Metal clanked as Maldynado and Basilard withdrew lanterns from their packs. Amaranthe checked her rifle, missing the familiar heft of her crossbow, but she feared these creatures would be even less affected by her quarrels than the forest animals. Best to take firearms. Or maybe cannons.
“Ready.” Maldynado held his lantern aloft.
“Let’s get in, find Books’s supplies, and get out as quickly as possible,” Amaranthe said. “We’ll let the soldiers handle the creatures.”
“If they can,” Akstyr muttered.
The tight passage would force them to walk in a single line. While Amaranthe was debating whether it would be pusillanimous to suggest she and her tasty female organs should let someone else lead, Sicarius headed in first. She thanked him silently and followed.
Inside the tunnel, the scent of mildew permeated the air. Maldynado’s broad shoulders brushed against the gray concrete walls. Rifles and rucksacks scraped and bumped in the confining space.
The passage sloped downward as they traveled deeper. Moisture beaded on the ceiling and rolled down the wall. In spots it dripped with such enthusiasm Amaranthe feared for their lanterns’ flames.
“Should this place be leaking this much?” Maldynado asked.
“This dam would have been constructed one segment at a time,” Books said, “leaving enough room between the joints to allow for the expansion and contraction of the materials in cold and warm weather. Some seepage is to be expected. See that drain in the floor? The design would have-”
“Yes,” Maldynado said, voice raised to cut Books off. “The answer to my question is yes.”
“Forgive me,” Books said. “I thought you might wish to educate yourself on something besides womanizing and drinking.”
“Not at this particular moment.”
Sicarius lifted a hand and stopped. Amaranthe thought he might tell the men to shut their mouths, but he tilted his head, listening.
Gunfire. The concrete and the omnipresent roar of water muffled it, but the sound was distinct. Multiple weapons firing.
“At least we know the soldiers are still alive,” she said.
“That’d be more reassuring if we didn’t have bounties on our heads,” Books muttered.
A deep, guttural bellow sounded in the distance.
“I don’t think that was a soldier,” Maldynado said.
Amaranthe tried to see Basilard, who walked at the end of the line, but the men blocked her sight. Did he recognize the bellow? Was it one of the creatures?
Sicarius was the one to answer her unspoken questions. “Makarovi.” He met Amaranthe’s eyes. “Continue?”
She waved him forward. “We have to find Books’s tools.”
Less than a minute later, the tunnel ended in a large chamber, perhaps a cavernous one. The weak flames of their lanterns did little to pierce the darkness more than a few meters away. The walls and ceiling disappeared in blackness. Only the roar of water flowing over their heads proved barriers existed.
Rows of unfamiliar machines stretched ahead of them. Amaranthe could identify some of the parts-flywheels, pistons, and rotating shafts-but boilers and fireboxes were missing, so they were not steam-powered. Whatever purpose they served, they were not serving it now; they simply loomed, giant metal skeletons. Mazes of pipes ran along the floor between the machines, and some rose vertically, disappearing into the dark depths above.
“What are these machines, Books?” Amaranthe asked.
The men had eased from the tunnel and fanned out, weapons ready.
“I’m uncertain,” Books said.
“Two words I never thought I’d hear him string together,” Maldynado said to Akstyr, who muttered something back and snickered.
“Perhaps they’re powered by the water,” Books said. “Some experimental technology?”
Another bellow echoed from the depths ahead, or perhaps to the side. The walls and tunnels distorted sound. Amaranthe had the sense of a vast subterranean complex within this massive concrete tomb. She frowned, not liking that her mind had chosen that last word.
Sicarius strode toward a dark shape on the floor ahead of them. Amaranthe followed with a lantern. A faint odor of blood mingled with the pervasive mildew smell.
“Dead soldier,” Sicarius said before she drew close enough to identify the shape.
The flickering lantern light revealed parallel gashes across the man’s shoulder and neck, so deep they had nearly torn the head off.
Sicarius crouched for a closer look.
“Why do I always end up stumbling over decapitated bodies when I’m with you?” Amaranthe asked him.
Engrossed in his examination, he did not answer.
“He’s probably responsible for most of them,” Books muttered.
“Have you seen anything in here you can use to get us under the water?” she asked him.
“I’ll look.” Books took a couple of steps but paused when nobody followed him.
Maldynado, Akstyr, and Basilard were watching Sicarius, who was poking at one of the wounds with his knife. Amaranthe’s belly squirmed.
“Company would be appreciated,” Books said.
Maldynado ambled over and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Booksie, you’re not afraid to go off alone in the dark, are you?”
Books shucked the arm. “Of course not. Anything suitable to be used as a diving bell will be heavy. I’ll need someone large, muscle-bound, and brutish to lift it.”
“Maldynado’s your man,” Akstyr said.
“Akstyr is mocking me?” Maldynado pressed a hand to his chest. “That shouldn’t be allowed. He’s barely old enough to show a lady a good time.”
“Go.” Amaranthe shooed Books and Maldynado. “Take Basilard too. Akstyr, you’re with Sicarius and me. I want to know if there’s any magic about. We won’t go far.”
The three men took a lantern and shuffled away. Sicarius had finished his examination of the body.
“Makarovi?” Amaranthe asked.
“Yes.”
“It looks like this fellow was running toward the exit when it caught him,” Amaranthe said. “Shall we take a walk and see where he came from?”
Sicarius’s look reminded her they were supposed to be here for Books’s tools, not a monster hunt, but he led onward. He paused to pick up an army-issue rifle, the hammer uncocked. A bloody knife lay a few meters away.
“Looks like he got a couple of blows in before…” She waved toward the dead man.
“Yes, there are blood drops about,” Sicarius said. “Makarovi are difficult to kill.”
“Good thing we have Akstyr.” Amaranthe noticed the young man’s face had grown pale beneath his unshaven stubble. “Perhaps our fledgling wizard will have a few tricks for them.”
“You should have given me a book on monster slaying if you wanted that,” he said.
More bellows and gunfire sounded in the distance. Sicarius led them through the rows of machinery. Their lanterns reflected off the metal parts, creating tiny eyes in the darkness. Amaranthe found herself wishing for a window, even if it only gazed out upon a night-darkened river or forest.
“Ought to be gaslights in here somewhere…” She trailed off as a new stench came to her nose. Rotting flesh.
“Ungh,” Akstyr grunted.
As they continued forward, the odor grew stronger. Breathing through her mouth did not help as much as Amaranthe wished it would.
Sicarius paused and faced a snarl of pipes and machinery.
“Light,” he said.
Amaranthe handed him the lantern.
He raised it and stepped closer. The light revealed…too much.
A woman in the shredded remains of a city worker’s uniform hung over a horizontal pipe, her back bent in an impossible arch. Her torso was split open, her insides ravaged. No, Amaranthe corrected, feasted upon.
Bile rose in her throat. She ripped her gaze away, turned her back, and bent over her knees. She gasped for air, not wanting to vomit. The sight she could block out, but the stench surrounded her. The air was too close, too confining.
Nearby, somebody retched. Akstyr. She clasped a hand over her own mouth, fighting the reflex to do the same.