Chapter 6 Yamanu
YAMANU
Yamanu pressed himself against the wet rock face, finding purchase on a narrow ledge barely wide enough for his toes. Three hundred feet of slick basalt stretched above him, and every inch of it was a death trap waiting to happen.
The ocean crashed against the rocks below—jagged formations that would shatter a body, any body, even an immortal's. That's why Navuh didn't bother guarding the cliff.
It was a one-way trip to death, and Navuh must have decided to leave the option open for those who desired to end it all.
It was surprisingly merciful of him, and Yamanu wondered if it had been Areana who'd convinced him that even slaves deserved that last-resort option.
It was still surprising, though, that he hadn't even bothered with cameras in this area. Perhaps it had been Areana’s wish as well, and Navuh had chosen to honor it.
"Okidu's halfway up," Anandur's voice crackled through the earpiece. "He's making good time."
Yamanu looked up, squinting against the faint moonlight. He could barely make out Okidu's dark form against the cliff face, moving with the speed and surety of a machine. The Odu was free climbing, carrying nothing but a thin nylon cord coiled around his torso.
The cord looked flimsy, but it was strong enough to support a lot of weight. More importantly, the coil was small, compact, and easily managed. It wouldn't throw off Okidu's balance during the perilous climb.
The climbing rope waiting at the bottom of the cliff was a different story.
Six hundred feet of dynamic rope, doubled back on itself to create a retrievable hauling system, and weighing over eighty pounds.
It was bundled into a mass the size of a large backpack, but trying to climb with that unwieldy load would have been difficult even for Okidu.
The messenger cord was light enough to carry up and strong enough to haul the actual climbing rope into position.
Yamanu had watched Okidu make the same climb during Carol's extraction, and the anchors he'd drilled deep into the basalt back then were still there, hidden in crevices and under overhangs where they wouldn't be spotted.
The extension bolts were stainless steel and resistant to corrosion, so they should still be good.
Okidu threaded the thin cord through the anchors, creating a path for the climbing rope to follow. Once the rope was in place, they could pull it back down after the extraction, leaving no evidence except the hidden bolts.
Yamanu checked his watch. Fourteen minutes had passed, and the Odu was making steady progress, going much faster than a human or even an immortal could have done, but not recklessly. He'd slipped during Carol's rescue, and he was more careful now.
The minutes crawled by.
Yamanu stayed pressed against his ledge, conserving energy, listening to the ocean and Okidu's periodic position reports.
"Two-fifty."
"Two-seventy-five."
"Top anchor reached. Threading the cord through the belay station."
The first goal had been achieved, Okidu was at the top, and Yamanu could breathe a sigh of relief.
"Cord is coming down," Okidu announced in the com.
The pale nylon line snaked down the cliff face, nearly invisible against the dark stone. Anandur grabbed it and attached the climbing rope to the cord's end using a figure-eight follow-through knot.
"Ready to haul," Anandur said in the comms.
"Pulling now," Okidu replied.
The rope began rising, the doubled line threading through each anchor point.
The system was simple but effective. The rope went up through the anchors and back down, creating a loop.
After the extraction, they'd pull one end, and the entire rope would slide back through the anchors and fall into the water.
There would be no evidence left behind.
"Rope secured," Okidu reported. "Running through the top belay station." There was a short pause.
"Rappelling now," Okidu announced, and Yamanu could hear excitement in the Odu's voice, almost giddiness.
Had he imagined it? Or had Okidu discovered that he enjoyed controlled falls?
He could make out the Odu's form descending the cliff face in smooth, powerful bounds, pushing off the rock and dropping twenty feet at a time before the rope caught him, then immediately pushing off again.
It was rappelling stripped of caution, pure efficiency transformed into something that looked playful because it was executed perfectly.
The ascent that had taken fifteen minutes to climb took Okidu less than three minutes going down.
"Show-off," Anandur said in the comms when the Odu splashed into the water next to him.
Yamanu was already holding his ascender, a nifty mechanical device that gripped the rope and slid upward but locked when weighted downward.
He clipped it onto the fixed line, then attached it to his harness with a locking carabiner, double-checking that the gate was properly closed and the sleeve was screwed tight.
His rappel device was already clipped to his gear loops—he'd need it for the descent.
Then he started climbing.
