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.
YOU ARE READING
The Emperor's Edge 2: Dark Currents
FantasyIt's been three months since former enforcer Amaranthe Lokdon and the notorious assassin Sicarius thwarted kidnappers and saved the emperor's life. The problem? Nobody knows they were responsible for this good deed. Worse, they're being blamed for t...
