Chapter Twenty-Six
Kirk
Night has descended on the world, and the only visible illumination comes from the stars and the faint glow of Loch Fairbairn far below.
Tonight, I will undertake a dangerous new stunt, but I have no intentions of killing myself in the process.
Aonach Eagach is nothing but a shadow in the darkness, its jagged ridgeline barely visible against the sky.
The film crew has set up powerful floodlights at strategic points, creating pools of harsh illumination that make the mountain seem even more forbidding.
They'll switch those on when I begin my descent.
The director for this stunt is a British bloke, Eli Arrington.
Gretchen stands off to the side with the production team, arms wrapped tightly around herself despite the heavy jacket she's wearing.
I catch her eye and wink, trying to reassure her, but her answering smile in strained.
The lass is terrified for me. I dinnae like seeing her that way, but oddly, the thought makes me want to kiss her.
"Five minutes, Balfour!" Eli shouts, his voice carrying on the crisp Highland air.
I nod once, rolling my shoulders to loosen them.
My body is a finely tuned instrument that needs proper preparation before I put it through its paces.
As I stretch my arms over my head, a familiar tension rushes through me, invigorating my muscles.
The blindfold sits ready in my back pocket, a simple strip of black fabric that will transform this stunt from impressive to legendary.
The makeup artist rushes up to me for one last touch-up, dabbing something onto my face that's supposed to make me glow dramatically in the artificial light.
I stand here patiently, already mapping out every step of my descent in my mind.
I've practiced this route a dozen times in daylight.
The darkness adds an extra element of challenge, but nothing I can't handle.
Gretchen has appeared at my side, her face tight with worry. "I know you need to do this. The blindfold part specifically, right?"
"Aye." I hook my thumb under my chin and give the lass a quick kiss.
"The blindfold's just for the first thirty meters.
After that, it's a straightforward descent with some flashy pyrotechnics.
I've done it dozens of times in training.
" I tug Gretchen closer until her body is plastered to mine.
"The blindfold makes it look more dangerous than it is. I've memorized every handhold."
She searches my face, her golden-hazel eyes glimmering in the darkness. A wee thrill rushes through my veins. Nothing else can quite compare to having someone care enough to worry about you.
"Okay, I know you're insane," she whispers. "And I'm insane for watching you do this."
I brush a feather-light kiss across on her forehead. "That's why we're perfect for each other, mo leannan. We're both a wee bit mad."
The director calls for positions, and reluctantly I release Gretchen. She steps back, her fingers trailing over mine until the last possible second.
"Don't die," she calls out after me, her statement partly a plea, partly a command.
"Wouldn't dream of it, lass."
I stride toward my starting position, feeling the weight of every eye on me.
The crew has fallen silent, the mountain air carrying nothing but the faint hum of generators powering the floodlights and the occasional crackle of a radio.
This is the moment I live for, when everything narrows to a single point of focus, and the rest of the world falls away.
Eli approaches me, clipboard in hand. "Remember, we need you to hold for three seconds at each explosion point.
The camera drone will be tracking your descent, so make it look good.
" He pauses, tapping his headset. "I worry, Balfour, that the audience can't see if you're just going through the motions. They need to feel your fear."
"Trust me." I adjust the straps on my safety harness. "They'll feel something all right."
As I approach the cliff's edge, I glance at Gretchen one last time.
Her face is pale in the moonlight, her features taut with worry.
Something shifts inside my chest---a feeling I'm not used to.
For the first time in my career, I'm not doing this strictly for the thrill or the paycheck.
I'm doing it to return safely to someone who matters.
I pull the blindfold from my pocket and tie it securely around my eyes. The world goes black, and instantly my other senses sharpen. The bite of the Highland wind against my cheeks. The cold, hard rock beneath my boots. The distant rumble of the pyro team making their final preparations.
"Three!" Eli shouts, beginning the countdown.
