A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [56]
Rachel opened her eyes. “Are we alive?”
“For now.”
“That went faster than I expected.”
Jason heard a clicking sound. He noticed a simple iron dial on the wall, like the hand of a clock. It had pointed upward at first, but it was turning downward as the clicking continued.
“I think we have a time limit,” Jason said, jutting his chin at the dial.
A large, irregular opening in the wall of the shaft beside them overlooked the ocean. The afternoon sun shone down on the ranks of approaching swells.
“Should we pump?” Rachel asked.
Jason nodded.
Synchronizing their efforts, Jason and Rachel began to lean backward and forward, swinging the platform in the direction of the opening. The clicking continued as the dial passed the three o’clock position. Before long Jason kicked out a leg and hooked his foot against the side of the opening. Rachel hopped off the platform to the narrow shelf. Bracing herself against the side of the opening, she steadied Jason as he released the chain and stepped onto the shelf beside her.
They stood high on the cliff face. A small flock of gray gulls hung motionless, gliding into the breeze. A few worn handholds led up to the top.
When the dial reached six o’clock, another tumbling sound came from within the walls of the rocky shaft, and the platform rapidly descended. Once the platform had reached the bottom, the dial reset, pointing upward. Staring at the barbed links of the chain, Jason was glad he didn’t have to descend this way. He looked up the final portion of the cliff face. “I guess we climb.”
“It isn’t far,” Rachel encouraged. “It looks easy.”
“After you.”
Rachel reached for the first handhold and started up the remainder of the rocky face. After taking a few seconds to steady himself, Jason followed, the sea breeze tickling his naked back. Teeth chattering, he tried not to think about the drop behind him, or to heed the churning surf far below. By focusing on finding secure places to put his hands and feet, he was soon pulling himself over the lip of the cliff.
Standing, Jason scanned the area. The trickling stream lay at least fifty yards off to one side. Rachel was jogging toward where they had left their gear. Nobody else was in sight. His clothes lay scattered around the bush where he had stashed them. Jason ran to catch up to Rachel.
Crouching near the bush, she held up the crystal globe with the orantium inside. “Safe and sound.”
“Looks like Puggles chewed on my clothes.”
“He was probably excited to get a full dose of your scent. At least he left our gear alone.”
Jason collected his clothes, fingering spots where they had been torn or punctured by boarhound teeth. It felt good to put on clothes and wrap up in his cloak. His boxers only retained a trace of dampness.
“Are you cold?” Jason asked.
She had bundled up in her cloak. “Not with my cloak on. My clothes are still damp, so I was feeling that wind.”
Jason surveyed the area. “I don’t see anybody else.”
“We should take advantage of the daylight while it lasts,” Rachel said. “Get away from here, find a place to camp.”
“We should have asked for directions to Trensicourt,” Jason said.
“We’ll keep following the road,” Rachel replied. “It has to lead somewhere. Eventually we’ll find someone who can tell us.”
They walked back to the road, and began hiking eastward along the cliffs. Gazing back, Jason felt immense relief to have the ordeal of the sea cave behind him.
“Can you believe we survived?” Jason asked after they had been walking for some time.
“I know . . . Once the boarhound showed up, everything happened so fast,” Rachel responded. “Now all I can think about is how close we came to ending up just like Puggles.”
Afternoon dwindled to twilight, and twilight deepened toward night. They found shelter in a recessed thicket. After a hasty meal Rachel insisted on taking the first watch.
“I won’t