Weeping Stones

Callum

He didn’t know why he’d done it.

Why he had poured his heart out to the strange woman.

He didn’t even know her name.

And yet, when she’d looked up at him with those big dark-brown eyes, he’d never wanted anything more than for her to keep looking at him.

To keep seeing him.

He shook his head. It was dangerous, and he cursed himself as a fool under his breath. A criminal, a murderer, and he tells her his sob story the moment she asks? What was he, a brain-dead youngster? A pushover for a pair of pretty eyes?

She’d fallen asleep a while ago, her soft breathing echoing through the cavern as if she slept directly beside him.

Something had shifted between them.

Something big.

But he couldn’t name it.

Callum sighed as he rolled over, trying to sleep.

All he knew was that he really hoped she was telling the truth about not being involved in the terrorist attack, and that this was all a big misunderstanding. That she was innocent.

He must have drifted off when a wet sensation snapped him back to reality.

There, puddling beneath his hip, was cold rain water.

Fuck.

She’d been right.

The thought pricked his pride and a flush of embarrassment crawled up his ears.

Thank God she couldn’t see it.

The fire pit still glowed with dying coals, casting the cave in a subtle light.

“Hey, Viper, wake up,”

he hissed, rolling to his knees and half-crawling to where she slept.

A flash of light was the only warning before he caught her wrist, the knife in her hand, raised in defense.

Fucking viper indeed.

“What is happening?”

she mumbled sleepily.

“The stones are weeping and it’s puddling, which means it’s started raining on this side of the range.”

She wasn’t moving fast enough.

He used his grip on her wrist to tug her up impatiently.

She resisted, because of course she did.

“We could just move up along the edges, right?”

The Arryvian rubbed at the sleep in her eyes before finding his face in the near darkness.

“We are underground, also downhill.

In no time at all, these tunnels will flood.

We need to hurry.”

He stood and shouldered his pack before digging around inside and pulling out a mass of tangled fibers.

He unraveled a few lengths of the braided grass rope from the bundle and tossed the loops toward her.

“Tie it around your waist and shoulders, like a harness.”

While he knotted the rope, he pictured the landscape in his mind, strategizing their best move.

With the knots secured over his chest, he turned his attention to the woman.

This could be very bad, very fast and fuck—why was she moving so fucking slow? He watched as she followed his instructions and weaved the rope around herself, tucking her small blade into the waistband of her pants.

He stepped close to double check the knots, to do it for her if he must, ignoring the way her nearness brought with it a distinctly feminine scent.

He paused when she flashed him a wry smirk.

“Can you imagine, death by drowning in the middle of the desert?”

Callum thought about imparting the gravity of the situation, something like get your tiny legs moving before we fucking die, but there wasn’t time.

“I’d rather not,”

he grunted as he continued moving.

“Come on.”

Cal drew one of his knives, holding it in his left hand as he felt along the cave wall with his right while he jogged up the narrow passage.

He quickened his pace, lengthening his stride as he charged through the tunnels.

Rivulets of water threaded down the walls, tendrils uniting with others to form oozy trickles of wet mud sliding downward in patches.

The scent of rain greeted them like an old friend, cool and damp and heavy with the smell of salt.

“Move faster,”

he advised, his voice clipped as he continued the race uphill.

He dared a glance backward and swore inwardly.

The Arryvian was struggling, as the ground became slick, the sandstone turning to gritty sludge.

Her feet slid in the mud and she fell—soon she was caked up to her elbows in the sticky muck as she tried to crawl after him up the steep incline.

A swell of water sluiced down the wall and Cal shifted to the edges, where the ground was marginally firmer.

A splash of mud had announced her fall, followed quickly by the sounds of her sputtering and clambering to get upright on the slimy, slippery slope while the rope pulled taut.

The knife sang its protest as Cal stabbed it into the wall, just as she finally managed to stand.

He tugged on the rope, adding another loop over his chest.

Perhaps now she understood how much danger they were in.

“See where the ropes cross on my back? Hold those.

Follow close.”

He shot her a look to ensure she didn’t object, sweat beading down his forehead with the muddy rain.

Her fingers slid against his back and clung to the rope.

Her hands were so cold, he could feel the frigid digits through his shirt.

She was so small.

So fragile.

Connecting the memories of strength and stubbornness displayed on the ship to this tiny person…it seemed impossible that they were one and the same.

She’d better find that will to live real damn quick or she’d be a goner. They both would.

The water came harder, faster.

The mud-slick cavern became a series of swift-moving streams, the roar of rain a heavy staccato reverberating through the slick stone floor.

Cal gripped at the uneven walls to pull himself and his charge through the onslaught, several rock hand-holds breaking free of the wall.

When his hands failed or his foot slipped, there was always the rasp of the knife plunging into the stone, the only thing keeping them from being washed away.

The exertion made him warm, impervious to the cold water he drove them through.

A strange repetitive clicking sound came from behind him, where she was barely hanging on.

It was her teeth chattering.

Fuck.

Then, the cold pelting of rain greeted them from above as they emerged from the mouth of the cave.

“Get on my back,”

he barked loud enough to be heard over the rain as he moved around the entrance of the cave to find a place to climb.

“I can get us out of the floodwaters, but I can’t make shelter.

If the legends are true, and based on what I saw on the ship, you can.

Find your reserves or…magic or whatever while I get us to higher ground.”

He pointed to a silvery patch in the downpour.

“Up there.”

It was a daunting climb, the sheer cliff face leaving very few options for Cal to find purchase.

The desert floor looked like a muddy ocean, the water now kissing his ankles.

He was soaked to the bone, and if he hadn’t been working his ass off, he’d be shivering too.

But he’d get them up there.

He had to, or they’d die.