Forged in Blood II ee-7

by Lindsay Buroker

  Amaranthe stopped them, raising her hands rather than the bow. Fearing some of the cubes were chasing them, she didn’t start with pleasantries. “What’re you-”

  “How do we get out of here?” the woman shouted. “The door we came in is-it looks like we’re a thousand feet in the air!”

  Ah. “That’s because we are. Five thousand feet, I believe. Come with us. We’re going to collect the others, then all of us can get off via the lifeboat.”

  “A flying lifeboat?”

  “Something like that.” Amaranthe waved to her men, implying they should encourage compliance physically if needed, but the couple was too terrified to object. They were lost and didn’t know how to get off the ship. They’d follow anyone who had a plan.

  Her team collected two more groups of people and a single meandering man before circling back toward Tikaya and the others. Amaranthe had expected more trouble, but everyone had encountered cubes-or something else that had scared them-and was eager to escape. Most of their packs were empty-they hadn’t had time to find anything useful with which to abscond-but Amaranthe and Tikaya would have to figure out a way to divest the first group of their loot. They could worry about that later.

  “We’re doing well,” Amaranthe whispered to Maldynado as they ran down the ramp that would lead them to the lifeboat floor again.

  He tilted his watch in her direction, his face bleak. Amaranthe grimaced at the numbers. Though they’d collected people without any brawls to slow them down, the sheer miles of tunnels in the Behemoth were working against them.

  “Let’s hope Tikaya found a way to give us more ti-curse it all, stop, everyone stop!”

  A black cube had floated into an intersection ahead of them. Amaranthe already had the bow in hand, but it took a second for Basilard to remove the lid jar and for her to dip in an arrow. The cube rotated toward them, its dark orifice flaring to life like a burning red eye.

  Sweat dribbled down the back of her neck as she made herself take the time to ensure the arrowhead was fully coated. Shouts and bumps sounded behind her as people scrambled back. Amaranthe nocked the arrow and dropped to one knee. She forced herself to take a steadying breath before firing. This had to be perfect.

  She loosed the arrow only to cringe when it bounced off the rim of the cube’s hole instead of going in. A crimson beam shot out, incinerating it in the air.

  Blast, Tikaya had made it look easy. Amaranthe grabbed another arrow, all too aware that they only had four more, and dipped it again. Basilard had set the jar on the floor and he was crouching, ready to sprint at the cube and distract it if he could. She didn’t want him to risk himself, but with the arrow disintegrated, the beam sought a new target. Her. It tilted downward, toward her spot.

  Amaranthe skittered backward, even as Basilard ran toward it. He ducked before the beam could catch him in the chest and dove under the cube. It rotated, trying to track him. Though safe from the attack, Amaranthe could no longer see the hole.

  “Bring it back, Basilard,” she called.

  He’d disappeared around a corner, and she hated to distract him, but if she couldn’t see the hole, she couldn’t aim at it. Already, smoke wafted from her acid-dipped arrowhead.

  “Wait, just wait,” Maldynado said, somewhere behind her. Good, he was keeping track of the people, not letting them run off where they’d get lost again.

  Basilard ran into view, skidding back around the corner, and ducking under the cube once more. As before, it tracked him.

  Amaranthe lined up her shot, squinting through the wisps of smoke arising from her arrowhead. As soon as the orifice came into view and the angle was right…

  She fired.

  This time her aim proved flawless. Though she’d seen Tikaya’s acid-tipped arrows drop the other cubes, Amaranthe held her breath, afraid it wouldn’t work for her. Basilard crouched, ready to run again if need be. After a small eternity during which she would have glanced at the pocket watch again if Maldynado had been near, the broken cube dropped to the floor.

  “It’s safe,” she hollered at the people huddled behind her. “Come, hurry!”

  Maldynado had maneuvered to the rear of the pack to prevent escapees, and he pushed at people’s backs now, urging them to comply.

