The Hunter Read online

  “Will the explosion not endanger us? If the water is so close, will the force of the blast not destroy the ducts or at the very least deafen us?” Braldt asked, fearful of the many flaws in the plan.

  “It is quite possible that all of those things will happen,” Batta Flor agreed. “But we will have to take that chance. We have always known that there were serious dangers involved. It is my hope that the concussion, the force of the explosion, will follow the outward thrust of the detonation, not implode inward.” He did not share with them his fears that the explosion, blocked on either side by masses of water, would be driven upward, which would almost certainly mean their death. “You must set the device and then return to us as quickly as possible. You cannot remain, for you could not hope to live through the detonation at so close a distance.”

  “Have no worries on that score,” said Braldt, “I too would like to grow old with my grandchildren. Now, show me what it is that I must do, how the device is activated.” Batta Flor obliged, drawing his instructions on the soft metal and soon after, with only a single soft kiss as farewell, Braldt set off down the narrow metal channel.

  Braldt soon began to suspect that the ceiling had been ripped away beneath him for the sound of rushing water was clearly audible, echoing loudly in the metal chamber. Furthermore, the duct was wracked by constant spasms that seemed to stress it to its limits. There was a steady metallic scream, thin and shrill, of metal pushed far beyond its normal limits. Braldt wondered if it would hold, for it seemed that the added weight of his body had introduced the final insult. He could feel the duct sagging beneath him and he moved as swiftly as possible, knowing that if the metal gave way, plunging him into the torrent that raged beneath him, he could not hope to survive, and with him would die the hopes and the future of the Duroni and the fate of the Madrelli.

  He had counted the sections as Batta Flor had instructed him to do and came to a halt at the spot the Madrelli indicated would place him directly over the breached wall. If he had had any doubts, they were gone now for he could clearly hear the hissing roar of the water as it forced its way through the gap below him. The duct was vibrating wildly, and a high-pitched hum emanated from its fastenings, which did not appear to be holding very fast at all. Braldt could see spaces between the junctures as they shook on a continuous basis. It was not the least bit reassuring.

  Braldt did not feel good about removing an entire panel. The entire structure was too weak as it was; if he removed a panel, it would weaken it even further. He was glad now that he had not given up his dagger. Pulling it free of his belt, he marked out a small square with the aid of the light beam and punched a small hole through the thin metal. Immediately he was wetted down by a spray of water. Hot water. It was as he had thought, the ceiling had been ripped from its moorings.

  He continued working, sawing away at the soft metal, forcing the sharp edges down, away from the opening. More and more of the scene below was exposed and it was a terrifying picture, dark water rushing, no, hurtling past at a dizzying speed that he had never before seen in nature. It was an awesome as well as a stupefying vision, one that numbed his senses as eyes and brain tried to encompass what it was that he was seeing. But there was little time to be wasted on watching the water, it would serve no purpose other than to frighten him and that was something he didn’t need.

  He finished cutting out the square of metal and watched as it fell the several feet that separated him from the maelstrom and was instantly whipped away, sucked beneath the water and vanished from sight the instant it touched down. He swallowed a shiver of fear that inched up his spine and pressed himself flat against the opening before he could talk himself out of it, supporting himself with his hands braced against the sides. He lowered his head and looked not at the water but at the wall that was exactly where Batta Flor had said that it would be, no more than an arm’s length away.

  The water rushed through the opening that was beneath the surface and then thrust itself upward, impelled forward by the press of the water behind it. Occasional splashes struck the wall that was streaming with moisture and Braldt could only wonder if water would affect the performance of the explosive device. Such a thing was entirely beyond his comprehension and he had only Batta Flor’s word that it would even work. It had been found in the workroom. Braldt wondered what they would have done had the device not been there. But such worries served no purpose and Braldt put them out of his head, concentrating on placing the device and activating it as per Batta Flor’s instructions.

  He leaned forward with the object in his hand, holding on as best he could with his free hand as well as bracing his legs against the sides of the duct. It was a greater distance than he had anticipated and he found that while he could touch the wall, he could not bring his weight to bear to press it into the wall. He would need to get closer. He inched himself forward, placing far more of his body than he would have liked over the gaping hole, but it could not be helped.

  He stretched out his arm, reaching, reaching for the wall, and then, just as he touched it, the entire duct was struck by a powerful tremor that wrenched the metal chamber hard to one side, throwing Braldt off balance. He clung to the metal walls, feeling the thing shake and tremble beneath him like a living creature in torment. The shaking did not cease but went on and on, and Braldt knew with a sense of impending doom that whatever was wrong with the mountain was fast approaching crisis level. If this deed was to be done, it had to be done immediately.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Braldt braced his thighs against the rough opening, ignoring the pain as the sharp edges cut into his flesh. He leaned his upper body forward parallel to the dizzying flux of water rushing just inches beneath his body and planted the device against the stone wall, pressing it firmly into place, feeling the sucking grip as it adhered to the damp stone, and knew that it would not pull loose. There was but one final thing to do; he pressed his thumb down atop the device and depressed a button that Batta Flor had already programmed to explode, giving Braldt only enough time for the return journey.

