Forged in Blood I by Lindsay Buroker

away from his improvised ink-based explosive. “Time to light the fuse.”
    “Are we sure we want to light another one?” Maldynado asked, poking his head inside the tunnel again. “Things don’t sound too structurally stable out here.” A crash punctuated his last word.
    “Do we have a choice?” Amaranthe asked. “Sounds like company is coming.”
    “Let’s get out of here,” Deret grumbled and grabbed the lantern.
    Since he was leaning on his swordstick, his movements were awkward as he bent toward the fuse. Amaranthe wondered if his earlier near miss, as evinced by his soot-covered face and clothing, had come because he’d misjudged how much time he’d need to give himself to get out of range, thinking of how fast he’d once been able to move instead of how fast he moved today.
    “Want me to light it?” she offered.
    Deret’s glower could have withered daisies on a warm spring day.
    “Or… I’ll just wait outside,” she amended.
    “Do that.”
    Amaranthe scooted out of the tunnel, almost colliding with Maldynado who was loitering at the mouth.
    “We need to take cover,” she said.
    Maldynado started to jog away, but she added, “Them too,” and waved at the prisoners.
    Maldynado huffed a sigh and grabbed the men, propelling them before him. Amaranthe could understand the sentiment. At least they went along without making trouble. Nobody wanted to get caught in an explosion.
    She joined them behind a couple of desks, ducking under one with a solid slab top.
    The ceiling creaked ominously above their heads. She hoped the next explosion, which was outside of the building’s walls, wouldn’t affect the structure or supports.
    More bangs sounded—crates being shoved off the pile Maldynado had erected up front. The soldiers must have broken down the door or found a way to remove it from its hinges.
    “Deret,” a man bellowed. “Are you responsible for this ruckus, boy? I’m going to tie you down range at Fort Urgot for the privates to use for shooting practice.”
    Deret skidded around the corner of Amaranthe’s hiding spot and dropped to the floor. There wasn’t room for him to squeeze under the desk beside her, but he pressed himself close and buried his head under his arms.
    The thunderous boom that followed wasn’t as loud as the first had been, not with the wall blocking some of the noise, but that didn’t keep the floor from trembling beneath them. Cracks sounded, this time not in the wood but in the bricks, and more dust flooded the air.
    “By great grandmother’s funeral pyre, what are you doing, boy?” came the senior Lord Mancrest’s voice.
    Amaranthe touched Deret’s shoulder and climbed out past him. They had better get out of the basement before something important gave way—or the soldiers swarmed inside to capture them. Maldynado had already leaped to his feet, and he reached the opening in the wall first, a lantern in hand.
    He stuck the light inside. “It worked.”
    He’d neglected to grab the prisoners, and they looked like they meant to flee toward Deret’s father. Amaranthe was tempted to let them go so they wouldn’t have to deal with them any more, but she grabbed their arms. “This way. He won’t be happy with you for not capturing us in the first place.”
    “I don’t care any more,” one muttered. “So long as we get out of here before—”
    Wood snapped above them. A beam bowed down, boards cracking and giving way with each inch it drooped.
    Deret grabbed Amaranthe’s arm. “Run!”
    She needed no further urging and sprinted for the tunnel hole.
    “Get back, get back,” came a cry from the other entrance.
    Just as Amaranthe crossed the threshold, the beam gave away completely. Light fell into the basement as a huge chunk of the floor above collapsed. Steel screeched, then a cacophonous crash filled the space as one of the massive presses tumbled through the opening. Parts flew off, pelting the walls and landing on old machinery, leaving a