The Fool Ch. 04

"We can skip that first part," he waved away the notion. "You can just retrieve me then."

"Can we skip this descent?" she asked nervously.

"No," he shook his head. "There are rappel anchors here, and the equipment's in good shape, so it's up to you whether you want to rappel or downclimb. Either way, the hardest part for you is going to be getting started, so I'll stand by and give you a shove over the edge if you need it."

"Gee, Thanks," she moved closer to the edge, daring to look briefly at the drop. She had a little experience with repelling, but the thought of downclimbing a steep slope with shifting surfaces terrified her even more. She believed she'd rather not see the ground rushing up to greet her as she fell to her death. "I'll repel," she said uncertainly.

"Downclimbing it is then," Sinclair smirked and went to grab the gear. "It's a fairly easy descent. Face out, back to the wall, and keep your weight on your feet as much as possible. There's a lot of scree, which will make it easy for your feet to slide out from under you. You want to pretty much scoot your way to the bottom. We're only about ten meters up here. I normally wouldn't use a safety rope, but you should, given your preoccupation with death."

"And yours with getting kidna..." she froze, and Sinclair immediately looked at her, wondering if he had finally pushed her too hard to embrace climbing as she peered over the edge.

Time seemed to slow down for Carrie. A small flock of birds burst from a stand of trees in the distance. A sharp rapport sounded that seemed to be slow reaching her ears, as was the small puff of dust that rose from the surface of the rock at her feet. Chips of the rock bit into her calves, making her lose her footing as she jerked around to find the source of the disruption to the quiet landscape. Her feet slid, and she entered her worst nightmare, gracelessly rushing toward the ground at a terrifying speed. 'Damn, I really am going to die today,' she thought a second before impact.

"Carrie!" Sinclair almost screamed, dropping to his belly and slithering to the edge, hoping beyond hope to find her hanging from some grip she had miraculously managed to find when she needed it. No such luck, he slid over the rim, staggering and sliding his way in a downclimb to find her crumpled on a ledge about halfway down the slope. She was sprawled on her side against a mound of stone, and she wasn't moving.

He shouldn't have insisted they do this last climb today. Downclimbs were about as dangerous as descents got, and he knew she was scared. He should have let her go down the easy side with the goat track, the way she had come up, or at least belayed her down, but this was an easy descent in his eyes, he never thought for one moment she might slip and fall. Loose dirt shifted under his feet as he carefully manoeuvred himself to the ledge she lay on. He reached out to touch her, but pulled his hand back. He knew better than to move her after such a big fall.

She was so still, her hair fanned out from her ponytail making a mess of soft curls, partially covering her face and waving around her head like a halo. He couldn't see any obvious signs of head injury or blood. Her hands were splayed out as if she had been grabbing at the rock to slow her fall. He leant forward and studied her, believing she was alive.

"Carrie? Carrie, can you hear me?" he asked softly, trying to keep the sense of urgency he felt from his voice. "Come on, Carrie, talk to me. Open your eyes and say something. I'd even take an 'I told you so' right now."

Long seconds ticked by until he thought he caught a barely there movement. It was so subtle he wasn't sure if he had imagined it. Several more seconds ticked by and the eye that he could see began to flutter open, and he let out a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding.

"You are in so much trouble," she lifted her arm gingerly and brushed the hair from her face. "Oh, and I told you so."

The trembling feeling in his legs dropped Sinclair to his ass as relief swept over him, slowing his heart rate from the breakneck speed it had reached. In all his years of climbing, he'd had a few shortfalls himself, but he had never seen anyone free fall before, and he hoped never to have it happen again.

With a pained groan Carried rolled over onto her back, and Sinclair helped her to sit up, propping her against the mound of rock that had stopped her fall. He looked her over more carefully. She had a few abrasions that were trickling blood, and was covered in dust and small pebbles, but she was moving okay, and her breathing wasn't strained. She looked remarkably good for someone who'd fallen three metres and slid another five.

"Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere? How's your head?" he began to bombard her with questions.

"I just fell off a cliff!" she squinted at him as if his questions puzzled her.

"More like a bolder," he teased, but her eyes narrowed dangerously and he relented. "Alright, a cliff. A massively huge cliff. Where do you hurt?"

"I think I'm okay, mostly," She twisted her neck, rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers before moving her legs and flexing her ankles and the toes within her shoes. "I slid most of the way on my butt before this rock stopped me," she brushed at the dirt and pebbles on her shirt. "I'm dirty, and I would bet I'm going to have to enormous bruises tomorrow, but I think I'm okay." She suddenly remembered why she had fallen. "What the hell was that noise?" she asked, knowing full well someone had taken a shot at them.

"I'm no expert," Sinclair finally moved to her side, pulling her against his chest into a more comfortable position, "but it sounded like..." He looked back over his shoulder as if he only just remembered what had happened himself. He had been so focused on her and making sure she was alright he had lost sight of what had happened to cause her to fall. "Can you get up? Can you walk?" He asked almost urgently.

Carrie was about to remind him that she had just fallen from a cliff, but, studying his face, she nodded. He stood and helped her to her feet, frowning at her groan and noting the painful grimace she wore. He moved her closer to the cliff face, trying to avoid the majority of the scree, and he took most of her weight as they crab-walked around the makeshift path until they were out of the line of sight of the house. The shot had come from that direction, he was sure, and he wondered who would have known they were there, aside of Jordan. Would Jordan want him dead? Jordan couldn't have known where they were precisely, he wasn't even sure Carrie knew for certain.

"You're no expert on what?" Carrie asked, stepping gingerly from one vein of exposed rock to another, holding onto him tightly.

"More things than you would guess," he chuckled, trying not to show how concerned he was about their predicament. Sinclair finally stopped in the shade of the rock formation, considering if the shooter would trek through the grounds to see if she was dead.

"So someone shot at us?" Carrie sat carefully on a boulder trying not to show how much it hurt. "You thought we were being followed last night. Do you think it's Rackham?"

"Possibly," he nodded. "He thinks I stole his pistol since his attempt to rattle you and your brother didn't work the way he wanted. He thought you'd run or hide, or at least go to where the pistol was hidden, but nothing, your lives went on as normal. Here's the kicker, though, I suggested someone was framing you, and he believes our relationship is a cover for that, and that I am the Fool."

Guilt tugged at Carrie momentarily. She was responsible for the trouble they were in now. Not that she'd meant to frame Sinclair, but it helped her plan if all of their eyes were focused on him instead of her when she finally put the final pieces of Robyn's in place. The look on his face and in his eyes when she opened her eyes after the fall floated in her mind. She remembered his obvious distress that she was seriously injured, but that first look he gave her held more than just that, and she wondered what it was she had seen there as she tried to push her guilt over the situation to one side.

"I don't suppose this will change your mind about travelling with a bodyguard?" she asked, but he never got the chance to answer as a voice came from the bushland around them.

"Sinclair? Sinclair Mansfield?" A distinctly male voice with a Jamaican accent called out.

"We're over here, Wiley," Sinclair called back, breathing a sigh of relief. "You see, I don't need a bodyguard because I have guardian angels everywhere. Wiley is head of security here. He's the one that opened up the house for us last night." He explained to Carrie. "Let's get you back to the house and checked out by a doctor," he smiled genuinely for the first time since they had left the top of the rock.

*****