The part of the city they traveled into looked more industrial and more run-down than the rest she’d seen. Large stone warehouses cast immense shadows, and she saw furtive movements in the darkness. The gladiators kept together as a tight group, weapons raised.
Then a smell hit Madeline. It was like running into a wall, and it made her gag. She’d thought the sewers were bad, but this was a hundred times worse.
“Tanneries,” Raiden told her. “This is where they tan leather for use in the arena.”
Madeline held her hand to her nose. She couldn’t even describe the foul stench. Maybe rotting fish combined with dead things.
Ahead, large vats had been carved into the rocky ground. There was an entire grid of them, gleaming under the moonlight. Some were filled with whatever chemicals were used in the tanning process, while other vats were empty.
They passed the tannery area, Galen checking his small comp screen.
“Makes sense to have an entrance to the sewers here,” Lore said. “The place already stinks.”
Galen lead them down a narrow alley between two tannery buildings. A round, metal manhole was set into the ground. The imperator gestured, and Nero and Thorin stepped forward.
It took the giant gladiators some grunting to lift the heavy cover up. They tossed it to the side with a clang.
A dark hole yawned at them.
Galen crouched, flicking on a small, hand-held light. “There’s a ramp heading downward.”
Madeline watched Galen drop into the hole. The others followed. When it was her turn, she crouched near the edge and took a breath.
Hands grabbed her, and she stifled a yelp as she was lifted down. She glanced up at Lore. “I didn’t need the help.”
His face stayed impassive. “Of course, you didn’t.”
She turned away from him. It was so dark, and now the stench of sewer was competing with the fading stench of the tanning area.
“Drak, I won’t be able to smell for a week,” Thorin complained.
Galen lifted a hand, and they moved down the ramp. Soon, it leveled out, and they walked through a few inches of murky water and sludge. Madeline blocked all thoughts of what was actually in the water from her head.
Moving deeper, she saw small shadows racing away from them. Rats, or the alien equivalent, she guessed. Strange sounds echoed through the tunnels, and they set her nerves on edge.
Soon, they were so deep in the twists and turns of the sewers, she knew she’d be lost without the map. Suddenly, Galen stopped, lifting a hand.
They were at the end of the tunnel and ahead of them lay a giant lake of mucky, noxious water.
“The cavern you saw below the Glass House should be just ahead,” Galen said. “Just on the other side of this reservoir.”
Madeline spied a narrow walkway of rock that crossed the center of the lake.
“Let’s go.” Galen went first.
Madeline stepped out on the walkway, trying not to think about slipping into the dark water. The lights they were holding cast only enough light to see a few feet in each direction. She had no idea how big the lake was or how deep. For a second, she wobbled, and Lore grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Careful,” he murmured.
She looked at him for a moment, his handsome face partly hidden by the shadows. Damn him for being so attractive. She was still mad at him for his arrogant, alpha-male behavior earlier. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell him she had that pretty blue gem he’d given her tucked into her pocket for good luck.
Madeline focused on slowly and steadily crossing the lake. Soon, they were all on the other side and passing through another short tunnel.
They came out on a ledge ringing the large sinkhole cavern. They were up much higher than the level where Madeline and Lore had been on their other visit down here.
As Galen and Raiden crouched near the edge, she stared down, noting the cells on the far wall, and the deeper hole that housed the dag’tar.
Voices echoed up from below, and the gladiators all stepped back, pressing their backs to the wall. Lore pulled her close to his side and she elbowed him in response, but she kept her gaze on the guards walking into view below.
She heard a quiet click, and saw that Galen was taking pictures with some sort of device. Dimly, she heard the gladiators’ hushed whispers, as they discussed tactics and numbers. She searched for any sign of Blaine or the women.
“There,” she whispered. “The women.”
The three women were out of their cell, being pushed by guards. One woman—a tall brunette with long, curly hair—spun, and must have said something to the guards. The next instant, one of the guards backhanded her, sending her sprawling.
Madeline gasped and felt all the gladiators around her tense. But she knew that up here, they were too far away to help.