  A minute later, Amaranthe and Basilard burst around a familiar corner. A door now stood open in the dead end, and Mahliki and the prisoners waited inside the lifeboat. Its interior was even smaller than Amaranthe remembered. With all these people, they would be crammed in there like trout piled in the bottom of a fishing boat’s hold. It couldn’t be helped.

  Tikaya waited outside by the controls, and the single grim shake of her head told Amaranthe everything. She hadn’t been able to delay the countdown. Amaranthe wanted to demand details, to ask why someone would build something that devastating without incorporating a way to cut it off, but she didn’t dare waste the time.

  “Everyone inside,” she hollered. “That’s our way out.” Amaranthe lowered her voice as people streamed past. “Tikaya, we have three more groups.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be time,” Tikaya said, her eyes haunted. She surely took as much responsibility for this debacle as Amaranthe.

  Not your fault, Amaranthe wanted to say, but what came out was, “I have to try. Maldynado, stay here in case anyone gets rowdy.” Something that might very well happen if the people realized they were sitting inside a giant bomb with a timer ticking down.

  “Got it.” Maldynado tossed her his watch.

  Amaranthe caught it and stuffed it into her pocket. “Bas, come on.”

  Sweat bathed his bald scarred head, but he didn’t hesitate to race off down the corridor again with her. Amaranthe couldn’t guess what she looked like, but she didn’t care. She had to retrieve those people. She didn’t know why it mattered so much-her ancestors knew, countless others had fallen in the last few weeks-but maybe she hoped it would offer some sort of absolution. She couldn’t help those the Behemoth had obliterated with its landing, but these few… these she could help.

  Basilard was watching the map and their progress toward the next dot. I don’t think we can make it, he signed, though he kept running by her side.

  “We will,” Amaranthe panted. The grueling pace was wearing on her, too, but she charged up the next ramp, heading up three levels instead of one this time. They’d go for the farthest out party first. “I’m not… going to… die now.”

  I’m glad to hear you say that, Basilard signed. I wondered. You’ve been reckless of late.

  Had she been? More so than usual? Maybe since the crash.

  “That was… before I knew… Sicarius had… gotten himself… in trouble again. He obviously… needs my help.”

  Basilard smiled tightly. Obviously.

  Thighs burning, she raced down a new corridor, and they swung into a chamber, similar to the alcove-filled one where they’d fought their first battle. Four men were gathered around one of those columns, trying to-no, they were managing to-disassemble it.

  These people were better armed than the others, and one spun at their approach, a crossbow in hand. Basilard was carrying the jar of acid, but he had a pistol, too, and he fired before Amaranthe could decide if she wanted to use a precious arrow. The ball grazed the man’s hand, and he dropped the crossbow with a cry of pain. His bolt flew free when the weapon hit the floor, clanking into the ceiling above Amaranthe’s head.

  “The ship’s going to blow up in less than fifteen minutes,” she blurted. “If you don’t want to blow up with it, you have to come with us. We have a lifeboat.”

  “Don’t believe her, Krageth. They just want our finds.” The innards they’d dug out of the column were stuffed into a bag at their feet.

  Three more crossbows came to bear.

  They hadn’t seen a door and didn’t know they’d left the ground, nor had the cubes scared them into submission. Amaranthe shook her head. She’d spend too many precious minutes trying to convince them of their danger.
<
br />   “They’re your lives. If you decide you want to escape, go back that way, down the ramp three levels, then to the right. Lifeboat’s waiting!”

  Watching the crossbows as she went, she and Basilard ran out a door on the opposite side. A quarrel skipped off the corner wall as they ducked into the corridor.

  Amaranthe swiped at her eyes, frustrated and angry at the situation.

  You warned them, Basilard signed.

  “Best we can do.”

  Time?

  Balancing the sphere displaying the map and her bow, she dug out the watch and handed it to him.

  Seven minutes, he signed.

  Fortunately the next group, a trio of lost and scared women, joined them without more than three words exchanged. They probably would have followed anyone, promises of escape not withstanding.

  We should circle back, Basilard signed.

  They’d had to slow their pace so the newcomers could keep up. Even tired, Amaranthe and Basilard were faster than most people, at least over a distance, and this cursed ship was all about distances.

