Rift (Roran Curse Book 3)

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  “Give me your gun, Lenata! I can protect us from up here.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t even see! What good is it to you?”

  “Nobody touches my weapon but me,” she said flatly. “No exceptions.”

  “Even if it gets you killed?” Jenna could feel her anger and frustration heating her cheeks. Lenata was being particularly foolhardy. Was she afraid that Jenna would turn the gun on her?

  Though now that she thought about it, she didn’t exactly trust Lenata. Getting hands on her weapon suddenly sounded like an even better idea.

  “Just hand it up, Lenata. I can cover you,” Jenna urged.

  Lenata didn’t bother to respond. She just focused on her painstakingly slow crawl up the tree trunk.

  She hadn’t even made it halfway to Jenna’s branch when Kip came pounding into the ferns below them, holding his scanner out in front of him. He skidded to a halt, staring at Lenata only a couple meters off the ground.

  “This is what you call hiding yourself, is it?” he snorted.

  “We didn’t have time to build a blind,” Lenata retorted. “And I still can’t see!”

  Kip exhaled loudly. “Well, come back down, all three of you. My mud wasps attacked, and they are holed up inside my house, waiting for them to clear out. We should have enough time to get across the Sauro before they catch up, if we hurry.”

  Jenna helped Kendra down from her perch, and she started to climb nimbly back down the tree trunk. Jenna followed more timidly. It had been a very long time since she’d climbed a tree, and going down was always much harder than heading up. Once she was on the ground, Kip started right through a gap between the tree trunks, clearly not in any doubt about where he was going.

  When they reached the top of the embankment that hung over the river, Kip studied both directions for a moment before turning to the left. Jenna realized that the water was much calmer than the roaring flood it had been the day before. But the water was brown and silty. A lot of soil had to have been washed into the river. Maybe whole sections of its banks. They would have to be careful.

  As if he was reading her mind, Kip warned, “Be careful and don’t go too close to the edge. With all that rain so recently, the edges of the embankment could wash into the river at any time.” He pitched his voice so it could be heard over the murmuring of the river. Kip paused for a moment and looked back. “You realize, Lenata,” he added, “that I am violating a sacred agreement between me and your people to bring you to the village. They may never trust me again. Are you sure this is worth it?”

  “Yes,” said Lenata without hesitating.

  Kip shrugged, turning forward again. “So be it then.”

  After less than five minutes of carefully clambering among the trees next to the riverbank, Kip stopped again. “It’s here,” he stated.

  “The crossing?” asked Lenata nervously.

  “Yes. Do you want to go first?”

  “I’d better. Just in case there is a sentry.”

  Kip held up his scanner, facing it toward the river. “I don’t think there’s a sentry,” he said. Lenata nodded and then started to climb the tree.

  “You go next,” Kip ordered Jenna. “Then your daughter. I’ll come behind her.” Jenna looked up at Lenata, stiffly and slowly moving up the tree. How was climbing a tree going to get them across the river?

  When Lenata reached the main crook of the tree where the trunk split in two directions, she reached up as if she was grasping something invisible above her head. Then she stepped carefully out into the air. Jenna gasped in shock.

  Kip chuckled. “Ingenious, isn’t it? The rope weave is so fine and closely matched to the jungle foliage that it is nearly impossible to see unless you are looking at it in just the right light and at just the right angle. One of the specialty items the Rorans had me import for them. Since it’s a rope I guess they ignore its high-tech, blasphemous beginning.”

  “Wow!” breathed Kendra. “Can I go next?”

  Jenna was not nearly so enthusiastic. The last thing she wanted to do was plunge into the river below.

  “Judging by Lenata’s hands, the rope she’s holding on top will be too high for Kendra to reach,” Jenna worried.

  “There’s a third line in the middle,” reassured Kip. “Normally we use it to balance, but Kendra should be able to use it to get across. But I’ll be right behind her anyway. I won’t let her fall.”

  Jenna swallowed nervously. If this was it, this was it.

  She scrambled up the tree trunk. By the time she reached the trunk split, Lenata had already disappeared into the tree across the river. She’s quicker walking on a tightrope than she is walking on the ground, Jenna noted. I wonder if she always crossed the river with her eyes closed.

  Sliding her hands up the tree trunk, she found the spot where the rope was attached with metal anchors to the trunk. They seemed sturdy and secure. Grabbing onto the top rope with both hands, she slid her foot forward, out onto the bottom rope. She’d barely stepped both feet onto the rope when she froze, unable to slide forward even a few centimeters.

  Jenna closed her eyes briefly and gritted her teeth. This was going to be impossible. Heights were not Jenna’s favorite thing, especially when she was swinging over a river on a rope. My little brother died falling into a river, she thought bleakly. I could make it a family tradition. All of a sudden she heard Kendra scuffling into place on the tree behind her.

  “You can do this, Mommy!” she encouraged. Of course, her seven-year-old daughter would have to be her cheerleader. But her muscles relaxed. She could do this. Kendra could do this. And there was no way she was going to let that stupid curse win. Not now.

