Wind gusted through the foothills, railing against the stump Amaranthe crouched behind. Rain slanted sideways, battering her flushed cheeks. Despite her fever, shivers coursed through her as she watched the mine entrance through a spyglass. Darkness hugged the hillside, but she could make out a pair of constructs guarding the tunnel.
Their heads, similar to the clunky diving helmet Books had worn, did not shift or twist, though crimson eyes burned behind glass plates. With barrel-chests and column-like legs, they had a humanoid shape. She doubted they were pretty when they walked, but they did not need to be, not with the four scaled-down harpoon launchers adorning each arm.
“Those things are fantastic,” Maldynado whispered.
He and Basilard knelt near Amaranthe.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could get one to guard our hideout?” Maldynado added.
Amaranthe said nothing. She was too tired for chitchat. She was surprised Sicarius and Akstyr had not found them by now.
No sooner had she had the thought than a touch on her shoulder startled her.
“Leave us,” Sicarius told the others and crouched beside her.
“More secrecy,” Maldynado moaned, but he slouched off a few paces.
Basilard frowned suspiciously at Sicarius before joining Maldynado. Something else to worry about, but not that night, Amaranthe hoped. Akstyr came up the trail out of the darkness and joined the two men.
Amaranthe sank down, her back against the stump. “Report?”
“You’re worse,” Sicarius said.
“Yes, I’ve been told.” Her voice cracked. “Have you confirmed the shaman is inside? Are the soldiers coming?”
“Yes and no.”
“No sign of them? You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Sicarius said. “We must act alone. And soon. You may be dead by morning.”
“Have I mentioned how endearing your bluntness is?”
“I believe we can destroy these constructs with mundane means,” Sicarius said, “but doing so will alert the shaman of our presence.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not going that way. I am.”
“Explain.”
Amaranthe told him about the vertical shaft they had identified on the map.
“You want us to retrieve Books while you’re being taken prisoner?” Sicarius said.
“No, I want them to retrieve Books. I have to talk the shaman into healing me, and you’re the only bargaining chip I can think of to tease him with.” She smiled, hoping he would not be offended. It would not be the first time she used him or his reputation as a tool.
“Explain,” he said again, his tone cooler this time.
“I’d like you to wait up on the hillside—there’s a canyon called Crest Crevasse. I’ll go in and tell the shaman I’ll take him to you, but that I need him to heal me so I can make the climb. My life in exchange for his revenge. Of course, you’ll have time to pick a place, set up traps, and do whatever other assassinly preparation is required. I assume you’d prefer to face him on territory of your choosing rather than of his.”
Amaranthe waited for a response. It was not a brilliant plan or even a creative-enough-to-possibly-unsettle-the-opponent plan, but she had come up with nothing better. And, like he said, she feared they had to go in tonight, while she retained the ability to walk and think.
“I would prefer not to face him at all,” Sicarius said.
“Me too, but I have to face him. I need someone to heal me, and he’s the only candidate.”
“You would not need his services if you hadn’t insisted on confronting the makarovi.”
The accusation surprised her. Not because it was untrue, but because Sicarius, whatever his opinions of her intelligence might be, did not usually voice them. Hearing his disapproval stung.
“Probably true,” she said, “but I did and now I do.”
“Your recklessness has nearly gotten you killed more times than I can count, and your plans continue to put my life in danger.”
“I’m sorry,” Amaranthe said, “but I thought you... Don’t you believe one must take great risks in order to achieve great rewards?”
“The only reward I want requires me to live to appreciate it.”
Amaranthe closed her eyes. She already felt like a hot ingot on a blacksmith’s anvil. Why did he have to choose this moment to snipe at her?
“Look,” she said, “if you have another plan—”
“I plan to rethink this arrangement. You would put a master shaman on my trail, and for what? This will not help me earn my ‘reward.’”
“Sicarius....”
“I will wait in your canyon.” He stood. “Until dawn. After that, I’m leaving.”
“What do you mean you’re leaving? Leaving the group? Permanently?”
“If he doesn’t like your plan, and he decides to kill you, there’s no point in me staying.” He gazed down at her, eyes as cold and distant as when they first met. “Books is nothing to me, and I’m not coming in after you.”
Amaranthe swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Sicarius strode into the darkness. She scowled after him. Just the day before he had risked his life to keep the makarovi off her. Emperor’s balls, that was heroic. How could one decide something like that had been a mistake?
Because, her mind said with a sneer, he realized how close he came to dying because of your stupid plan.
And then there was the blasting stick that had been launched at him the last time she went in to talk to a shaman. Maybe Sicarius was right to be tired of her shenanigans. That knowledge did not keep tears from stinging her eyes.
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...
