Dark Currents

by Lindsay Buroker

  Akstyr belted out a yawn noisy enough to drown out the coyotes yapping in the distance. “We aren’t going down there tonight are we?”

  “Given the proximity of animals wishing to slay us, it would behoove us to finish as promptly as possible.” Books counted to himself as he measured arm lengths of hose. “As soon as the others return, we’ll go down.”

  Basilard leaned against a tree, a rifle cradled in his arms. The glowing-eyed forest creatures were still about, though Books felt safer out here than in the dam. He worried for Amaranthe and wished she had let Maldynado and Sicarius handle further explorations. He should have told her he needed her help out here.

  “How’re we going to see what we’re doing at night?” Akstyr asked.

  “If it’s truly thirty meters or more below the surface, then it’d be dark down there even if it was noon. The deeper you go, the more sunlight is absorbed, thus diminishing visible light. Though this water appears relatively clear, I’d estimate the artifact well below the euphoric depth. Fortunately the light from the device itself—”

  “Crap,” Akstyr said.

  Books glanced up from his work, thinking the youth had seen something.

  Akstyr was shaking his head at Basilard. “Maldynado isn’t here to slap him and shut him up when he goes off like that.”

  Books felt his jaw tightening and forced it to relax. He went back to measuring hose and simply said, “Perhaps it isn’t wise to irritate the man arranging the air flow to your diving suit.”

  “You need me down there. I’m not worried,” Akstyr said.

  “Until the device is destroyed,” Books said. “After that, the mission would be unaffected if you were eaten by Maldynado’s giant catfish.”

  The fire did not provide enough illumination to drive the shadows from Basilard’s face, but white teeth flashed in a quick smile.

  Akstyr had no response. Actually, he appeared not to have heard. He was staring across the lake.

  Afraid the enforcers had returned, Books followed his gaze. The camp was dark and silent, but an orb of white light glowed on the hillside above it. His heartbeat quickened. That light did not burn with the natural yellow of a torch or a lantern. The darkness hid terrain features, but he guessed it to be moving along the road leading to the enforcer camp—and the dam.

  “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—something—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 gust
ing 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.

  “At least they shouldn’t fit through the door.” Amaranthe forced her weary legs to stand.

  “Their claws will,” Maldynado said. “And there’s no way to close these windows.”

  He waved at the large openings on each wall. Lacking glass or shutters, they had been designed to provide a panoramic view of the lake, dam, and river, not keep monsters out.

  “Ready that chain,” Amaranthe said. “Time to hook these fish and fling them into the sea.”

  “On it,” Maldynado said. Thumps against the floor almost buried his words.

  During their preparation, Sicarius and Maldynado had unhooked the crane from the floodgate it was designed to lift, and Maldynado had had time to familiarize himself with the controls, but he did not appear certain as he manipulated a pair of levers. “These critters don’t have belts or anything. What or where am I supposed to grab?”

  “Between the legs,” Sicarius said.

  “You want me to stick a hook in something’s balls? That’s terrible.”

  Sicarius advanced, lifting a hand as if he meant to take over the controls.

  “Let him do it,” Amaranthe told him. “I want you guarding.” She put a hand on Maldynado’s back. “You can handle this.”

  “Ball hooking. Got it.” Maldynado pushed a lever and something ground and clanked beneath the floor.

  She had been too busy climbing to admire the crane built into the base of the tower, but they had deduced earlier that the water of the dam powered the contraption. They thought the crane was maneuverable enough to do more than its original purpose.

  “Just keep those things from bashing through the door,” Maldynado said.

  The sturdy concrete tower did not shake or shudder as the makarovi jumped against it from below, but the wood of the trapdoor was a weakness. Even with the heavy desk on top, it splintered and groaned under the onslaught. Claws scraped and gouged.

  Amaranthe grabbed her rifle from the corner where she had dropped her gear. She hooked her short sword and a pistol onto her weapons belt as well, fearing she would need them. And more.

  The trapdoor shuddered and the desk jumped. Sicarius pushed it back into place with his foot.

  She leaned out a window and shot the first makarovi she saw. The rifle ball disappeared into the unkempt fur without doing apparent damage. Sicarius merely waited, his own weapons ready.

  As Amaranthe reloaded, Maldynado let out a war whoop.

  “I got One-Eye!” he yelled over the clamor coming from below.

  Amaranthe rushed to his side. He had snagged the makarovi Sicarius knifed. The creature yowled and thrashed, and she feared it would tear free, but its gyrations only drove the hook deeper. Maldynado chomped down on his lip, his brow creased with concentration as he maneuvered the makarovi over the side of the dam.

