Page 25 of Thorn Fall


  “Maybe our elf friend was hoping we’d be intrigued and go through,” Simon said, “Or that we’d think the sword was on the other side of one and figure we had to go through.”

  “Good thing Temi could feel it in here.” I waved toward the ceiling. “Willing to try it?”

  “All right.” Temi walked to the far side of the chamber. “Who’s my stool?”

  Simon started after her, but Alek stopped him with a hand. “I more tall,” he said in English.

  “You don’t have to be a hero, Alek,” I said, concerned with all the blood he had left on the floor, not to mention what was still oozing down the side of his face.

  He gave me an odd look. Spartans probably did have to be heroes. It must be in the DNA.

  While he hoisted Temi onto his shoulders, I pulled off my own backpack. My first-aid kit seemed inadequate for the amount of blood Alek was leaking, but I could at least bandage his torso. Judging by the stain on his jacket, that was the worst wound. Unsporting of his wrestling opponent to pull out a dagger.

  “I wish I’d had time to put together my thermic lance,” Simon said, watching as Temi took the first few cuts at the ceiling, trying to dig in off to the side so rock wouldn’t crumble onto her and Alek’s heads.

  “I don’t.” I pulled out the roll of bandages. “As far as I know, the sword doesn’t burn oxygen. Fire would. I don’t particularly want to run out of air in here.”

  “Oh, we’ll poison ourselves with CO2 before we run out of air,” Simon said cheerfully.

  “Good to know.”

  I followed the wall over to Alek, avoiding the rubble falling from the ceiling. He was supporting Temi, her feet on his shoulders, his arms up to grip her calves and keep her from losing her balance. Temi couldn’t have had a lot of leverage from her position, but the sword did cut into the rock easily, as if it were melting away the stone.

  “I’m going to take off your jacket and lift up your shirt, Alek.” I held up the bandages and some scissors.

  He nodded.

  “Or maybe cut it off,” I added after I had unzipped the vest, camo jacket, and revealed the T-shirt beneath it. The fabric, drenched in sweat and with the side soaked in his blood, was going to be hard to keep out of the way. “Simon, want to give me a hand?”

  “Taking off Mr. Sexypants’ clothes? Not really.”

  “Get over here, anyway.”

  Though he sighed theatrically, Simon came over and held up Alek’s shirt. With the sword moving around overhead, the glow fluctuated, and I ended up pulling out my flashlight and holding it between my teeth.

  “Someone stuck a dagger in your side, my friend,” I said around the handle, grimacing at the puncture wound. He would need stitches at some point. I pressed a wad of gauze against the cut and shook out the bandage one-handedly. “Simon, apply pressure, please.”

  As he did so, a head-sized rock hit the ground behind him, and he jumped. I would have too. I wasn’t sure about this plan at all—or his self-proclaimed wonderful spatial awareness.

  “Heard from your brother?” I asked.

  “No reception since the cave-in.”

  “Think he’ll be smart enough to stay in the car?”

  “He’s not the type to join geriatric hippies at the bong. But… he might be worried and come looking for me.” Simon bit his lip. “I wish he hadn’t come down here. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  I wasn’t that sure about that, but I kept my mouth shut. For once, Simon wasn’t cracking jokes. He might be annoyed at his family’s assumptions, but more than that, he looked concerned that his brother might be in trouble out there.

  “Mom would kill me if he got hurt because of me,” Simon added softly. I almost didn’t hear him over the rain of rubble clattering down, the pile growing around us.

  “I’m sure she would forgive you.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve never met her. You don’t know how much…” He stared at the wall over my shoulder, and I concentrated on tying off Alek’s bandage. “He’s the one she loves, that everyone does. I’m just the geeky screw-up. Until I prove I’m not, anyway. But you know that saying about it being hard to prove a negative? It’s kind of like that. Sometimes, no matter what you do, it can’t change opinions people have had for a long time.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not sure how much farther I can reach,” Temi said. “I haven’t found the stars yet.”

  “The stars are elusive,” Simon murmured.

  “What?”

  “Make a little niche. I’ll have you tape my bomb up there.”

  “And now we get to the part of the plan I’m really questioning,” I said.

