Of Dawn and Darkness (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 2) (37 page)

This time, Calder had asked for an explanation. They told him only that they were on orders straight from the Emperor, and that any suspicious vessels were to be detained and searched.

“For what?”
he’d asked.

“Prepare to be boarded,”
he’d been told.

They couldn’t take the chance. They had to assume that the Emperor was searching for his fugitive Champion, so they outran the Navigators and returned to the coastline, where they continued south as fast as the Lyathatan could take them. When the giant Elder threatened to capsize them, they switched to their sails for a while.

And when weeks stretched into months, Calder realized that he was spending every day with nothing more than water in his sights, keeping watch for merely human pursuers. The difference between this and the true Aion Sea was painfully dull, and he finally began to understand the stories of sailors gone mad on long voyages. Before this, he’d assumed they were captured by a sanity-devouring Elder. Now, he knew, silence and solitude had an Elder power all their own.

Even Jerri was crabby and irritable after half a year at sea, and Petal never emerged from her quarters. Andel hadn’t said a word in days, and Foster...Foster tested his weapons twice a day. And each time, he got closer and closer to putting a round into Calder’s head.

He still wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a warning, or if the man was unconsciously fighting a desire to kill him.

Only two inhabitants of
The Testament
had kept their spirits: Urzaia and Shuffles.

“It is time for lunch!” the Champion declared, ringing a bell for no apparent reason. They could all hear him. “And today we have fresh-caught barberfin, delicately seasoned in the Dylian style with a side of mild beans and a half-ration of Moscarelli wine!”

Fish. That’s what he was saying. They were eating fish again.

Calder glared at the platter in his hands as though he could turn the fish to beef with the sheer force of his Intent. “Do we have
anything
left in the stores besides fish, Urzaia?”

Urzaia beamed at him. “These did not come from the stores. I caught them myself, just this morning! There are no fresher! Also, I left the heads on them. Delicious delicacy.”

He held one up, putting its empty black eyes and gaping mouth next to his face. “Look at him. Look how surprised he looks!” Urzaia imitated the barberfin’s slack, dead expression and let out a booming laugh.

There was a gun in Foster’s hand, and it looked like he was physically restraining himself from discharging the weapon into Urzaia’s face.

Something fluttered like a flag caught in the breeze, and a familiar weight settled onto Calder’s shoulder. Tendrils brushed his cheek. “LEFT THE HEADS ON,” Shuffles said, in what was practically a whisper. Relative to its normal volume.

Urzaia pointed his fish at the Elderspawn. “You see? The tiny monster has better taste than the rest of you.”

Shuffles launched itself from Calder’s shoulder and fluttered over to land on Urzaia’s. Its tentacles quested toward the fish.

Calder marched to the wheel, swiveling to keep an eye on the entire horizon.

Urzaia noticed. “What’s wrong, Captain? You should eat your fish.”

The tension that ran through Calder was a novelty, and he savored it. If this ended up as another false alarm, he’d...he didn’t know what he’d do. He would probably just eat his fish and cry on the inside. “It’s the middle of the day. If Shuffles woke up before nightfall, that means it expects something interesting to happen.”

Jerri ran on deck, hurriedly smoothing her hair. Her braid was loose and sloppy today, but she tugged it into a semblance of order as she raced up. “Are we in danger?” she asked, in tones of desperate hope. For once, Calder agreed with her. Danger would be a welcome break.

“We can only hope,” Calder muttered, then he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. Fumbling at his vest, he finally grabbed a spyglass and held it up to his eye.

He let out a breath. Five Imperial ships, coming straight for them. They were heading away from the Aion Sea, which was strange; they couldn’t have actually traveled through the deep Aion, as none of them were Navigators, which meant they must have looped around.

There could be no mistake: they were headed here for
The Testament.

“We only have a few hours before they reach us,” Calder said, and he hated how excited he sounded. “Jerri, Andel, find us somewhere to dock and drop Urzaia. They’re between us and the Aion, so we can’t slip away and hide. Foster, ready the ship’s guns. Petal, prepare to receive wounded.” That wasn’t likely to be necessary, but he had to give her something to do. “Urzaia...bring me that fish.”

