Deadly Games (44 page)

“We’ve already had a run-in with the thing,”
Amaranthe said. “It may be more than the marines can handle unless
they get creative with their thinking.”

“Like we’re going to.” Books smiled.

“Explain,” Sicarius said.

Books launched into his spiel about the
poison and how they meant to get the kraken to suck the keg into
its vulnerable core. Amaranthe checked the porthole again. The
sediment cloud still swirled about, though the density had
lessened. They were making progress, albeit slow progress. She
hoped the ship didn’t get stuck mid-ascent.

“That plan is dangerous,” Sicarius said.
Though he was responding to Books, his gaze settled on
Amaranthe.

She spread her arms. “They usually are.”

“What if I can’t swim?” a young woman
asked.

“Find someone who can and who thinks you’re
cute,” Amaranthe said.

“Why does cuteness matter?” Books asked.

“Would you let a woman drown if you thought
she was cute and would be utterly grateful to you for saving her
life?”

“I wouldn’t let a woman drown under any
circumstances,” Books said.

Amaranthe arched her eyebrows.

“But especially not ones such as you
described,” he admitted.

Sicarius took Amaranthe’s arm and guided her
several steps from the athletes. “I assume you are planning on this
course of action regardless of what I do or say.”

Amaranthe thought of Books’s advice. Was she
being reckless again with this plan? “We’ll only do it if the
marines look like they need help.”

“I’ll take the keg then. You’ll be clumsy and
slow in that suit.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “Me specifically,
or anyone in a suit?”

“Anyone, but you were planning on taking the
risk, I assume.”

She blushed. True.

“Since I have no suit to drag at me,” he
said, “I’ll be the logical choice.”

“So that’s why he’s insisted on running
around naked all day,” Maldynado muttered to Akstyr.

Sicarius leveled a cool
back-out-of-our-conversation stare down the corridor. Maldynado
lifted his hands and turned to gaze out the porthole.

“All right,” Amaranthe said, drawing him a
few more steps away, though part of her did not want to let him
take the role. Emperor’s teeth, she had just rescued him, and now
he wanted to risk his life again. But he was her most skilled man,
not some vulnerable neophyte. It made sense to use him for the
dangerous work. “You’ll take the keg, but be careful, please. Don’t
risk holding your breath so long that you pass out and sink to the
bottom.”

“You don’t believe I’m cute enough to
rescue?” he asked, deadpan.

“Oh, you’re decent.” She gave him a once over
before remembering how nude he was. Her blush belied her offhand
tone. “But we’ll be busy shooting harpoons into this beast to
distract it for you. At least take someone to help you.”

Sicarius raised his voice to say, “Basilard.”
He pointed upward.

Amaranthe would have picked someone who
wasn’t injured, but they exchanged nods of understanding. She
wondered what the two had talked about while incarcerated down
here.

Maldynado cleared his throat. “Just in case
anyone was concerned we wouldn’t get to play with the kraken, it’s
still alive, and—” he leaned closer, cheek pressed against the
porthole, “—it’s got the marine ship wrapped up tighter than lovers
tangled in the sheets.”

Amaranthe darted to the porthole. The
sediment cloud had disappeared, and they were thirty or forty feet
from the surface. The depth did little to mute the brilliant
morning sunlight, and she had no trouble making out the black hull
of the
Saberfist
. It had to be a substantial ship to do its
job, but the tentacles curled along the bottom of it made it appear
insignificant. To the side of the vessel, more tentacles swirled
about like live snakes in a pit.

The current brought something large in to
thump against the porthole. It must have bumped the hull, too,
because lightning streaked out, surrounding it and illuminating it
all too well.

Amaranthe’s stomach curdled. It was a body in
a marine diving suit, one leg torn off.

“Ew,” Akstyr said. “That one’s a kraken
snack.”

Annoyance flared within Amaranthe, and she
almost snapped at him to show respect. But she bit her lip. Though
she had arranged this “distraction” and felt—
was
—responsible
for any marines who died down here, Akstyr had no reason to care
about them.

