Sespian saw it and moved his arms faster. Sicarius was on the verge of telling him not to hurry so much that he made a mistake and slipped. But the creature jumped.
Sicarius yanked a throwing knife out of his arm sheath and hurled it at one of the beast’s crimson eyes. It didn’t even blink. When the construct reached the apex of its jump several feet below, he thought they were safe, that it wouldn’t reach Sespian, but one long powerful paw lashed out, claws angling toward Sespian’s back.
Sicarius dropped his legs, twisting in the air to kick at that paw. He connected, deflecting the claws, but the cable abruptly went limp. A thunderous snap echoed from the tree line. It wasn’t the harpoon that had slipped free, came a useless thought from the back of his mind as he and Sespian fell; the entire pine had broken off at the base.
Their weight carried them downward like a pendulum, sweeping them between two pillars of the tower. Sespian held on, trying to climb up even as the wind whistled past their ears. Sicarius was lower on the cable, and he had to tuck in his legs to keep them from striking the earth. He held on by one hand as they swung, pulling out another throwing knife with the other. The soul construct’s leap had carried it to the bottom of the hill, but it had already spun about, and it was charging up the slope toward them. Though he knew the effort useless, he hurled the blade. It was all he could do.
The knife spun true, cutting into the gaping fang-filled mouth. It lodged in the maw like a toothpick gone awry, and the construct paused to shake its head, trying to spit it out.
“Climb,” Sicarius ordered. He was relieved Sespian had kept his grip on the line, but they weren’t out of danger yet.
“Trying,” Sespian growled. “Can you make this thing stop swinging?”
Before he’d finished the sentence, the cable, which had carried them beneath the tower and out the other side, reached the end of its path and jerked to a halt. Sespian’s grip slipped and he cursed as he skidded several feet before catching himself. His boots were in Sicarius’s face.
Sicarius gave a shove with his free hand, ordering, “Climb!” again, more insistently this time.
Already, the soul construct had flung the knife from its mouth and was bounding up the slope again. As the cable reversed its path, swinging back under the tower, the creature reached the crown of the hill. Encouraged by Sicarius’s order-or death’s approach-Sespian found reserves in his muscles and he raced up the cable. Sicarius started up, too, but the construct leaped into the air, again targeting Sespian.
Sicarius whipped his legs backward, then hurled them forward and up, trying to catch the creature in the chest. He did, his heels slamming against the broad torso, but even with the momentum, his blow barely diverted the six hundred-pound monster. It was like kicking a mountain, and it did nothing except jar his knees. Sespian had seen the construct leaping, though, and he’d yanked his legs up to his chin. Perhaps Sicarius had distracted it an iota, for the beast sailed past without managing more than a swat of the claws.
That swat, however, cut through the cable below Sespian. Sicarius plummeted to the ground.
Though surprised, he found his feet and landed in a crouch in the snow, immediately jumping for the nearest tower support. He didn’t see the construct land on the edge of the hill, but he heard it thump down, and that sound was incentive enough to send him up the metal post in scant heartbeats.
The creature howled, a frustrated edge to the sound, and hurled itself against the support. Sicarius was already climbing onto the snow-covered beam above. He wouldn’t pronounce them safe yet, but the steel posts set in concrete should be harder to bite into than a tree trunk.
Eyes rounder than marbles, Sespian lay on the beam, his legs and arms wrapped around it. “What took you so long?” he asked.
Sicarius studied him, concerned by the manic edge to his tone.
“It was a joke,” Sespian said, taking a few breaths. “You know, because you’re not slow.” He must not have seen what he wanted in Sicarius’s face for he added, “Never mind.”
“I understood.” Sicarius thought to explain that, after a lifetime of maintaining a facade over his thoughts, it took conscious effort for him to let his expression change, but the creature was prowling below, testing the posts. He stood up. There was more to do before they were safe.
“Thanks for saving me from painful mauling and certain death. I’d probably try to hug you if I weren’t so busy groping this beam right now.” Sespian peered over his shoulder. His knees were clenched around the steel so tightly he was in danger of losing feeling in his nerves. “I’m not quite sure I can let go either.”
Sicarius bent and offered him a hand. “You would be permitted.”
Sespian stared at the hand. “To what?”
“Hug me.” Sicarius knew it’d been a joke-or an utter-relief-at-not-being-dead outburst, but he made the offer in case Sespian should ever be so moved in the future.
“Oh. Uhm, I’m not really someone who…” Sespian offered an embarrassed shrug, but he did accept the proffered hand. “But good to know I’d be allowed.”
Sicarius pulled him to his feet, steadying him when his legs, doubtlessly exhausted from the climb, threatened to buckle.
When Sespian regained his balance, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Do many people try? To hug you?”
“Few. Usually women.”
“Ah. Amaranthe.” Sespian’s face grew wistful, though it seemed accepting as well.
“Infrequently.” Sicarius headed for the ladder leading to the top of the tower.
“Really? If a girl was inclined to hug me, I’d encourage her to do it frequently.”
“I am not good at… encouragement.” Sicarius climbed the ladder and found the harpoon launcher where he’d left it.
“I’ve noticed,” Sespian said, reaching the top behind him. “It’s easy though. You spread your arms like this and give a girl your most inviting smile. Do you… have an inviting smile?”
“No.”
“Any sort of smile at all?”
“No.”
“I can see where you’d have a problem then,” Sespian said.
A boom sounded at the nearest corner of the fort. An instant later, a startled yowl came from below. Sicarius lunged to the edge of the water tank in time to see the soul construct fly out from under the tower and down the hill. It tumbled to a stop at the end of the slope, taking a moment to recover. It shook itself like a wet dog and sat on its haunches.
“Reinforcements.” Sespian pumped his fist.
A hundred-odd meters away, atop Fort Urgot’s closest wall, a cannon bled black smoke into the air. Grim-faced men lined the parapet, rifles in hand. Others reloaded the cannon while someone cranked the elevation, bringing the weapon up to aim at the top of the tower. At Sicarius.
Sespian’s fist drooped. “Or perhaps not.”
Chapter 14
After her previous adventures on the bottoms of lakes, the novelty of traveling underwater had worn off, but Amaranthe still flinched at each creak and groan that emanated from the tiny submarine’s hull. On the other side of its convex glass viewing port, fish flitted away as the craft descended, its exterior lamps sending a beam of light into the dark water.
She sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Retta in the tiny navigation compartment while two guards loomed behind their seats. There was only a few feet of cargo space behind them in front of a bulkhead with a hatchway in it. Amaranthe hadn’t seen beyond it, but Retta had waved in that direction and said, “engine room,” when they’d first entered. Given the overall size of the submarine-most of the lavatories on Mokath Ridge had larger footprints-she could see why the Forge women had called it a “tug.” She didn’t see anything magical about it, and it had a Turgonian feel with steel construction, pipes running along the bulkheads, and levers and gauges similar to what she’d seen on imperial ships.