Flint rasped against steel, spraying sparks onto the thin undershirt Books had been wearing beneath the diving suit. Now it was serving duty as a fire starter since the shaman had not been considerate enough to leave matches and tinder along with the wood. The shirt worked, and he soon had flames crackling in the tunnel borer’s firebox. A cool draft stirred gooseflesh on his bare arms, but a garment was worth giving up if it meant flooding the lair and perhaps destroying the rest of the shaman’s cursed projects.
With his back to the cavern, and the open furnace door blocking his view, he was in a poor position to monitor the exits. An uneasy feeling whispered across the back of his neck. He turned his head, expecting to find the shaman watching.
He did have a visitor, but not a human one. One of the tiny spiders observed from the tunnel leading to the higher levels. As soon as he spotted it, the creature scurried off.
Books clenched a fist. He might have fooled it before, but it would not fail to report his escape this time.
He sprinted across the cavern. With legs much longer than the spider’s, he had little trouble catching up. Before wiser thoughts could stop him, he jumped and stomped on the device.
Shards of metal tinkled against the rock walls. Books lifted his boot. In his enthusiasm—or perhaps desperation was the better word—he had smashed the thing to bits. Good.
He ran back to the cavern. It would take time for the water in the boiler to heat enough to produce steam to power the vehicle.
Books tried to work calmly and efficiently as he stoked the fire, but he could not keep from glancing at the tunnel entrance every few seconds. His expectations were answered.
A heavy clank, clank, clank echoed from the passage.
Books ticked the gauge on the boiler. It was close but not ready. No choice. He threw more wood on the fire and climbed over the borer’s treads and into the cab. The number of levers daunted him, especially considering how little time he had to figure out how to drive the vehicle.
Something metallic glinted in the mouth of the tunnel.
Books threw a lever. In front of the cab, a great rotating cylinder started to spin.
“Forward,” he muttered. “How do we move this thing forward?”
A massive cast iron creature clomped out of the passage, scraping rock and dirt off the sides with its broad body. Though reminiscent of the small spider Books had squished, this mechanical beast had more features. Such as fangs.
Black, iron teeth as long as his forearm gnashed together in a protruding jaw shaped like a dog’s snout. Not two but six eyes glowed above that snout. Each of the eight legs below its bulky carapace had the heft of a pillar. Twin arms stuck out of the front, and crab-like pincers snapped. Steel razors gleamed, reflecting the light from the wall orbs. Without hesitation, the great spider clanked toward Books.
He tried another lever.
The tunnel borer lurched forward. Surprised, Books tipped backward, ramming his naked shoulder blades against unforgiving metal.
On the gauge, the needle wobbled beneath the ready mark, but Books had no choice. He set himself and pushed the lever to maximum. The borer picked up speed.
He chose one of two paired levers, figuring they must be for steering. His first try angled the machine into the wall. He lurched, nearly thrown back again. Pulverized stone flew, pelting the cab, and the noisy grinding drowned out the spider’s approach.
Books pulled the other lever, and the borer veered away from the wall. He steadied the machine and drove it toward the spider. He curled his lips in a grimace of anticipation, anticipation that this might be messy. For him. The drills could handle rock, but what about cast iron? Cast iron possibly enhanced with magic?
YOU ARE READING
The Emperor's Edge 2: Dark Currents
FantasyIt's been three months since former enforcer Amaranthe Lokdon and the notorious assassin Sicarius thwarted kidnappers and saved the emperor's life. The problem? Nobody knows they were responsible for this good deed. Worse, they're being blamed for t...