  Simon let Alek’s shirt fall down, wiped his hands, and retrieved his tuna can and a lighter. “You need to put it up as high as you can, but still be able to reach it to light it. Everyone else should take cover in the little tunnel.”

  “Meaning you?” I asked.

  Temi and Alek wouldn’t be able to until they had lit the fuse.

  “Meaning us,” Simon said. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. The rock up there is fairly stable. That explosive isn’t strong enough to bring down all of Bell Rock or anything.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to be the one responsible for destroying a national landmark.”

  “I think it’s only a county landmark.”

  “Ah, that makes things much better then.”

  “Ready,” Temi said as more rock plunked to the ground.

  Alek took the can, regarded it curiously, then handed it up to her. Temi rose on her tiptoes, stretching up into the hollow the sword had carved. I couldn’t believe Alek didn’t wince under the weight digging into his shoulders. But then, he hadn’t winced at having a dagger plunged into his side, either. I wondered anew if that had been Jakatra, or if black leather was simply trendy among elves. Nobody had seen the green-eyed elf woman’s assistant. Maybe he had also stolen a Harley from Montana grannies and dressed himself in appropriate clothes for the road.

  “It’s placed,” Temi said.

  “Here’s the lighter.” Simon tossed it up, and she caught it.

  “How long will we have after I light it?”

  “A few seconds.”

  “Comforting,” I said, imagining us all stumbling and tripping over each other as we raced for the tunnel.

  “No kidding,” Temi said. “For future reference, longer fuses would be better.”

  “Not to mention a remote detonation device,” I added.

  “You guys do know these bombs were constructed by flashlight and in a tent, right?”

  “Again, let me state how comforted I am.”

  “If I had access to a proper lab…”

  “Ready?” Temi asked.

  I grabbed Simon and hauled him to the tunnel. As much as I hated the idea of hiding there while Temi and Alek were still out in the open, it meant we wouldn’t get in the way when they ran over.

  “Ready,” I said, my back to the rockfall inside the tunnel. I closed my eyes, hoping Simon was right, hoping the explosion wouldn’t be too big, wouldn’t bring the mountain down on us…

  “Go,” Temi barked.

  A thud sounded as she jumped to the ground. Alek could have beaten her there, but he waited, pushing her into the tunnel first. She laid the sword flat against the ground so it wouldn’t stab anyone. Alek plastered himself into the hole, throwing his arm around my shoulders, and leaning in to protect my head. I might have objected to this preferential treatment—even if I had agreed to his bodyguard offer earlier—but there wasn’t time. The explosion came first.

  The boom wasn’t as loud as I expected, not after the cacophony of the first rock fall. At first, I didn’t even think it had done anything.

  But rocks started falling, pounding to the ground with ear-splitting cracks and thuds. Dust flooded the chamber. I couldn’t see much around all of our bodies, but I could feel the fine particles flowing into my nostrils. I might have sneezed, but I didn’t hear it over t
he hammer of the rocks. The earth shivered beneath us, and I grimaced, afraid we were setting off a cascade of rock falls, and that we would indeed be buried alive.

  Chapter 19

  “Holy shiaaat,” came a distant call, not from any of us.

  I lifted my head out of Alek’s armpit—or whatever body part that was—and tried to peer past him and toward the chamber. What remained of the chamber. Huge piles of rubble arose from the floor, but they started a few feet away from the tunnel entrance, so we weren’t trapped inside. No coffin. Good. I couldn’t see the ceiling, but flashing lights entered the chamber from above, outlining someone’s shoulder and the silhouette of Alek’s face in front of mine.

  “Got a poem for this?” I asked, my humor piqued by the situation, or the fact that we had survived it. Thus far anyway. I reminded myself that we still had to find a way to climb out, close that portal, and deal with… whatever repercussions awaited us. At least, judging by that drawn out curse that had filtered down from above, someone was alive up there.

  Alek looked at me, and I thought that was all he was going to do. The silent stare was probably the most famous Spartan line. But perhaps to humor me, he said, “You must learn to love death’s ink-black shadow as much as you love the light of dawn.”

  “That’ll do.”

  He shifted away from me and crawled out into the chamber. Red dust clouded the air and soon swallowed him, like a rider in a desert sandstorm.