  Then, disaster struck, just as he was pulling back, his upper body supported by nothing but his own strength, a crest of water rose up out of the darker mass and slapped him down as casually as he might have swatted at an annoying insect.

  Braldt tried to save himself; he grabbed for the rough opening and missed. He dug in desperately, clinging to the smooth metal with his feet, but the water seized him then, slamming into him with a force that drove the breath out of his lungs. He reached for the open duct as the current grabbed him, but it vanished from sight as he was dragged beneath the surface of the water and sucked into the main force of the current. He had barely had time for a breath before he went under, and he tried to keep his wits about him as he was tumbled head over heels by the fierce flow. He would not have enough air to last until the explosion, and even though he was not versed in such things, he could imagine what would happen to him if he were in the water when the device went off.

  Suddenly he was struck a heavy, glancing blow on the top of his shoulder, and looking up into the dark water, he felt rather than saw a large object falling past him, banging him on the knees and shins before it vanished. The duct! It too had fallen or been ripped from its place! Had Batta Flor and Keri fallen too? Desperation and fear battled inside him and he struggled against the burning in his lungs, the need for air, the need to open his mouth and breathe, sucking in only dark water as he was carried to his death.

  The water bucked and heaved around him and for a moment he thought that the device had exploded, but it was too soon, and as darkness began to crowd in on his thoughts, he thought that it would be a wonderful bit of irony if the mountain self-destructed before the explosion went off.

  He strained to remain conscious, to remain upright, but he had lost all sense of where he was and could not tell if he was even in a vertical position. The current had him in its grip as firmly as a lupebeast held its prey; there was no getting loose.


  He felt himself blacking out, losing purpose, when suddenly he was slammed into something hard, something unmoving, and pinned there by the force of the water, unable to move. He fell slowly, pushed down the face of the wall where he had struck until he touched bottom, and then the current swept him up again and hurled him through a chaotic race of conflicting currents. He lost all hope then, as he was flung about, arms and legs, head and body, pulled in various directions as though the water would divide him up with a bit here and another bit there until he was torn completely asunder.

  And then it was over as quickly as it had begun. His body floated upward, water trickling in through his nose and mouth, darkness fogging his mind. Then, suddenly, he bobbed to the surface and he breathed in air, glorious sweet air, instead of water. He bumped into an object floating atop the dark water and pulled himself aboard with the very last of his strength, his back rubbing against the rough surface of the ceiling that was no more than a foot above the water.

  He could hear the rush of the torrent close by and could tell by the violent action of his rough raft that it was very near, but somehow it floated free of the main channel. A corner of the raft touched the greater turbulence and was flung sideways in a dizzying spin.

  The raft careened across the water and bumped hard against a stone wall, nearly throwing Braldt from his precarious perch. His fingers tightened, determined not to be thrown into the dark water again. As he pressed himself against the wood surface of the unseen object, there was a dull whumph and the water punched upward, heaving Braldt and his raft against the ceiling before dropping them down hard atop the water. His ears rang as air was displaced by the force of the explosion and he felt his body compress, the air forced from his lungs as well. He clung to the raft, a sick feeling sweeping over him, and for the second time in as many minutes, he struggled to retain consciousness, but this time he did not succeed.

  28

  Braldt opened his eyes and stared around him, wondering if he was dead. He could see nothing, all was dark. But he was breathing and he hurt all over. That seemed to indicate that he was still alive. What had happened? He struggled to bring his thoughts into focus, to remember what had happened. The explosion! Braldt sat up, or tried to, a sharp pain at the base of his spine caught him up short and he doubled over, gasping with the unexpected shock of it. What had happened after the explosion? Where were Keri and Batta Flor and Beast? Had they been killed?

  As though in answer to his fears, he heard excited cries nearby and raised his own voice in a shout, although he was surprised to hear that it was barely louder than a croak. Nonetheless, soon after he was rewarded by the wet snuffling of a questing snout and then a chorus of yips as though Beast had learned to speak. He was stroking the excited pup, praising it for its efforts when strobes of light swept across him and Batta Flor and Keri appeared at his side. Never had he been so glad to see anyone ever in his life.

  Keri fell to her knees beside him, sobbing, and Batta Flor seemed equally overwhelmed, coughing and clearing his throat and patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. Beast butted him rudely with his head, so as not to be forgotten. It was a reason to laugh and everyone joined in to the pup’s disgust, but the laughter after so much fear was cleansing and good.

  Batta Flor ran his hands over Braldt’s body and found no broken bones although much of his body had been deeply bruised and would feel the effects long after the day’s work was done. The Madrelli picked Braldt up and gently placed him on his feet, supporting him until the wave of dizziness and pain had passed.

  They were standing in what little remained of a small room adjacent to the larger control chamber. The door had been unable to stand up to the force of the water that had channeled through shortly after the initial sabotage and had been widened by the needs of the river. The water had gone, all that remained were pools on the floor.

  “Come,” said Batta Flor, “we have waited long for this moment, let us go together.” Supporting Braldt on one side, Keri on the other, the three of them passed through the shattered doorway and into the control room itself.

