“Come, let’s go fetch Declan.” I squeeze his shoulder once more. “We’ll carry him up into the sun and decide what to do next.”
Timon nods, a little uncertain, but still, he starts toward the cave entrance hidden between the rocks.
At first glance it doesn’t seem to be much more than a shallow crevice, but when Timon steps between the stones, pushing the thick grass to one side, I see the fissure is actually a tunnel that stretches forward for several paces then dips into deeper darkness.
I follow him through the narrow passage and down the first few steps into the cave before he motions for me to stop. “Here. Close your eyes tight and cover them with your hand. When you open them again, you’ll be ready for the dark. There is some light down here, but it’s hard to see it at first.”
Stifling my impatience, I do as he asks, even though my eyes were made for the dark, adapted to the shadows. It’s under the unrelenting glare of the sun that I squint and strain to see.
We make our way along a rocky path beside a trickling stream, which runs down to collect in a pool with what looks like an ancient marble sarcophagus half-submerged in it. Timon did call it a tomb.
I scan high and low, but there’s no sign of any bats—not a flash of claw nor flutter of wing. No droppings on the ground, either. If these bats were really just animals defending their home, they haven’t been living here for long.
There’s also no sign of Declan.
“Where is he?” I whisper to Timon, as he continues deeper underground. “You said he fell?”
“Yes, but farther on. There is a curve. And another tomb that is even bigger.” Timon pauses, casting another worried gaze over his shoulder. “You are not afraid of graves?”
“No, I’m not,” I say, urging him forward with a hitch of my chin.
“Oh, good.” He walks on, holding onto the rock wall as the path grows narrower and the stream beside us widens. “Adrina is scared of anything to do with the dead. That’s why I never take her here. Also, I was afraid she would tattle to Mommy, and she would tell me not to come anymore. Sometimes these places collapse when the earth shakes. But the earth doesn’t shake very often. So, I think it is fine. Yes?”
“The risk is probably minimal,” I agree, though I suspect he is chatting because he’s nervous and my side of the conversation doesn’t matter much.
And it appears fairly safe. A cave carved from the stone by centuries of trickling water isn’t easily crumbled.
Though it does make me wonder how the tombs came to be down here. The marble sarcophagus in the pool is too large to have been carried through the narrow entrance.
Perhaps there’s another way in, or the entrance was larger once. I wish either of those things were true—the way out will be difficult with an unconscious Declan carried between us.
Please let him just be unconscious. Just wounded. Just hurt in a way we can heal.
Please don’t let him be…
Don’t let him…
I can’t finish the thought. My mind refuses to go to that place, to a world where Declan is gone from me forever.
My death is acceptable. I have done terrible things and deserve to pay for them. But not Declan. He’s innocent and good and so wise for a boy of only seventeen.
The world needs him. His light. His kind, steady hand.
The fear swirling inside me rises higher, churns faster. Then we round the corner and I see him sprawled on the ground, with his neck bent at an unnatural angle and his arms and legs limp on the rocks, and my heart hurls itself against my ribs hard enough to make me gasp.
“No, no, no.” I rush around Timon, my boots splashing in the stream and my toes going ice cold in the frigid water.
I fall to my knees beside Declan and bring my hand to his blood-smeared face. The wound at his temple is still bleeding freely, trickling red over the bridge of his nose to drip onto the stone beneath him.
But his skin is warm, and the pulse at his throat is slow and thready, but insistent. He’s still alive, but maybe just barely and maybe not for long.
Balling the sleeve of my dress in my hand, I press it to his wound, hoping to stop the bleeding before we try to lift him. He flinches as I apply pressure, giving my hope wings, even if they are feeble.
“Declan, can you hear me?” I ask, my voice so much stronger and steadier than I feel. “It’s Clara. Timon and I are here. You’ve been hurt, but we’re going to carry you to help. Just try to relax. I’m trying to stop your bleeding, then I’ll check you for any other injuries before we lift you, all right?”