  “You’re on my sword,” Temi said from beside me.

  “You’re on me,” Simon said—he was farthest back, squashed against the rock fall.

  “Picky, picky.” I crawled out after Alek, squinting at the bright flashes coming through the new skylight in the ceiling. It was at the top of the hole Temi had dug, an opening about five feet wide and about fifteen feet up. A few faces peered down at us, but the sounds of brawls drifted down too. It didn’t sound like anything had changed up there.

  “How do we get out?” Temi asked. “Even on Alek’s shoulders, I couldn’t reach.”

  “I think Alek has to go out first.” I waved my whip. “He can hold the whip while we climb up. He’s the only one with sufficient upper body strength.”

  Simon glanced at Temi. “My upper body strength is sufficient for all practical tasks.”

  “I’ve seen you try to do a pull-up,” I said.

  “That’s not a practical task. That’s an exercise in masochism.”

  “I’m waiting to hear the part of the plan where you explain how Alek gets up there in the first place,” Temi said.

  Alek arched his eyebrows, perhaps waiting for that too.

  “You go up on his shoulders again, jam the sword most of the way into the rock there, then switch positions. We’ll all help hoist Alek up high enough to grab the sword. Then he can pull himself up, stand on it, and jump up and catch the top.” I hoped Alek didn’t mind me volunteering him for the task, but there was no way Simon or I was going to manage that feat. I would like to pretend it was only my lesser height that was the problem, but I wasn’t delusional.

  “The blade won’t snap, will it?” Temi asked.

  “It just carved out two tons of rock. If it breaks supporting someone’s weight, then you better ask for your money back.”

  She snorted. I explained the scenario again in Greek, but Alek already had the gist. He jogged over to the hole and held out his interlaced fingers for Temi to step onto.

  A retching sound came from above. It seemed the portal was still putting out bad mojo. Being encased in the mountain seemed to have sheltered us somewhat, but I expected we would feel the effects again soon enough. Best to get up there and close the portal as quickly as possible.

  Alek stepped aside to avoid the sick person’s leavings without so much as a lip curl. Maybe vomiting on the battlefield had been common back in his day.

  Temi stepped into his hands, accepting the boost up to his shoulders again. She lifted her sword above her head, and darkness wrapped around Simon and me as its glow disappeared above the ceiling.

  “Whoa,” someone moaned from above. “That is so cool.”

  “Look out, bro. I’m going to puke again.”

  Simon made a disgusted noise. “What kind of idiots see a hole blown open in the ground and assume it’s the appropriate repository for puke?”

  “I don’t know, but you were doing some appalling things to those bushes on the way up.”

  Temi steadied herself on the rock wall with one hand, drew the sword back, and plunged it into the side of the hole. Metal rasped, and pulverized stone dust trickled past Alek’s face. He didn’t so much as crinkle his nose.

  “No, don’t!” someone cried in the distance.

  I tensed, afraid someone was going to do something that could hurt us, but the following scream, not near our hole but over to the side up there, told me the story with dreadful certainty. Someone else had gone over the edge.

  Gunshots sounded, their noise faint in our hole. They were coming from farther away. The parking lot, maybe? Had the madness-inspiring mist made its way down to the ground? What if the police had showed up to help, only to become part of the problem?

  “We need to get out of here,” Simon muttered, serious now.

  “That’s the goal.”

  Temi dropped to the ground. “Alek’s turn.” The glow of the sword had dimmed further; it was embedded in the rock, parallel to the ground, a few inches of the blade sticking out, so Alek could theoretically stand on it. It would take a gymnast’s skills to climb onto it. Or… a wrestler’s? I hoped so.

  Alek nodded, as if this presented no problem. Of course, the Spartans had probably made similar nods as they marched up to face the impossible odds at Thermopylae, so I wasn’t sure how comforting to find his assurance.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, stepping past the puke spot and waving for the others to join me.

  We clasped each other’s wrists, offering a platform for Alek to step on. He climbed up, choosing Temi’s shoulders for his footrests. Simon made a somewhat insulted face, but I probably would have picked her too. I did my best to support her, though she didn’t look like she was in danger of crumpling under Alek’s weight. She actually gave me a quick grin.

