Arena (16 page)
“That’s not s’posed to be there.” Garth pulled out his map.
Map or not, Callie could plainly see the wide earthen path beaten into the grass along the meadow’s outer edge—headed back the direction they had come.
“It’s
not
on the map,” Garth proclaimed.
“I thought the stupid map was supposed to have been confirmed,” Rowena snapped.
“It was. And anyway, why assume that road would’ve helped us? It probably peters out in a few miles.”
“Ha! It probably heads right into Hardluck.”
“Aw, you’re just looking for something else to gripe about. If you don’t like it, go back. You can always kiss up to one of those wimps at the temple.”
“Better than kissing up to you!”
Rowena stalked down the hill toward the road. The rest of the group shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances. Then Pierce struck off toward a group of trees on the far side of the meadow, triggering a general exodus. Before long they’d made camp, their fires snapping cheerily beneath bubbling stew pots.
The group was uncharacteristically quiet that evening. Sight of the canyon had sobered them, Callie most of all. She had expected a boulder-clogged cleft in whose bottom they would walk, not this ghastly, sheer-walled gash with its spider’s thread of a trail. The appeal of returning to Manderia beset her with a vengeance, countered immediately by the knowledge that she’d never be able to find her way back. Not over the terrain they’d just come through. And she couldn’t imagine Garth agreeing to copy his map just so she could go back.
There’s the road, though
, she thought. Rowena had not yet returned from her investigation. Maybe it did lead to Hardluck.
She stood up.
And sat down again.
How can you be such a coward? The only reason
you’re considering this is because you’re scared of the heights. Which is
pretty sorry, don’t you think?
Rowena had still not returned by the time Callie finished eating, so she went out into the dusk to look for her. Following the road along the base of the ridge they’d labored over earlier that afternoon, she came eventually to the edge of the thorn wall, and sure enough, the road tunneled straight into it, dead and living branches woven into dense walls around a passage whose end she could not see.
“Having second thoughts?” Garth’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him coming up behind her.
“Yes.”
“Reckon you’re not the only one,” he said. “But this doesn’t look much better.”
“No.” Rubbing her arms against the chill, Callie started back toward camp, uneasily aware of the fact that they were alone out here.
“The hardest part’s behind us, though,” he said, moving in step beside her.
Not for me
. She considered telling him about her acrophobia. It helped to have one person who understood—a “safe person,” one therapist had called it. Someone to talk sense to her when the fear overwhelmed her, someone to cling to until the panic passed—or get her to safety should she need it.
“We’ll be at the top in a day,” Garth said. “Two at the most.”
“And then what?”
He smiled at her. “Why, I’ll walk you through the exit gate myself.”
“But you don’t know where it is.”
“I’ll know when I need to. I can feel it.” He gazed up the road toward the ominous cleft, obscured by the gathering gloom above the trees and the slope of the meadow. “Of all the things I’ve done, all the ways I’ve tried to escape, this one feels most right. Come on.” He caught her hand and led her faster along the road. “I wanna show you something.”
They passed the camp and the trees, then crossed a grassy slope downside of the road and entered another grove of spindly pines. “I figure they put us here to test us, see,” he said as they entered the wood, “to find out which of us will figure it out.”
She regarded him doubtfully.
“It makes perfect sense. The stories about the Inner Realm, the fact that every single false benefactor has forbidden his followers to try the cleft, all the mumbo jumbo about not being able to get out on your own. It’s a ploy.”
And Meg? Was she a ploy?
“And even if it turns out we do have to go through one of those Benefactor’s gates, at least we’ll be up there. Ah, here we are.”
She came around him to find a quiet glade and a gleaming pool of water. In the gathering darkness it glowed with a green phosphorescence. “It’s beautiful!” she cried.
“Warm, too. Feel it.”
She dropped to her knees. “Incredible! How did you know about this?”
“It’s on the map.” He sat on the grass beside her.
“And you didn’t tell the others?”
“I’ll tell ’em in the morning.” He leaned back on his elbows, grinning at her.
A thrill went through her, excitement and fear—and a small voice telling her she was a fool.
“Do you ever wear your hair loose?”