Using ascenders to climb a fixed rope, or jumarring as it was called in climbing jargon, wasn't elegant, but it was efficient.
Yamanu planted his feet against the rock face, pushed up with his legs, and slid the ascender higher.
The device bit into the rope, holding his weight as he moved his feet up and repeated the process.
Climb. Slide. Lock. Repeat.
The wet rock offered little friction, forcing him to rely on upper-body strength, which, thankfully, he had plenty of. Still, it was not an easy feat, and sweat mixed with ocean spray on his face.
Fifty feet up. A hundred. The rocks below became dark shapes.
At a hundred and fifty feet, he reached the first intermediate anchor—three bolts arranged in a triangle, a bombproof system capable of holding several climbers at once.
Okidu had placed these during Carol's rescue, and they'd held solid through years of weather and corrosion.
Yamanu clipped a safety sling to the anchor before continuing. If the rope above failed, the sling would catch him.
He kept climbing.
At two hundred feet, he could hear voices from above. Female voices. Tula and Areana, playing out their scene.
Almost there.
Two-fifty.
Two seventy-five.
The cliff's edge was close now, less than thirty feet above.
That was when he extended his thrall and began shrouding.
It was like throwing a blanket over reality. It wasn't heavy or difficult, but it required constant attention.
Any humans witnessing the drama would see Tula standing at the cliff's edge, with Areana trying to talk her down, and they would see Tula jump. Yamanu would plant in their heads that they had already rushed to see what happened to Tula and had seen her white nightgown being swallowed by the waves.
Yamanu pulled himself up the final few feet, transitioning smoothly over the cliff's edge and crouching in front of a stone bench that was positioned close to the edge.
He didn't do it to hide from the guards because they wouldn't see him thanks to his shroud.
He did it in case one of the other ladies of the harem decided to investigate what was going on.
Though if that happened, the whole rescue would fail, and he would have to abort the mission.
From his position, he could see the entire tableau—Tula in her white nightgown, Areana reaching for her, two guards watching the drama from a couple of hundred feet away.
He checked the compact emergency chest sling on his back, made from reinforced webbing with quick-release buckles, designed for exactly this kind of rescue. He pulled it free while still keeping low.
Tula looked at Areana, and something passed between them. Then she started backing up toward the cliff edge, toward where Yamanu waited.
She looked over her shoulder, finding him crouched behind the bench, and her eyes went wide with panic. For a split second, he thought she might actually scream for real, but she caught herself, gave him the slightest nod, and continued backing toward him.
As she reached the very edge, Yamanu stood, wrapped the chest sling around her torso in one practiced motion, and clipped the carabiner to his harness just as she stepped backward into space.
Tula gasped as the sling caught her weight, her hands instinctively grabbing for his arms.
"I've got you," he whispered. "Arms around my neck."
Above them, Areana screamed. Shouting followed—male voices.
Tula tried to comply, but she was trembling, probably from fear, and her grip was weak.
One hand slipped, then the other, weakened by emotional turmoil or fear or both, and suddenly she was sliding down, the chest sling catching her but leaving her dangling below him.
She screamed in raw terror.
Areana lunged forward as if she could catch Tula, her foot caught on the wet stone, and she pitched forward, arms windmilling.
She went over the ledge, but Yamanu's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The sudden weight nearly pulled his arm out of its socket, but immortal strength let him lock his position, one hand on the rope, one holding Areana.
"Let me go," she gasped, eyes wide with shock. "Save Tula. Let me—"
"Tula is fine," Yamanu grunted. "I've got you both. Just—"
A roar shattered the night. "Areana!"
The voice was male, powerful, filled with terror and rage, coming from the plateau above them.
Navuh.
Had to be.
Heavy footsteps pounded across the wet stone. Moving fast. Too fast. Yamanu strengthened his shroud, extending it wider. The guards wouldn't see Navuh running toward the cliff edge, would forget the brief moment of him rushing to his mate and roaring like a wounded lion.
The shroud wouldn't work on Navuh, though. He would see Areana dangling over the edge, held by a stranger.
Areana's face went white. "No. No, no, no—"
The footsteps didn't slow. Didn't stop. They hit the cliff's edge with a final slap of wet stone, and Yamanu heard the sound of a body launching into open air.