Kingmakers, Year One

33. Anna

33

ANNA

T he start point and end point of my challenge are clearly marked on the map, so I know I have to scale this cliff.

As Leo noted, there are no ropes waiting for me. No anchors, no safety harness.

I don’t mind. I’ve never been afraid of heights.

I like being up in the air, be it dancing, climbing, or flying. The feeling of weightlessness is freeing.

It’s the opposite of scuba diving, where the water crushes you and holds you down. I never liked that class, and I’m glad it’s over.

As soon as I reach the base of the cliff I start to climb.

I can see Johnny Hale right next to me. He’s a stocky, powerful dude, heavy with muscle, and he starts out fast, hauling himself up hand over hand.

He should use his legs. Arms tire out much faster.

I’m not climbing as fast as him, but I’m steady. Leo always said I had an engine that just wouldn’t quit. I’ve never been the fastest sprinter or swimmer, but it’s true that I can keep going almost forever.

So I’m not surprised when Johnny starts to slow down a third of the way up the cliff, and I begin to catch up with him.

I haven’t increased my pace. I’m just moving onward and upward, using all of my body, my fingertips dug into the crevices of the rock, and the strong muscles of my quads and calves helping to shove me up.

I’ve drawn almost level with Johnny when we reach the halfway point. The sun is beating down on us, glinting off his piercings. His face is dripping with sweat. His chest and arms, too. I doubt that’s helping his grip.

Wickedly, I call out to him, “Isn’t this fun?”

“Get fucked,” he growls back at me.

“It’s not so bad,” I say. “As long as you don’t look down . . .”

Irresistibly, Johnny drops his gaze to the sea-battered rocks below. His face blanches and his eye starts to twitch.

You don’t feel the sense of height until you look down. Then the vertigo hits, and you spiral.

I would never look down. Only up.

“See you at the top,” I laugh, climbing faster than ever.

My shoulders are burning, and my palms are raw as they grasp and hold the rough stone over and over. Once a handful of the soft limestone crumbles away in my left hand, and my weight drops onto my right arm with a painful jerk.

I shake it off and continue climbing. This is a one-way trip—once I get to the top, I can run back to the school through the sheep fields. The distance is further, but I think it will be faster than trying to climb down again.

When I’m four-fifths of the way up, I spot an albatross nest on a narrow ledge of stone. The nest is huge, added to year after year by diligent birds until it must be four feet in diameter.

My pulse quickens. I’m sure that’s where I’ll find the prize.

I haul myself up on the ledge, peering into the roughly-woven nest of twigs and mud. Sure enough I find two hunks of gold, identical in shape and size. I tuck one into the front of my shirt, inside my sports bra, where it makes an unwieldy lump a little smaller than a softball. I leave the other in place for Johnny.

I told myself I wouldn’t look down, but I can’t help checking to see how close he is getting.

He’s paused about three-quarters of the way up the cliff, trying to shake a cramp out of his arm. All that muscle is weighing him down. There’s a reason the best rock climbers are lean and wiry.

I’m about to turn around and start climbing again when I see a bright flash down by the entrance to the sea caves: sun glinting off metal. For a moment I think it might be Leo coming out, but I realize it’s someone going in instead. Someone wearing a tank. Someone with white-blond hair.

My heart stops dead in my chest.

He’s gone in an instant, so quick I might only have imagined it.

There’s no reason for Dean to be here. He’s not even competing.

I can hear Johnny grunting and puffing right below the ledge. He’s going to climb up here any minute. I only have a short lead ahead of him.

I’m supposed to take this puzzle piece and run back to the castle. That’s what Leo entrusted me to do. He’s counting on me.

But my skin is sweating, and I taste acid in my mouth, the adrenaline burst telling me that something is wrong.

I swing my legs over the ledge and start to climb down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Johnny says. “Was it in there? Is it in the nest?”

I don’t answer. I just keep descending, trying to watch the entrance of the cave for anybody else going in or out.

It’s much more difficult climbing down than up. I have to feel for my footing, and again and again I miss the placement of my feet and they slip out from under me.

My hands and arms are horribly exhausted. My fingers are cramping up. I’m terrified that any second they’ll simply let go.

I didn’t expect to come back this way. I didn’t save anything for the climb down.

I can’t keep an eye on the entrance. At some points on the cliff I can’t see it at all, because of the way the rock bows out. I don’t know if Dean’s come out again, or if Leo has. For all I know, Leo could be back at the castle already. I can’t constantly check because I have to watch what I’m doing, or I’m going to slip and fall a few hundred feet, and then I won’t be helping anybody ever again.

It’s maddening how slow this is. It’s taking me twice as long to go down, the minutes ticking away, while my brain screams at me that something bad is happening, that I have to hurry.

