Dark Currents (31 page)

“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.

Clanks sounded as Akstyr and Maldynado rummaged in a new crate.

“They get people noticed too.” Amaranthe held his gaze but did not sense any give behind his eyes. “We’ll be fine. We have a well-trained group of men with unique talents and skills.”

“Ouch, ouch, get it off!” Maldynado hollered.

He was hopping about with a hand clamp hanging from…ah, that was a nipple. Amaranthe dropped her face into her hands.

“Oops,” Akstyr said.

Amaranthe avoided Sicarius’s gaze as she helped Maldynado unfasten himself. “Need anything else, Books? How long will it take you to set up?”

He lifted a hand. “I should not wish to make promises about time or even success. If that artifact is as deep as Maldynado believes, we may have trouble with water pressure. Bones and muscle can hold up, but air-filled spaces in our bodies, such as the ears and lungs—”

“
Books
,” Maldynado groaned.

“If we
do
go in, we should walk in from the shore and gradually let our bodies acclimate. Likewise, it could be hazardous to come up quickly.”

“All right,” Amaranthe said. “Go get set up. You can wait for us to return to go into the water. I don’t want you somewhere vulnerable without lots of help up above to ensure you’re kept safe.”

Books blew out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“Of course, if we all get eaten, you’ll have to do it on your own,” she said.

Books’s relieved expression turned to a worried frown. Even Sicarius gave her a dark stare.

Amaranthe patted Books on the arm. “We’ll be careful.”

She headed for the main chamber, but Maldynado paused and pointed at Books.

“Watch out for the giant man-sized catfish while you’re down on the lake bottom. I hear they’re carnivorous.”

Books scoffed. “Those are stories told by uneducated rural mountain folk, nothing more.”

“Sure, Booksie. You believe what you want to believe. Just make sure to take a sword down there. Can’t fire a rifle underwater, you know.”

“You’re a bastard at times,” Amaranthe told Maldynado when he fell in beside her. Sicarius was already leading the way toward the tunnel.

“Yup, but he deserved it. I wouldn’t have done anything unsafe when he was underwater.”

“Perhaps it’s your insouciant manner that leads others to believe you shouldn’t be placed in positions of responsibility.”

“Yes,” Maldynado said, “but I thought Books bright enough to see past a man’s painstakingly cultivated levels of insouciance.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

“Are you saying you have hidden depths?”

Maldynado scratched an armpit. “Naturally.”

“Hm,” was all she said.

The new tunnel, too, dripped copious amounts of water and stank of mildew. It continued to slope downward and soon came to a T-section. A faint draft of fresh air whispered from the right. Maybe that passage led to the top of the dam where those towers perched.

“Left,” Amaranthe said when Sicarius paused. “Akstyr’s magic is that direction, right?”

Wordlessly, Sicarius headed left. They reached a doorway in the side of the tunnel. Inside lay a small room with a panel on a wall, hanging diagrams, a desk and chair, and a series of levers.

Amaranthe unclasped a bolt and pushed on the panel. It slid sideways, opening a window of sorts. The roar of water intensified, and cool misty air gusted inside, spraying dampness onto her face. A panoply of stars gleamed in a clear, black sky, while a quarter moon shone silver on three streams of water pouring from flood gates open beneath them. A half a dozen more closed flood gates marked the dam wall.

Maldynado joined her. “Looks like we found the control room.”

“I wonder how they open and close those heavy gates.” Amaranthe leaned out and twisted her neck to peer upward, but whatever mechanism did the work was hidden in the walls.

“Here.” Sicarius stood behind them, an eye toward the exit, but he pointed at one in a series of diagrams on the wall.

Amaranthe studied it. “Ah, I see. Those things on the top of the dam aren’t watchtowers after all. Or at least they’re not
just
watchtowers.”

The diagram showed cranes housed in each structure with cables that could pull up the heavy gates. The next display riveted her attention for longer. It displayed vertical and horizontal lines—pipelines—and the topography of the surrounding area, all the way down to Stumps and the lake.

She ran her finger along the diagram. “This pipe routes water to the aqueducts that lead into the city. These go to fields. The river itself flows south and empties into Little Sister Lake over one hundred miles from the capital. Whichever emperor was in charge when this was built sure didn’t mind making a lot of extra work for people.”

“Isn’t that every emperor that’s ever existed?” Maldynado asked. “Making work, that’s their job, isn’t it?”

“Are warrior-caste men allowed to make snide remarks about our rulers?” Amaranthe poked into the desk drawers, hoping for something illuminating.

“They are if they’re disowned with bounties on their heads.”

She spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the floor behind a desk leg and grabbed it. “Hm.”

“Is that a page from the dastardly villain’s diary?” Maldynado asked. “One carelessly dropped that conveniently reveals the secret to destroying these vile artifacts?”

“It’s an invoice.”

“Villains get bills?”

“It’s the invoice for the appraisal on Hagcrest’s land,” Amaranthe said. “The woman must have brought it up here to meet with her client, expecting to get paid…”

“And she got a knife across the throat. Who would have thought being an appraiser could be a deadly line of work?”

Amaranthe tucked the paper into her pocket, though it held nothing so helpful as a name and address for the person who ordered the appraisal.

Rifle shots cracked, clear and close.

“Guess the dam tour is over,” Maldynado said. “Too bad. I liked this room. Fresh air, a good view…”

“No corpses,” Amaranthe said.

“That did improve the general ambiance.”

Sicarius was already heading back into the tunnels.

“Time to see what they’re firing at,” she murmured.

They did not walk far before the darkness ahead changed from black to a greenish gray. Amaranthe frowned at the unnatural hue. No lantern could be responsible for that.

