. He quickly turned his face back toward the cliff to avoid drowning in the deluge.
The next gust of wind sent the rope spinning, and Gray worked his legs desperately to find purchase on the cliff while his hands turned white as they gripped the rope. The rope at his waist loosened even more as he hit the cliff feet first and was, for a moment, able to lessen the weight he was putting on the rope knotted around his middle. After two steps up the cliff face, the wind sent him spinning again. The rope was now so loose that it shifted around his waist as he twirled in the air, leaving his tightly clenched hands as the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his death. His hip bumped the rocky face of the cliff. He winced but retained his grip on the rope.
"Tristan!" he screamed into the wind.
He heard nothing in return, but he continued his slow rise to the top. His arms began to ache as they now held his full weight. He tried to pull himself up so he could wrap his legs around the rope as well, but the wind made it impossible. To take his mind off his aching arms, he thought of Maeve − her laughter when he splashed her with water on one of their fishing trips, her desperate search for redemption after killing the WG soldier, her saying 'I love you' when Arabella held them captive. He wondered now why he hadn't said it back. When Maeve had said it, he was in such shock at her decision to let Arabella inject her with the virus that he hadn't said anything, and the moment had passed. But he did love her. Even when she was stubborn and put herself in danger. He hoped she knew. His hands slid on the slick rope, tearing into his hands. He hoped he got another chance to tell her.
Another strong gust of wind sent him slamming into the cliff, shoulder first. His left hand lost its grip. The wind sent him spinning again as he struggled to keep his right hand anchored on the rope. His arm felt as if it was slowly being pulled from its socket, but he gritted his teeth and held on, trying desperately to get his other hand back on the rope. His right hand slipped. The knot around his waist had come completely undone, and the rope flailed in the wind below him. His hand slipped again. He closed his eyes and conjured up Maeve's face in his mind. If he was going to die, he wanted her to be his last thought.
"Gray!" Tristan's voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Gray opened his eyes and squinted upward through the rain. He could just make out Tristan's extended arm. "Grab my hand."
Gray threw his left arm upward, grasping Tristan's hand as his right hand slipped farther down the rope. Their rain-slickened hands clasped together for a fleeting moment, then slipped apart. Gray dangled helplessly, then gritted his teeth and threw his left hand toward Tristan again. This time, Tristan grabbed him around the wrist just as Gray's right hand lost its grip on the rope. Tristan hauled backward with all his might and slowly pulled Gray over the edge of the cliff.
They collapsed on the ground with the wind blowing around them and the rain beating steadily down on them. Gray sucked in several deep breaths and said, "Let's not do that again."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Gray lifted his head from the ground and pushed to his knees. "Where are Ginger and Emery?"
Tristan stood and leaned into the wind, moving until he could untie the rope from the tree and begin winding it up to carry with them. "I carried Ginger into the cover of the trees. Not that it's much cover from this rain."
The wind gusted once more, driving sheets of rain into their faces. Once under the canopy of trees, the rain lessened enough for Gray to make out Ginger and Emery sitting at the base of a tree. As he drew closer, he could see Emery had gathered two small, but strong branches and laid them next to Ginger's leg, which was bent at an odd angle below the knee.
Tristan knelt next to Ginger. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm just great. I really only need one leg, and I always wondered what it would feel like to have someone beat my head with a hammer."
Tristan sat back on his heels. "OK, dumb question."
Ginger looked up at Gray. "Any problems making it to the top in this wind?"
Gray and Tristan exchanged a glance, and Tristan shook
his head slightly. "Nope," Gray lied and hid his hands behind his back so she couldn't see how raw and ripped they were. "No trouble at all."
Emery had seen the silent conversation between Tristan and Gray and eyed him skeptically but stayed silent. She pointed to the branches.
"I don't know how to set the bone, but I thought we could use these for splints."
Tristan ran his hands down Ginger's leg, trying to feel where the bones should go. Ginger winced but didn't cry out. He looked at Gray with rain still streaming down his face. "Do you know how to do this?"
Gray shook his head. "That's Maeve's department."
At the mention of Maeve's name, they fell silent. Gray watched a raindrop slide off a leaf and plop to the ground. He felt a gentle hand in his. Ginger's grip was surprisingly strong.
