Page 42 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

LYDIA

The good plan no longer seemed so good as Lydia stared into the small tunnel that Malahi had carved underground using the roots of trees. It was dark and narrow, and at the end of it was a fatal drop.

“I hate everything about this,” Agrippa said. “It’s a terrible plan.”

“I’ll go first,” Killian said, probably to be contrary, and without waiting for an answer, climbed into the narrow tunnel.

Lydia waited until his feet disappeared, then crawled after him.

It was tight and dark, the earth slightly damp and the roots rough beneath her hands as she gripped them to drag herself along. Malahi had carved the space with a mind for Baird’s bulk, but she could only imagine how arduous it would be for the giant to get through.

As she progressed, the light from behind faded until Lydia could see nothing, and she allowed her gift to take over her sight, the brilliant glow of Killian’s life appearing before her.

With fear flowing heavy in her veins, she almost instantaneously felt the urge to take. To crawl up behind him and find some bare stretch of skin to press her fingers against so that sweet life would flow into her veins, making her strong. Making her a force to be reckoned with.

No! she silently snarled, withdrawing from her power so that all she could see was blackness. I won’t.

But it was so hard to resist. Like trying not to breathe, and Lydia forced herself to focus on the feel of the ground beneath her.

The sound of Agrippa behind her, the ex-legionnaire bitterly complaining about his dislike for tunnels because nothing good came from them . Malahi would be next, then Baird.

“Are we close?” she asked, needing to break her own silence.

“No,” Killian answered. “But I can see the light of the opening. Keep going.”

Bits of dirt rained down on her hair, and Lydia cringed, praying to Yara that the tunnel would hold. That they wouldn’t all meet their end buried alive in a grave of their own making. Praying that this would work because crawling backward would be next to impossible.

Then she found she could make out the soles of Killian’s boots, a faint glow visible around his outline.

“Be quiet,” he said under his breath. “We don’t want them to hear us.”

The only sound was the moan of the wind, the thousands of blighters utterly silent.

Killian rolled onto his back. In one smooth motion, he pulled himself out the opening and then disappeared from sight.

Panic ripped through her veins, and Lydia scrambled forward. She poked her head out of the opening, a wave of vertigo washing over her as she looked down.

And down.

Five hundred feet seemed more like a thousand, the rocks at the base terrifyingly far away.

“Stay there,” Killian whispered, and she looked to her left to find him clinging to the rock face.

With practiced ease, he worked his way up to where a large wooden structure dangled just below the edge.

Her heart surged into her throat as he leapt from his perch on the cliff to grab the edge of the bucket, hanging for a moment before he quietly crawled inside. Then it slowly began to move.

Each creak and groan of the pulley made her cringe, but the focus of the blighters was on the plateau, not the scarp face below. Lower and lower, the bucket descended, Killian stopping it when it was level with the opening.

But most definitely not within reach.

“You’re going to have to climb out,” he instructed, securing the ropes so that his hands were free. “Then climb closer so that I can reach you.”

Oh gods.

“Right.” She eased outwards, every bit of her consumed by terror. She didn’t know how to climb, didn’t know where to put her hands or feet. Everything she touched seemed insecure and liable to collapse beneath her weight, but Lydia managed to edge out so that she was clinging to the rock face.

“Just work your way to the right,” Killian said. “Then you’ll need to twist around and jump. I’ll catch you.”

Simple instructions.

Seemingly impossible feat.

Lydia swallowed hard, sweat running down her back as she cautiously moved to the right. Testing each handhold. Each toehold. Wondering if her mark would allow her to survive such a long fall.

A glance downward told her that was unlikely.

A hot wind buffeted her clothing, the grit it carried sticking against her skin, and Lydia looked over her shoulder. In the distance, a dark wall filled the horizon.

Sandstorm.

“Keep going,” Killian whispered. “You’re almost there.”

To her left, Lydia heard Agrippa reach the end of the tunnel, his soft curses telling her exactly what he thought about the situation. She ignored him and edged farther right.

“There,” Killian instructed. “Get a good hold with your toes and left hand, then twist and jump toward me.”

This was madness. Absolute gods-damned madness.

“You can do it. I’ll catch you.”

And she trusted him.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lydia let go with her right hand. Twisted. Then jumped.

For a heartbeat, she was weightless, then Killian’s arms were around her, hauling her into the bucket.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, the lack of outlet making her shake as she watched Agrippa ferry their supplies from the opening and toss them to Killian, showing no concern for the fall below him.

At least, not until it was Malahi’s turn.

There was no mistaking the tension in the ex-legionnaire’s jaw as Mudamora’s queen carefully climbed out. Malahi cleverly extended the roots to provide her with handholds as she followed Agrippa’s whispered instructions. He kept close to her side as she moved to where the bucket dangled.

“Killian will catch you,” Lydia heard him whisper. “Just jump toward him as hard as you can. It’s not that far.”

“But it’s awfully far to the ground,” Malahi hissed. “This is insanity.”

“Was your plan, lovely. I’m just following your orders.”

Malahi muttered an incredibly colorful curse that drew a grin to Agrippa’s face, then she twisted and leapt.

It was almost worse watching the other woman jump, and Lydia clenched her teeth, gripping the sides of the bucket.

Yet Killian caught her easily, setting her next to Lydia.

The tight quarters forced them together, and Lydia tensed at the feel of Malahi’s life in such close proximity.

Malahi didn’t seem to notice, her face pale as she watched Agrippa leap with ease into the bucket, brushing aside Killian’s offer of assistance and bodily forcing himself between her and Malahi.

“You have control, Lydia?” he asked her. “Or do you need me to tie you up?”