I steady my breathing, centering myself in the darkness. My fingertips brush against the familiar rock face, finding the first handhold I've committed to memory.
"Two!"
I flex my fingers and roll my shoulders one last time. The harness feels snug around my thighs and chest---a safety precaution that most audiences will never know about. The real danger isn't falling. It's miscalculating and slamming into the rock face.
"One!"
My heart pounds, the familiar surge of adrenaline flooding my system. This is living---standing on the edge of oblivion with nothing but skill and nerve between me and disaster.
"Action!"
I drop over the edge, my body moving on muscle memory alone as I've practiced countless times. The world is black behind my blindfold, but I don't need my eyes. My hands find each crevice perfectly, and my feet land exactly where they should.
As the first ledge approaches, I feel it more than know it's there. Then I pause for the prescribed three seconds. Right on cue, the first explosion erupts somewhere to my left. Heat washes over me as the blast illuminates the mountainside. I can sense the brightness even through the blindfold.
The crowd below gasps. Good. That's what they're paying me for.
I continue my descent, counting steps and handholds in my mind. Left hand here, right foot there. The rock feels cold and rough beneath my fingertips. Thirty meters down, I reach for the blindfold and tear it away, blinking as my vision adjusts to the floodlights.
The second explosion comes right on time, blasting through the night air with a concussive boom that reverberates in my chest. Heat rushes over me as I hang suspended against the rock face. Perfect timing. The pyro crew knows their business.
I glance down to see Gretchen's face illuminated by the orange glow of the dying explosion.
Even from this height, I can see her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes fixed on me as if she could keep me safe through sheer force of will.
Something twists in my chest---not fear, but something deeper.
I've never had someone watch me like that before, like my safety is the most important thing in the world.
Time to give her something to really worry about.
I launch myself into a controlled fall, dropping ten feet before catching another handhold, my body slamming against the rock with practiced precision.
The impact sends a jarring shock through my body, but it's all calculated.
The audience will see a death-defying drop.
The crew knows it's a carefully choreographed move.
The third explosion goes off, closer this time.
The heat singes my eyebrows, the concussive force stronger than I anticipated.
For a split second, my right hand slips in a genuine moment of peril that sends a spike of adrenaline through my system.
I recover swiftly, my fingers finding purchase on a narrow ledge. But my heart hammers against my ribs.
That wasn't planned.
Below, I hear shouts from the crew. Someone's voice rises above the others. It's Gretchen. Even blind and deaf, I would recognize out her American accent and her lovely voice.
I adjust my trajectory, compensating for the unexpected blast intensity.
The Eli wanted authentic fear. Well, he's got it now.
My muscles burn as I strain to regain complete control, feeling the sharp edge of the rock bite into my palm as I cling to it.
The next explosion is scheduled in fifteen seconds, and I need to be in position or risk getting caught in the full force of the blast.
"Keep moving, Balfour!" Eli shouts through his megaphone, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
I push off with my legs and swing my body to the right, catching a jutting outcrop with practiced precision.
My feet find purchase on a narrow ledge, and I press my body against the cold stone, feeling its solidity against my chest. The mountain doesn't lie.
It doesn't pretend. Every handhold is exactly where it should be.
It's the explosions that have gone off script.
The fourth blast comes early, erupting from below with a thunderous crack that vibrates through the rock face. The force knocks me sideways, and for a heart-stopping moment I'm airborne---not the controlled, calculated kind, but the dangerous, unplanned sort that ends careers.
Or lives.
I twist my body mid-air, my training kicking in as I desperately reach for any handhold.
My fingers scrape against rock. I find nothing but smooth surface until.
..There! My left hand catches a narrow ledge, my momentum slamming my body against the cliff face with enough force to drive the air from my lungs.
Pain shoots through my shoulder, hot and sharp. Something's wrong. The blast was too close, too powerful. The pyro crew has miscalculated.
"Abort!" I hear someone shout from below. "The charges are misaligned!"