"We'll find her. She's going to be fine." Ginger squeezed his hand and released it.
Gray gave a short nod and dropped to his knees on her other side. "We know a little first aid, but neither of us have ever done this before. It's going to hurt."
Ginger looked from Gray to Tristan and nodded. "Just get it over with. Emery, come hold my hand." Ginger had Emery face her, so she didn't have to watch the boys slide her bones back in place. Tristan and Gray worked together to move her leg back into a more normal-looking position as Ginger did her best not to cry out, and Emery talked tirelessly to keep Ginger's focus on her. When Tristan finally reached for the rope to tie the make-shift splints to Ginger's leg, Emery's voice was hoarse from talking, and Gray couldn't tell whether rain or tears had made Ginger's face wet. Her eyes were closed, and she lay limply against the tree. Gray gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Ginger wiped her nose on the back of her hand and cleared her eyes of the rain/tears. "It's OK." It wasn't, but Gray got to his feet anyway, brushing his hands off on his wet, muddy pants. "I'll be right back."
"I won't go far," he added when Emery looked at him in panic.
"It's fine," Ginger said to Emery. "Let him go."
Emery peered over at the splint. "How are we going to move her?"
Tristan scooted up to sit next to Ginger. "You can hop. How does that sound?"
Ginger didn't open her eyes or lift her head from where it rested on the wet tree trunk. "Sure. Sounds great. Let's get going."
"How about we use this instead?" Gray held up a long branch that looked like a Y. "It might not be the most comfortable crutch, but it should work."
Ginger eyed the crutch. "I'm going to walk across the rocky ground of this place with that crutch?"
"Yep," Gray said with confidence.
"Yeah, no chance."
Tristan picked up Ginger's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You can do it, Ginger. We'll help." Determination glowed from his eyes. "We don't have any choice. And no one is dying out here."
"We need to find somewhere to get out of this rain," Gray said. While not as much rain made it through the canopy of the trees, it was still coming down steadily, making the muddy, rocky ground slick and shiny. Tristan and Gray helped Ginger to her feet while Emery held the crutch. As Ginger took her first step, setting the crutch firmly on the slimy ground, a faint, high-pitched whine echoed through the trees.
"Is that..." Emery cocked her head as if to hear better over the wind and rain. "Nah, it couldn't be."
Ginger's crutch slipped, and Tristan hurried to steady her.
"What do you think it is?" Gray asked.
Emery didn't answer. Instead, she hurried past Gray, back the way they had come before Ginger had tried to walk on the sky. Gray had to jog to keep up with her. About halfway down the hill, Emery stopped, listened and turned right. Sliding on the muddy terrain, Gray struggled to keep his balance as he trailed her until Emery stopped so quickly, he almost ran into the back of her. She walked slowly to the edge of the trees but remained under the cover of the forest, peering into the murky gray of the storm and straining to see through the falling rain. Gray came up beside her, struggling to make out the source of the noise.
"There." Emery pointed to the other side of the clearing. "I thought so."
Gray's gaze followed her finger. "What is a hovercar doing here?"
"I don't know," Emery replied. "But I think that's our ride out of here."
###
Maeve's feet felt heavy, and every breath seemed to contain less oxygen than the one before as she continued to put one foot in front of the other. Amelia kept shooting her concerned glances but said nothing. Corporal Shamus set a grueling pace, anxious to finish his mission and return to the pending fight with Arabella. Though they had entered the area where Maeve had last seen the plagoran, they had yet to see any sign of the large beasts.
"Does anyone even know whether these things stay in one place?" Private Thompson asked.
Maeve took a swig from her canteen. Rufus trotted wearily by her side, and she stopped to offer him a drink. He lapped up the water eagerly. She ruffled his ears, and said, "I know, Rufus. We'll rest soon."
When no one answered Private Thompson, Maeve said, "I'm guessing they travel pretty far. No one had seen a plagoran in decades before we came across the ones here."
"Don't you think that's odd?" Amelia asked.
"What's odd?" Maeve took another drink of water and tried not to stumble.
"That all of a sudden you saw a plagoran after no one seeing them for decades? I just think that's odd. Like someone released them recently."
