by S. M. Wilson
Her friend was fixed to the cliff; his path had taken him to the smooth section with no hand or footholds. He was marooned. Left clinging to the rock with no place to go.
“Forget about Dell. He’s made it part way up. Let’s get this finished.”
He thought she might argue. Her chin was set but Dell was too far beneath them to try and backtrack.
He gave her another push. “Move.”
It was more forceful than he meant, but the muscles in his arms were burning. He’d been clinging to this rock face for a while and the extra energy needed to boost her upwards was making the burn even fiercer.
Just as well they were near the top. If they’d been halfway up, he would have left her.
She was still grumbling as she climbed. Stormchaser was obviously the kind of girl who didn’t take kindly to being helped. But he didn’t care. Every time she moved the single hand that was attached to the wall upwards, he flinched. It didn’t matter how securely her feet were positioned, the fact that she didn’t have any other way of anchoring herself to the cliff made him cringe. The damaged hand was his fault. Even if she made it up the cliff, he’d probably just wrecked her chances for the rest of the Trials.
She released her hold a final time, reaching for the top of the cliff. The man anchoring her tether rope gave a glance along the line to ensure no one was watching, then grabbed the back of her tunic and hauled her onto the grass. Seconds later Lincoln was lying next to her, staring up at the pale blue sky and panting.
His heart was racing, his hands bruised and scraped. The extra exertion had cost him. He would need to eat even more tonight.
Her eyes were closed and she was nursing her hand on her chest. Cradling it against herself. Would broken fingers or knuckles mean automatic dismissal?
Her head flopped round to face him and she opened her violet eyes. “You broke my hand, cheater-boy.” No “thank you”. No relief at reaching the top. This girl was even more stubborn than he was.
He stayed calm. “I climbed the cliff – just like you did.” It was difficult not to show guilt – cheating wasn’t normal for Lincoln, and he was feeling uncomfortable at being responsible for Storm’s injuries. He was still trying to get his head around what he’d seen Galen do too – killing another Trialist. “How do you know it’s broken? Is there a medical facility you can go to?”
She sighed. “I know what a broken hand feels like. This isn’t the first time. And I doubt it’ll be the last.” She was so matter-of-fact about the situation. She was obviously squirming with pain, but there was no shouting, no screaming, no tantrums.
Lincoln frowned. “What’s your job? You do something that can break your hand?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
She was staring off across the horizon, no longer watching the last few desperate hands reaching for the cliff edge. “I lug hay bales. Big deal.”
The system was archaic, antiquated and everyone knew that. Only the children who excelled in school landed somewhere good. He’d been half-lucky. He worked as an assistant in one of the labs.
She seemed defensive and he knew better than to push it. Galen had just caught his attention anyway. He was involved in a heated argument with one of the Stipulators and was gesticulating furiously, before he finally stomped off.
“What was all that about?” she asked.
He was reluctant to mention what he’d seen. He still hadn’t decided who his allies should be.
She looked thoughtful. “Maybe he’s worried he won’t qualify?”
“But of course he’ll qualify – he was first to the top.” He couldn’t understand her logic at all. Maybe he’d overestimated her.
“Are you really that stupid?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She laughed. “You don’t think this is the only camp?”
“What do you mean? It always has been in the past.”
“Oh come on.” She waved her arm along the cliff edge. The Stipulators who had been monitoring the tether lines were easy to pick out – they were all in black. One had pulled up the cut tether line and was staring intently at the end of it. A handful of Trialists were still scrambling over the edge, and a few Stipulators were still staring down the cliff. “Look at how many people have made it. Less than ten. How on earth can they find a hundred Finalists?”
When she said the words out loud it seemed obvious.
“You think there’s more than one Camp?”
“I know there is. I heard Reban Don on the transporter. There’s at least another five. What if they all managed to climb their cliff in half the time we did?”
He could be sick. Right now, all over the grass. The realization was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. “So, even if we make the top one hundred here, we still might not qualify?”
He’d gone back. He’d gone back to help her. Had his actions just cost him his place?
“Exactly.”
“But there’s always just been one Camp. Why would they change things now?”
She shrugged. “The stakes are different. This isn’t about food. This is about something else entirely.”
His brain was whirling. It was uncomfortable. Talking to her while lying on the grass. She was too close. He could see her long lashes and all the little imperfections on her skin – just like she must be seeing his.
He’d been so busy before – working, looking after his family. He should be concentrating on them right now. Instead, he was fixing on the face of a girl. A girl who was unlike any he’d encountered before. Strong, independent and unafraid. For the first time in his life he was interested in someone outside of his family. But he couldn’t afford to lose focus on becoming a Finalist.
She didn’t seem bothered at all by the competition, he realized, sitting up. There was something strange about her. Something off. She pushed herself up with one hand, still cradling the other across her chest.
“Why are you here?”
“What?” Her head snapped up at his sharp question.
“I mean you don’t seem too worried about winning. It makes me wonder what your motivation is.”
