“Just keep the hose from getting tangled,” Books told Basilard after showing him how to operate the air pumps.
With the fire snuffed and the fog shrouding the lake, Books could not see Basilard for signs, but he sensed the man’s concern. Or maybe that was a reflection of his own concern.
“And watch out for glowing-eyed animals,” Books added, all too aware that Basilard would be the only one up there while he and Akstyr descended. “And the man with the white orb.”
The newcomer—the shaman responsible for all this, Akstyr said—had gone into the dam. Books wished he knew a way to pass him and warn the others, but the artifact had to take priority. It was fortuitous the shaman had gone inside instead of investigating around the lake. That’s what he told himself anyway.
“A lot for one man to watch out for.” Akstyr fiddled with his diving suit. The large helmet lay in the fog at his feet. “Didn’t Amaranthe say to wait for her?”
“That was before our shaman showed up.” Books placed the helmet over his head and fiddled with the clasps that fastened it to the suit for a watertight fit. Though the clear spring sky brought cold air, the heavy gear was stifling. In addition to the suit, he wore lead weights to counteract the buoyancy of the rest of the outfit. It would probably feel good to immerse himself in the water.
A branch snapped, and footsteps pounded toward them. Books unfastened the helmet and searched for his rifle. Basilard faced the sounds, his own weapon poised.
“Akstyr?” Maldynado called, then added in a lower voice, “Cursed fog. Where’s the slagging beach?”
“We’re here, by the lake.” Books grabbed a couple of lanterns and turned them up. He shoved the logs back together in the fire ring.
A few flames burst to life in time to show Maldynado racing into camp. Sicarius came on his heels and...
The helmet dropped from Books’s fingers. Amaranthe, soaked in blood and bandaged all about her torso, hung limp in Sicarius’s arms. She was not moving. Books was not sure she was even breathing.
Sicarius’s face was as hard and cold as a marble statue. “Akstyr,” he barked.
Akstyr gaped, eyes shifting from Sicarius to Amaranthe and back.
Maldynado ran for the gear pile, yanked out a bedroll, and spread the blanket by the fire. Sicarius laid Amaranthe on it. Books stepped forward, then stopped. He wanted to help but did not know how.
“Akstyr,” Sicarius said again. “Get over here.”
Mouth drooping open, Akstyr shook his head.
Books wrenched his gaze from Amaranthe. “You have to try, Akstyr.”
“I can’t—is she even...”
“She won’t be for long if you can’t do anything for her,” Maldynado said.
“I don’t know how to... I’ve just done cuts and I’ve barely started learning to—”
In an eye blink, Sicarius lunged around the fire, grabbed Akstyr by the collar of his diving suit, and yanked him close. Though Sicarius’s hard eyes were not directed at him, Books found himself stepping back.
“Heal her.” Sicarius forced Akstyr to his knees at Amaranthe’s side. Sicarius did not say “or else.” He did not have to. The threat hung in the air, as dense as the fog.
Akstyr did not speak again. He knelt, rested his hands on Amaranthe’s bandages, and closed his eyes.
“Do you think,” Maldynado murmured, uncertain eyes turned toward Sicarius, “he knows enough to...”
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...