Maeve studied the horizon and the swiftly setting sun. "I hadn't really thought about it, but that makes some sense."
Amelia's voice took on a tone of urgency. Her next words confirmed to Maeve that Amelia had been thinking about this for a while.
"No, think about it. No one sees a plagoran anywhere near Palumbra in decades, yet when we're about to make discoveries about The Hub, suddenly some appear not too far from Palumbra." Amelia's dark eyes danced as she spoke, animating her entire face. "These things were made in a lab, right?"
"According to what Emery told me, that's right."
"So, what if they had died out or been kept contained since the wars of The Lost Years? And what if someone decided to bring them back?"
Maeve felt some of the tiredness leave her bones as she considered Amelia's new theory. It seemed like just the sort of thing Arabella would do.
Amelia took her silence for doubt. "Look, you said The Hub has way more technology than we do. What if Arabella created new plagoran?"
"But why? She has plenty of weapons. Why would she need the plagoran?"
Amelia's face lost some of its animation as she pondered Maeve's question. "The virus!"
Maeve wrinkled her forehead. "You're right. She would need the plagoran venom for an antidote, just in case she or one of her lackeys accidentally contracted the virus. You don't build a weapon you can't control."
Amelia's eyes began to sparkle once again. "Sending the plagoran out here was just a bonus to try to keep you from making it to The Hub."
Maeve eyed Amelia thoughtfully. Before she could respond, Corporal Shamus called out an order to halt. Maeve noticed for the first time that the sky had begun to darken.
"Let's set up camp here." A clearing opened up within a circle of trees just behind Corporal Shamus. "We're not going to find them in the dark." He struck some flint and used it to light a lantern, then hung it on the nearest tree branch. The rest of them hurried to set up camp. Maeve and Amelia gathered firewood while the others started the fire and laid out their bedrolls. When Maeve returned to camp with an armful of wood, a fire was blazing, and several members of their group were sitting on their bedrolls eating protein paste bars. She dropped gratefully to her own bedroll and pulled out a protein paste bar, just as lightning flashed across the sky.
"Looks like we're going to get wet," Corporal Shamus said as he dropped to the bedroll next to hers.
Maeve eyed the dark sky warily. "Don't we have some kind of shelter we can build?"
Corporal Shamus looked up. "We could,
but I've been watching these clouds, and they're building into a storm. Any shelter we build won't stand up to the wind." He motioned to the trees that circled them. "Hopefully, the trees will break most of the wind, but it's going to be a wet couple of hours." He raised his voice then and said, "We're going to need to hunker down. That storm is about to break, and we're going to get wet. Pull out your rain coverings and plan to stay put. Try to get whatever sleep you can."
He dug in his pack and pulled out his military-issued rain covering. "Do you have one?"
Maeve shook her head.
He raised the corner. "Scoot over here then."
Maeve looked at the small rain covering, then eyed the dark sky again. Deciding some protection from the rain was better than none, she shifted her bedroll closer to Corporal Shamus, squeezing up next to him and tucking the corner of the rain covering around her. An awkward silence filled the small space.
"This is cozy, isn't it?" Corporal Shamus said with an awkward chuckle.
"Just a bit," Maeve replied. "Maybe it would be less awkward if I knew your first name."
In the dim light, Maeve saw him smile. "It's Patrick." He stuck out a hand.
Maeve ignored the confined space, took his hand and smiled back. "Nice to meet you, Patrick."
"Never thought I'd be snuggled up with the famous Maeve Jackson."
Maeve heard rain begin to hit their rain covering and felt a few drops on her exposed feet. "I don't know that I would call this snuggling, and I'm certainly not famous."
"Face it, Maeve. Whether you like it or not, every kid in Palumbra will know your name for centuries to come. You're the girl that unraveled the mystery of The Lost Years and started a revolution in Palumbra."
Maeve shook her head. "I had a whole lot of help."
Shamus shrugged. "Maybe, but it's your name that will be remembered."
"I hope they remember that I'm not perfect. No good comes from putting someone on a pedestal. They'll just fall off, causing disappointment all around."
The Lost City: The Palumbra Chronicles: Book Two Page 24