“As opposed to why you’re here, poster boy?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“What?”
She pushed herself onto her feet and stood in front of him. “I’m surprised you got up that cliff. Actually, I’m surprised they even brought you to this Trial in the first place. And why are you bothering to act like you care how it works for the rest of us? Don’t you get an automatic pass?”
He shook his head. “Did one of the falling rocks hit you on the head? Or are you always this crazy?”
He turned away. He had no idea what she was talking about.
But she grabbed at his arm. “You. You’re the poster boy. You’re the one who’s going to be all over their publicity shots. You don’t really need to do the Trials, do you?” She waved her arm. “You’re going to sail right through to the final hundred.”
“Are you nuts? Why on earth would you think that?” Then he paused. “They do that? People just get put through without doing the Trials?”
She shook her head. “Surely you remember last year. That guy, Bladen Krin. The few Finalists who did survive said when he reached Piloria he never even stepped off the boat.”
He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even heard any of this stuff. He should have been paying attention. He’d been focusing on his sister. Focusing on what he could do to help her.
And this was it. This was the only solution he had.
He had to be in that top hundred no matter what. Allies, friendships, they all paled in comparison. Right now, dinosaurs paled in comparison.
This girl was beginning to annoy him.
“So, you think I’m a poster boy? You think I’ve been brought here for my good looks and charm?” He started to laugh, because he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. He threw up his hands. “Why? Why would they make me d
o the Trials?” He pointed at his face. “Wouldn’t they be worried in case I damaged myself? Imagine if I’d slipped from the cliff and smashed my face on the rocks, that would have ruined everything. How would their plans have worked then?” He didn’t have time for this, he really didn’t. And he was uncomfortable with her drawing attention to his looks. His mother had always called him handsome. But that was different – she was his mother. A complete stranger saying he’d been picked for his looks was something else entirely.
“Why are you here anyway, Stormchaser? What is it you want? The rewards? The fame?” Even as he said it he didn’t believe it. She didn’t seem the fame-chasing type. But then, he really couldn’t get the measure of her at all.
“The food.” Her words were blunt.
“You came here for the food?” Interesting. He could have picked out the individuals in the registration queue who were only there for the food. They might have known they had no hope of qualifying, but would try anything to get a decent meal. He just hadn’t considered that for Stormchaser. She was slim, but muscular, and driven, if her climb was anything to go by. The food might be a bonus, but was that really her motivation for being here?
She nodded. Her lips tight. She walked over to the cliff edge and looked down. It was the first time he’d really noticed her figure as opposed to just her muscles. With her slim frame, her shining hair and her unusual eyes, she could be the poster girl herself. But somehow he knew that suggesting that to Storm would earn him a punch on the nose.
He joined her, watching the dangling Dell being lowered back down to the rocky coastline below. The water had started to come in and was lapping round his ankles. He looked up as he waded to shore and gave Storm a wave, a frown appearing on his face once he realized who she was standing next to.
“I imagine your friend will be going home.”
“I hope not.” Her voice was quiet. It was the first time he’d seen her show any kind of vulnerability. Even hanging from the cliff face she’d still been bold and furious. “He’s the only family I’ve got.”
Lincoln was confused. “He’s family?” They looked nothing alike.
She swallowed as she looked down, then shivered. At the bottom of the cliff two Stipulators were covering the body.
Storm turned to him, her eyes wide. “Someone died?”
He gave a nod and pressed his lips together.
“How could that happen?”
“The tether line must have sheered on the cliff.” He couldn’t say anything else right now. Not until he was sure about her. If he warned her about Galen, he was trusting her – and he wasn’t ready to do that.
There was another flash of vulnerability on her face. Her words were so quiet he almost missed them. “Dell’s the only person who would care if I lived or died. No one else would even notice.”
Lincoln gulped. He couldn’t even begin to know how to respond to that. He couldn’t imagine living without the bond he shared with his sister, his mother. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.
Storm shuddered. “How many people actually finished?”
They both looked along the cliff edge and started counting. Galen was already making his way back along a path down the cliff. Two women were lying on the grass, looking as if they couldn’t climb another sectar if their lives depended on it. Another three men were in varying states of exhaustion, doubled over, dripping sweat and trying to catch their breath again. “Is that it?” he asked. “Only eight of us?”
Her frown disappeared, giving way to an expression resembling pride. “That’s a huge drop-out rate. They can’t have only eight people going on to the next Trial. Imagine if it’s the same in every Trial group – they won’t have enough Finalists.”
The black-clothed Stipulators were clustered together, talking. One walked towards them to usher them along the path Galen had taken. After a few minutes Lincoln realized Dell and the others had the easy way down. Being lowered on a tether line was much simpler than stumbling down an unsafe, precarious path.
They were almost at the bottom before he noticed how far the sun had lowered in the sky. His stomach rumbled. The light breakfast didn’t seem like it had been such a good idea any more.
The transporters were waiting. Candidates were sitting dejectedly on the sand dunes. It was clear their trek up the cliff face had finished early. One of the Stipulators was shouting names and directing them towards the first vehicle.
