Lindsay Buroker - Dark Currents

“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.

Sweat streamed from her brow and stung her eyes. She turned the last corner and a cold draft whispered down the stairwell, licking her damp skin. Stars gleamed beyond the open door at the top.

She lunged up the steps three at a time. A thump sounded below her, a creature hitting the wall. Pistols fired, the echoes deafening in the stairwell. Sicarius. Still with her.

A few steps to go. With a great push from her legs, she leaped the last couple of stairs and raced outside. Water roared in her ears.

Twenty meters ahead, lanterns burned in the windows of the closest tower. A large dark shape inside waved-Maldynado.

Amaranthe could not respond, not now. She focused on the ladder until she saw nothing else. She ran, ignoring the gusting wind as it tore hair from her bun and whipped it into her eyes.

Heavy, rasping breaths sounded behind her. That was not Sicarius.

Less than ten feet behind, a shaggy form towered, black against the night sky. No sign of Sicarius.

Urging her trembling legs to greater effort, she leaped for the ladder. She caught it several rungs up and climbed, fearing she would be too slow. With a single jump, the makarovi could tear her from the ladder.

Amaranthe tried to climb too quickly, and a sweat-slick palm slipped off a metal rung. She lurched and missed a foothold. She almost dropped, but thrust her arm through a hole. Her armpit caught a rung, but she dangled helplessly.

Hot breath stinking of blood blew into her face. Only a foot below, dark, hungry eyes stared up at her. She scrambled to find the rungs with her boots, but she knew it was too late. The fang-filled maw leered open, and the makarovi lifted a paw to tear into her.

She kicked it in the snout. The creature grunted, and its head lurched to the side.

A shadow leaped onto the creature’s back. Sicarius ran up the makarovi as if he were climbing stairs. His black dagger snaked around the shaggy head and plunged into an eye.

The makarovi reared and staggered. Sicarius leaped over its head and onto the ladder. Amaranthe glimpsed five more creatures charging across the dam before his body blocked her view.

“You should be climbing,” he said, already skimming past her. He did not so much as bump her with a knee.

Amaranthe righted herself and sailed up the last few rungs. Sicarius and Maldynado pulled her through the trapdoor.

“Sorry,” she panted.

Maldynado slammed the door shut and threw a bolt that appeared far too flimsy to deter the makarovi.

“Was…admiring your…nicely timed…intervention,” she finished.

Sicarius and Maldynado shoved a desk on top of the trapdoor as something smashed into it from below. Amaranthe doubted the creatures could use the ladder, but it might not matter if they could jump as high as the tower.