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Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia
Caliphate of Córdoba
989 AD

 

Fatima screamed at the top of her lungs as she slid down the rope toward the boat floating below. As she picked up speed, nearing the deck of the Viking ship bobbing in the waters, she spotted the men on the deck below gripping what appeared to be a second rope. She followed it with her eyes and noticed it above her head, just out of reach, and she realized they must be keeping the rope she was on taut.

That meant it was all one rope, looped around a ring at the stern of the boat, and apparently another one positioned atop the cliff.

This calmed her, if only slightly. She hit the deck hard, two of the crew catching her, bringing her to an abrupt halt, but before she could say a word of thanks or even catch her breath, a dagger was drawn. Her eyes bulged as the man grabbed the harness Magnus had fit her with then hooked to the rope only minutes ago. He cut her loose then rushed her below deck, a dark robe held up behind her, blocking most of the light from above.

An order was shouted by someone above, and she could hear the men raise the sail. She inched forward, her curiosity too much, and watched as the men cut the rope she had slid down, securing one end to the ship as the other was let loose to drag behind it. Within moments it became taut, and she realized what was happening.

They were dragging one end of the entire rope, still looped at the top of the cliff, and once they had pulled it past the halfway point, it would slip out of the ring above, fall to the sea below, and these men would reel it in.

Leaving no evidence behind of what they had done.

What she and Magnus had done.

She took a step toward the deck, wanting to confirm her suspicions were true, when she was grabbed by the shoulder. The man said something in Norse then jabbed a finger toward the floor, indicating she was to stay put. She nodded, stepping back into the shadows and out of sight.

A shout of triumph was heard on the deck and she caught a glimpse of the rope being hauled in by the crew, her guess confirmed.

Ingenious!

She again peered out from the robe still held by one of the men, and her heart ached at the site behind them. At least a dozen people were atop the cliff, and one of them, she was sure, was Rafiq, rushing to the edge, his flowing robes and familiar figure unmistakable to her.

And the fact he was there almost made her faint.

For there was no reason for it.

Unless he knew.

And if he did, there was no way they would escape with their lives.