  She started to creep forward, reaching one hand forward on the upper rope while her other hand clenched it in a death grip. Then she slid a foot forward, followed by the other one. She was moving much more slowly than Lenata had, but at least she was moving.

  A shout from downriver shocked her into nearly letting go.

  “They’ve seen us!” cried Kip from the ground. “You have to move faster! Girl, get onto the rope behind your mother,” he ordered.

  “Wait,” Jenna gasped. She couldn’t do this. It was one thing to worry about losing her grip and plummeting to her death. It was another thing entirely to worry about Kendra. The faster she moved, the more the rope would sway below her. Could Kendra keep her own balance with her mother right in front of her? What if her movement was too much for Kendra? What if Jenna panicked again and froze in the middle of the river, blocking her daughter from safety? She started to slide backward.

  “What are you doing, you fool?” hissed Kip. His voice was very close. He had climbed partway up the tree. “You two need to get across the river now.”

  “Kendra goes first,” she said obstinately. “Then you, so you can keep her from falling. I’ll be the slowest, so I’ll go last.” Kip muttered something unintelligible, but Jenna ignored him and helped her daughter climb around her onto their flimsy escape route. The crashes along the shore were getting closer. The men would reach them in only a minute or two.

  “Hold on tight to the middle rope,” Jenna instructed nervously. “Don’t let go, no matter what, OK?”

  “OK.” Kendra sounded far more confident than her mother. Jenna gritted her teeth and let go of her daughter’s shoulders. Kendra started forward on the rope, moving far more quickly than Jenna had been able to. Pressing herself back into the tree trunk, she allowed Kip past her into position.

  “I’m stepping onto the rope,” he called to Kendra. “Hold tight for a second and get used to my weight behind you.” He waited until Kendra had paused, then stepped onto the rope. It sank noticeably and swayed wide, but Kendra held tight. Then she started forward again, Kip close enough behind her to grab her if necessary.

  They crossed the rope quickly, even though it seemed
to take forever. By the time both had disappeared into the screen of leaves on the other side, the kidnappers were close enough that she could make out their faces. There were two of them. Taking a deep breath, Jenna stepped back onto the rope and began her halting reach-slide-step process. She hoped the men didn’t have guns. Of course, shooting her while she was hanging over the river would deprive them of the chance to sell her off, but maybe it was already too late for that anyway. Maybe now they just wanted to make sure she couldn’t escape and turn them all in.

  When she was right over the center of the river, she felt the rope sink and jerk sideways. She gasped and clung to the upper rope with both hands. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she saw that one of the kidnappers had stepped onto the rope behind her. The other one stood at the foot of the tree; he was speaking, though she couldn’t hear the words. Probably into a transmitter of some kind. They were about to have the other men on top of them in a second.

  Smothering her panic, she turned forward, adrenaline spiking and giving her the courage to move faster. She could feel the rope dipping behind her as her pursuer drew closer. Suddenly, the middle rope jerked and then dropped away. She clamped her hands tighter and kept moving forward. Kip wasn’t waiting to cut the ropes. She just had to make it a couple more meters.

  Sweat was trickling into her eyes, but she didn’t dare let go to wipe it away. Her palms were damp and burning angrily from the rope, and it was getting harder to grip tightly. She had to keep going. Just a little bit farther . . . .

  A sharp dip in the rope right behind nearly caused her to slide backward, and then a knife tip pressed firmly into her back, piercing her shirt and poking into her flesh. She froze.

  “Oh no you don’t,” the man hissed.

  Jenna wanted to scream. She was so close to the trees, so close to safety. If she darted forward, would he really be able to stop her? Would he stab her in the back and risk losing her altogether? But right now, she was blocking the man’s only path to Kendra. It was better to stay put.

  “Kip! Lenata!” she called. “Take Kendra and go! Kendra, I love you!” Even if she didn’t make it through this, Lenata would protect Kendra. Probably. And if Jimmy got her message, he would know where to look for her. If Kendra escaped, it would be worth it.

  “Shut up!” the man growled. “If you leave with that girl, Lenata, I’ll kill this one,” he shouted. “And then Shiz will hunt you down, and you will beg for death!”

  There was no answer from the trees. Jenna hoped that meant that all three were already on the ground, Kip leading Lenata and Kendra on to the village. The man behind her clearly thought the same thing. “Lenata!” he yelled again.

  Then the man behind them ordered, “Just let her go, Osburn. Get that one back here. She matters the most right now.” Jenna wondered if that was Finn, the apparent leader of this group.

  The man named Osburn prodded her with the knife. “Move backward, slowly,” he said through clenched teeth. Jenna hesitated. It was hard enough for her to go forward on this cursed rope. Now she was going to go all the way backward across the river with a knife poking her? Her arms were already shaking with fatigue and anxiety.

  “Hold on tight!” Kip barked from behind the leaves. Jenna instantly clenched the rope above her head, only moments before the rope beneath her feet went completely slack. She screamed but held her grip, her feet twisting wildly below her.

  Osburn swore behind her. She darted a glance back over her shoulder. He was hanging on to the rope with both hands, but the knife was gone. Turning back toward the tree, she stared at the two meters of rope keeping her from safety. Her arms were already shaking from the effort of holding her body weight. Could she make it?

