Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
“Gwenna! Are you all right?” Arrod is there, grabbing me and helping me to an upright position. He slaps my cheek lightly. “You’re like ice. Are you well?”
“I’m all right,” I breathe, even as the ghosts retreat to the back of the room. The impatient one moans, but Hemmen just looks sad and lost. I wish I could comfort him, but I have to think about the living. I jump to my feet, despite how wobbly I feel. “We have to hurry. Raptor is in danger.”
“What? How do you know?”
I know because I’ve just been shown absolutely everything.
Forty-Six
Raptor
Earlier
Ieye the repeater in front of me with a scowl. “What do you mean, we need to go to a different drop?”
The student shrugs. “That’s what I was told. How should I know? I just pull the lever. I was told the rescue party was coming and I should send them to Drop Twenty-Seven.”
I glance over at the others as we wait for the lift. At my side, Stork consults his message, the same as mine. He’s a tall, gawky human, but with a mane of peppered gray hair and a stern expression. I’ve worked with him before, and he’s got no time for anyone’s nonsense, which means I appreciate him. “My message says Drop Seven.”
“Mine says Drop Seven, too.” I hold the note out to him to compare. “Maybe whoever was scribing it was rattled and didn’t know which drop to write down.”
Stork eyes both and then shrugs, glancing over at the other human who’s been rounded up to make our rescue team. It’s Master Jay, which strikes me as damned strange. The man’s in mourning for his student and rarely takes on rescue missions, but he was requested for this particular rescue mission, just like me, Stork, Buzzard, and Shikra. Three Taurians and two capable humans. It’s a good team, I must admit, even if it’s not all Taurians as the note suggested it would be.
“Well, it’s not the first time we’ve been given bad instructions, and I doubt it’ll be the last,” Jay says. He shoulders his pack and then ties it at the front of his waist to keep the weight of it in the center of his back. “We can check Seven, and if everything on that level seems in order, we go down to Twenty-Seven.”
No one else has an opinion. Buzzard examines his weapons, Stork just looks impatient to go, and Shikra is unruffled, but Shikra is always unruffled. “Fine. Ready the basket for Seven first, and then we’ll hit Twenty-Seven.”
The repeater frowns. “But—”
“We’ll make sure both are clear,” I all but growl at him. “The more time you waste up here is time we’re not rescuing someone, understand?”
I’m in a bad mood. It’s not that I’ve left Gwenna with Kipp and Arrod, which bothers me, but that everyone seems incompetent today. Should have taken that potion, I chide myself again when my temper flares. It would let me remain calm and collected while we work, instead of my thoughts focusing entirely on my vulnerable mate. I didn’t take it because I was anticipating some alone time together, and now I’m going to suffer. Nothing to be done except make everyone else suffer along with me, I suppose. I glare at the repeater again, and he flinches back, even as he changes the settings on the pulley.
There are ten total drop stations, each one with a platform and basket to lower up and down. The numbers correspond with how deep we have to go in the Everbelow, and it makes no difference to me if we’re in Seven (which is close to the surface but notoriously unlucky) or if we’re deeper in at Twenty-Seven. It’s all just part of the job.
We pile in, our packs on our backs and a rope tethering us at the waist. Seven isn’t a long drop, so I lean against the edge of the basket and mentally check off my gear—axe, foodstuffs, more rope—but my thoughts drift back to Gwenna again. I wonder if she’s heard from Rooster—
The basket lurches. The pulley creaks, and we all jerk our heads up to look above just in time to see the repeater changing the drop setting. He loosens the rope, giving it more slack, and the basket careens down.
“It’s supposed to go to Seven,” Stork calls up, even as we lurch farther down, so quickly that my hooves lift off the bottom of the basket.
“I have my orders,” the repeater calls, and then disappears as the basket lurches in a free fall. I clutch the side, and Shikra grabs the ropes, reaching for a ledge as we try to stop our speeding progress. Then the basket abruptly jerks to a halt, and we sway wildly in the middle of the dark cavern, the ropes creaking.