'Tie yourselves to my back — both of you. This man's got a pair of hands and he can use them, and for once my blindness will prove a salvation.'
Kulp peered down the cliff face. 'Climb down this? It's rotten rock, old man-'
'Not the handholds I'll find, Mage. Besides, what choice do you have?'
'Oh, I simply can't wait,' Felisin said.
'All right, but I'll have my warren open,' Kulp said. 'We'll fall just as far, but the landing will be softer — not that it'll make much difference, I suppose, but at least it gives us a chance.'
'You have no faith!' Heboric shouted, his face twisting as he fought back peals of laughter.
'Thanks for that,' Felisin said.
A hot, solid pressure closed on her shoulder. She turned. Heboric had laid an invisible hand on her — she could see nothing, yet the thin weave of her shirt's fabric was compressed, slowly darkening with sweat. She could feel its weight. He leaned close. 'Raraku reshapes all who come to it. This is one truth you can cling to. What you were falls away, what you become is something different.' His smile broadened at her snort of disdain. 'Raraku's gifts are harsh, it's true,' he said in a tone of sympathy.
Kulp was readying harnesses. 'These straps are rotting,' he said.
Heboric swung to him. 'Then you must hold tight.'
'This is madness.'
'Would you rather await the D'ivers and Soletaken?'
The mage scowled.
Heboric's body felt like gnarled tree roots. Felisin clung with trembling muscles, not trusting the straining leather straps. Her gaze remained fixed on the ex-priest's wrists — the unseen hands themselves were plunged into the rock face — while below she heard his feet scrambling for purchase again and again. The old man was carrying the weight of the three of them with his hands and arms alone.
The battered cliff was bathed in the setting sun's red glare. As
Wind slapped them against the cliff face, then yanked them outward in a biting swirl of airborne sand. They had entered the Whirlwind once again. Kulp shouted something lost in the battering roar. Felisin felt herself being pulled away, raised up horizontal by the frantic, hungry wind. She hooked one arm around Heboric's right shoulder.
Her muscles began shuddering with the strain, her joints burning like fanned coals. She felt the harness straps around her tightening as they slowly, inevitably, assumed the strain. Hopeless.
Heboric continued the climb downward, into the heart of the maelstrom.
From inches away, Felisin watched as the blowing sand began abrading the skin stretched over her elbow joint. The sensation was nothing more than that of a cat's tongue, yet the skin was peeling back, vanishing.
Her legs and body rode the wind, and from everywhere she felt that dreadful rasp of the storm's tongue. I
Heboric stepped away from the cliff face. The three of them fell in a heap onto a ragged floor of rocks. Felisin screamed as the stones and sand pressed hard against the ravaged skin of her back. She found herself staring back up the cliff, revealed in patches where the gusting sand momentarily thinned. She thought she saw a figure, fifty arm-spans above them, then it was swallowed once more by the storm.
Kulp tugged at the straps with frantic haste. Felisin rolled clear, pushing herself onto her hands and knees.
'On your feet, lass!' the mage shouted. 'Quickly!'
Whimpering, Felisin struggled upright. The wind slapped her back down in a lash of pain. Warm hands closed on her, lifted her up into the crook of rope-muscled arms.
'Life's like that,' Heboric said. 'Hold tight.'
They were running, leaning into the raging wind. She squeezed shut her eyes, the agony of her flayed skin flashing like lightning behind her eyelids. Hood
They stumbled into sudden calm. Kulp hissed his surprise.