“I’m okay.”

He nodded, but she didn’t fail to notice how his hand remained on his weapon as they watched Baird drag himself out of the opening.

The passage through the tunnel had taken its toll on the giant, the fabric of his shirt stained with blood where his shoulders had been scraped, his face slick with sweat.

Yet once he was out, he climbed as easily as Killian or Agrippa, twisted, and—

The rock supporting one of his feet snapped away right as he jumped.

Agrippa and Killian lunged, grabbing the giant’s wrists.

“Oh, gods!” Malahi gasped as the bucket swung violently away from the cliff, rotating, then slamming with a loud crack against the rock.

Lydia’s eyes snapped upward, every part of her praying the blighters hadn’t heard. Except then as one, hundreds of them stepped to the edge and looked down.

Time seemed to stand still.

Then the blighters started to jump.

Not knowing what else to do, Lydia unhooked the rope from where it was twisted around a metal bar to hold it in place.

The bucket dropped.

Malahi’s shrill scream filled Lydia’s ears as the bucket plunged, blighters falling all around them, hands grasping.

“Grab the rope!” Agrippa shouted, and Baird flung himself at the blur of rope that would be their only salvation. The giant howled in agony, blood and flesh spraying as the rope burned away his palms.

Help him!

Without thinking, Lydia lunged, clamping her hands on the backs of his forearms, shoving life into him. Watching her own skin age as she healed his flesh only for it to be frayed away time and again.

Yet Baird didn’t let go.

The bucket’s plunge slowed, allowing Killian and Agrippa to grab hold of the rope. Eventually, it came to a stop, the bucket swaying back and forth.

“Are you all right?” she asked Baird. “Your hands?”

He gave a tight nod, and she pulled away, feeling a swell of need to take back what she’d just given.

“You two are never allowed to come up with plans together,” Agrippa hissed, his breathing rapid. “Never.”

“We need to get down.” Killian alone seemed unrattled by their near death, his eyes fixed upward. “More of them are getting ready to jump.”

No sooner did he say the words did deimos shrieks cut the air. Leather wings appeared overhead, black-clad corrupted riding on their backs.

“I’ll get us down,” Baird muttered. “You keep them off us.”

The bucket resumed its descent, Baird’s jaw clenched as he eased the group toward the ground, which was still two hundred feet away. The wind had increased in violence, the bucket now swinging side to side, and Malahi said, “Not to add to our problem, but is that a sandstorm?”

The storm to the south had intensified, now a wall of sand rising higher than the escarpment itself.

“Baird, can you do something about that?” Agrippa demanded, nocking an arrow in his bow.

“I need my hands,” the giant answered between his teeth. “Need to be able to concentrate.”

“It will blow the deimos off of us!” Killian shouted over the rising wind. “Give us a chance to escape into the dunes!”

“We aren’t equipped to survive a storm like this!” Agrippa loosed the arrow, and the deimos that had been diving toward them twisted away. “The sand will strip flesh from bone if we don’t find cover!”

Yet even if they made it to the bottom, there was no cover to be had. Only rocks and sand and dry brush. They didn’t even have a tent, having been forced to abandon most of their equipment when they left the horses.

The bucket slammed against the rock face, sending it spinning, and a deimos tucked its wings into a dive.

Agrippa tried to shoot it, but his arrow went wide even as the rider climbed on top the saddle, eyes like voids ringed with flame.

“She’s going to jump,” Agrippa warned, and then the corrupted was leaping toward them. She caught hold of the rope above, then dropped, hands reaching.

Only for Killian’s blade to slice one of the woman’s hands from her wrists.

“Get down!” Agrippa flung himself on top of Malahi, Killian’s blade whistling over his head as he battled the corrupted, blood spraying from her severed wrist.

Lydia dropped, trying to give him space, but it was a tangle of legs and limbs, Baird desperately trying to lower them while Killian fought to keep the woman’s other deadly hand away from them.

Agrippa pulled a knife and stabbed the woman in the kidney, but she only shrieked and yanked it free, using it to slash at Killian.

He blocked the blow, then dropped his sword, the bucket swaying wildly as he grabbed hold of the woman and tossed her over the edge.

The corrupted’s scream was lost to the howl of the wind, but Lydia didn’t have time to look to see if she’d survived, because another corrupted leapt into the bucket.

Killian punched the man in the face, but rather than trying to fight him, the corrupted turned and plunged his knife into Baird’s back.

The giant screamed, barely keeping his grip on the rope. Killian stabbed the corrupted repeatedly, and then Agrippa caught hold of the man’s legs and heaved him over the edge.

“Lydia, help Baird!” Malahi cried. “He needs you!”

It was all too easy to rise, pushing past Agrippa to place her hands on Baird’s arm.

Except rather than life flowing from her to him, Lydia wanted to take everything that he had left.

To consume the life of one of the god-marked and erase the weakness within herself.

“She’s going to turn!” Agrippa shouted, but then Killian was in her face. “You can do it. You can save us all.”

A deimos slammed against the bucket, its teeth snapping, forcing Killian to turn to fight.

Baird was shaking, his eyes fixed on hers, and the fear in them made Lydia sick. The wind was full of grit, stinging her eyes and making her skin burn, a mere suggestion of the violence that would soon descend upon them.

Except that wouldn’t matter if they splattered against the ground.

You can do this.

Reaching for the hilt of the knife, she yanked it out and then flooded the giant with all the life she had to give. The bucket spun round and round, Agrippa and Killian banging into her as they fought back deimos and corrupted. Lydia’s heart fluttered in her chest.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Could only feel herself falling… falling, then nothing at all.