Forged in Blood I by Lindsay Buroker Page A

twisted metal wreck that would never print again.
    One of the massive paper rolls was flung across the room toward Amaranthe. She dove, somersaulting down the tunnel to put distance between herself and the machine’s attack. Brick crunched as the roller struck the outer wall. A curtain of dust and mortar sprayed the inside of the passage.
    Amaranthe climbed to her feet, saw that Maldynado and Deret had both made it inside, and started to release a relieved breath, but a cry of pain came from beyond the entrance. Her first thought was that Deret’s father, or some of his men, had been crossing the basement and had been pinned by flying pieces of machinery. Then she remembered the prisoners.
    “Maldynado,” she whispered, “help me,” and headed back.
    “Are you crazy?” Deret held the only remaining lantern, and he stood at the far end of the passage, one foot already through the ragged hole leading to the storm tunnel.
    “We brought them down here. Maldynado,” Amaranthe repeated, knowing she’d need his brawn if someone was pinned.
    A hand patted her back. “I’m with you, boss.”
    Amaranthe stuck her head back into the basement as a metal filing cabinet tumbled through the hole from above, landing on the cage Deret had been confined in before. More wood snapped overhead. Before long, the whole ceiling would drop.
    “Help,” someone whimpered from a few feet away.
    Amaranthe swatted at the dust in the air. Fine particles slipped through her shirt and assailed her nostrils and throat. She stifled a cough. She doubted the soldiers would come streaming into this mess, but she didn’t want to let them know where she was. Who knew if they had rifles?
    A long arm of machinery had fallen on one of the prisoners. The other man was trying to pull his comrade free, though the wrist ties made it impossible. Amaranthe slid out her dagger and slashed through the bindings, instantly raising her estimation of the soldier for not leaving his colleague. He gave her a quick nod, then bent to grab the end of the beam.
    The pinned man groaned, his teeth clenched so hard she could almost hear them grinding above the noise of falling debris. Maldynado grabbed the beam as well. Amaranthe glanced about and found a pole sticking out of the wreckage. She joined the men, thrusting it beneath the beam to use as a lever. Those printing presses must weigh tons, for even this broken section took all three of them to lift.
    More pieces of the ceiling cracked and fell as they heaved. The beam inched up.
    “Go, Rudev,” the pinned man’s comrade urged.
    As the weight lifted, the prone fellow groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. For a moment, Amaranthe thought he would pass out, but he stretched his hands across the floor, grabbed the corner of a crate and started clawing his way free.
    “There they are!” someone yelled from the other side of the basement.
    A shot rang out. Instinctively, Amaranthe ducked, though it was probably the haze that saved her, rather than her reflexes. The pistol ball pounded into the brick wall.
    “Go, go,” she whispered and risked casting her lever aside. She grabbed the crawling man by the shoulders of his jacket and threw her weight into pulling him.
    A pained stream of curses flowed from his mouth, but his legs finally cleared the beam. Maldynado and the other prisoner dropped it, hurling more dust into the air.
    A second pistol fired. Amaranthe and the others dropped to the ground and scrambled for the tunnel entrance on hands and knees. This time, the shot hit the ceiling. As if it were the kernel of rice that tipped the merchant’s scales, a second ceiling beam snapped, the ear-splitting noise directly above Amaranthe. She lunged into the tunnel, grabbing the others, pulling and urging them along, though nobody needed prompting at that point.
    As Maldynado flopped to the ground beside her, the basement ceiling caved in. Dust flooded into the tunnel, and an ominous groan came from the bricks