  “Three more people to collect,” Amaranthe said resolutely.

  Four minutes. We still have to run back. She said this was an estimate.

  “I know, Bas. I know.”

  He grimaced. I know you do. I just have to… Sicarius needs your help, remember.

  She blinked sweat out of her eyes. Maybe they were tears. Both probably.

  Muscles trembling, she led the way up the final ramp and into a new corridor. Voices came from ahead.

  “…brilliant. This is the finest place ever.”

  “…make it our new fort.”

  It wasn’t the extended run that made Amaranthe want to throw up. Children. They’d almost blown up children. She glanced at the watch clenched in Basilard’s hands. They still might.

  With the rest of their flock straggling behind, Amaranthe and Basilard raced into the room.

  “Your fort is about to explode,” she shouted, her words coming out in a jumble. She was panting and could barely speak. How could she explain the need for urgency?

  The children, a brother and a sister no more than ten years old, whirled toward them, their eyes wide. They stumbled backward. They were going to run away.

  “No,” Amaranthe managed, flinging up a hand.

  Basilard surged into the lead. He solved the problem of convincing them to join by dropping the jar and grabbing one of the children in each arm. Without stopping, he slung them up, one over each shoulder. He spun around, mouthing, “Go, go!” though no words came from his throat.

  Amaranthe grabbed the jar and tore after Basilard, waving for everyone else to do the same.

  “We just came… from that… direction,” one of their followers panted.

  Amaranthe had no idea what her face looked like, but when she glowered at the dissident, he raced after Basilard as if makarovi were on his heels.

  They hammered down the corridors, ragged breaths echoing from the walls. Amaranthe was tempted to veer toward the chamber again, to take another try at convincing those men to leave, but Basilard was in the lead now, and he chose another route, a shorter one, back to the ramp. She didn’t ask about the time. There wasn’t any to spare. She knew that.

  By the time they reached the lifeboat floor, the people in her group were stumbling, and Amaranthe was half pulling a straggling woman. She almost slammed into the backs of the people ahead of her when they halted.

  “Go in,” she panted, recognizing the corridor.

  “We can’t,” someone yelled, “it’s a dead end.”

  Amaranthe pushed through. Had they made a wrong turn? She lifted the map. Sweat streamed down her face, and she wiped her eyes so she could see. This was the spot.

  Dear ancestors, what if the others hadn’t waited? What if they’d left? Panting, unable to find the air she needed, Amaranthe wondered if she was going to hyperventilate. No, you’ll be immolated first, she thought.

  Then the door slid up.

  “Hurry, get in,” Tikaya cried.

  Amaranthe was pushed to the floor as the stampede of bodies surged around her. By now everybody sensed how short their time was.

  A hand grabbed hers, pulling her to her feet. Maldynado. He hoisted her over his shoulder and leaped for the door. It whispered shut right behind them, almost slicing off her feet.

  There should have been a great surge of acceleration as the lifeboat took off, but Amaranthe barely noticed it. Maldynado shifted his grip on her, as if he meant to put her down, but he couldn’t find a place to do so. Every inch of floor space was covered, people crammed in even more tightly than she’d imagined.

  “We’re clear,” Tikaya announced from the front of the tiny craft.

  “Clear enough?” Mahliki murmured. “There might be a big shock wave.”

  “We’ll find out. Any second. No, it should have already happened. Did we… not enter the commands correctly?”

  If Amaranthe hadn’t been so weary, she might have laughed. Had they spent the last hour racing around for no reason?

  Then a brilliant flash lit up the interior of the lifeboat. Still hanging over Maldynado’s shoulder, Amaranthe wasn’t facing the front and could only assume a viewing window up there allowed the flood of light to enter. A boom sounded right after, though it wasn’t as loud as she’d expected.

  “That’s… quite a show,” Mahliki breathed.

  Mutters and whimpers came from the throats of the rest of the crowd.

