Ice Cracker II (2 page)

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Authors: Lindsay Buroker

Tags: #fantasy, #mercenaries, #fantasy adventure, #fantasy fiction, #fantasy books, #assassins, #swords and sorcery, #fantasy stories, #fantasy and science fiction, #fantasy action

BOOK: Ice Cracker II
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"What's the plan?" he finally asked.

She rubbed her hands together. "I'll get on
the ship, get some information, and get the crew hunting for
intruders. You start looking for the Kendorian."

"How do we get on?"

"I'll go my way, you go the assassinly
way."

"Assassinly?"

"You know, skulk under the docks to the ship,
climb the dark side of the hull without so much as a rope, slip
unnoticed onto the deck, ghost through the shadows without a sound,
and surprise the enemy in the act." Amaranthe quirked a smile at
him. "Isn't that your usual method?"

"I might use a rope," he said mildly.

"You didn't bring one. Also, make sure to
come find me before you leave. I'm guessing getting on board will
be easier than getting back off again."

"Likely."

"One more thing," Amaranthe
said before Sicarius could disappear into the shadows. "You
can't
kill
anyone."

A moment passed before he looked back at her,
and she imagined an inward sigh despite the lack of expression on
his face.

"Heroes don't leave trails of dead soldiers
behind, no matter how practical it may be to dispose of anyone who
wishes to harm you."

When he had disappeared into
the shadows, Amaranthe shook the tension out of her limbs and
strode toward the
Ice Cracker
II
. On this section of the waterfront,
frequent lampposts drove the shadows away, and soldiers spotted her
long before she turned down the dock. The two privates standing
guard at the base of the gangplank watched her coolly, rifles
cradled in their arms, cutlasses hanging in their
sheaths.

As she neared them, Amaranthe held her hands
well away from her own blade. "I need to report an incident. Is
your captain available?"

"He's busy."

"Would the knowledge that two soldiers were
murdered on the trail a couple miles down un-busy him?" she asked.
"Oh, and there's a dead Kendorian, too. Looks like he might have
done the murdering."

The two men exchanged
concerned looks, but the speaker merely said, "You'd need to report
that to someone at Fort Urgot. We're detached to the
Ice Cracker
and don't
patrol the city."

"It's snowing and dark. I'm not running five
miles to the fort. I just thought I'd try to help you boys out. It
looks like someone inimical is around causing trouble."

Amaranthe turned to walk away, but a hand
clamped onto her shoulder.

"Who are you and what were you doing out
there in the first place?"

"I was jogging," she said, intentionally
ignoring the first question. She doubted anyone was going to
recognize her through the snow and wan lighting, but her name might
set their steam clocks to whistling.

"With a sword?"

"One never knows when one might have to
defend against..." Bounty hunters? Soldiers? Enforcers?
"Opossums."

Judging from the matching scowls that
blossomed on their faces, they did not appreciate her humor. The
soldier who had grabbed her arm shoved her toward the other.

"Remove her sword and take her to the LT.
She's all kinds of suspicious."

Amaranthe tamped down a smile as she was
marched up the gangplank. Step one, get on the ship, was
complete.

 

* * * * *

 

The wardroom might have been a decent place
to spend time, if Amaranthe's wrist was not shackled to a post. She
sat in the one chair she could reach, tracing the whorls on a teak
table, the only piece of wood in sight. Brass kerosene lamps hung
on the walls, casting yellow reflections on the ubiquitous bland
steel surrounding her. The scent of lye soap added to the sterile
feel.

The main hatch creaked open. Two bulky grunts
strode in and assumed guard positions to either side of the
entrance. A graying man with gold bar-and-sail pins on his collar
followed. He had a cleft chin, intense brown eyes, and a nose sharp
enough to break ice without the aid of his ship.

Amaranthe stood. "Greetings, Captain. I came
to discuss—"

He slid a sheet of paper onto the table
before her. Her wanted poster. The guards murmured to each other,
and one eyed her with calculation.

"—something of more importance than that,"
she finished.

