The Necromancer's Nephew Page 18
He tugged the hood low over his brow and struggled to his feet, ignoring her proffered hand.
“I’m all right,” he said, “Where’s Warren?”
“Over here!” Warren cried.
Garrett and Marla scrambled over the tops of the crates to the far edge of the platform. Warren hung by his claws from the side, his shaggy legs kicking wildly in the empty air below.
“Get me up!” the wide-eyed ghoul shouted.
Garrett grabbed his friend’s wrist with no idea how he would ever lift the massive ghoul. Marla simply knelt and grasped Warren’s other wrist and pulled. Warren’s eyes went wider still as the slim girl hauled him up over the edge.
Marla noticed the two boys’ amazed looks. She shrugged. “Vampires are strong,” she said.
They got to their feet, the loaded platform swaying only slightly compared to the nearly empty one before. The three wolves climbed atop the highest stack of crates in the center of the lift and looked down at them, tongues lolling.
“Thanks for nothing!” Warren called up to the wolf that had thrown him. Hauskr whined and averted his eyes.
Warren started to say something else, but a low groaning sound cut him off.
“What’s that?” Marla asked.
“Wasn’t this one going up before?” Garrett asked.
“Yes,” Marla said.
“Oh, cramps!” Warren hissed.
“Well, it not going up anymore,” Garrett said. He pointed at the counterweight suspended against the cliff face above them. It had stopped moving.
The groaning sound returned, louder this time. The platform suddenly dropped a few feet, sending Garrett down hard on his backside. Marla and Warren helped him up.
The counterweight was higher now than it had been before, and it was ascending with growing speed.
“What’s going on?” Warren asked.
“I think they may have overloaded this lift,” Marla said.
“More likely, we did, when we added a few dire wolves to the load,” Garrett said.
“Well… that’s good, right?” Warren said, “I mean, we want to go down, don’t we?”
“Not like this,” Garrett said, “Look at the chain!”
The three of them looked up at the heavy iron chain that supported the nearest corner of the platform. One of the links had started to deform under the strain, and a gap appeared where its weld began to part. It stretched, dangerously close to breaking.
“Get back on the wolves,” Marla whispered.
Garrett, Marla, and Warren managed to make it to the top of the stacks and mount their wolves once again. By now the platform’s descent had accelerated to a frightful rate. Shouts of alarm rose from the docks below, and Garrett’s heart raced with fear.
“We have to jump again!” Marla shouted.
Garrett didn’t even bother trying to answer. He just buried his face in Ghausse’s fur and tried to imagine standing on solid ground again. He heard the sound of chains snapping, one after another as the platform twisted and fell away beneath him.
He felt air rushing over him again and then an impact. This time, he held on, though the shock left his vision swimming with stars. When he could see straight again, he found himself still on Ghausse’s back amid a scattered jumble of empty crates. Marla and Warren were astride their wolves on either side of him. Cries of alarm and the crunch of fallen crates sounded below.
“Where... now?” he managed to say.
“Third lift, going down,” Marla said with a tired smile.
The platform lurched and groaned.
“Or going up again…” Marla said, looking at the gantries high above, swarming with green-clad Templars.
“Oh, that does it!” Warren shouted, “I am sick of these stupid lifts!”
“Me too,” Marla said, “Care to join me for a swim?”
Garrett made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and held on tight.
Garrett's wolf took three strides and jumped. Garrett opened his eyes in time to see the black water of the canal rushing up from below. Marla’s laughter carried to him on a breeze that smelled of the sea and the memory of flowers.
End of Book One of The Necromancer’s Nephew
Garrett’s adventures will continue in Book Two.
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