Chapter 16
In The Shadow
of a Mountain
Ben
WITH THE CAVE left behind us, we’re now in unknown territory.
At any turn there may be a trap, a cliff, or a tribe hiding in wait.
Any number of those things would just be the absolute condemnation to our crew.
The past two days of hiking through foothills and scaling ever-growing rocky ledges have proven to be brutal, and the truths that have come to light have caused many questions to be raised amongst the group members.
Distrust has formed, but not just distrust of Lillian and me.
No, they’re starting to question each other.
Regardless, they’ve stayed on mission. Until they show where they truly stand in the argument of the fate of the dagger, I will stay my hand.
Should any of them do anything to harm Lillian or her desired outcome, I will be prepared to do unthinkable things to turn the tides back in her favor.
My group, I’m sure I can handle, but even Bruno’s men are starting to question the real reason we’re out here. With Bruno’s help, we can satiate them; it’s just about how many lies we’re willing to tell them.
They knew that other interested parties were heading in the same direction as us, but after one of the scouts swept up against one of the German scouting groups last night, the energy shifted.
Bruno did his best to explain our situation, but it hasn’t been enough.
The men wondered why a European group was so far into the rainforest with no surveying equipment, only guns and enough explosives to blow through a mountain.
My eyes lift to the sky. The mountain we’ve been hiking toward has come into view as of this morning, and with it, an absolute downpour.
Lillian tells me that Pico da Neblina means “Peak of Mist.” I have to say that I agree.
The top is wrapped in rain clouds; the sheer rocky face is a shimmering blue and purple against the cloudy sky.
Ever since we stepped into its shadow, we’ve been plagued by rain.
We’re so close now, and yet that does nothing to put me at peace. The Germans have made up for all lost time in the mud.
At the thought of Ivo, I prop my foot up against the rock underfoot and hang over the large boulder to look out behind the last of the group. They pass down below, skirting the large cluster of rocks that have long since settled in the position we find them in now.
One wrong step, and I’ll slide all the way down. Realizing the danger in it, I drag my foot from its perch and pivot, intending to carefully make my way back down to the group. I turn so fast that I nearly run headlong into Lillian. I have to grab her by the forearms to stop us both from slipping.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as she moves past me to take up where I stood before. She wouldn’t seek me out all the way up here unless something were bothering her.
She doesn’t dare take her eye off the forest behind us. “I’m worried. We’re in its shadow now.” She lifts her face to the sky, letting rain run down her already soaked skin. “The rain is only the beginning.”
We both seem to remember the words of the chief we met who warned all of us of continuing ahead.
“No one can be in the presence of the mountain… If you go closer, there will be no happiness for you.”
Ivo had ignored him. We were ignoring him now. Where had that tribe gone? Lost to history? Or waiting ahead for us?
I knock the memory loose and send it careening over the edge. I can’t worry about any unknowns, only the things I can control.
Thunder cracks somewhere ahead of the group, causing Lillian to jump.
Anxious that she may slip, I extend a hand toward her, which she thankfully takes.
“We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” I answer as she allows me to coax her closer to me and take her away from the edge.
I try not to think of the colony, only of the journey, only of beating the Germans to the target. “We’re almost there.”
“We’ll get there,” she confirms.
She holds my hand tighter and urges me to come back down with her, but I’m more stubborn than that.
I close my hand around hers and tug gently.
When she looks back at me, hair plastered to her cheeks, water dripping from the curve of her nose, I see her younger self.
A girl so full of love for adventure, a girl who only ever wanted to please her parents.
“You know that I won’t let anything happen to you.
” She stops fidgeting. Flicking the water away from her cheeks, she squints into the building deluge.
I raise cupped hands above her eyes in an attempt to free her from the discomfort if only for a moment.
I can see that she wants to retort to the statement; I know that she’s seen a different ending for herself.
“Ben,” she says with a sigh. I suddenly find a tree in the distance to be of great importance and look away from her; my hands fall to my side.
She must miss my touch—it’s the only explanation for how her free hand guides my face toward hers again.
