“This creature is likely the work of a Nurian wizard,” Sicarius continued.
“And what would the Nurians have to gain by mauling random people in our capital? An invasion I could see-they’d love all our ore and natural resources, but simple mayhem?”
He did not answer.
Amaranthe stepped off the trail. “We have to get a look at it to tell Akstyr, see if he knows more. It left tracks, so we can follow it.”
“The creature has nothing to do with our goal,” Sicarius said.
“Someone has to stop it or it’ll go on killing people.”
“So?”
She scowled at him. “So, the emperor wouldn’t want his citizens being mutilated by some bloodthirsty monster.”
Since she had stopped running, her body had cooled. Cold air licked through her damp clothes, and she shivered. “Let’s go.”
Amaranthe started up the hill, following the tracks. She had only taken a few steps when Sicarius’s voice halted her.
“No.”
She turned. “No?”
“We cannot fight it.”
“I’m not planning to fight it. We just need to find out what it is we’re dealing with.”
Sicarius pointed at the shredded corpses. “ They found out. It killed them. It will not let us walk up, shake its hand, and walk away. If we get close, it’ll kill us too.”
“You’re afraid,” Amaranthe blurted.
As soon as she voiced the words, she regretted it. She had uttered them as a revelation, but they sounded like an accusation. Or a challenge.
Sicarius did not respond, though he stood still, face like stone.
While she could not retract her words, maybe she could soften them. “I do not judge you for it. I merely wonder why, when you seem to fear no one.”
“I have no fear of men. They are soft and easily dispatched. Their creations are more powerful and less predictable. It’s likely our weapons won’t work against it.”
“I understand. And I’m scared too,” Amaranthe said. At least he did not sound angry. She had never seen him lose his temper and never wanted to. “But I think this is tied to our goal. Arbitan Losk had newspapers clippings of every story that’s been printed about this creature, and there’s magic guarding that house, when magic is forbidden in the empire. You and Akstyr both tell me this creature was made with the mental sciences. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“You said nothing to me of the newspaper clippings.”
“No, because you were displaying…snippiness yesterday.”
“Snippiness?” he asked.
“It’s a word.”
“I think not.”
“I’ll ask Books when we get back.” Amaranthe smiled and held out her hand toward the tracks.
“Very well.” Sicarius led the way inland.
As they climbed the incline, the trees near the lake dwindled, replaced by cleared fields around the garrison. The ground leveled to an oft-traversed area used by the soldiers for parades and training, with a pavilion and bleachers in the distance. A nervous twinge ran through Amaranthe. The emperor’s birthday celebration was usually hosted out here. Was it possible the creature was scouting the area?
Hundreds of footprints tamped the snow, and she kept losing the creature’s trail. It took enormous bounds that left wide gaps between the tracks, and its path was not entirely linear. Sicarius followed the intermittent traces with some sense she did not possess.
To the distant left, a road wound up to the front gates of the garrison. Voices counting in unison drifted out-soldiers doing warm-up exercises before their company runs. Across the parade field and up a hill, a water tower rose, its bulk dark and distinct against the brightening sky. The creature’s tracks steered away from the garrison and headed toward the tower.
“Maybe it’s thirsty after all that killing,” Amaranthe said with grim humor. “Though I suppose it could be passing through.”
“No,” Sicarius said. “That is its destination.”
Amaranthe eyed the tracks, wondering at his certainty. “Why a water tower?”
“It’s strategically important.”
“And this would be relevant to the creature because…”
“The tower is always guarded by a couple of men,” Sicarius said.
“Oh,” Amaranthe said. And then, “ Oh,” as the true meaning poured over her. “Two targets with no one else around.”
“Precisely.”
A crumbling wall and scattered chunks of brick and concrete littered the hilltop, remains of the original water tower, Amaranthe guessed, likely built before the Turgonians mastered steel production. Four metal columns and a central stem supported the new structure, a gleaming cylindrical tank more than fifty feet high at the top. A squat, windowless hut sat beside it. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and the rumbling of a steam pump reverberated from the walls.
A throwing knife in hand, Sicarius stayed low as he advanced, hugging the ruins. Amaranthe tried not to make noise as she trailed him. If the soldiers on guard were still alive, she did not want to draw their attention. If they were dead and the creature lurked, she did not want to draw its attention either.
Her foot snapped something brittle beneath the snow. Sicarius looked at her.
“Sorry,” she mouthed.
After that, she went her own way. He would not appreciate her giving away his position.
She skirted the other side of the ruins. Prints tracked through the snow-first only boots, but soon familiar massive paw marks trod across them.
The only thing we’re going to find up here is more dead soldiers.
The wall ended in a crumbled heap. When Amaranthe moved around the end, she almost stepped on a mauled body. Before stopping to inspect, she glanced around, searching for the killer. The still, white landscape showed her nothing.
This body was worse than the others. An arm and leg had been ripped off, and the face was shredded beyond recognition. Brain matter spilled from the shattered skull and steamed in the chill air. Several yards away, a musket stuck out of a drift, its barrel warped and the stock missing. A dusting of black powder scattered the snow.
“This just happened,” Amaranthe called, struggling for detachment.
“Another body over here,” Sicarius said from the other side of the ruins. “Still twitching. We should leave before-”
The primal screech clutched Amaranthe’s heart like a vise. She whirled toward the source. Down the hill, across the field, at the edge of a copse of alders, two eyes reflected the pink rays of dawn. They were looking straight at her.
In the next heartbeat, the creature charged out of the trees. Though panther-shaped, it reminded her of the blocky vagueness of a clay statue sculpted by a child. But there was nothing childlike in the way it moved. Power surged beneath those muscles. It soared toward them, covering twenty yards with every bound.
“The shed.” She ran to the building. A lock hung from the door, barring entry. “Need the key. Search the bodies.”
“There’s no time,” Sicarius said. “Climb!”
He leapt onto the nearest column and scaled it like a squirrel running up an oak. Amaranthe searched for a ladder. There was not one.
She grabbed the icy steel with both hands. The edges cut into her hands, and her boots slipped off the smooth metal rivets. Her progress was slow. Too slow.
The unearthly shriek came again, much closer. The beast surged over the crown of the hill, snow churning beneath its paws.
Amaranthe was less than half way to the bottom of the tank. Surely the creature would leap and tear her from her perch. She would probably be dead before she landed.
Stop thinking. Climb!
Fingers scrabbling for grips, she tried to pull herself up faster. The beast bunched its muscles to jump. Amaranthe braced herself.
A flash of silver spun down from above. The throwing knife struck the creature in one yellow eye. The weapon bounced off as if it had hit steel. It landed in the snow, blade glittering uselessly.
Fortunately, the attack distracted the beast. Instead of leaping, it bounded past Amaranthe’s pole.