The Templar's Curse Sarwat Chadda (top books of all time TXT) 📖

stone, wedging it in with her body weight, and reached up another dozen centimetres. Slow and steady and double-triple checking each hold. The wind and rain lashed her back and she blinked the water away from her eyes. “There. Two metres done already. Same again another ten times again and it’s over.”

“Hooray,” muttered Faustus.

She inched her way upward, blindly feeling for each hold, whether a lip or crack or groove just deep enough for a few fingers or toes. The water ran down her sleeves and was filling her boots so each step squelched. The leather scabbard chafed her shoulder blades. And people did this for fun? After this she’d never leave home without a ladder. Billi tried to remember what her dad had taught her. To be honest, all she really remembered about that week in the Lake District were the Kendal mint cakes after the climbs. Every trip ended with a tea shop. It had been a holiday, just some fun away from London and the trials of combat and monster-hunting. True, they’d had one night dealing with a wight, one of the ancient restless undead, that had recently fed upon some hill walkers in a remote mountain hut, and she suspected her dad had arranged the entire trip around that mission. Still, no holiday was complete without some hint of mortal peril.

They were already fifteen metres up. The sound of the waves against the rock was fainter now, the sea a distant roar. The wind nipped at her ears and her fingers were getting numb. Faustus huffed and cursed beneath her. They just needed to keep going.

Then she saw it. The overhang. “Shit.”

How could she have missed it? Billi looked over her shoulder. Was there another way around if they backtracked? No. Not unless they went all the way back and started again.

Okay, they were doing this whether they liked it or not. “There’s a ledge coming up. We’ll stop and rest there. You’re doing great.”

“Stop reassuring me. What’s wrong?”

“This next bit’s a little tricky.” She looked back and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “But you’ll be fine.”

Faustus glowered. At least he wasn’t afraid anymore. “Your face says otherwise.”

“The rock leans out. It looks worse than it is.” Who was she trying to fool? She’d never done anything like this before. “Take your time and keep your body close to the wall.”

“Just get a move on, SanGreal.”

He was using surnames. He was truly pissed off.

Okay…

Billi shook her hands, getting the blood flowing back down her fingers to push the chill out. There was a crack that ran all along the rock face, wide enough for a good grip. The footholds were something else. She was wearing chunky DMs, they were not made for this. There were minute indents, barely enough for a toe, but that’s all she had.

Her forearms ached as she shuffled along, her face pressed against the cold wet stone. Her breath came pumped out in engine-like huffs and she was acutely aware of the long drop below her. But there’d be no neat dive into the sea if she lost her grip. The only things waiting below were jagged rocks. She carried on sliding, feeling her fingers along the crack. The ledge was somewhere above her…

She risked getting one hand out and reaching up. There was a moment she trembled in a moment of uncertainty, not sure her grip would be enough, but then she felt the flat platform of the ledge and hooked her fingers over it. The other hand shot up beside it and Billi hung there, gathering her strength. Her biceps quivered and her shoulders ached but she just needed her chin up to the ledge, but that meant dangling free over the rocks. If she didn’t have the strength to lift she wouldn’t be able to get back on the face.

Faustus gasped as she swung out. Her arms screamed as she lifted. Everything felt twice as heavy. The sword, her soaking body, her water-filled boots.

Why had she even tried? Why did she push herself? As if she was always seeing if she would break. Now? She’d be a smear, soon washed away into the sea.

Then what? Forgotten? Cried over by… who?

Dad? How long would his tears fall? Then what? He’d throw himself into her work until it broke him too. What about Ivan? No tears from him because he’d be dead. And Faustus? Leave him here until his own grip failed and down he went? She’d pushed herself too hard and dragged him alongside. His death was on her. Just like the others.

Not good enough.

Come on. Just get your chin up.

Do it!

Billi hissed through her clenched teeth. Centimetre by centimetre, that was all that mattered. There was a minute ridge, not even half a centimetre high, running along the flat ledge and she hooked her fingers over it. The hiss became a groan as her biceps burned.

There was a moment when she knew she was high enough and was all but resting her chin on the ledge and that moment gave her the surge she needed. She slid her arms further and then dragged herself up until she was resting face first in a puddle. It felt fantastic.

“Billi?”

She ached. She didn’t want to deal with anything but lying here. It was safe and she didn’t have to fight. The cold rain didn’t bother her.

“Billi!”

What did he want? Couldn’t she just have one minute?

“Billi!”

Wait a minute…

She opened her eyes and saw Faustus’s fingertips slipping off the ledge…

Billi spun around on her belly and grabbed Faustus’s sleeve just as he lost hold. His weight almost dragged her over but Billi lay sprawled flat, using every ridge and indent to hook onto but she was sliding closer…

Her toe dug into a break in the rock. She wedged it in until her boot was stuck but she was jerked forward as she took Faustus’s entire weight on one hand. Relying on her toes to anchor herself, Billi slung her other