His regard was so frank and suggestive, Callie blushed and averted her eyes. “Sometimes. It’s not very practical out here, though. I’d probably get it caught in a bush and have to cut it off to get free.”
“And what a shame
that
would be.” He fingered the end of her braid, rubbing the plaited texture. She sat very still, galvanized by his touch, its indirectness all the more stimulating.
“Rowena had long hair when I met her. She cut it off a few years ago.” He lay there, tugging at her braid, then said, “There are no bushes around here. Least not that you’d get caught in.”
She shifted uneasily and glanced around. “Maybe we’d better go back.”
He released her braid and sat up. “Maybe we should.”
Somehow he had gotten very close to her. Blood pounded through her again. A wild, sweet song surged to override her voice of reason.
You’re getting in over your head. You really don’t want to do this
.
Garth watched her intently and, when she didn’t move away, leaned forward and kissed her.
He pushed her to the ground, kissing her hungrily. Her body responded with treacherous enthusiasm, her flesh burning, blood pounding. But when his hand slid under her shirt she came to her senses.
What am I doing?
She pulled her lips from his. “Garth, wait.”
He kissed her neck.
“I don’t want—this isn’t what—”
His mouth closed over hers—she pulled away again. “Garth, stop. I don’t want to do this.”
He pushed himself up to gape at her with glazed eyes. “What?”
“I don’t want to do this.”
He stared at her stupidly, then bent to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Are you kidding? You can’t lead a man to the water hole and not let him drink.”
“I didn’t lead you here.”
“Oh, yes you did, babe.” He nibbled her ear. “You want this just as much as I do.”
“Come on, Garth.” She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to wriggle out from under him. Her efforts only seemed to impassion him. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he couldn’t live without her. His caresses grew rougher, his breathing ragged, and she began to struggle in earnest, but it was like being pinned by the Trog. Apprehension uncoiled in her belly.
Then, out in the dark wood, a branch cracked, followed by a soft voice. “She said
no
, Garth.”
Garth froze, and Callie pushed away from him, gaining her feet as she frantically attempted to straighten her clothing. Her face burned and her hands shook.
Garth stood up, frowning into the darkness. “Pierce?”
A figure detached itself from the shadows and approached.
“We need to talk,” Pierce said. His eyes flicked to Callie, his face like stone.
Mortified, she whirled and plunged into the trees. She stopped at the forest’s edge, panting, willing the frenetic pace of her heart to slow. Atop the rising meadow, campfires flickered against a backdrop of spruce, casting giant macabre shadows over the Outlanders. She felt cold and dirty and horribly guilty, for even though she knew she had not led Garth on, she
had
responded.
She shut her eyes and rubbed her face with both hands. Never in all her life had she responded to a man as she had just responded to Garth Copeland. The way she had leaned into his early caresses, pressed herself against him . . . She groaned in misery, hating herself.
Worst of all was Pierce’s expression as his gaze flicked to her and away in that dreadful mask of stone.
She’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
The low staccato of argument that had been chattering in the forest behind her grew suddenly loud. Before she could pick out any words, it broke off, and someone came thrashing through the woods toward her. Pierce burst from the shadows to her left and stalked up the hill toward camp. She expected Garth to follow. When he didn’t, she climbed the hill herself.
Pierce was stuffing his things into his pack, his face tight with anger. She stopped at the line where light met darkness, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, and he didn’t. His things stowed, he slung the pack over his shoulders, picked up his rifle, and disappeared into the night, every eye in camp upon him.
He’s leaving
, she thought, alarmed.
I should go after him. Go with
him
.
Then Garth appeared at her side, grinning. “Sorry if I got carried away.”
“Carried away? You’d have raped me if it wasn’t for Pierce.”
She turned her back, but he jerked her close and whispered, “It wouldn’t have been rape, babe, and you know it.”
Trembling, she tore free and stalked away.
“I love a woman who plays hard to get,” he called after her.
Her stomach was a hard knot by the time she reached her bedroll. At first she could only sit there, caught in a matrix of conflicting emotions, too scared to leave, too outraged to stay.
“I wonder what that’s about,” LaTeisha drawled, breaking into her distress.