  Amaranthe clenched her fist. “You’re doing it. It’s working.”

  “Don’t get too happy yet, boss. I don’t know how to release it into the water.”

  “Can you, uhm, jiggle it?”

  The creature was still thrashing, unaware of the fall waiting, should it elude the hook. Maldynado manipulated the crane arm back and forth, trying to turn the makarovi into a pendulum. Between one eye blink and the next the beast fell, plunging out of view.

  “Good,” Maldynado said. “One down and—”

  A rifle fired. Sicarius stood before the back window. Despite his shot, a makarovi hung there, its arm hooked over the concrete sill. Amaranthe lunged past the desk, pulling her pistol out on the way. Sicarius lifted his rifle and hammered the clinging arm with the butt. She leaned out and fired into the creature’s fang-filled mouth.

  It roared in pain, but clung to the sill. She fired her rifle as well, landing a shot in its right eye.

  This time it let go. Before it dropped out of view, another jumped up, claws slashing. Sicarius dragged Amaranthe back as he leaped forward, his black knife leading. It sliced into the makarovi’s snout. The wound distracted the beast, and it fell before it could hook an arm over the ledge.

  “That knife works better than the firearms,” Amaranthe said, backing toward the center of the tower to reload her weapons. “Are you ever going to tell me the story of where it’s from and how you got it?”

  While keeping his eyes toward the windows, Sicarius poured powder down the barrel of his rifle and rammed a ball home. “You never asked.”

  “I didn’t? Are you sure? I don’t usually miss an opportunity to pry.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  The trapdoor lurched, heaving the desk into Amaranthe’s stomach. She grunted and shoved it back into place. Two makarovi caught opposite window sills at the same time.

  “Might want to hurry it up, Mal,” she yelled, fumbling to finish loading her firearms.

  Sicarius handed her his rifle and attacked the closet makarovi with his knife before it could pull itself inside. She raised the weapon and advanced on the second. It too clawed at the window, trying to pull itself inside.

  Its meaty arms flexed, and the bear-like head appeared over the lip. She fired. Her ball bounced off the creature’s skull and ricocheted into the night.

  “Unbelievable.” Amaranthe dropped the rifle, yanked her short sword out, and stabbed at the creature’s eye. It jerked its head, and her tip glanced off its cheek. She tried again. One way or another, she had to keep it from scrambling inside.

  “Two down!” Maldynado called. “Going in for a third.”

  Good, but her makarovi would not let go. She jabbed at vital targets on its face, yet it inched farther and farther inside. Blood matted its fur and ran down the inside wall below the window. Its efforts did not abate.

  Growling, Amaranthe aimed for the eye again. It saw the blade coming and swiped a paw at her. She dodged and was ready to stab again, but the attack unbalanced the creature. It slipped and fell.

  “Another one going for a ride,” Maldynado announced.

  It was work
ing. Chaos surrounded them, but her plan was working.

  Amaranthe almost laughed, but it was too early for cockiness. Reload. She had to reload her weapons.

  “Look out!” Sicarius fired past her shoulder.

  She spun as a dark shaggy body barreled through her window.

  Amaranthe stumbled back, lifting the rifle to shoot, but she had not had time to load it properly, and it misfired. The makarovi launched itself at her.

  She dropped and rolled under the desk. “Need help!”

  But Sicarius was busy fighting his own makarovi. He glanced her direction and missed a third beast rolling through the window. Its paw hammered the back of his head, and he hit the floor, rolling into the desk.

  Blood stained his blond hair and streamed down his face. He appeared dazed and did not move.

  Then she lost sight of him. Makarovi filled the room. She could not see Maldynado either. A lantern hit the floor and went out, halving the light.

  The desk—her shelter—was hurled across the room. Wood smashed against her shoulder, jarring her with pain. A makarovi loomed over her. She rolled to the side and came up with her sword ready.

  Claws raked across her back. Streaks of pain seared her, and she gasped, instinctively pulling away, but that put her closer to the makarovi in front of her. She tried to hurl herself sideways, but the upturned desk blocked her. Surrounded, she could not escape. She slipped in a puddle of water and crashed to the floor.

  Not water. Blood. Her blood.

  Sword still clenched, she tried to crawl for the desk while slashing at the dark shapes hovering above. Maybe if she could get under it…

  But she could not move fast enough. A heavy weight slammed down, smothering her.

  “Maldynado!” Sicarius’s yell, oddly far away, was the last thing she heard.

  CHAPTER 20

  “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.