It had to be the same one that had been spying upon the Falcon’s Flight. At least, he thought it had been spying upon them. Maybe it had simply been coming here, the crew already knowing about the waterfall and not needing to stop to interrogate villagers—or tortoises—along the way.
Yanko groaned to himself as he picked his way along the edge of the pool. He could just glimpse the top of the underwater boat with his eyes, a darker shadow poking above the surface. Only a hatch on a small portion of the top was visible, with the majority of the vessel under the water.
When he drew even with it, Yanko stopped to check it with his mind again. When they had seen it before, he had sensed people inside of it, even though it had been a good hundred meters away. This time, he didn’t sense anyone. Had the crew all climbed out to search behind the waterfall? If so, he was surprised they hadn’t left a guard, but maybe they hadn’t known the pirates were coming.
Yanko tried to sense behind the waterfall. He could feel the shape of a cave back there, or at least the opening of one, but beyond that, it grew fuzzy to him, almost as if some magical camouflage lay over the area, thwarting his probe.
“Wonderful,” he muttered.
He continued toward the waterfall, leaving the underwater boat without disturbing it. A part of him was tempted to swim out, to try to get in and snoop around. Maybe the Kyattese had maps and information that he and Dak lacked. But he hadn’t forgotten the pirates heading this way. He didn’t have much time, and if the Kyattese were already inside, he might be too late. What if they were pulling out the lodestone right now? What would he do if he came face to face with four armed men, one of whom might be a far more experienced mage than he?
Despite the worries jumping around in his head, Yanko kept going. He skirted ferns dangling in the water and found a six-inch-wide rock ledge that led up to the waterfall. Heavy droplets spattered him, soon drenching his silks, but he found his way behind the curtain of water and to the cave mouth.
In the utter darkness, he relied upon his mental senses to guide him. Even with that advantage, his sandals kept slipping on the damp rocks, and he nearly pitched over twice. He was considering whether a light would be visible to someone outside when he stubbed his toe on something. Whatever it was clattered away. Driftwood, he guessed, or the remains of some old campfire. He decided to risk his light, since his senses felt muted in here, as if he were trying to hear but someone had plugged his ears. Besides, entering a cave in the dark was eerie. He remembered warning Lakeo that there might be traps back here.
When he conjured a sphere of illumination, the soft blue light showed the cave, less rugged and natural than he expected. It looked like someone had hewn it from the rock, or even used magic to carve it out. The striated stone walls were relatively smooth.
Yanko looked down to verify that he had kicked a piece of wood, but gasped and stepped back. It wasn’t wood.
A human skull had rolled over to the rock wall, the jawbone missing, the empty eye sockets staring accusingly at him. The bone was yellowed and worn—it must have been there for years, if not decades. That did not make him feel better about stumbling across it here.
“Sorry, fallen one,” he whispered, then mentally added a quick chorus of the chant for the dead, one that encouraged resting souls to continue resting instead of returning to haunt those in the present. It seemed a wise precaution to take after kicking a skull.
“Talking to bones? Is that better or worse than talking to turtles?”
Yanko whirled, his hand dropping to his sword before he realized who it was. “Lakeo!”
He gaped at her. Her wild hair dripped onto her shoulders, and her clothes were ripped and stained. She still carried her weapons, though, a sword and a bow.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Lakeo asked.
“How did you get away from the pirates?” Yanko blurted at the same time as she looked around and asked a question of her own.
“Where’s Dak?”
“He went to rescue you,” Yanko said. “From the pirates.”
“What pirates?”
They stared at each other, their brows creased.
“I haven’t seen any pirates or anyone else since leaving you,” Lakeo said slowly.
“Then who was under the tarp?” Yanko scowled down at the skull as if it might have answers.
