Eona - Alison Goodman [60]
“I’m getting this Ji to pull you out.”
“No, it’s too dangerous. Leave me. There’s time for you to climb to safety.”
I wrapped my hand around the handle and yanked it free from the soldier’s grip. The man’s hand lifted and slapped back down, as if he were blessing me. Shuddering, I whispered a quick call to Shola on his behalf, then carefully retraced my own safe footprints back to Yuso.
The captain was watching me, anguish written in deep creases of mud on his thin face. Hurriedly, I extended the pole across the mire until the handle hovered near him.
“Grab it. Quickly.”
I glanced up at the slopping mud fall behind him. It was flowing into the hole, raising the level.
He caught the wavering wood. “I will be too heavy for you.”
“I am strong,” I assured him, although the same doubt had blown its cold breath on me. He was lean for a Shadow Man—the Sun Drug issued to the eunuch guards usually built more bulk—but he was still tall and well muscled. “Don’t worry,” I added. “I won’t leave you.”
He flinched as a heavy branch fell beside him, splattering his face with more mud. I tested the ground with my toes and found a section that was not too soft. Working my heels into it, I wiped a length of the pole clean.
“Ready?” I asked.
He nodded.
Taking a resolute breath, I hauled on his weight at the end of the long pole, careful to keep the hooked blade away from me. I felt a small shift. I heaved again, and again, inching backward through the stiff mud. Suddenly his other arm swung free, dripping with sludge. He grabbed the pole with both hands.
“Keep going,” he urged.
I dug my heels into the mud again and pulled as he painstakingly lifted one hand and placed it above the other on the pole. Panting, Yuso smiled across at me. I smiled back—it was working. On his nod, I heaved again as he dragged himself along another hand-length. Every muscle in my arms and back burned with the strain of holding his weight, but his chest was almost out of the hole.
He lifted his hand again, but this time tried to reach too far. His grip slipped. The sudden loss of his weight on the pole yanked me to my knees. I saw him slide backward, groping wildly for purchase. Instinctively, I braced knees and toes in the mud and anchored the Ji. His hand connected and gripped.
“Got it?” I gasped.
“Yes.” He pressed his forehead into the crook of his arm, gulping deep breaths. “How’s that ridge holding?” he finally asked.
“Not that good,” I said. “Ready?”
He lifted his head. “Lady Eona, I cannot—” He stopped, his eyes bleak. “I have a son. His name is Maylon. Find him, tell him—”
“Yuso.” I caught his gaze, holding him steady, although my own doubt pounded through me. “I’m not leaving until you’re out of there.”
With a nod, he clenched his teeth and once again started the laborious hand-by-hand crawl up the pole. I heaved back on his weight over and over, finding a rhythm in between each desperate handhold that gave him precious impetus. Gradually, his chest and waist emerged. When his hips finally breached the sucking mud, I dropped the Ji and slithered toward him on hands and knees. Grabbing his outstretched hands, I pulled him free. In a clumsy mix of sliding, dragging, and crawling, we made our way back to secure ground.
Yuso turned to study the ridge, then gave a soft grunt of relief. “It is still holding, but we should get out of here.” He stood up and tested his right leg. A large tear in the thigh of his mudsoaked trousers was dark with blood.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
He dismissed it with a shake of his head. “I can walk.” He offered me his hand and pulled me upright. My own legs were trembling with the afterwash of effort. And fear.
“Did you see what happened to the emperor?” I asked, as he ushered me forward. “Or any of the others?”
Yuso shook his head.
“What if . . . ?” I couldn’t voice the possibility.
“If His Majesty is dead, then it is all over,” Yuso said flatly.