She searches my eyes, and I pray that she sees the truth in them.
She can’t possibly fight me on this; I’m struggling enough with the knowledge she’s given me.
If she speaks about her fate again, I might just scoop her up and run. The rest of the world be damned.
She opens her mouth to answer and then shuts it.
Surrendering, she nods slightly and falls back on her heels—I hadn’t realized she had been up on her toes to meet me.
“I know you’ll get me to the dagger safely.
” She spares me words, but the answer is in the things not said.
Our time together may be running slim, and I’ve done nothing to mend the rift.
Lillian gathers both of my hands in hers and bows her head ever so slightly. “It’s okay,” she drawls. “We’ll do this together.” Together. “I’ll need you there with me when the time comes.”
I find a smile for her even though I don’t want to give her one.
Smiling in the face of her destiny doesn’t sit well with me, but I know she needs to believe that I’m okay.
I nod at her and move my hat from my head to hers.
She instinctively goes to adjust it, propping it further back on her head than any sane person.
I place my hand atop it and tilt it back so the brim is shielding her from the worst of the rain.
Satisfied, I wrap an arm around her waist and the two of us descend back into the line like good little soldiers.
Lillian
The overhang shields us from the worst of the weather.
It’s damp, but the constant running water is no more than an obnoxious drip.
Moving the tarp away from my bag, I manage to pull the top flap up and peer inside.
Having no care for modesty, I strip off my blouse and trade it for a dry one.
My pants are dry enough, thanks to a water-repellant salve Ademir provided before we got into the worst of it. There’s no saving my socks.
I move to my hair next as Margaret sits beside me. She follows suit, though her pack is a lot less dry than mine. Together we wring out our hair and soiled outfits.
“A fire would fix everything,” she mumbles, her eyes sliding to where I’ve laid out my soaking wet shirt.
She already knows we can’t do such a thing with the Germans so tightly behind us.
“It’ll be over soon,” I answer, suddenly wanting to be near Ben instead. I balance his hat over my backpack and find my feet. I’m sure Margaret will be annoyed, but I leave her alone in the hope of finding Ben for company.
I find him at the edge of cover, looking down at the slight decline. Bruno is beside him, Mr. Bennett and James not too far away. All four of them are talking, planning, and worrying. It’s nearly too much.
But I want to be involved. Need to be involved.
“What do you see?” I ask in a way of announcing myself.
“Nothing.” Ben shakes his head and offers the binoculars to James.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” I ask. I don’t know what I’d do if I physically saw Ivo or my father. Suddenly feeling very small, I wrap my arms around myself.
James shakes his head next. The binoculars drop. “I’d rather see them. I want to know where they are.”
Diederick steps up to the group and places a hand on my shoulder. “Could they have gone a different way?” No one wants to answer. “The path we are on is not the one set forth.”
Questions pour in from the others, but when I catch Bruno’s eye, I know that we’re both onto what Diederick said.
“The map,” I say, nodding with each word. “We’re not on the trail that Ademir’s mother envisioned for us. “We took this path to mislead them, but what if they weren’t tailing us at all? What if they have their own map?”
“How?” Bruno asks. “We had to go to see a witch, a bruxa, to get answers.” I’d hardly call Ademir’s mother a witch, but he was right.
“Go get your journal, Lillian.” Ben motions toward Margaret, and I go willingly. All this time we thought they’d been tracking us or stumbling toward the mountain with nothing but feeling. What if they have someone or something to guide them?
My anxiety starts to bubble up as I make my way around Bruno’s waiting men. If they have a map, they have a path. If they have a path, they’ll be past us and to the dagger before we can even reach the front gate.
But we have the keys.
The keys that we’ve held on to for 10 years with no answers.
The keys that Margaret now holds in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask, lunging toward her. I have half a mind to tear the box of amazonite from her hand, but she turns it over before I can make a fool of myself. She doesn’t look guilty; she looks rather perplexed.
The excuses come quickly. Always so smooth, this woman. “Your bag tipped,” she sighs. “I just thought it was pretty.”