Callie looked up to see LaTeisha sitting nearby on her own bedroll. Her SLuB lay in pieces before her, but her attention was on something across the camp. Callie looked around to see Garth stand up from where he’d been talking to Lokai and Thor and walk to his tent. Behind him, the two men frowned, then Lokai arose and lurched into the forest.
“Garth’s driving folks away left and right,” LaTeisha muttered. “You gonna be next?”
“What?” Callie returned her attention to her friend.
“Rowena, Pierce, Lokai. They’re bailing like rats off a sinking ship.”
“I don’t think Lokai’s leaving. He didn’t take his things.”
“Maybe he’s just going to take a leak. Sure looked like Garth was chewing him and Thor out, though. Or were they just getting the fallout?” She cocked her head at Callie. “Did he make his move on you, and Pierce interrupted him?”
Callie’s face flamed.
LaTeisha laughed. “Guessed that one right, did I? Don’t be shocked, honey. We were all waiting for it.” She wagged a piece of the SLuB at Callie. “And don’t think Pierce didn’t know exactly what was going on.”
“You mean he was spying on us?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying, but if he broke it up, it wasn’t any accident. I imagine
he’d
call it a rescue.”
No question it was that
.
“I see you would, too,” LaTeisha said.
What am I, an open book to everyone?
She turned away and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“And I thought you were falling for him,” LaTeisha added.
Callie shuddered. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Would you have listened?”
“Yes!”
LaTeisha snapped the SLuB barrel into the handgrip housing and rubbed it with a cloth. “Okay, then, here’s more—rejection eggs him on. It won’t seem like it at first, but you’re a challenge now. Specially with Rowena gone.”
“Great.” Callie lay back on her bedroll, resting her head on her hands.
“He can be very charming,” LaTeisha added.
“You speaking from experience?”
Her friend snorted. The pieces of the SLuB snicked and clicked as she reassembled them.
“How long before he gives up?” Callie asked.
“Honey, he doesn’t give up.”
Callie exhaled a long, slow sigh and pulled her hands from under her head, folding her arms across her chest. More than ever she wanted to leave. Pierce had. Rowena had. Why couldn’t she?
Because, as much as she dreaded the climb and loathed Garth, she knew going back would get her nowhere. Pierce would probably sign up with the Manderian temple, and she wanted that no more than she wanted Garth’s attentions.
She was still awake when Thor and Lokai returned, surprising her because she hadn’t realized Thor had left. They had their weapons with them, which, inexplicably, they passed to Garth in his tent before seeking their beds. She wondered about it for a while, but her thoughts kept returning to her own concerns, and finally sleep claimed her.
She awakened to a groggy head, burning eyes, and a grim sense of foreboding. The clouds had lowered during the night, and the scent of moisture hung heavy in the air. Neither Pierce nor Rowena had returned, but no one commented. Within an hour they had all shouldered their packs and started up the cleft.
At first the trail climbed gently through a boulder-clogged channel grown thick with willows, not much different from what Callie had first imagined. Garth was often out of sight, walking at the head of the line with Thor and Lokai, which suited Callie—bringing up the rear with LaTeisha—just fine. All too soon, though, the path left the comforting presence of the willows to climb the left wall of the canyon, angling across increasingly vertical faces. Callie hugged the inner wall and stared at the place where wall met trail, sometimes glancing up at LaTeisha’s back ahead of her, but careful never to look toward the trail’s edge. Even so, she sensed the well of space gaping at her side and clenched the shoulder pads of her pack straps as if somehow they could hold back the rising panic.
Then they came to the bridge.
The trail curved around the wall and through a U-shaped cut in a shoulder of granite. Four large iron rings, two on a side, had been secured to the rock as anchors. The bridge, a narrow, frayed-rope affair, swooped sickeningly from edge to edge. Only its upper handrails were visible from Callie’s vantage, and those dropped swiftly out of sight. As the first man started across, he seemed to step off into nothing. She watched him disappear section by section—legs, waist, chest, head— then reappear far out on the span, struggling to keep his balance on the swaying, undulating structure. Against the sheer rock face beyond him, he looked unbearably tiny, an insignificant mote suspended over a gulf of swirling lavender.
