The crew pulled up the ramp and slid a panel across the opening. The deck thrummed as the motivator started up again. Stone hissed, “I can’t hear them through that.”
It was possible to filter out some sounds, but the nearness of the stone walls concentrated the motivator’s sound, until the thrumming was vibrating in Moon’s bones, and in all the delicate structures of the ear that made distance hearing possible. Stone shifted, his dark scaled form blooming into being as some of the Kishan near the railing flinched away. Moon swayed as the boat jolted. A high-pitched noise joined the thrumming and the sunsailer started to move backwards up the canal, away from the lock.
The rest of the warriors spilled out onto the deck. Bramble and Merit peered out of the hatch behind them, then retreated back into the corridor when Jade twitched her spines pointedly. “Spread out along each side of the boat,” she told the warriors.
Kellimdar shouted from the upper deck, “Crew, get back from the railing! The creatures are in the water.” The Kishan still on the bow deck ran to the hatch, and others on the first and second decks scrambled to get up to the lights and weapon balconies.
Then Stone growled a warning and the first waterlings came over the side.
Stone tossed the first three off the boat and snapped a more persistent two in half. Fire-weapons struck the ones climbing the sides, then Moon’s focus narrowed to the two trying to get past him into the hatch.
He ducked snapping claws, wrenched waterling joints, and ripped open the upper part of a jaw that got far too close to his face. Another balanced on the railing and Moon slammed it off the boat. He landed back on the temporarily clear deck to hear, “They’re dropping from above!” It was Briar, yelling the warning from down the port side.
Stone leapt straight up. The deck rocked under Moon’s feet and one of the distance-lights swung up to follow Stone. He landed on the arch directly above the boat and swept off the clump of waterlings climbing along it.
A loud pop sounded from the lock pillars, echoing off the stone walls. Fire blossomed at the base of the pillar and shot upward. It struck the other patch of the explosive mixture and someone on the deck above yelled something in another language. Moon suspected it meant “Get down!” and he flung himself flat.
The blast blotted out his hearing and the wood and metal beneath him rocked with the disturbed water. Moon had been expecting a hail of hot metal shards, but there was nothing. Ears ringing, Moon shoved himself upright. He let his breath out in a hiss. Oh, no. The lights shone on the lock, still intact.
Then the pillar creaked and groaned, and the gears started to move. Slowly, the panel blocking the canal began to move upward. The Kishan hadn’t blown it up, they had just jolted it loose. Moon thought it was probably a better solution. Then a waterling threw itself over the bow and swarmed up the front of the cabin, heading for the Janderan operating the fire-weapon and light on the deck above.
It was Magrim, and he couldn’t swing the fire weapon down far enough to shoot the waterling. He stepped back, trying to draw a smaller handweapon from his belt. Moon leapt and hit the waterling’s torso from behind, dug his claws into the join where its head met its short neck. He caught a glimpse of Magrim’s startled expression as Moon threw his weight backward and yanked the creature off the railing.
The problem with that tactic was that Moon landed flat on his back, the waterling on top of him. To buy himself time to recover, he bit the waterling in the neck and felt its scales crack under his teeth. It shrieked, decided to run, and tore itself off him and dove for the railing.
Moon rolled to his feet and let it go as it appeared to be the only waterling with any sense; the others were flinging themselves at the sunsailer and being shot by Kishan or mauled by Raksura. The panel was still in motion, high enough now for the boat to pass under it. The deck thrummed again as the boat surged forward.
Three more waterlings came over the bow and Magrim’s fire-weapon killed one, wounded the second, and Moon dealt with the third. He danced around the deck, dodging claw snaps, until he could close with it. As he slung its body back into the water, he realized they were out of the canal and entering some larger space.
The sunsailer’s lights flashed around a cavern, as big as the entry harbor on the far side of the city. Moon caught glimpses of pillars stretching up, huge dark hallways leading away from platforms extending out over the dark water. But he couldn’t see the door. No, there it was, the outline of it incised into the far wall. But there was no platform alongside it, and no sign of the carvings or the mechanism to open it. Moon thought, we’re in trouble. He hoped the builders hadn’t removed it, that taking away the mechanism hadn’t been an attempt to defend the city from whatever had caused them to abandon it.
The sunsailer surged forward and the deck swayed underfoot from suddenly choppy water. Moon dealt with another waterling and looked for the outer door again, still wondering how they were supposed to open it. Above, near the steering cabin, someone shouted in horror. The big distance-light swung around and shone on the water in front of the door.
The dark water swirled violently, waves rocked the boat and crashed over the bow, spraying Moon with saltwater. He shook it out of his frills and backed toward the hatchway. The deck jerked underfoot and suddenly became a slope, as the pressure of the water dragged it sharply down and pulled the vessel forward toward the whirlpool. Moon dug his foot claws in to stay upright. The water was full of waterlings, the lights reflecting flashes of their bright blue scales, but they were all caught in the suddenly rushing current. The deepening whirlpool pulled them down toward the center. Just like the sunsailer.
We’re going to sink, Moon thought. They might have time to get at least some of the crew away. No, he had forgotten the flying packs. With those they might have a chance to get everyone to safety. Moon started to turn, to head up onto the deck above to find Jade and Callumkal. But then the big light on the port side of the sunsailer made a slow sweep across the walls. They were covered in waterlings.
The creatures fought their way out of the less violent current around the edge of the basin and streamed up the walls, clustered on the platforms, on the floor of the hall. More appeared on terraces and balconies in the upper part of the chamber, climbing up, still trying to get above the boat. Moon stared in sick dismay. The chamber was alive with the creatures. If the Raksura and groundlings left the boat, there was nowhere to go.
“Moon—” The shout was from overhead and Moon snapped out of his horrified contemplation of the large hole forming in the churning water ahead. Magrim was yelling and pointing. “Close the hatch!”
Right, or we’ll die faster. Moon turned, climbed back up the steepening slope toward the hatchway. He snapped his claws through the strap holding the metal door open and slammed it shut. There was a lever on the outside and he gave it a turn, and felt a locking mechanism jolt inside. Water washed up from the bow and he leapt up, caught the wall over the hatch, and slung himself over the railing.
Magrim braced there, staring wide-eyed at the water. He said, “I meant go inside and close the hatch!”
“I know,” Moon told him. But there were still at least three Kishan out here at the fire-weapons and lights and he didn’t want any desperate waterlings to jump onto the boat at the last minute and eat them. Even if they were all about to drown. “Do you know what caused that?”
Magrim grimaced, still staring at the whirlpool. “It must have been the lock. When the gears blew, they must have been connected to some opening in the bottom of the basin.”