"I'll bet." Though chilly, the captain's
voice was not hostile, and his dark eyes seemed to be weighing her.
"We found the bodies you mentioned. There was no sign of any
Kendorian."

Amaranthe's stomach went for a swim amongst
the table legs. The second Kendorian must have circled back and
hidden his comrade's body. That was bad, very bad. That meant—

"My XO thinks we should shoot you outright.
He suspects you of slaying the men yourself, especially since your
wanted poster says you traffic with that cur-licking
soldier-slaying assassin, Sicarius." The captain glowered at her,
brow furrowed.

She kept her chin up and met his eyes. "But
you know I wouldn't have been foolish enough to turn myself over to
your guards if that were the case."

The captain snorted. "Perhaps you are a
diversion while Sicarius sneaks aboard my ship to attempt some
sabotage." He thrust a finger toward her nose. "If my commanders
learned that fiend was within a mile of my ship and I didn't shoot
him, I could be accused of treason and booted out of the service.
I'd lose my warrior caste title, my military rank, my home, my
land, everything." A flash of real fear haunted his eyes.

Amaranthe grimaced in sympathy. "Sicarius
isn't the one you need to be worried about. I'm here because I
don't want to see some scheming Kendorian sink this ship. I believe
one may be aboard even now."

"The
Ice Cracker II
is unsinkable," the
captain growled. "Its reversible steam piston engine has redundant
screw repellers in case of failure, and the reinforced steel hull
can smash through ice over two meters thick. It can withstand more
than two thousand pounds of pressure per square inch along the
waterline. If we ran into a rock, the rock would be pulverized, and
there wouldn't be a scratch on the bottom of my girl."

"It sounds like a
significant upgrade to the
Ice Cracker
I
." Amaranthe leaned against the pole,
attempting to look casual. She had chanced upon his passion, and
nobody liked to talk as much as someone discussing his
passion.

"Drastically. That moldy tub was made of wood
with only the bottom reinforced with iron. It's a wonder it didn't
sink years ago. Though only that drunk lout, Captain Mekam, could
ram his ship into a cliff on a lake."

"Cliff? The newspapers said the ship was
decommissioned."

"The papers don't—" The captain frowned at
her, eyes narrowed.

"Was it an accident? Ineptitude?" Amaranthe
knew the captain had realized he was saying too much, but hoped she
might squeeze another drop out regardless. "Or maybe the Kendorians
were at work even then."

"Or maybe you're about to spend the night in
the brig." The captain gestured for the guards to take her and
stalked out.

Amaranthe barely noticed as
the soldiers unlocked her and marched her out the hatch, her arms
clamped in their hands. Her mind dwelled on that new information.
The
Ice Cracker I
,
not decommissioned, but destroyed. What if—

"How're we going to do this?" one of her
escorts asked, voice low.

"We'll split it. Gotta make it look like she
tried to escape."

Emperor's eternal warts, her soldiers were
going to get greedy instead of taking her to the brig. She eyed the
bleak gray corridors, textured flooring, hanging lanterns, and
intermittent ladders and hatches. Sicarius would be aboard by now,
but he would be hunting for the Kendorian, not looking to rescue
her in some random passageway.

"This is good. Nobody's around." The men
slowed. "Get your sword out. We'll—"

"Are you really intending to risk your
careers for a chance at my meager 10,000 ranmya bounty?" Amaranthe
asked, hoping a little chitchat might distract them.

An alcove ahead held a bucket of sand, an
axe, and a hand pump. Though she wondered what there was that could
possibly burn on the metal ship, the firefighting station offered
hope.

"Hush, woman."

"10,000 is a lot. And ain't nobody going to
object to your death."

"10,000 isn't enough to live on for more than
a couple years, and you have to split it, right? A mere 5,000
each." She stopped to trade looks with them. In truth, she just
wanted to take a break in front of that axe. "What you really need
to do is get Sicarius. He's worth millions."

"Naw, too dangerous. He's a sincere
killer."

"He's on the ship. It wouldn't be hard to set
something up."

She had their full attention now. The axe was
in reach, if she could just get a hand free.