“Ready your suits. We’re going out.”
Amaranthe plunked her helmet over her head and started screwing the
fasteners together. “Everyone who’s not on my team, stay here and
wait for the marines to get you. And don’t forget. When they ask
you who came down to help you, I’m Amaranthe Lokdon, that’s
Sicarius, and we’re The Emperor’s Edge. You can tell that to any
journalists who happen by, too.”

Maldynado cleared his throat, probably
planning to deliver his own parting words, words that touted his
copious merits. Amaranthe opened the hatch to the transition
chamber and pushed him inside. She handed him a harpoon launcher
and grabbed one for herself. The rest of the men piled in behind
her. Helmets clanked against each other as everyone squeezed to fit
inside. It had been tight before, with the four of them, and now
they had two more men squished amongst them.

Sicarius stood next to her, holding the keg.
Maybe she should offer some heartfelt parting words, in case...

“Be careful,” was all she could manage with
so many witnesses around.

He gazed into her faceplate and gave her a
solemn nod. He understood.

“Basilard,” Amaranthe said, “open the door
when you’re ready. The water will come in fast.”

He nodded and squeezed between Maldynado and
Books.

“Easy,” Maldynado told him. “Watch what
you’re grazing with that harpoon.”

“He doesn’t have a harpoon launcher,” Akstyr
said.

Maldynado stared at him.

“Oh,” Akstyr said. “I get it.”

With his dagger clenched between his teeth,
Basilard gripped the wheel to the hatch. He took a few deep breaths
in preparation. Beside Amaranthe, Sicarius took a different
approach. He stood still, body relaxed, eyes hooded, like some
Daikon mystic deep in a meditation routine.

Basilard opened the hatch, and water flooded
into the chamber. Amaranthe waited, making sure Sicarius and
Basilard slipped out before she maneuvered for the exit.

Sunlight filtered through the water from
above. Their rate of ascent had slowed, and they were still twenty
feet from the surface. Another of the thick, dark purple tentacles
had snaked beneath the
Saberfist
. Even as she watched, one
of the free ones thrust out of the water. From her viewpoint, she
could not see what it did on the deck, but two men flew overboard
on the opposite side of the ship.

Amaranthe hefted her harpoon launcher and
gestured for her team to fan out around the laboratory. They would
have to convince the kraken to leave the
Saberfist
and swim
for Books’s plan to work. Sicarius and Basilard were already
angling toward the surface. Maldynado, her strongest remaining
swimmer, headed in to make the first shot, to lure the beast
downward. Books, Akstyr, and Amaranthe treaded water near the top
of their vessel and waited, harpoons ready.

Cold water streamed past Basilard. He
followed Sicarius toward the surface, kicking and stroking with his
good arm. For the moment, he carried his dagger clenched between
his teeth. Clear water surrounded him, but, without a mask, images
were blurry and indistinct, though he had little trouble making out
the kraken’s massive form.

Someone—was that Maldynado?—was swimming
toward its underbelly. He stopped ten or fifteen feet below the
kraken and lined up a shot. He ignored the tentacles—though he was
careful not to swim too close to them—and fired at the creature’s
giant mantle.

The harpoon streamed toward it and sank into
the purple flesh. Though it appeared small next to the
creature—like a toothpick protruding from a bear’s hide—the kraken
must have noticed it, for it whipped a tentacle up and batted at
the intrusion. The harpoon fell out and sank, disappearing into the
lake depths.

Another tentacle dropped away from the bottom
of the ship and snaked toward Maldynado. On land, he could have
dodged the attack, but Sicarius was right. The water and suits made
people slow. Despite Maldynado’s quick kicks and strokes to the
side, the tentacle clipped him on the shoulder. He spun backward in
a clumsy somersault.

Basilard grabbed his dagger, thinking to go
in and help, but Amaranthe and Books were kicking toward
Maldynado’s position. Sicarius tapped Basilard and pointed to the
surface.

Basilard grimaced. His lungs were starting to
hunger for air, but he hated to leave if his teammates needed
help.

Sicarius saw his hesitation and stroked for
the surface himself. Thinking he had some plan to share, Basilard
went after him. They were deeper than he realized, and he gasped in
a great lungful of air as soon as they broke the surface.

