“We’d best hurry then.” Her smile was grim.
CHAPTER 19
F og blanketed the shoreline, hiding the diving suits and curling about the air pumps. Books found himself cussing and hunting for things. The fire Basilard had started did little to help.
Akstyr belted out a yawn noisy enough to drown out the coyotes yapping in the distance. “We aren’t going down there tonight are we?”
“Given the proximity of animals wishing to slay us, it would behoove us to finish as promptly as possible.” Books counted to himself as he measured arm lengths of hose. “As soon as the others return, we’ll go down.”
Basilard leaned against a tree, a rifle cradled in his arms. The glowing-eyed forest creatures were still about, though Books felt safer out here than in the dam. He worried for Amaranthe and wished she had let Maldynado and Sicarius handle further explorations. He should have told her he needed her help out here.
“How’re we going to see what we’re doing at night?” Akstyr asked.
“If it’s truly thirty meters or more below the surface, then it’d be dark down there even if it was noon. The deeper you go, the more sunlight is absorbed, thus diminishing visible light. Though this water appears relatively clear, I’d estimate the artifact well below the euphoric depth. Fortunately the light from the device itself-”
“Crap,” Akstyr said.
Books glanced up from his work, thinking the youth had seen something.
Akstyr was shaking his head at Basilard. “Maldynado isn’t here to slap him and shut him up when he goes off like that.”
Books felt his jaw tightening and forced it to relax. He went back to measuring hose and simply said, “Perhaps it isn’t wise to irritate the man arranging the air flow to your diving suit.”
“You need me down there. I’m not worried,” Akstyr said.
“Until the device is destroyed,” Books said. “After that, the mission would be unaffected if you were eaten by Maldynado’s giant catfish.”
The fire did not provide enough illumination to drive the shadows from Basilard’s face, but white teeth flashed in a quick smile.
Akstyr had no response. Actually, he appeared not to have heard. He was staring across the lake.
Afraid the enforcers had returned, Books followed his gaze. The camp was dark and silent, but an orb of white light glowed on the hillside above it. His heartbeat quickened. That light did not burn with the natural yellow of a torch or a lantern. The darkness hid terrain features, but he guessed it to be moving along the road leading to the enforcer camp-and the dam.
“We better put out the fire,” Books said, though he feared if he could see the orb, its owner had already seen them.
• • • • •
Amaranthe did not want any extra weight slowing her down, so she carried nothing but a lantern. Sicarius strode before her, a rifle in each hand, pistols stuck in his belt, and his half dozen knives, as always, within reach. Grimmer than death, he said nothing as they traveled deeper into the concrete passageways.
On top of the dam, Maldynado waited in one of the guard towers, ready to hurl a great hook on a chain to snag the makarovi and swing each one out over the falls for release. It had sounded good when she laid out the plan, but the men’s skeptical expressions-a wide-eyed mouth-sagging-open one from Maldynado and a slight eyebrow twitch from Sicarius-had assured her they did not believe it would be so simple. Amaranthe hoped the soldiers had listened and not shot the other collars off.
The route to the control room felt longer than she remembered. The farther they had to travel to find the creatures, the farther she had to run before reaching the dubious safety of the tower. She had no doubt the ten- foot beasts could cover ground more rapidly than she.
They turned the final corner. Amaranthe strained her ears, expecting to hear more than the drip-splat of tunnel seepage. Nothing. Had the soldiers run out of powder in the half hour she, Sicarius, and Maldynado had spent preparing the tower?
They drew close to the walkway and the pipe chamber. Still no voices or rifle fire stirred the air.
Perhaps the soldiers had shot those collars off and the makarovi, with nothing left to bind them to the place, had left the dam altogether. But if that had happened, where were the men?
Then she heard it: the moist sucking and tearing sounds of someone-some thing -eating.
Dear ancestors. One of the soldiers must have fallen off the pipe.
Sicarius stopped and gave her a long look over his shoulder, a look that asked: Do you want to go on?
Amaranthe nodded once.
The sounds increased as they crept forward. Sweat slithered down her ribcage. She shifted the lantern from one hand to the other, so she could wipe damp palms on her trousers. Her instincts clamored for her to flee. Those instincts knew what her mind refused to contemplate.
Her breathing sounded hoarse and uneven in her ears. She struggled to steady it with deep, calm inhalations, but the stench-musk and blood-kept her nerves jangling.
The sickly, green glow grew visible over Sicarius’s shoulder. He and Amaranthe edged closer. The licks and tears continued-louder.
Sicarius stepped onto the walkway. His shoulders stiffened. Dread curdled in Amaranthe’s belly, but she squeezed out of the tunnel beside him to look. Or try to. His arm came up to block her, an immovable iron bar.
It did not keep her from seeing what had happened.
Four makarovi had found a way onto the pipe. They were gorging on dead soldiers, including the sergeant who had spoken to her. Other creatures remained on the lower level, also eating. Half the men had fallen-or been knocked-below. No one was left alive.
Even if she and her men drove the makarovi out of the dam, there would be nobody left to acknowledge the good deed. Amaranthe winced, hating herself for the shallow thought. She glowered at the device on the pipe, transferring her self-disgust to its maker, the person responsible for bringing these monsters here. It glowed, undamaged.
One of the makarovi on the pipe lifted its shaggy head. Nostrils flared. It wore no collar. None of them did.
“Go,” Sicarius whispered.
The beast spun toward Amaranthe and reared on its hind legs. Dark eyes glittered with hunger.
Amaranthe stepped back as Sicarius spun her and shoved.
“Go!”
She sprinted back into the tunnel, but not before she glimpsed the makarovi bunching its thighs to spring. She did not see it land, but she heard it. Like a wrecking ball crashing into a building, it slammed onto the walkway.
A rifle fired behind her, then a second.
“Run!” she yelled as she raced down the tunnel. She almost spun back to see if he needed help, but she knew he would not want that, and she had no weapon regardless.
Sicarius had better not risk his life to buy her time. Frustration lent strength to her limbs, and she ran faster. She careened around the corner by the control room, pushing off the wall to keep from crashing. Her lantern scraped against the concrete, and the flame wavered.
More wrecking ball sounds signaled more makarovi landing on the walkway. She sprinted for the T-section and the stairs beyond it.
She risked a glance back. Darkness engulfed the passage. If Sicarius was behind her, he was too far back to see.
Tears blurred her vision. Curse him. Why couldn’t he just run?
Amaranthe pushed her burning thighs to pump faster. Scuffles and grunts broke the silence behind her. Close. The makarovi were close. She had no idea how many.