Realizing Lakeo had no idea what he was talking about, he waved for her to walk deeper into the cave with him and explained. He hadn’t had much time before, but now he worried that he needed to finish up more quickly so he could go look for Dak, who might be rescuing somebody they didn’t even know. And maybe someone who didn’t need rescuing at all. What if that had been a ruse? A trap designed to lure Yanko and his party in? If so, they had surely fallen for it.
“Slow down, will you?” Lakeo jogged a couple of steps and grabbed his arm.
“There’s not much time.” He looked into the darkness ahead, his light showing them a passage about ten feet high and wide that curved toward the cliff Yanko had been on top of earlier.
“Unless someone was using this as a burial chamber, we might want to make time.” Lakeo pointed to bones in the dirt at the edges of the tunnel.
Yanko had assumed they belonged to the same person as the skull and that some animals had been back here and scattered them around, but now that he took a closer look, he spotted duplicates of arm and leg bones. More than one person had died in here.
“I’m guessing the Mausoleum Bandit didn’t want people raiding his treasure chamber,” Lakeo said.
“True, but I think there are some Kyattese back in here. They should trigger any traps first.”
“The Kyattese are here? How do you know?”
“They left their underwater boat in the pool.” Yanko wasn’t surprised she hadn’t seen it in the dark. If he hadn’t been searching the area with more than his eyes, he would not have, either.
“That’s perfect.” Lakeo clenched a fist. “I was worried about how we’d get off this island if Baldie didn’t come back. We can just make sure we get out of here before the Kyattese and borrow their boat.”
“Borrow? Steal, you mean.”
“I always get those two words mixed up. Look, either they go home with the prize or we do.”
“We could barely drive my father’s carriage down to Red Sky. What do we know about piloting an underwater boat?”
Yanko shook his head and continued forward. He did heed Lakeo’s warning and advanced at a slower pace, searching the walls, floor, and ceiling with his mind while watching with his eyes. It was possible the Kyattese knew there were traps and how to avoid them, so he shouldn’t assume the other team would trigger them. He didn’t even know for sure that they were back here. The Kyattese could be elsewhere, exploring the island.
His senses jangled, and Yanko stopped, frowning at the ceiling. The passage ahead did not appear any different from what they had been walking through, but he had the same feeling he had when in the presence of Made objects. Something was either hidden behind the rocks up there, or the rocks themselves had been imbued with the ability to do something.
“Maybe we could kidnap one and force him to pilot,” Lakeo said.
“What? Are you still thinking about the boat?”
“Yes, aren’t you?”
“Not presently.”
Yanko picked up a rock and tossed it into the passage ahead, expecting it to trigger the trap. It clattered along the stone floor loudly enough to make him wince. They had traveled deep enough that the roar of the waterfall had faded, leaving him aware of the silence—and breaking it.
“That looks like a fun game.” Lakeo picked up a rock. “Shall I throw one too?”
“There’s a trap there.” Yanko waved toward the ceiling.
Lakeo threw her rock at it. Nothing happened. “You’re sure?”
“You can’t feel that something Made is there? Close your eyes and concentrate. See if you can sense it.”
She squi
nted at him, as if suspicious he was making this up, but she did as he suggested. Meanwhile, he wondered if they could get past it without being hurt. If he knew what was coming, he might be able to thwart the attack, but knowing a Made item lay ahead did not tell him what it might do. He thought about digging into his pack and putting on his mother’s warrior mage robe, but he doubted it would make him any more intuitive or clever with his magic. It seemed to help with stamina and with channeling his power more effectively. Maybe he would need that later, but even here, on this remote island, he struggled to get past the idea that wearing that robe was a crime for him. He was no warrior mage, not yet. Maybe not ever unless he succeeded in helping his nation, and the Great Chief deigned to allow him entrance to Stargrind.
Yanko used his meager telekinesis skills to prod at the ceiling with his mind. When nothing happened, he switched his prodding to the floor, reasoning that the trap would be set to trigger when someone walked across. If he were better at levitation, he might have simply floated through the area. Maybe the Kyattese had done that.