Time stretches out, my shoulders and back throbbing, my hands so raw I can barely feel them anymore. The sun is too hot, sweat is burning my eyes, and my head is spinning with what might be heatstroke or only vertigo.

At last I see the ground beneath me.

I’m afraid to let go of the cliff in case it’s only an illusion, and I’m still high up in the air. I can’t let go with my hands until I feel my soles touching solid ground.

I press my feet against the flat ground, reassuring myself I’ve actually made it.

Then I run to the cave entrance, my legs shaking so hard beneath me that I slip and stumble over the rocky ground.

As I’m dashing inside, I slam into somebody coming out. We both fall back on our asses.

“What in the hell?—”

I scramble up again, seeing only Mikhail. He’s wearing a pair of scuba goggles pushed up on his head.

“Where’s Leo?” I shout.

“How should I know?”

“Did you see him? Is he in there?”

Mikhail is trying to get past me so he can run back to the castle, but I won’t let him pass.

“Is Leo down in the water?” I cry.

“It’s a maze down there,” Mikhail says. “I have no idea where he went.”

“Give me those!” I snatch the goggles off Mikhail’s head.

He shoves past me, holding a lump of gold in his hand. He got his puzzle piece.

I run into the cave, following the distant glow that I hope is a flashlight.

Instead I find a lamp and the sodden, tangled pile of Mikhail’s discarded scuba equipment. There’s no sign of Leo anywhere. Or Dean, either.

I pick up Mikhail’s tank. There’s only a small amount of air left in it—maybe ten minutes’ worth.

I pull it onto my back anyway.

I may be making a huge mistake. But I’m not leaving until I’ve looked for Leo.

I drop down into the pool, which is much deeper and colder than I anticipated. Switching on Mikhail’s headlamp, I see the sickening truth of what he was trying to tell me: it is a maze down here. A huge, rambling, impossibly confusing tangle of tunnels and caverns.

I have no idea which direction to go.

My chest is rigid with fear. If I get lost down here . . . I don’t have the air to find my way back again.

I don’t care. I know I saw Dean come in here. And I know it wasn’t for nothing.

I swim hard, checking each cavern I pass, trying not to get turned around in the gloom.

I’m looking for Leo, but also for Dean. Or possibly the two of them together.

The time is slipping by too fast—I’ve already used up half the remaining air. I’ve got to swim faster, though that makes me take deeper breaths.

As I kick my way down a narrow limestone tube, I see something that pulls me up short: something black and metallic. I dive down to retrieve it.

It’s a regulator, attached to a short length of hose.

The dread I feel then is vast and suffocating.

Someone is down here without any air.

I’m trying not to sob as I keep swimming forward. I know in my heart that the only thing I can find now is a body—either Leo or Dean. I turn one last corner and I see it—someone bobbing awkwardly against the roof of the cavern, their face twisted up. Someone tall and tan and long-limbed. Someone I love more than anything on this earth.

I swim to him, choking on my mouthpiece, sobbing behind my mask, sure that Leo is dead. I grab his body.

And it grabs me back. The hands gripping me are alive and warm. I can’t believe what I’m feeling, until Leo puts his face under the water and looks right into my eyes.

He gently takes the regulator from my mouth and sucks in a deep lungful of air. Then he puts it back between my lips and hugs me hard.

The dial on the tank beeps furiously. We’re almost out of air and there’s two of us now.

But we know where we need to go. Hand in hand, kicking hard, Leo and I swim out of the caverns. We only pause to pass the regulator back and forth so we can share the last dregs of the air.

It’s getting harder and harder to draw breath. The tank is beeping continuously, the dial far past the red line.

Leo and I keep swimming. My muscles are cramping, and my head is getting light. I don’t think we’re close to the last pool. It’s impossibly far away. We’re not going to make it.

I’m slowing down. Like a nightmare, no matter how hard I paddle, my progress is nil. The water is thick as oil. I can barely kick my feet.

I gesture to Leo to take the tank.

Instead he grabs my hand and kicks with all his might. He’s pulling, dragging me along. I can’t see the light of my headlamp anymore. I can’t see anything, everything is black . . .

Leo wrenches me out of the water and throws me down on the limestone. He presses hard on my chest, forcing the water out. Then he covers my mouth with his, breathing air into my lungs.

I roll over on my side, vomiting seawater.

Leo covers me with his body, trying to warm me up. Then, thinking better of it, he picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the caves, into the sunshine.

Gulls are wheeling and cawing overhead. The waves wash rhythmically against the rocks.

I squint up at Leo’s face, at the brilliant drops of seawater glinting in his eyelashes.

“Did you get the puzzle piece?” I ask him.

“Oh my god. Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

“I got mine.” I fish it out of my bra. “You could still win, Leo . . .”

He pulls his own puzzle piece out of his pocket, holding it up so it blazes in the sun.

“Do you think you can run?”