  Kip’s head poked through the leaf screen. “What are you waiting for?” he yelled at her. “Move!” She swallowed and forced the fingers on her right hand to unclench. Kendra was waiting for her. She could do this. She moved her hand forward on the rope, ignoring the blistering flare of pain on her fingers. Hand over hand she dragged herself forward, refusing to consider the rushing river below her, nor the rocks jutting from the foamy water, nor the man hissing threats from too close behind her. She focused instead on Kip’s encouraging hand, reaching forward from the tree. She tried to hurry; she could almost feel the breath of Osburn on her neck. He was moving faster than she was. Would he force her off the rope? Or follow her to the tree and then pull another weapon?

  “Don’t stop,” Osburn hissed at her. “Get to that tree. I’m right behind you. Make sure we both make it across the river, and I won’t even go after your little girl.”

  Jenna didn’t bother to respond. It was all she could do to focus on her hands. Reach, grip, release, repeat. The tree never seemed to get any closer, but she kept moving. Reach, grip, release.

  Sweat trickled in rivulets down her forehead and into her eyes, making it nearly impossible to see. Electric tremors shot down her arms now. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

  “I’m going to cut your heart out, Bugman!” shouted Osburn from behind her, sounding a little breathless from effort. “Carve it from your living body and feed it to those bloodsucking monsters you love so much!”

  Jenna’s fingers were going numb. She was going to fall in a second. But if she fell, she was going to take the bastard behind her down too.

  She was less than a meter away from the tree now. Kip’s outstretched fingers were just beyond her reach. One sweaty palm slipped off the rope, but she recovered quickly, gripping it again.

  “Just a little further,” coaxed Kip, beckoning with his hand. “A few more swings and you’ll be safe.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “That’s ridiculous!” retorted Kip. “You’re less than a meter away. Marshall Titan’s pits, woman! Reach!”

  Jenna closed her eyes and slid her left hand forward as far as she could, not daring to let go of the rope. Then she let go with her right hand and tried to swing herself forward. Her hand slapped clumsily at the rope, and it bounced off her palm. Then she felt Kip’s large hand clamp on her wrist. “On three,” he said. Jenna didn’t have time to protest. “One, two, three!” he yelled hurriedly, and she let go of the rope. He yanked her forward, and they crashed through the leaves, tumbling onto a wooden platform built around the tree trunk. Kip leaped back to his feet and hacked at the rope with his multitool. Jenna sprawled on the platform not far from the edge, still trying to catch her breath. She had just rolled onto her back when Osburn’s hand pushed through the leaves, tightly gripping the rope, followed by his other arm and then his body, nearly hanging right over her. He opened his mouth, probably to say something nasty, just as Kip’s knife finally cut through the top rope. Osburn landed awkwardly on the edge of the platform, his arms jerking backward with the falling rope. Instinctively, Jenna kicked out, connecting with Osburn’s shins. He staggered backward and crashed through the leaves with a yell. Jenna registered the meaty thud followed by the heavy splash into the river and then collapsed back onto the platform in exhaustion. She closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them to find a very sharp spear pointed right at her chest.

  A hulking man swathed in a tightly fitted, fading jumpsuit stood over her, holding the spear with both hands. Her eyes flicked up to see Kip pressed against the trunk of the tree, a woman holding a knife at his throat. She was dressed in the same mottled, drab clothing, but the expression on her face was fierce and determined.

  “Don’t move, Jenna,” Kip advised, his voice hoarse. “They coat their weapons in catavil poison. A nick could kill you.” Jenna sucked in her breath, looking at the glinting tip of the spear a mere hair’s breadth away from her skin.

  “Do not speak if you wish to live,” the woman growled, her voice guttural and harsh. “You are here without the permission of the Roran people.”

  This day just kept getting better and better.

  30. A Trap and a Trad
e

  In the security hangar, Zane slipped into the plain, battered transport that they had decided to use for the exchange. Lilah climbed in on the other side. It was a dilapidated, decommissioned taxi that looked like it had seen its best days three decades before, at least. Zane’s father had purchased it years ago and then had it discreetly upgraded for a wide variety of scenarios in which someone in the family might need to travel incognito through the Red Zone. Zane had driven it once before but had never had the chance to try out most of the cleverly concealed gadgetry. He hoped he wouldn’t get to use it today either. They needed a simple, straightforward ransom exchange.

  Well, mostly he hoped they wouldn’t need it. A tiny part of him was itching to try out the supercharged engine and the pulse array.

  He switched on the engines and declined to enter a destination, taking manual control instead. Then he eased them to the wide, shielded docking doors, waiting for his clearance to head out. He glanced sideways at Lilah, who sat stiffly in the tattered passenger seat, staring out the front window with unfocused eyes.

  He cleared his throat. Usually small talk came easily enough to him, but he knew that Lilah would rather scrape moon lichen from the bottom of trash barrels then chat with him. He decided to try anyway.

  “So, you decided to go back to your old hair color?”

  Lilah swiveled her face to his, her eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said shortly, her tone uninviting.

  “It looks nice,” Zane said truthfully. “I like it this way.”