Page 66 of The Gilded Survivor

All intentions of defending myself, of telling him off, melted away. Suddenly, I was hot all over. And bone-tired.

“I can’t do this,” I said. My voice came out quiet and strained.

Moments passed in silence, and my ears rang once more.

Then he laid leather straps across the tops of my knees. My head jerked up to look at the harness once again.

“Put this on, Carmen,” Antonio said.

I didn’t bother wiping my nose or the wet trails which had so clearly marked my face as I slowly looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at me, rather at the floor a way off.

“Put that on and keep going. Keep trying. You’re going to be okay.” He didn’t look stone-faced, he looked… sad?

I simply couldn’t find the desire to argue within myself. Slowly, I stood up. Only then did I wipe away the tears and brush back my hair. I held the contraption in front of me. Once, in the Grand Theater, we had done a routine which required me to be pulled up into the air and placed on a swing. Which meant that I was familiar with how to wear these.

Now that I thought of that, I found myself even more pathetic and foolish for not asking for one at the start.

“Do you… need help putting it on?” Antonio asked. He still wasn’t looking at me and was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“No.”

I slid my legs into the straps, and then secured part of it around my middle. At the sound of the buckle clicking, Antonio walked over to another rack and picked up a black cord wound up into a neat circle.

He crossed back to me and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I understand how hard this process is. Despite the fame, I’m… not well-suited to teaching. The two others I’ve mentored already knew more or less what they were doing, which meant I spent a lot of time watching.” He started unwinding a length of the rope. “This is an aramid fiber cord. It is extremely durable, and you will have one in your pack.” He judged the distance between us, and took another step back.

He swung the rope over his head once and it shot out from over his arm. It moved so fast, like a comet. I watched the rope unwind and land at the top of the wall with a clank within seconds .

My eyebrows furrowed. “How did it attach so easily?” I asked. It was nice to be focusing on form instead of endlessly focusing on my feelings. I had two months to train, not achieve enlightenment.

He nodded once, apparently grateful for the quiet as well, and walked back to where the ropes were. He picked one up to show to me. “At this end, there is a device which fans out like a mushroom and connects to the rock. It’s extremely effective, almost fool-proof, even more so than older systems using hooks.” He showed me the smooth, bullet-like end.

When I reached out to touch it, he pressed his thumb tighter against the base of the bullet and it snapped out like a claw. I screeched in surprise.

Our gazes found each other again, and I burst out laughing. It was a reaction to fear I hadn’t known I’d had.

“You spook easily,” he said.

The light sound of my laughs tapered off just as quickly as they had started, as I watched the corner of Antonio’s smile curve up.

I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and took a step back. “I better try again.” I turned around and walked back to the cord hanging from the ceiling, tugging on it tentatively as I was dubious it would actually hold up all of my weight.

My body was powerful, and I was grateful for it most of the time, but I was still six feet of hard work, stubborn resolve, and muscle. In other words, I was heavy.

The rope ended right about where my knees were and there was a loop with a pulley system right in front of my navel.

“Attach the rope there, and it will wind up as you go. That way, if you fall, it will catch you before you hit the ground.”

I winced, the pain of my previous fall still fresh.

Antonio continued, “Time to get started.”

I nodded and hooked the clips around the loop, threading the cord into the simple machine. In no time, I was back on the wall. My stomach quivered as I made good time, and my legs shook when I glanced down about half-way.

That inner voice that always seemed to accompany hard times whispered once again.

No te rindes.

I took a deep breath and did a quick scan of my body. I was tired—this was arduous exercise. But it was going to be okay. When I opened my eyes, I reached out for the next rock and kept going.

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