Restless Soul

Free me.

We have to free ourselves first, she thought. Her mind raced. She might be able to get to the slit. She had pitons and could probably make it without pulleys or a harness. She knew how to free-climb and could use the pitons as handholds. And she was the thinnest of them. She could try to force her way through.

Zakkarat was small, but Luartaro wasn’t, and without a harness it might be impossible for both of them to get that high. Still, if she managed to get out she could go for help and bring the right equipment, a drill that could widen the opening, some ropes. That might be the best option.

“Worth a try,” she told herself.

“Annja, look!” Luartaro pointed to a spot high along a wall. “Are those roots? Am I seeing right?”

“Yes!”

“Then, we’re near the surface.”

“But we’re trapped,” Zakkarat said. “I brought you here to see coffins, and now we are trapped in one.”

“Stay with him, Lu,” Annja said. “I’m going up.”

She hurried to the stone directly below the roots and reached into her pack for a piton and hammer.

Just as she drove it into the rock, she heard a great whoosh. She didn’t have to look to know what had happened.

The river had forced its way up the tunnel and into the once-dry chamber.

Pack over one shoulder, rope over the other, Annja worked fast. Using the pitons as steps, she climbed. The light was faint, and it shifted as Luartaro sloshed around and inspected the cavern. She was certain he was looking for other passages. She prayed he would find one.

The rush of water was loud, echoing against the stone and mixing with Zakkarat’s worried voice and Luartaro’s reassuring one.

Her breath came in strong, even bursts, and her heart pounded. The toes of her boots scraped against the rock. The rain pattered down, finding its way through the cavern slit. And through all the sounds, the voice in her head whispered, Free me.

The scent of the stone filled her nostrils. She canted her head back to gauge how far she had to go to reach the roots and possibly how much beyond that to make it to the needlelike opening.

Her world went to blackest black. She blinked furiously, but nothing changed. She could see nothing.

She could no longer see the slit overhead, or maybe she was looking right at it but was unable to differentiate it from the deepest of shadows cast by the stone. There was nothing as resolutely dark as a cave. She had a flashlight, but with both hands needed for climbing, she couldn’t safely reach for it.

Luartaro must have dropped the lantern in the rush of water, or perhaps it merely gave up the last of its gas, she thought.

She knew he was all right. She could hear him calling for Zakkarat, and could hear the Thai man shouting nervously back.

“Annja!”

“I’m fine, Lu.”

“The lantern’s gone. We can’t see anything.”

“I’m still climbing, Lu.” She took in a deep breath, then closed her eyes and concentrated. She fought against the blackness to remember the image of the cave wall.

She pictured a section that looked like the spine of some large beast and felt a rocky vertebrae shape in front of her face. She stretched up with her right arm, fingers groping against the stone until they wedged themselves in a crevice. She pushed off the last of the pitons she’d embedded and ascended higher.

No use going for more pitons, she thought. While she could probably do that by feel—find the pitons in her pack, place and hammer them in—she decided instead to spend all of her energy on finding natural handholds.

Free me.

Annja let out the breath she’d been holding and centered herself. She couldn’t afford panic. Despite the rising water, the voice in her head and the frantic words of her companions below, she had to stay cool.

Annja could not allow herself the luxury of even a moment’s doubt. Concentrate, she told herself. Remember what the wall looked like.

Falling could mean not only her death, but the deaths of Zakkarat and Luartaro. The whole trip had been her idea, as had her need to go cave exploring, and so she was responsible for them.

She thrust the sounds of the water and the men to the back of her mind and focused on the image of the wall. Slowly, feeling the nubs and cracks in the rock, she pulled herself higher and higher.

She worked slowly and methodically and was rewarded with the smell of earth and wood. She was nearing the section of wall where they’d spotted roots.

She wasn’t terribly far from the slit she envisioned herself squirming through. But could she free-climb to it in the absolute dark?

She often amazed herself with her physical feats, but the notion of reaching the slit under the current conditions might be impossible. But what other choice did she have? She had to try!

And she was going to use the stretch of earth to help her. She’d dig handholds there to gain a better position to work from and to hopefully retrieve her flashlight so she could get a look at the ceiling.

Luartaro called to her again, but she ignored him. Mind made up and plan conceived, she couldn’t risk dividing her attention at the moment.

Annja felt dirt with the fingertips of her right hand. It was hard packed, but presented a good possibility.

While she couldn’t dig through stone with her sword, she could dig through dirt to make some hand-and footholds. Her mind stretched out and wrapped around the pommel of Joan of Arc’s ancient weapon.

At the same time, she reached up with her left hand and wrapped her fingers around an exposed root. She let go with her right hand.

In that instant she felt the familiar weapon and gripped hard, driving the powerful blade into the earth.

It went in easier than she’d expected. Do it again, she thought, pulling herself up, withdrawing the blade and plunging it in again a little higher. Her arms burned from the exertion of climbing, but she was in too perilous a situation to pay attention to the sensation.

“Annja!” Luartaro called once more. This time his voice was accompanied by a beam of light angling up from below. It wasn’t strong, but it was steady.

The flashlight he’d brought, she realized. He’d found it in the dark and was sweeping it in an arc trying to find her.

“I’m fine,” she finally called back. “Don’t worry about me.” Then she pulled herself higher, tugged the sword free and repeated the motion. This time the blade sunk in even more easily and dirt came free around it, showering her face and stinging her eyes.

The earth wasn’t at all hard packed, and when she wiggled the sword free more dirt came loose. “Hollow. It feels hollow,” she said.