Something in the rock depressed as he was poking around. Even though he should have expected something like that, it startled him.
Light and heat flared with the intensity of a sun. He stumbled back, raising an arm for protection and trying to channel cool air from behind him into the passage to push back the flames. His attempt to diminish the fire did nothing, and it continued to flood the tunnel with heat. Fortunately, all that heat stayed in the passage ahead. Yanko and Lakeo were far enough back that they were not hurt. After a minute, the inferno died out, leaving the tunnel as empty as before.
“I feel it now,” Lakeo announced.
“Your skills are progressing nicely.”
“Dak’s not here. I could smack you.”
“I do win most of the encounters when we spar, you know.”
“Yeah, but if a woman smacked you, you would let her, because you’d know you deserved it. If Arayevo smacked you, you’d probably gaze back at her with adoring moon eyes.”
Yanko did not want to think about Arayevo, especially if she had slept with that knob-headed captain, and then taken off while leaving them behind.
“It looks like the trap can be triggered again and again,” he said, studying the ground and searching for more places that could be indented. “I think I can lead us past it now that I know what I’m looking for.”
“Think, huh?”
“Step precisely where I step.” Yanko thought of the skeletons near the mouth of the cave. Had they belonged to people who had been caught by the flames? Maybe they had run, their skin scorched and melting from their bodies, hoping to find relief in the pool. But they had never made it. Or maybe some of them had. If one dove to the bottom, would one find more skeletons?
“What if I wait here and don’t do any stepping at all?” Lakeo muttered.
Yanko had already started through the trap area, but he paused to look back. Maybe it would be better if she did stay behind. Why endanger both of them? But he didn’t like the way she was gazing back in the direction of the waterfall, her face full of contemplation. Was she thinking of stealing the underwater boat again? Yanko doubted that submerging and steering it would be easy skills to master, especially if it relied upon Turgonian technology instead of Kyattese magic. She might end up damaging it or sending it to the bottom of the pool where nobody could use it.
“That’s up to you,” Yanko said, “but I’m not going to loot anything back there except for the lodestone. If you want riches, you better come along.”
Lakeo propped a fist on her hip. “Really, Yanko? If you found a pirate’s stash, you wouldn’t bring back a valuable piece of treasure for a lady? That’s inconsiderate.”
Yanko continued on, concentrating on the ground and the trigger points rather than replying.
After issuing a dramatic sigh, Lakeo followed him, shadowing him step for step.
“We’re past the area,” he said when they had left the Made rock behind. “I’ll continue slowly and watch for more trouble.”
“Good thing you’re leading. Apparently, I have the senses of a rock.” Her tone had gone from flippant to disgusted.
“You just need practice.”
“I need a good school. That’s all I want the money for, you know. I don’t want to steal things to pay for it. But a seventy-year-old pirate’s treasure, that’s fair game, right? Anyone can claim it—and sell it to pay for a ridiculously exorbitant education.”
Yanko wasn’t so sure that Tomokosis’s stash would be considered “fair game” by the Kyattese, not when the stolen items had come out of their museum and had been recorded and itemized in their archives and newspapers. There would be no question as to who the rightful owners were. It was possible Tomokosis had dragged other items back here, he supposed, ones whose provenance would be unknown. Those might be claimed.
“Perhaps you could find someone who would take you on as an apprentice,” he suggested, then lifted a hand, sensing another Made item ahead of them. It felt similar to the last, where the rocks themselves had been treated. He spotted more of the places on the ground that could be indented and nodded to himself.
“I don’t know any masters who would train a... me,” Lakeo said.
“You are nettlesome.”
“Careful, Yanko. You’ll offend someone with that profane mouth someday.”
He pointed at the ground. “Follow my steps again.”
“Same kind of trap?”
“It appears to be so.”
“How unimaginative. I figured the second trap would involve a flood or maybe the walls would come crashing together and squish us.”