Lincoln recognized a few of them; most had fallen at the very beginning.
“Do you think they’re sending them back without even feeding them?” Stormchaser whispered.
He took a deep breath. “I hope not. It’s been a long day. Surely they’ll be allowed to go back to Camp and collect their belongings?”
“Dell!” Storm was distracted – she’d spotted Dell amongst the crowd and ran towards him, throwing her arms round his neck. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No,” he muttered as Lincoln approached. “Just annoyed. I could have made it to the top.”
Lincoln wasn’t convinced. Even if the boy hadn’t been stuck on a smooth patch of rock, he doubted Dell’s skinny frame had the stamina to take him up the rock face.
Lincoln turned, hearing raised voices on his left. The heated exchange between the Stipulators was continuing, one of them was scribbling furiously on some paper. “Numbers…proportions…adequate,” were the only words he could make out.
Reban Don grabbed the paper from underneath the other Stipulator’s nose. His eyes scanned the page quickly. Lincoln could almost hear the calculations in his brain.
Reban cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the people scattered in front of him. “If I shout your name, head to the second transporter. All those who are left will go in the third transporter.”
Stormchaser’s eyes quickly shot to Dell. What would happen to those who hadn’t completed the climb?
Dell turned to face her. “Well, enjoy the food without me. It was fun while it lasted, even if it was only a day.”
Stormchaser looked around. “Don’t be so negative. You almost made it to the top. You might not be going home yet.” She sounded a little desperate.
Reban Don started shouting out the names, “Lincoln Kreft, Galen Hux, Stormchaser Knux, Linden Brack, Frion Temb, Yuna Poran, Drenna Crax, Meren Fyndon.” He looked up, “All transporter two.”
Lincoln took a step forward but Storm didn’t move, her feet rooted to the spot. He lifted his eyebrows and she gave the slightest shake of her head. “Not yet. I want to wait a bit. I want to see what happens.” Her eyes were resting on Dell.
The rest of those whose names had been shouted were already making their way to the transporter. Six of them. Eight in total. It was hardly worthwhile doing the other Trial. With such low numbers, all of them should be selected for the expedition.
But then Reban started calling out a whole list of other names. One was the woman that Galen had pulled from the cliff. Lincoln was sure some of them had climbed more than halfway up. Maybe they all had? That was the trouble with being too focused on your task. You missed the bigger picture. The stuff that might turn out to be crucial at a later point.
Dell flinched as his name was called, but then Reban shouted, “Transporter two.”
Storm’s face broke into a relieved smile and she bumped fists with Dell, and hugged him. “You must have made it. They wouldn’t put us in together if they were sending you home.”
For the briefest of seconds, Dell let out a sigh of relief. Then his eyes darted towards Lincoln, the expression on his face quickly reverting back to distrust. “Let’s go, Storm,” he muttered.
They walked away towards the transporter together.
Lincoln’s skin prickled and a horrible sensation swept over him. He was annoyed that they’d walked away. Ignoring him. Treating him as if he were instantly forgettable. Dell and Stormchaser were obviously more than friends; they were also a team. Caught inside their little invisible bubble that no one els
e could permeate. He was an outsider looking in. And it made him realize how alone he was here.
A sense of frustration grew inside him.
But it was pointless. Stormchaser wasn’t a suitable ally. She was too distracted by her emotions. It was time to find another ally. But that thought burned. He knew what tomorrow’s Trial was going to be – no one else did. And he was pretty sure Stormchaser would finish it long before anyone else.
He started to think about the others who had made it up the cliff today. He discounted Galen – the guy was a killer. Lincoln didn’t know enough about the other five candidates. So tonight, he would have to do something about that.
He took one last look at Storm as she stepped up into the transporter, her hand still cradled to her chest.
But he wasn’t the only one watching her.
Reban Don had his eyes on her too. Pointing and gesturing towards one of his colleagues. He looked furious.
Lincoln had no idea why. Was this all just a big con? Had the Stipulators already decided who they wanted to get through the Trials?
Reban’s gaze swept the crowd of people still to board the transporter, fixing on Lincoln. His scowl grew even darker. Reban’s eyes had no hesitation, no sympathy.
Lincoln shuddered. It was the oddest sensation.
Suddenly, he felt like a marked man.
The food servery was busier than he’d expected. For every person who’d left, another had taken their place. Storm’s theory that there was more than one Camp must have been correct. He was kicking himself for not considering that earlier. Now, he had a whole lot of new Trialists to consider.
He dumped his tray down at a table, sliding his legs onto the bench. All the people at this table had bright blond – almost white – hair, and they seemed around the same age as him. “Hi,” he murmured as he picked up his fork.
Three identical pairs of pale blue eyes looked directly at him; he almost choked. He put down his fork. “Lincoln Kreft.” He held out his hand towards the nearest, who gave a little nod of his head and quickly shook hands.
“Leif Larsen. How did you fare on the cliffs?”