Stone Speaks to Stone_A Tale of the Nine Worlds by Victoria Goddard

Author:Victoria Goddard [Goddard, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy short story, soldier fantasy, fantasy novella
Publisher: Underhill Books
Published: 2018-04-07T22:00:00+00:00

Four

FOLLOWING THE WHISPERED directions from the General he inched forward, legs spread wide, and lowered his head, shoulders, arms, torso into the hole.

“I can stand,” the General said, something in his voice making it clear there were other things he could not, now, do.

Jack opened his legs yet wider, his eyes unable to see anything in the hole. “General, can you reach for me—can you reach my hands?”

There was a soft shuffle, low-voiced cursing, and then beneath Jack’s groping hands was suddenly the wiry close-cropped hair of his commanding officer. The General made an appalled noise, hastily muffled.

“Take my hands,” Jack said again. The blood was rushing to his head, throbbing.

“I—they broke my hands—”

“Stay right there,” he said. He scrabbled back out into the air, sat upright with his back against the cliff, considered as the blood settled back into its proper circulation. The hole opened out on a kind of platform, an irregular circle about four feet across.

The General was tall, but not any taller than Jack. Jack had been able to reach his head without being fully lowered—but he was tired, cold, hurt, and his stomach muscles not strong enough to do that again more than once. He had to get the General up.

Go all the way in, and he could probably push the General up. Could he, then, get himself out?

They broke my hands ...

Better that long step off the cliff than wait for what they had done to Lady Norcell, to Kitani, to Laranghi, to Ruz.

He shifted position, his tunic catching on the rock behind him. He put his hand to release the fabric, felt a ridge running below the cloth.

The rope belt ... Would it be strong enough?

Perhaps not, but then again, Kitani had believed in the best quality for her equipment, and who knew what she had intended the thin silk rope for?

He unwound it from the tatters, stuck the folded bit of cloth with one glimmering scale into the rats-nest of his hair, and ran the rope through his hands. Three and a half feet or so ... if that was what he had, then that was what he had.

He tied as good a knot as he could between the two ends, then twisted around so he was lying prone again. Inched forward, rope like a line of shadow.

“General, sir,” he whispered, “loop this around your armpits, then raise your arms towards me.”

He dropped the rope down, felt the General tugging at it, whimpering a little, very softly.

They broke my hands ...

Finally Jack felt the tension steady. He inched forward, obedient to the pressure, until he could loop his half of the rope around his own arms, braced on his elbows.

Clenched his stomach, spread his legs wide for balance, braced his feet against the cliff edge, reached down—and down—past the misshapen hands—down forearms—following the straining line of rope—until his hands caught the General’s elbows.

“On three, jump as hard as you can,” he whispered. “Ready, sir?”

“In your own time, major.”

“One ... two ... and—”

General

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