Page 91 of Of Withering Dreams
A faint hum vibrated under our feet as an image of a cheering crowd flickered on the screen’s surface. Endurst flinched, the film splintering into various hovering globes, the spectators fading in and out of their undulating curves.
The Elders moved toward the barracks, Melina flicking her fingers in the air, dismissing us. “May you withstand the currents of the Winnowing. For only the worthy will remain.”
My teeth ground together as everyone moved toward the fence. The floating water projectors, or whatever they were, soared around us in the background and over the abyss, broadcasting our every move.
It was clear that the ropes were for us. Breena and Rhaegar hopped over, handing Kaden and me our bundles. I stared blankly at the rough coils, the bristly threads scratching my skin. A deafening buzz vibrated in my ears. Was it my heart or the roiling water?
Quickly, Kaden knotted one end of his rope to the nearest fence post along with the others. He glanced at me, his eyes crinkling just a fraction. I felt the weight disappear from my trembling hands, and without a word, he fastened mine to the post as well.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” he grumbled and threw his leg over the fence, easily shifting to the other side. My knees numbed, tingles running up and down my calves. He rubbed his lips together, his shoulders dropping as he held out a hand. “It’ll be okay. Come here.”
My feet fumbled, and I put my hand in his, his warmth sinking into my chilled fingers. He helped me over the fence and handed me my line.
“Listen.” He rested his hands on my shoulders, his brows furrowing at the contact. I looked at him, my mouth tense. “You are going to be all right. Remember that one summer with the rope swing over the pond?” I nodded, releasing a shaky breath. “Just hang on like we did then. Use your feet to brace the rope between them. You can do this, Ser. Just follow me.”
I gulped, bobbing my head as if dazed and not in full control. It had been so long since he had spoken to me. Said my name. We were so far from the days of playing on the rope swing.
Melancholy and fear lumped together, sticking in my throat. I swallowed, weak legs shuffling closer to the precipice as I craned my neck to peek over.
Kaden gripped his rope, positioning his body on the edge. Most of our opponents were shimmying over the brink, some already rappelling down the cliff face.
Breena winked at me before the top of her head disappeared, Rhaegar’s massive form unseen.
Stone bit into my knees as they met the ground, my fingers digging into the rope’s taut fibers.
As I inched over the stony threshold, my heart slammed into my throat, the skin under my scar pounding. The twisted hemp dug painfully into my hands as I squirmed, the full weight of my body and dread pulling me down into the rumbling abyss below.
As a breeze pushed into me, my rope creaked and swayed. I yelped, desperately clamping my boots around the cord and crushing my eyes closed.
Each terrified, ragged breath was a prayer to the Ancients—their response lost in the crashing waves.
“Ah, might as well piss yourself now, you gutless twit. Even better while your team is below.” My eyelids snapped open as my temper flared. Sebille was several feet to my left, her long legs bunching as she descended with ease, a cocky sneer carved into her face.
My nose crinkled, lips puckering as I turned away from her, scowling at the black rock glinting before me. With a determined growl, I forced the air from my lungs, chin jutting. My molars clamped tight as I sucked in a full lungful through my nose.
You can do this, I repeated in my head. Over and over.
I slackened my feet, letting the rope slide through them, my hands clutching and releasing as I moved.
“You got this, Ryn!” Breena shouted from several feet under me.
One hand over the other, I inched my way down, letting the movement repetition and muscle memory take over, tucking my fear deep within my belly.
Droplets of water sprinkled upon my leather-clad chest, and I paused, licking a drop from my bottom lip. Narrow waterfalls were scattered across the wall, spouting or trickling from various hollows. My fingers squeezed tighter, beads of dampness sinking into the rope threads.
As I met my team, I looked up at the top half of the cliff, sunbeams blinking off the dark brim. Then my gaze dropped to the river’s currents, closer now, flicking like grasping fingers.
“Well done.” Rhaegar’s deep timber drew my focus as he leaned back, his feet anchored on the cable, one beefy hand holding it.
Breena grinned, “I think there’s a cave over there.” She nodded to the right, and I gulped. A gaping opening sat several lengths away, a thick ledge protruding and a stream gushing over its lip.
“We’ll need to swing over and grab onto the others’ lines,” Rhaegar rumbled.
A flash of movement to my left caught my eye, my attention drawn to two bodies screaming and plummeting toward the raging water, flicking coils of rope and a few dripping projector orbs trailing behind them. I looked at Sebille, following her glare as her mouth twisted.
Farther up and to her left, an average-sized Druik with short, curly brown hair and wearing navy leather armor sheathed his knife, his tongue tucked into his cheek as the frayed remains of hemp jerked beside him.
