Shadows, стр. 35
Kneeling beside the barrel, Ammaii used the butt of his knife to knock out the plug. Then, coiling the cloth, he pushed it halfway into the liquid inside the barrel. “They inserted a cloth, lit it like a fuse, and threw the barrel into the rocks. It burst into a huge ball of flame and dripped through cracks but burned out fast. Afterward, the marauders looked like burned meat.
“Once the cloth is burning, I will go halfway down the stairs, and throw the barrel to the bottom, where it will burst into flame. As it falls, I will run back out, and when the flames have died down enough, we will run back down, kill any J’Stull still alive, and rescue the shevfashli.”
“Captain Cutter told me of something like this…what did he call it? A motov tail, I think.”
“It is simple but effective, and by using it we will rescue the shevfashli.”
Tanavuna laid his hand on Ammaii’s shoulder. “You’ve known Kesteluni all your life, my friend. She was Kesteluni to you long before she was the shevfashli.”
“All the more reason to save her, then.”
“It is far too dangerous for me to allow it, for you and for her. If she is really down there, the flames could consume her.”
“You are not thinking straight, Tanavuna. They are not aware that Kesteluni is your wife, so they will not hold her safety as a threat against you. Indeed, and I am sad to say it, but if the F’ahdn is truly dead, and Subitorni is in revolt, then he has no reason to have kept her alive this long.” He held up his hand, stopping Tanavuna’s retort. “But if she does yet live, then he must have a reason, and then it only makes sense that he would keep her safe, away from our bullets. And so, our fire as well. And if that does not convince you, then maybe this will: I see no other choice.”
“This is far too dangerous. Let us instead throw the container together, and then go down as the flames begin to die down.”
Ammaii opened his mouth to argue further but stopped when a voice echoed up from below.
“You, at the top of the stairs, this is Subitorni of the J’Stull. I have no reason to harm you, but we are coming up. If you continue to shoot, I will kill you without a second’s thought. I have fifty men at the ready.”
“We have more than enough bullets for your men, commander.”
“Do I know you?”
“No, but you soon will.”
“Let us pass. This is my last warning.”
Striking a spark from the kit, Ammaii lit the cloth and hefted the barrel. “And here is our final word!” he said, moving through the doorway onto the stairs.
“No!” Tanavuna yelled. He tried to grab Ammaii but missed. Although Ammaii had planned to rush down the steps, he appeared to slip on one of the step’s slick surfaces, and he slowed. The flame had only gone halfway down the cloth when shots struck the barrel, spilling fuel all over Ammaii’s robe. A draft from below carried fumes to Tanavuna’s nose seconds before the burning cloth ignited the barrel’s spilled contents.
Ammaii had a brief moment where he could have dropped the barrel and stripped off his burning clothes. Maybe it would have exploded at his feet, maybe it would have rolled to the bottom first. But he didn’t drop the barrel, not yet. Transfixed with horror, Tanavuna watched as the living flame that was his friend Ammaii hurried down the steps, absorbing shot after shot until he finally leapt forward at the bottom.
The fuel exploded with a whoosh that propelled it up the stairwell.
For a moment, time froze in Tanavuna’s mind. There was only flame, screams, and the acrid smell of the burning liquid. But, within seconds, the flames subsided enough for him to charge after Ammaii, the M14 recoiling into his shoulder as he fired round after round down the stairs. Frenzied howls reverberated off the stone, and he recognized them as his own. Sparks in the darkness marked ricochets, and he stopped firing.
The wrap on his face helped against the smoke and fumes. With all the fuel consumed, only flickers remained, dancing atop the bodies piled at the landing, now blackened as their robes burned. One of them was Ammaii. There wasn’t time or need to check for signs of life; his friend was dead, just like his father and Kuun and all the rest. Nor could he wonder why they had to die, why any of the violence had been necessary, not in that moment. He still had to find his wife.
Once at the bottom, a tunnel to his left went south, wide enough for two men to walk abreast. With no light that way, he couldn’t see far, but he assumed it led to other branches, levels, and probably back to the surface. On the right was another doorway which led into a square, lantern-lit room with three more openings, all leading in different directions. More J’Stull corpses lay twisted on the floor, their burned limbs drawn up, their fingers bent like claws. The silence of the dead blanketed the area and seemed to muffle the quick gasps of his breath.
He tried to think of what to do next. Enemies could be hiding through any of the doorways, but so could Kesteluni. He backed into the corner on his left, putting a wall behind him, but also moving away from his escape route back up the stairs. Expecting a sudden attack out of the dark, he heard, or thought he heard, a whimper through the left doorway, only a few feet from where he stood.
Driven by the thought of his wife suffering at the