Lindsay Buroker - Deadly Games

That thought made him freeze mid-step. Whenhad he come to care about the empire and its citizens? This placehad done little enough for him, and the old emperor had beenresponsible for the ruthless assassination of Mangdoria’srulers.

But Amaranthe, Maldynado, and Books wereTurgonians and they were the first friends-the first family-he hadbeen allowed to have in years. He wished he could see his daughteragain someday, but, coward that he was, he feared her reaction. Shewould see his scars, know the violence he had been involved in, andwould condemn him. She had to. That was his people’s way. It painedhim to think that he might have more in common with thesewarmongering Turgonians these days than his own kin.

He flexed his fingers around the axe haft,bringing his attention back to the moment. This was no time fordaydreaming. He prowled around the flywheel to consider an angle ofattack and almost tripped over two bodies in Turgonian armyfatigues. Their throats were slashed. Basilard glanced at Sicarius.He supposed it had been a matter of defense, but if they werealive, they might have been coerced into helping with the engines.Basilard shrugged and stepped past them.

A glint of light near the ceiling caught hiseye. A small, transparent cylinder floated in the air beneath agrate-no, a vent. It was filled with something yellow. The samestuff that had incapacitated him in the stadium?

Basilard crept closer. It hung in the air foranother moment, then dropped, as if the invisible hand holding itlet go.

He dove for it, hitting the deck chest first.A fresh wave of pain erupted from his shoulder, but he flung hisarm out and caught the vial before it smashed to the floor. Heopened his fist, worried he might have cracked the glass. Itremained intact but now what was he supposed to do with it? For allhe knew, the practitioner who had levitated it in could snap theglass with his mind.

“What is it?” Sicarius asked.

Basilard showed him the vial, then pointed atthe furnace. Should we burn it?

“That’ll release the fumes, and the furnaceisn’t airtight.”

Sicarius found a flat sheet of metal, thenfished in the toolbox again and pulled out a screwdriver. He held ahand out for the vial. When Basilard gave it to him, Sicarius slidit back into the duct from whence it had come and screwed the metalsheet across the vent to block it.

They’ll try again, Basilardsigned.

“Yes. Continue to stand watch while Iread.”

You’re welcome, Basilard signed.

“What?”

For saving you-both of us-from a trip back tothe laboratory tables.

“At this juncture, it’s more likely they’dkill us.” Sicarius bent his head over a manual he had found.

Basilard remembered how he had not thought ofhim as one of the people he considered friends or family. Nomistake there.

You’re an ass, you know that? hesigned, sure Sicarius would not see with his head bent over thebook. I can’t believe I’m planning on not killing you when youare so deserving of being killed.

Basilard scowled at himself. That didn’t evenmake sense. Before he could stalk away in disgust, Sicariusspoke.

“What changed your mind?”

Basilard froze. Er. He lifted his hands, buthesitated. Trying to explain his emotions would be futile. Sicariushad saved his life in the corridor, and possibly on the laboratorytable as well, but Basilard did not want to admit to any feelingsof gratitude, not to someone who would brush them aside. He signed, Because Amaranthe would never forgive me if I wassuccessful.

“Huh.”

With that, Sicarius went back to reading.Basilard sighed and found a spot where he could watch the duct andthe door. He wished Amaranthe were there with them. If nothingelse, she would have convinced Sicarius to find clothes by now.

There was water in Amaranthe’s boot. Withevery step, her toes sloshed about in it. At least she could take steps. The size and heft of the suit on dry land hadworried her, but the air inside her pack and helmet made hersurprisingly light as she walked- sloshed -down the lake’ssteep slope. Indeed, the suits required weights to keep one fromfloating to the surface.

Maldynado, Books, and Akstyr strode at herside. Well, it wasn’t “striding” exactly. Between the swords beltedat their waists and the harpoon launchers in their arms, they werenot the most agile creatures moving about in the lake. Bookscarried his keg instead of a launcher, but that was just asawkward, and he had already stumbled twice. Each time somebodyslipped, Amaranthe’s heart jumped into her throat. If anybody cutthemselves on the harpoon tips, the poison would kill them asquickly as it would kill a kraken-much more quickly infact.

The helmets made it difficult to speak toeach other-though sometimes a muffled curse reached her ears assomeone slipped on the seaweed-slick lake bottom-but they weremanaging with Basilard’s hand signs.

When they reached the cliff, Amaranthe creptto the edge. A dark expanse yawned below. She had little feel forhow far the viewer had dropped, but no hint of the orange glow sheremembered seeped up from below. Since these suits wereself-contained, there was no tube connecting them to the surface,and the idea of stepping off and falling a hundred feet or moremade her hesitate.

Four hundred feet , Books signed.

To the bottom of the lake? Amarantheasked.

It’s a thousand at its deepest, but thisfirst ledge has been measured as a three- to four-hundred-footdrop, depending on where you step down. He tilted his head. We’ll be fine, but we should go slowly to acclimate our bodiesto the pressure change.

I was more worried about coming backup, Amaranthe signed.

Just remove the weights when it’s time, andyou’ll float up.

If there wasn’t a kraken waiting in themiddle to eat her.

Amaranthe took a deep breath and stepped offthe ledge. She kept her gloved fingers near the cliff, using therough stone to slow her descent.

Time trickled past, measured in the softinhalations that echoed in her ears. Fresh air whispered into thehelmet, brushing her cheek, while her used air escaped through anexhaust vent, creating tiny bubbles that floated away. Her earspopped, and pressure built in her sinuses. Had this been a trip formere fun or adventure, she would have turned back.

An orange glow grew visible below, and sheexhaled in relief. They were getting close.

She touched down in a bed of silt, stirring acloud of fine dust. The strange, two-story fortress waited sometwenty-five meters away. Translucent fish still swam about theperimeter, but Amaranthe did not see the kraken. With luck, it andthe crew of the vessel had turned their focus toward the Saberfist .

Something ticked against the back of herhelmet. Maldynado. He pointed overhead.

She tensed, expecting the kraken, and flexedher finger on the trigger of the harpoon launcher. No tentacleswaved in the distance though; Maldynado was pointing to diversdescending. Six of them. Two carried waterproof lanterns and woreswords. Two others bore weapons she could not name-they had theappearance of arm-sized cannons, but black powder would be uselessdown here. The final two carried harpoon launchers.

Did they believe us and come expectingtrouble? Amaranthe signed. The nearby illumination providedenough light for the hand gestures.

They’re marines, Maldynado responded. I bet that’s their typical underwater exploration gear.

She snorted, fogging her faceplate with thebreath. Probably true.

Akstyr came up between them and pointed at aschool of the guardian fish. Amaranthe grimaced, remembering howone had charred some sea critter into a blackened husk. She hopedthey lacked the firepower to harm full-grown humans.