"He trusts me," she said. "I could easily set
a trap. I wouldn't dare go against him alone, but with help...”

"Maybe we could—" one of the soldiers
started.

"No, don't be stupid," his comrade said.
"Sicarius would kill us easier than spit."

She twisted her neck to look behind them.
"Then you'll be concerned that he's standing behind you."

The soldiers' eyes bulged, and they whirled
about. She yanked her arms free. She grabbed the bucket and threw
the sand just as they turned back and reached for her. Their arms
flailed. They cursed as grit pelted their eyes.

Amaranthe snatched the axe and swung at the
closest soldier. She turned her wrists and struck with the flat of
the blade. It thudded against the man's head. As he dropped, she
tore his cutlass free. He struck the floor and clutched at his
head, oblivious. She released the axe in favor of the lighter
weapon.

The other soldier recovered from the sand
barrage and unsheathed his own blade as well as his pistol. He
opened his mouth, but she did not have time for conversation now.
She sidestepped and kicked the pistol out of his grip.

Cutlass leading, she lunged and slashed,
hoping to catch him by surprise. As a soldier, he would have had
hours of drills pounded into him, though, and he parried easily.
Reluctantly, she settled in for the obligatory exchange where they
gauged each other's strengths and weaknesses. Someone could turn
down the corridor any moment, and now that she was armed, soldiers
would not be her allies.

His cutlass flashed toward her head. She
recognized the feint—even with his greater arm length, his lunge
would not bring him close—and only dropped her own blade in
anticipation of a second attack. Steel screeched as cutlasses met
before her thigh.

She used the momentum of the rebound to
riposte, flicking at his wrist. A line of blood appeared in his
flesh.

Though the small wound could not have hurt
much, his eyes flickered with surprise. It was too small a victory
to celebrate triumph, but first blood was often enough to rattle an
opponent.

Attacking with more care, the soldier pressed
her with additional strikes. He had reach and strength, but she had
sparred often with Sicarius. Parrying his lightning strikes made
everyone else's blade thrusts seem molasses-like.

The soldier was careful not to leave himself
open, and she parried and gave ground, studying him, waiting for an
advantage. He cycled through a handful of combination attacks, and
they soon became predictable.

Someone moved behind him, and she winced.
Amaranthe had to finish this before the second soldier got back
into the fray.

When the high slash toward her head came
again, she was ready before he fully launched it. She ducked,
tossing out a parry in case his blade came down, and darted in
close. She sliced her cutlass against his ribcage, even as she
continued past and came out behind him.

He grunted with pain and started to turn
toward her, but she launched a sidekick that could have busted down
a door. His boots left the ground as he sailed backward. His head
struck one of the hanging lanterns. It broke, and he went down
amongst shattering glass.

Amaranthe whirled, expecting the second
soldier. The black-clad figure standing before her was no soldier
though.

"I trust you, and you could easily set a trap
for me?" Sicarius held out her short sword, eyebrows arched.

She grinned. "Even these two shrubs weren't
buying that. They must know you sleep with your knives."

She dropped the cutlass, belted on the
familiar blade, and glanced around him at the second soldier. The
prone man was more unconscious than she had left him; she hoped he
was not dead.

Amaranthe knelt to truss her soldier,
intending to use his bootlaces to bind ankles and wrists.

"Don't bother," Sicarius said. "We have to
go. Now."

"Why? Did you find the—"

"The engineers are dead, the safety valves on
all four boilers have been tampered with, and the Kendorian is down
there shoveling coal into the furnaces."

Amaranthe stared. "Why didn't you—"

"There's a trap at the door. I watched two
soldiers run in and get incinerated by flames. There's no way into
the boiler room right now."

"Show me." Amaranthe started past him,
heading for the closest ladder, but he gripped her elbow.

"This isn't worth risking your life for,"
Sicarius said.

She turned and looked him in the eyes.
"Hundreds will die if this ship explodes. And what happens if the
city can't import food for the rest of the winter? There are a
million people in the capital. Local stores aren't enough to feed
everyone." Again, she tried to step toward the ladder, but he did
not release her. She might as well have been bound by steel.

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