“Just be glad they’ve been magical so far.” Yanko walked close to the wall, avoiding the triggers on the ground. “Tomokosis must have had a Maker for a cohort. If he’d had an engineer... well, I wouldn’t be able to sense non-magical traps.” He grimaced at the thought. What if Tomokosis had brought an engineer with him, or had possessed such skills himself? Yanko had better watch for physical tripwires as well as magical ones.
A scream tore through the air, coming from ahead of them.
Yanko jumped, then cursed himself. If he was careless and brought a foot down on one of the trigger spots, he could never shield Lakeo and himself in time. He wasn’t even sure he had the ability to shield against the power of the infernos.
“That sounded like a woman,” Lakeo whispered, a step behind him.
A second scream traveled down the passage to them, this one followed by a man’s yell.
“It has to be the Kyattese team,” Yanko said.
He focused on the ground so he could get them through the dangerous area. Once past it, he resisted the urge to hurry, lest he stumble into more traps. But the screams and shouts continued. They made him want to rush forward to help. Even if these people were his competition, he didn’t want to see them get killed. Also, a selfish part of his mind couldn’t help but think he might sneak in and grab the lodestone while the Kyattese were dealing with... whatever it was they were dealing with.
An eerie screech echoed down the passage, raising the hair on the back of Yanko’s neck.
“The ox god’s puckered butthole, what is that?” Lakeo demanded.
“Nothing natural.”
Yanko drew his sword before continuing down the passage. More screams sounded, screams of utter pain. Someone was shouting choppy orders, but Yanko could not understand the language. The tunnel curved and grew lighter. Lanterns or perhaps a fire burned up ahead. The dancing yellow and orange flames flickered, reflecting off the walls and mingling with the blue from Yanko’s mage light. He let his magic fade, not wanting to herald their arrival.
The tunnel widened ahead of them. Something huge and reddish-gray ran—almost flew—through his view. It was gone before he could identify it. He’d received a vague impression of an animal, but as the inhuman cry sounded again, he became even more certain that nothing natural had made it. This must be some ot
her trap, some eternal guardian left to protect its master’s treasures.
Bows twanged. The person who had been screaming stopped, though a few whimpers were audible underneath the scared shouts. Yanko crept closer to the chamber. He doubted that bows or swords would stop whatever this creature was. Unfortunately, he didn’t know if he could stop it, either.
A bow twanged from right beside the entrance to the chamber. Yanko hesitated. Should he reveal himself?
The reddish creature leaped into sight. It rose on two fat, column-like legs and beat at its chest with fists—no paws. Sharp fangs leered from a mouth more human than animal, and the red eyes that stared at Yanko were utterly alien. Visible to his mind’s eye, multiple auras swirled around it, almost like human souls, but they were knotted and tangled, all mashed together into one body.
As the creature crouched to spring, realization crashed into Yanko, and he knew what he was looking at, what was looking at him. A soul construct. One of the earliest ambulatory Made creations, powered by death, by the souls given up in a ceremony to create it. He’d read of such things, but had never expected to see one. Nobody used such savage and cruel methods for crafting magical constructs anymore. There were modern ways, more advanced ways, ways that didn’t require killing groups of people.
As indignant as he felt by the creature’s presence, Yanko had little time to contemplate it. Since its eyes had locked onto him, he was sure he would be its next target. Would his sword do anything to harm it?
An arrow clanked into the construct’s head. It bounced off, not leaving so much as a chip in the rock-like body. No, a sword wouldn’t do anything. The creature took a step toward Yanko. But then a wave of wind-driven power slammed into its side. Yanko could not see the attack with his eyes, but he felt the magic being used as a draft of air was sucked past him, drawn into the chamber before being channeled at the construct. The team had a weather mage, or the Kyattese equivalent.
The creature did not appear damaged from the gust of wind, but it screeched again and spun toward its attacker, someone that Yanko could not see from the tunnel. The construct charged in that direction. The bowman he’d heard earlier cursed, then ran into the chamber after the creature.
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