  “You’re not going to start reciting Spartan poems about the joys of battle, are you?” I asked.

  “No, I’m just excited that my knee can take this. A few weeks ago, I couldn’t do ten pounds on the leg extension machine at the gym.”

  “Ah, right.”

  And she had Jakatra and Eleriss to thank for that. That had to be part of the reason she wasn’t willing to entertain the idea of one of them betraying us. I had never gotten a warm fuzzy vibe from Jakatra, but she obviously saw something else in him. Something more than the handsomeness of his elven features, I assumed.

  “I jump,” Alek said in English.

  Temi bent her knees slightly, bracing herself. “Ready.”

  Even with her restored knee, she stumbled when he pushed off her shoulders with all of his weight. Simon and I caught her, keeping her from pitching to the ground. We pulled her back, too, in case Alek fell, but he was dangling from the sword, both hands on the hilt. I worried it would slide out of the rock, but Temi had wedged it in there well, at a slightly upward angle I hadn’t noticed before. Gravity should help it stay in place. Whether Alek could pull himself atop it was the question.

  “Bro,” someone whispered from above, drawing out the single syllable. “Look at that guy.” The small group of people watching us for entertainment seemed oblivious to the shouts from elsewhere atop the rock, not to mention the gunshots and sirens in the distance.

  For a moment, Alek simply hung, adjusting himself and finding a grip he liked. Then he curled his legs up experimentally a couple of times, flexing his arms. Finally, he pulled himself upward, pumping his legs at the same time, somehow spinning himself up and around the blade to land atop it.

  This time the, “Bro,” from above was even more drawn out. I
had to admit I was equally amazed.

  “I so could not do that,” I murmured.

  “We need to get him a sword,” Simon said.

  “One thing at a time.”

  When Alek stood atop the blade, his head was almost level with the top of the hole. He jumped, caught the ledge, and pulled himself up. If that gash in his side was bothering him, he didn’t show it.

  The onlookers up above scattered. Not surprising. Alek made a grim specter with all that blood caking his face and shirt.

  He looked down and held out his hand. I tossed the whip up to him. He scanned his surroundings, probably making sure nobody could sneak up from behind him, then crouched and unraveled the eight-foot length of leather. It dangled down past the sword, but the popper barely dropped below the level of the chamber’s ceiling. We were going to have to practice some acrobatics too.

  “I’m going to need a boost,” I said. “Temi, you jumped that high earlier. You mind going last? And boosting us up?”

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  Simon sniffed. “I can reach it without help.”

  “Really,” I said. “Care to demonstrate?”

  “After you.”

  Temi offered her hands. I stepped into them, and she boosted me up at the same time as I lunged for the swaying end of my whip. I grasped it on the way up and managed to wrap it once around my hand before my momentum went the other way. Hanging by one arm jarred my shoulder, but having my weight on the end didn’t bother Alek. He pulled me up so fast, I barely had time to think about bringing my other hand up to grab the whip. Instead, I was grabbing the jagged rim of the hole.

  Some of it crumbled away beneath my grip, and my heart tried to leap out of my throat as I slipped back downward, but Alek caught me under the armpit. He pulled me onto the rock before releasing me to lower the whip again.

  For a second, I lay there, staring at the stars and sucking in deep breaths of air. But the air was tainted. There wasn’t a strange smell or taste to it, yet it seemed to coat my throat when I inhaled, and that queasiness and depression washed over me again.

  A scuffling came from the side, and I rolled over, reminded that we weren’t alone up here and that these people had been breathing the foul air longer than we had. As I climbed to my feet, I forgot about the noise for a second, stunned by the sight in the parking area hundreds of feet below. A fire burned on one side, flames leaping into the night sky. I had no idea if someone had deliberately set it or if a tree had been an innocent bystander of someone flinging lighters. Police cars and ambulances ringed the parking lot and lined the street, and someone was standing atop one of the trucks with a megaphone, ordering everyone to calmly leave the area before citations were delivered. I heard something about a curfew before he turned away, and the breeze swallowed his words. The gunshots had stilled, and people were being arrested, but something about the milling crowd, more agitated than compliant, told me the situation wasn’t fully under control.