Gray stopped and stared that way. As he did, a large sleeve of ice calved away and fell like a dagger. It shattered to the ground with a crystalline ring.
Tucker tried to lead them deeper, but Gray grabbed his arm. “Everyone else is still down that tunnel, behind that icefall.”
Tucker understood and looked at Gray’s leg. “We need eyes on the situation. Can you manage?”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
Tucker set a hard pace, which Gray appreciated. Tucker cast his dogs to either side, to extend their range of sight. The guy’s lips were set in a grim line. Gray knew who the man must be especially worried about. The Ranger had grown close to the botanist over this long ordeal.
After a few minutes, Tucker led them to a three-story structure. It stood thirty yards from the frozen waterfall. They climbed to the second story, which offered a decent view. Tucker left his dogs to guard below. They wanted no surprise visitors.
A wide doorway out to a balcony offered the best vantage.
To the right of the icefall, red lamps glowed, illuminating a cluster of men, all dressed in camo. The angle made it hard to estimate their number.
A wounded man moaned loudly, whimpering in turns. His face was a ruin, bleeding heavily. His eye sockets looked empty, giving him a sepulchral appearance. A soldier injected him with something, likely a sedative or pain reliever.
Another soldier looked to be cursing, pointing toward the waterfall.
Gray struggled to understand.
Tucker made sense of it, clearly zooming in with his goggles. “The angry one is Captain Turov. I remember him from the naval base. The one next to him looks like he’s got the stars and bars of a senior lieutenant, likely the strike team’s leader.”
“What about the wounded man?” Seichan said. “One of the soldiers?”
Tucker turned with a lean grin. “Oh, that’s Archpriest Sychkin. Seems he’s having a bad day.”
“What happened to him?” Gray asked.
Tucker turned back to the scene. “As far as I can tell, I think he came from that tunnel of yours. Evacuated by one of the Russian soldiers.”
Gray cursed under his breath. “Our friends?”
“No clue. No sign of them out there.”
“Then they must still be in there.”
“Or dead,” Seichan offered coldly.
Gray recognized this possibility, too, but... “Considering Sychkin’s condition,someoneput up a fight.” He turned to the others. “If it was our group, then they could still be alive. We need to find out before we run out of time.”
This was reinforced by another resounding pop of ice. A huge section of the icewall broke away and crashed to a scintillating ruin in front of the thrones.
“It’s coming apart for sure,” Tucker said. “I can make a dash with my dogs, try to get through. For now, with all that ice raining down, the soldiers are keeping their distance.”
“No,” Seichan said. “I know what’s back there. You don’t. You and your dogs will be more useful here. Someone needs to lock down that exit before I bring the others out.”
Gray heard the unspoken caveat to her statement.
If we get out...
Tucker nodded. “We’ll cover you from here.”
“Only shoot if you must. Don’t give your location away.”
She turned to leave, but not before leaning over and kissing Gray, hard and desperate—then she shoved away, rolled to her feet, and set off.
Gray and Tucker maintained a vigil. A full minute ticked by, which felt like forever. Then a shadow darted out of the cityscape. Using the coverage of the tumbled blocks of ice, Seichan made it behind the throne carved with sea life—and vanished away.
