Blind Courage

Xanathe hugged the vertical wall pinning her face against the rough stone as she attempted to gain another inch of ascent toward life. The stone scraped and bit hungrily into her flesh even through the travel garb made for durability rather than aesthetics. Hot tears spilled from her eyes stinging the scratches the rock had dug into her face as she clung and inched her way up the sheer face of the cliff. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ the thought rippled through everything before her fall from the heights above and she caught herself. “Don’t give up.” her voice was harsh and as dry as her throat. The ledge cannot be much farther, she continued inside her own head. Her fingers fluttered across the rock face searching out a nub that felt sturdy enough to pull herself a little bit closer to her goal. As she found a grip that was no larger than finger width, she tested it fearful it would crumble through her fingers. Her right hand clutched it tightly as the left began the same search.
The climb would go easier if her left leg hadn’t been broken in the fall. Once strong and resolute, it now hung limp in numb pain that jumped into shattering agony if she bumped it on the rock. At least it could still feel and that was a shard of hope in a shattered soul. ‘Pushed!’ the anger in her speared to hatred giving her some strength. “We will see who gets pushed when I get out of this.” she breathed the words against the stone wall that kept her from her vengeance. Her left foot dragged on the rock as she pulled herself up on the next hold. Pain snaked its tendril of unconsciousness closer and she bit her lips to avoid a howl. Once the sharpness had fled to a manageable throb she began searching her next grip. The fluid of time lapsed and stilled inside her mind as she felt her way to freedom. Hours dragged until her hands finally reached the lip of the cliff. Exhilaration filled her lungs with a full breath as she sought to grip the edge with both hands.
Her left hand betrayed her instantly and turned exuberance to stiffening fear as she felt her only foothold give beneath her. Her left thigh pounded the rock face jarring the steady throb into white-hot agony rocketing up into her spine. A scream so unlike her own voice erupted from her throat without hesitation. The one grip remaining threatened to loosen, and she flung her arm to get a full grasp of the only refuge she had against death. Her hand caught and held as relief flooded through, but all she could manage was to hang there trying to gather her wits enough to get over the lip to safety. Her right foot searched timidly for a previous handhold her mind knew had to be there. Once the jut was found she gave over some of the weight off her arms so they might make the final pull to life.
‘What if he’s there waiting for you?’ her mind stabbed into her joy with fearful thoughts. ‘He’s waiting to push you off again just as you reach the ledge.’
Fear froze her cold as the unbearable need to urinate sparked into a flood down her legs. Xanathe felt every raw muscle caused by the climb out of death knowing she could not make it so far again even without the broken leg from the first fall. It was amazing to have survived just the fall, miraculous to make the climb as she had done but the gods only granted you a margin of luck. The rest must be hers to make. She shifted her weight on the rock and leaped with every sore and tender muscle in her body to reach the top safely. As she rolled her injured leg bounced and twisted beneath her, but she kept a silent lock of teeth on her lips until the pain eased. The taste of metal flooded her mouth as she bit to blood keeping her scream to herself. When at last the final reverberations of torture subsided to faint ripples in comparison she gasped for a full breath.
The absolute silence wrapped her in comfort. Only her own breath disturbed the timid air as she relaxed sensing her aloneness on the ledge. Carefully she explored the ledge in search of her bearings. In an instant she found her confines were not the heights she had originally thought, but a narrow jut only part way up the face of the cliff. The discovery twisted her heart, and the tears she had ignored or refused during her long climb flowed gently down her cheeks. Continuing the climb felt like insanity against what she had already undergone.