“Battles of attrition,” Sicarius said. “If you drive enough holes into them, they’ll eventually die, but even head shots are not certain to kill. They have blubber and skulls thick enough to withstand firearms and bows. There are stories of cannons being used. A couple of drownings. Their density makes them poor swimmers.”
Amaranthe perked up. “Poor swimmers? We’re surrounded by water. Maybe we could convince them to jump in.”
Sicarius grunted dubiously.
A rifle fired. Here, at the tunnel entrance, the noise was louder than it had been earlier. She eyed the stygian passage, debating whether to go deeper.
“If they catch your scent,” Sicarius said, “you won’t be able to escape them, and we lack the firepower to stop them.”
“Right,” Amaranthe said. “Let’s check the rest of this chamber and see if there’s anything of interest.” Such as giant vats of water they could use to drown monsters.
“This way,” Akstyr said, surprising her.
Before she could ask why, he strode to the left, following the wall away from the tunnel. His head was up, almost like a hound following a scent.
Shrugging, Amaranthe trailed after him. His senses led him past a broken machine, its flywheel torn off and bolts scattering the floor. They came to a corner, and she thought Akstyr would turn to follow the new wall, but he stopped and pressed his palms against the concrete.
Amaranthe shifted from foot to foot while Sicarius stood guard. A distant flame glowed, visible between a pair of thick vertical pipes. She assumed the lantern belonged to Books and the others. If they were standing still, perhaps they had found something useful.
“Something Made behind here,” Akstyr said, dropping his hands.
“You’re not sensing the thing at the bottom of the lake, are you?” Amaranthe asked. “We’ve descended below the surface of the water.”
“Wrong side,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe retraced their route in her mind. He was right. This wall stood between them and the waterfall side of the dam, not the lake side.
“It’s a similar feel, but smaller,” Akstyr said. “Less energy and…there are more devices.”
“ More magical devices?”
“Intricate ones, yeah.”
“Somebody’s got an active hobby shop going.” Amaranthe touched the wall. It thrummed with the power of thousands of gallons of water flowing overhead, but she could sense nothing else.
“A master Maker,” Akstyr said, his tone reverent. “I can tell from the sophistication of the work. I can’t wait to get a look at the artifact in the lake. I bet it’s brilliant.”
“So…” Amaranthe said. “You think our opponent is some genius craftsman who’s probably a lot smarter than any of us.”
“Daunted?” Sicarius asked quietly.
“Of course not. You know I like a challenge.” She wondered if her confident smile was at all convincing.
They explored the chamber further and found more machinery and more dead bodies: some fresh- soldiers-and some not-dam employees. They came upon the rest of the team in an alcove on the lake-side of the chamber. Basilard, Maldynado, and Books bent over crates, their backs to the entrance. Piles of tubing, tools, and smashed wooden casks scattered the floor, as well as boots and a heap of leather material or perhaps clothing.
Amaranthe cleared her throat.
The men jumped. A large, brass helmet clanked to the floor.
“Watch,” Sicarius said.
Nobody misinterpreted the single word. Basilard grabbed his rifle, jogged to the corner, and put his back against the wall to stand guard.
“Sorry. We got distracted.” Books waved to encompass the alcove. Pegboards full of tools hung from the walls and equipment cluttered workbenches. “This place is perfect.”
Amaranthe shrugged. “You’re the ones who’ll get eaten if a makarovi sneaks up on you.”
“But, we’ll look extra fine when they come.” Maldynado plucked the helmet off the floor and deposited it over his curls. It engulfed his head and neck, and a stiff, leather bib extended a couple of inches down his chest and upper back. A glass faceplate in the center allowed a view of his broad grin. Hinges, bolts, and flat cylinders sticking out at the ears made him look like something that had crawled out of a scrap pile at a smelter. “What do you think?” he asked, voice muffled. “Fetching, eh?”
“You look like a discarded toy built by a drunken automata maker,” Books said.
“Huh?” Maldynado ticked a fingernail against an ear cylinder. “Hard to hear in here.”
“You look great,” Amaranthe said. “The ladies at the Pirates’ Plunder will be sure to give you special rates.”
“Special high rates,” Akstyr said.
Maldynado tugged the helmet off. “The right person could make brass fashionable.”
“What is all this?” Amaranthe asked.
Books took the helmet from Maldynado, tossing in a shoulder shove to butt him out of the way. “Diving gear. Helmets, body suits, and even gloves. I wasn’t hoping for anything this ideal, but it makes sense that workers would have to be able to go out and inspect the dam from time to time.”
“You mean we can put those on and go down to the bottom of the lake?” Dare she hope it would be that easy?
“Well, there’s a problem.”
Ah, she knew it.
Books nudged one of the shattered casks. “The suits are more advanced than what I’ve read about, and I’m not positive how everything works, but I believe these are- were -for supplying air. They’ve all been destroyed.”
“Whoever stuck that device on the lake bottom probably didn’t want people visiting it,” Amaranthe said.
“I imagine not.” Books scratched his jaw. “But there’s a lot of tubing in that crate over there. Naval diving is done with surface supplied air. Perhaps with time I could rig something up. Enough for two suits anyway.”
“Take whatever and whomever you need to help,” Amaranthe said.
“Akstyr definitely needs to go down,” Books said.
“And see the artifact up close?” Akstyr grinned and plucked a helmet out of a crate. “Nice.”
“And probably me as well.” Books sighed.
“Not me?” Maldynado reached for the helmet in Books’s hands.
“No.” Books wrapped his arms more tightly about it. “Akstyr knows about magic, so he must go. And I know…everything else.”
Maldynado snorted. “Fine, then I can stay up top and watch. I want to see these things working.”
“I require a serious and trustworthy assistant up above, watching over things.”
“You insult me, Books,” Maldynado said. “More than usual.”
“Take Basilard instead,” Amaranthe said. “As for the rest of us, shall we go back outside and help Books or go find…” The soldiers? The makarovi? The new magical doodads Akstyr sensed?
“Trouble?” Sicarius suggested.
“That’s…probably a word that encompasses everything I’m thinking of,” she admitted.
“Was not the plan to leave the makarovi for the soldiers?” he said.
“That was before we knew about the additional magic. And if they’ve sent for reinforcements, they may really need our help.”
“Amaranthe,” Sicarius said, voice low. The others had turned back to the equipment, all save Basilard who remained on watch, attention outward. Sicarius drew her to the side. “If there are many makarovi, we’ll not be able to defeat them.”
“We’ll think of something. Besides, wouldn’t it be great if we could do something heroic right in front of the soldiers?”
“Heroics get people killed,” Sicarius said.