  “I must have struck the wall here and then been spun through into the next room,” Braldt said, staring at the wall in wonder, noting the many rough protrusions where blocks of equipment had been ripped away by the force of the water, knowing that if he had struck even one of them, he would not be alive at the moment.

  The light beams revealed what remained of the room, and oddly enough, a goodly portion had survived the impact of the river. The center of the room had borne the brunt of the force and everything that had stood in the river’s way had been swept away, the flooring and even the subflooring and all of the metal fittings scoured clean.

  Batta Flor directed his beam against the wall where Braldt had set the charge. The wall had collapsed completely, bringing down the ceiling as well. Numerous threads of water still found its way through the mass of debris and the thunder of the river could be heard on the other side. It seemed likely that it would break through again, but for the moment they were safe.

  Braldt saw that the duct he had traveled was completely gone, ripped from the ceiling. The rest of the duct work, including that portion that had held Batta Flor, Keri, and Beast, was attached only at its farthest point where they had entered, the rest of it lay slanted against the ground.

  “The water ripped it loose, or maybe it was the explosion, I’m not sure, it happened so fast,” Keri said, following his gaze. “I was scared to death. I thought we were going to die. I thought you were already dead. But as the level of the water dropped, so did we. We slid all the way down. It might have been fun if I hadn’t been so afraid.”

  As the beam of light crossed her face, Braldt saw that she had not escaped entirely without harm. Streaks of blood stained her ears and neck and her nose had obviously bled. There was a long cut on one side of her forehead. Braldt took the beam from her fingers and shone it on the Madrelli. He too bore similar bloodstains and one of his wrists appeared to be dangling at an odd angle.

  “It is nothing,” said Batta Flor as he moved out of the light. “The force of the explosion concussed us slightly. We will suffer no lasting damage. Come now, let us do that which we have endured so much to achieve. Let us see if the medicine box has survived its immersion.”

  Batta Flor directed his light beam over the walls. Directly before them were panels of a clear material that looked outward onto another room, probably that of the water flumes where the rhodium had been extracted. Below the windows were banks of panels with knobs and levers and a myriad of fixtures that Braldt could in no way identify. Everything was coated with a layer of red silt that gritted underfoot as they made their way across the room. Here and there, crammed under bits of machinery or wrapped around fallen girders, were the remains of the hard ones. These they avoided even though it was clear that they were without life.

  The lever that Braldt and Carn had seen in their vision was clearly visible. Braldt’s and Batta Flor’s eyes met and then, as though by mutual silent decision, they turned aside, the Madrelli sighing in quiet relief. Braldt knew then that Batta Flor had had his reservations about him, just as he too had doubted the Madrelli intentions to bring him to their goal.

  The medicine box was exactly as it had been in the vision. It was white and in its center was a bright crimson cross. It was fixed firmly to the wall and only the fact that it was out of the direct line of the river’s course had prevented it from being washed away. They had indeed been fortunate. Braldt reached up and, using the tool Batta Flor handed him, freed the box from the wall.

  “We have done what we set out to accomplish,” Batta Flor said with audible relief. “Let us leave this place for I do not feel that we were meant to escape so easily.”

  Keri and Braldt were in complete agreement and they followed Batta Flor as he led the way across the slippery floor, anxious now to be gone from this place that had cost them so dearly. They were halfway across the room when an odd, rasping voice shocked them int
o immobility.

  “I should have known you were traitors,” the voice said bitterly and Braldt’s heart contracted sharply at the words. For a moment, he thought that one of the hard ones had somehow come back to life. But then something familiar in the tone caught his ear and he raised his light beam and swept it across the room.

  There, not ten feet away, horribly disfigured, stood Carn! Keri screamed and then called his name and started to go to him.

  “Stay,” Carn said coldly. “You are a traitor too. I have heard everything. I have followed you, listened to you, watched you. I know everything. I know now that you have no intention of honoring Mother Moon, that our gods mean nothing to you, that you have swallowed this animal’s dirty lies.” Braldt stepped forward, but Carn raised his hand and in it was a strange object, unlike anything Braldt had ever seen before. Carn depressed a button and a stream of red light shot forth striking the floor next to Braldt, which erupted in a spray of rock chips leaving an enormous hole.

  “Stay away from him,” cried Batta Flor as he thrust himself in front of Keri and Braldt. “He has a stunner and it’s set on high!” Braldt did not stop to ask what a stunner was, it scarcely mattered. What did matter was that Carn was alive and quite obviously mad.

  “I’ll take that,” said Carn, holding out his hand for the medicine box. “No,” he said, gesturing with the stunner. “Not you. Braldt, give it to Keri. I don’t trust you.”

  Keri took the box and approached Carn with sideling steps. Whatever she had hoped to accomplish failed, for as soon as she was within reach, Carn’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm, twisting it cruelly. He took the medicine box from her and then placed the stunner against her throat and walked her to the wall where the lever was.

  “No, Carn, stop! Don’t do it!” cried Braldt and Batta Flor, and Keri added her voice to theirs as well. But Carn did not listen. His hand was on the lever now and he turned toward them, savoring the moment, knowing that they would not attempt to rush him as long as he held Keri.