A cannon boomed, the sound pummeling his
eardrums. They had come up less than ten feet from the bow of the
ship. A broken wooden rail floated by, scraping Basilard’s injured
shoulder. Fresh pain flared, and he gasped, almost dropping his
dagger.

Fortunately, the marines were too busy to
notice him. To their credit, the men shouting to load guns and
bring the ship about sounded calm and competent rather than
terrified.

“I’m going in,” Sicarius said. “Watch my
back.”

That was all he said before taking a deep
breath and submerging again.

Basilard inhaled, tipped his legs up into the
air, and dove.

Below the kraken, Maldynado had recovered and
was loading a new harpoon. Amaranthe, Akstyr, and Books fired their
own launchers, timing it so the weapons released
simultaneously.

Akstyr’s harpoon skimmed a tentacle and did
no damage. Books’s projectile flew wide, but Amaranthe’s sank into
one of the creature’s eyes.

The body reared back, and the tentacles
released the
Saberfist
and stiffened. Ink clouded the water,
obscuring the ship and the creature.

Basilard watched, hoping Amaranthe’s shot
might prove the killing blow.

The kraken dropped below the ship, tentacles
streaming out behind it as it dove.

Sicarius was already swimming toward it. This
was their chance.

Basilard hurried to catch up. What he could
do with his insignificant dagger, he didn’t know, but he had to try
to help.

The mantle flexed, and the kraken shot
forward on a stream of water. Sicarius stroked after it, but the
powerful creature outpaced him. It swam straight for Amaranthe.

Basilard cut across. He couldn’t catch up
with the body of the thing, but maybe he could slice into a
tentacle and distract it.

Suction-cup-covered flesh streamed past. He
tried to grab the tentacle, but the slick rubbery flesh offered a
poor handhold. Nonetheless he managed to thrust his dagger into it
near the tip.

The tentacle moved past so quickly, it nearly
tore the weapon from his grip. As it was, his blade ripped a
foot-long gouge into the flesh.

The tentacle flicked, an annoyed gesture that
caught Basilard in the chest. Despite the off-hand nature of the
attack, it thumped him hard, and precious air escaped his lips.
Bubbles streamed upward before his eyes. At least he had kept the
dagger.

Basilard debated on going up for air again,
but the kraken slowed as it neared the laboratory vessel. He did
not see Amaranthe. Sicarius was weaving through the tentacles,
avoiding them instead of attacking them. He approached the hole
water shot from, and Basilard could see the current pushing against
him, making the swim difficult.

Forgoing air, Basilard swam downward.

The kraken wouldn’t cooperate and hold still.
Apparently incensed by the eye wound, it whipped about the
fortress, seeking the one who had struck the blow.

When the beast switched from blowing out
water to sucking it in, Sicarius dove in, aided by the current.
Basilard swirled through the tentacles, trying to swim closer
without letting the kraken know he was there, and could easily be
captured—or killed.

Sicarius reached the interior of the mantle
and thrust the keg into the dark orifice. Basilard thought that was
it, that they had accomplished the mission, but the keg gushed
right out again on the kraken’s next burst of forward motion. It
bounced off a tentacle and dropped, unharmed.

Sicarius dove for it. Another tentacle
clipped Basilard in the back, stirring pain again, and he swam away
from the writhing limbs. He worried the kraken would turn on them,
but it was still intent on its prey—Amaranthe.

With quick efficient strokes, Sicarius
retrieved the keg before it disappeared into the depths below.

Basilard paddled down to join him. Even here,
underwater, Sicarius maintained his neutral facade with no hint of
disappointment stamping his face. He had to be surprised or annoyed
at the least. Hadn’t the keg been designed to implode?

Above them, the kraken swooped beneath the
laboratory. Amaranthe was swimming there, hiding beneath the
corridors and rooms of the vessel. The rest of the team appeared to
be out of harpoons. Maldynado was chasing after the kraken with his
sword. Basilard’s gut clenched. They had to stop the creature soon,
or it was bound to catch Amaranthe.

Basilard’s lungs called out for air again,
but he swam closer to Sicarius and waved his knife. He pointed at
the keg and made a hammer motion. If they pierced a hole in it, the
poison might flow out when the kraken sucked it in next time.
Enough of the poison to affect something.