  Maldynado finally elbowed enough space to set Amaranthe down. If not for the press of bodies holding her upright, her trembling legs would have collapsed. She twisted around, trying to see over people’s heads, but had to accept that she wouldn’t have a view of this final devastation. She did have a view of a familiar man’s stubbled jaw. It was the person Basilard had shot, the one with the crossbow.

  He stared at her. “You weren’t lying.”

  “No,” she said, ridiculously pleased that he’d found his way out. For all she knew, he was a thief or a murderer, but she hoped the rest of his team had escaped too.

  “I’m going to forgive you for shooting me,” he said.

  Amaranthe decided not to point out that it’d been Basilard who’d shot him. It didn’t matter, and it would have taken too much effort. “Thanks,” she mumbled and leaned back against Maldynado.

  “I’m taking us down to the lake,” Tikaya announced.

  Good.

  Maldynado supported Amaranthe with a comradely hand, though that didn’t keep him from saying, “I hope one of you heroic types remembered to bring back my watch.”

  “Will some lady be affronted if she finds out you lost her gift?” Amaranthe whispered, closing her eyes. They’d have to figure out how to get rid of the lifeboat, this one and the one they’d left in the mountains. Though small and simple, they were pieces of the same technology as the Behemoth.

  Later. That mission that could wait until everyone was safe.

  “My mother, actually,” Maldynado said.

  “She gave it to you? Before you were disowned?” Amaranthe had been under the impression there wasn’t much familial adoration between the two of them.

  “No, I stole it when she kicked me out of the family. I hear she’s still looking for it. I want to wear it to her funeral pyre someday.”

  “You Marblecrests are an odd lot,” Amaranthe said.

  “Oh, no argument there. I wonder if the professor would land this thing on the roof of the Imperial Barracks so we could scare my brother’s troops a little.”

  “Let’s just worry about getting back together with the others.” And finding out whether Starcrest did indeed have anything to do with those explosions, or if they had some new enemy to face.

  Chapter 11

  As dusk gathered in the Emperor’s Preserve, Sicarius strode into Flintcrest’s camp, another sack of heads slung over his shoulder. Most of the soldiers were off on assignment, and he walked the paths unchallenged. He wished he c
ould veer down one of the side trails, letting his feet take him away from the Nurian tent instead of toward it.

  Drying blood saturated his clothing and stained the skin of his hands-one of the remaining Forge founders had a Kendorian bodyguard who had sensed Sicarius’s approach. The ensuing battle had been more challenging-and messy-than the others. All through it, in the back of his mind, he’d felt Kor Nas’s presence, watching and enjoying the show. It was Sicarius’s method to make his kills quick and efficient, but Kor Nas liked having the deaths drawn out, a vice that had been growing with each assassination. Maybe Sicarius was his first human “pet,” or maybe he’d never operated in a foreign land without anyone around to enforce the rules and mores of his own culture. Power without the potential for repercussion, an insidious temptation.

  On the way back to camp, Sicarius had chanced across a newspaper page caught in the wind, flapping and skidding across a frost-slick street. The headline had made him halt for a long moment.

  As Intra-Army Fighting Grows Fiercer, Vicious Assassin Slays Innocent Civilians

  His name was in the first sentence, followed by a list of “prominent and upstanding members of society” found dead in their abodes, their heads missing, their bodies mutilated. Worgavic topped the list, along with several other Forge people, though the business coalition itself was never mentioned, simply the names of the “respectable and worthwhile” organizations the dead had run, the charities they’d contributed to, and the scholarship programs they’d financed.

  Not surprisingly, the article was out of the Gazette and had been penned by the senior Lord Mancrest. The newspaper must have repaired enough of the building and machinery to return to printing its lies. Lies? Sicarius admitted the article was somewhat accurate, if biased and incomplete-it hadn’t mentioned Flintcrest or his Nurian allies. How Mancrest had known he was the assassin responsible, Sicarius didn’t know; he hadn’t been seen at any of the kill sites. Perhaps the Gazette owner had guessed based on his reputation.

  Sicarius would have stopped reading after the first paragraph, letting the newspaper continue scraping and skidding down the street, but a name lower on the page snagged his attention: Sespian.