Moist, guttural snorts and snarls filled the air. A stench wafted from ahead: blood again, along with the musky, earthy odor of that fur. Amaranthe’s grip tightened on her rifle. It was not too late to back out, to leave the soldiers to their fate. If her team destroyed the artifact, that would be enough, wouldn’t it?

Agitated voices murmured, barely audible over the animalistic sounds.

“Hurry up,” someone said.

Sicarius paused. Amaranthe stood on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. A few paces ahead, the tunnel changed from an enclosed passage to a metal walkway, open on one side.

“Let me by,” she whispered.

Sicarius did not, though he moved forward. He stopped again as soon as they stepped onto the metal grating of the walkway.

To their left, the wall continued, but to the right, a dim chamber opened up with a floor twenty-five or thirty feet below them. A massive pipe, perhaps twenty feet in diameter ran through the chamber parallel to the walkway. Ten soldiers stood or crouched atop it. They were busy reloading their rifles and watching huge, bulky creatures that milled on the floor. Lanterns perched between the soldiers, but the source of the sickly green light was a small, flat glowing device attached to the top of the pipe. Men knelt on either side, tools out, trying to disarm it or perhaps pry it loose.

Amaranthe pictured the schematic from the control room. “That’s the pipe leading to the city.”

“Figures.” Maldynado had come up behind them. He was tall enough to observe over her head. “Those the makarovi down there?”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

The shadows made it hard to count, and the great pipe hid the back half of the chamber, but Amaranthe guessed at least six beasts prowled, each one more than ten feet tall.

Without warning, one leaped. It made it to the top, but could not gain purchase on the smooth, sloping side of the pipe. It hung, claws squealing as it tried to dig in.

A soldier fired a rifle at its face. The creature dropped. It landed on its feet, shook itself like a dog recovering from a smack on the nose, then began stalking about again.

“I guess it
does
take a cannon to drop one,” Amaranthe whispered.

“I knew we were forgetting something,” Maldynado said.

“Though…if they can be drowned, we might not need a cannon.” She nibbled on a fingernail, thinking of Sicarius’s earlier words and the diagrams in the control room.

“Whatever scheme you’re concocting,” Sicarius said, “remember there are several down there. Several who will go after you first and be impossible to deter once they get your scent.”

“Funny they haven’t noticed her yet,” Maldynado said.

“Yes,” Sicarius said. “It must be the collars.”

Collars? Amaranthe squinted into the gloom.

A second makarovi leaped, hurling itself toward the soldiers tinkering with the glowing box. One man jerked back and almost fell off the opposite side of the pipe. Only a reflexive grab from his comrade saved him.

Three rifles fired, and the creature dropped out of sight again, but not before Amaranthe, watching for it this time, glimpsed the collar. Partially hidden by the shaggy black fur, the silver chain wrapped the makarovi’s neck like a choker.

“Now there’s a sexy look for the homeliest beast in the mountains,” Maldynado muttered.

“The collars are magical?” she asked, figuring they had found the multiple devices Akstyr sensed.

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“Who’s there?” a soldier called. He faced the walkway, rifle gripped in both hands. The wan green light illuminated crossed muskets embroidered on his sleeve, the rank of a sergeant.

“Is it the enforcers?” another asked while Amaranthe debated how to answer.

“Did you get the rest of the garrison to come up here?”

“Ssh,” the sergeant said, his gaze never turning from Amaranthe and her men. “It’s too soon to be them.”

He lifted his rifle, not yet aiming it at her, but the barrel pointed at the walkway below her feet.

Sicarius tried to draw her back into the tunnel where the walls would protect them from fire, but she braced herself with a hand on the corner.

“We’re from the city,” she called. “Can we help?”

The snarls intensified below, and the makarovi shuffled closer to the walkway below her. Something seemed to stop them, though, some invisible pull. It drew them back to the pipe below the glowing box.

“Who are you?” the sergeant asked again, brow furrowed. “Random people from the city don’t know about this dam.” His finger flexed on the trigger.

“Maybe she’s the one behind all this,” another said. “Some witch who made these slagging contraptions.”

“No,” Amaranthe said. “We’re just typical imperial citizens, but we can help. We have weapons.”

“
We
have weapons too,” one of the men fiddling with the box said. “They’re not doing much.”

“We
are
running low on ammo,” someone muttered, so quietly Amaranthe almost missed it.

“We talked to Sergeant Yara,” she said, hoping the soldiers would prove more amenable if she implied she knew their ally. “She said you needed help.”

“She told you to come in here?” The sergeant stared, mouth slack. “You know what these things do to women?”

“We saw,” Amaranthe said. Even as they spoke two beasts broke away from the pipe again and drew closer to her. Moist snuffles and smacking lips assaulted her ears. The creatures’ stench floated up, stronger than ever. “We have a man who may be able to disarm that device.” Maybe if they hurried back to the machine room, she could catch Akstyr before he went outside with Books and Basilard.

“Help disarm a magical device?” The sergeant scowled. “That’s an unlikely skill for ‘typical imperial citizens.’ Who
are
you?”

She hesitated. They might believe Sicarius ecumenical enough to help, but they would never let him. He was watching her, and he shook his head once when she met his eyes. All right, she would simply tell them her name. She could bring Akstyr out, and Sicarius could stay in the shadows.

“My name is—”

Sicarius gripped her arm. “Do not—”

One of the creatures below jumped and hit the bottom of the walkway. The floor heaved, and Amaranthe stumbled back. Claws slipped through the grating. One bear-like paw gripped the edge of the walkway. Sicarius stomped on it, then stepped back, joining her in the tunnel mouth.