Urzaia was only too happy to comply, Shuffles chuckling on his shoulder. Andel had dragged a barrel on deck, onto which he placed a map. He and Jerri pored over it together, already in a lively discussion. Petal crept up to Urzaia, snatched a fish, and then scurried away. Her hair followed her like storm-cloud, and as she climbed down the ladder, it was the last part of her to vanish.

Foster, meanwhile, had tucked his pistol away without moving toward the cannons. He stared at the coast, scratching at his beard.

“What’s itching you, Foster?” Calder asked, as Urzaia prepared him a meal.

“I think I know somewhere to dock without trouble,” Foster said. His voice carried a weight of reluctance that Calder couldn’t miss.

“Where?”

“We’re probably three hours from the town where you found me. Silverreach. We’ve passed it four or five times over the last couple weeks, only I didn’t want to mention it.”

Calder remembered a silent town, ten-legged Elder Inquisitors, a batch of crazy cultists, and the dingy room where they kept their captives. He remembered Silverreach.

But it had been a long time, and memories lost their edge. Besides which, he had years of experience on the Aion since then. Elder cults weren’t quite as terrifying when you’d come face-to-face with their masters enough time.

Then again...there was that rumor that the Great Elder Ach’magut was imprisoned beneath Silverreach. He might not have the same respect for cultists or lesser Elderspawn, but he maintained a healthy respect for the Great Ones.

His gaze turned to Jerri. She would know exactly what he was thinking, and she’d have an opinion.

She met his gaze, and she didn’t look excited. Rather, she seemed resolute, as though she’d come to a decision on her own. “Andel,” she said loudly, “let’s plot a course for Silverreach.”

Beneath his white hat, Andel turned from her to Calder to Foster. After deliberating for a second, he nodded.

Urzaia smiled over them all, like a benevolent statue of the Emperor. “So,” he said. “Where are we going?”

~~~

The town of Silverreach actually looked significantly better than Calder remembered it. Its harbor was clean and clear, the few boats having long since been cleared away. The lighthouse on the cliffs over the town had a new coat of paint, and its glass sparkled in the sunlight like a beacon all its own.

From the harbor, where the Lyathatan grudgingly held them in place, Calder could see straight down the central street of the town. On either side, the houses were in good repair: here a fresh coat of paint, there a new door. One sloped roof nearby had most of its tiles recently replaced.

But there were still no people. No smoke rose from the chimneys, no dogs barked, no voices whispered behind closed shutters. In fact, it was even quiet compared to their previous visit; this time, not even gulls called.

Urzaia wasn’t smiling. He had his hands on his hatchets, and he faced the town with more respect than he had shown his opponents in the arena. “What happened here?” he asked, his tone demanding an answer.

Even as Calder sent a pulse of Intent into the ship, furling the sail overhead, he answered. “The spawn of Ach’magut.”

Urzaia nodded once. “Lower the boat, please, Captain.”

Calder did so, and the longboat landed in the water with a splash. The Champion moved over to it. “I will hide in the closest of the houses, and I will stay near the doorway. If the Emperor’s men search for me, I will kill them rather than travel deeper into the town. When you come to retrieve me, do not enter the house. Instead, call to me from the street. If I do not answer your third call, leave me behind.”

With that, he swung over the side of the ship and into the waiting longboat. Seconds later, Calder saw him rowing toward the shore. Each time he hauled on the oars, his boat launched closer as though he had his own personal Lyathatan pulling him forward.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak seriously before,” Andel said. “I’m impressed.”

“Pull out some cargo,” Calder ordered. “We’re receiving guests, and we need to be ready to explain why we’re here.” He glanced over at Foster, whose eyes were locked to the shore. “Foster? Do you need to inspect the equipment?”

Foster shook himself, snatching his shooting-glasses down from the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m...no, Captain. Bad memories, is all. I’ll have everything laid out for inspection when our guests arrive.”

The five white sails and five red Imperial flags were almost upon them. The crew of
The Testament
scurried over the deck, setting out their weapons and cargo for inspection.

Calder even laid his cutlass and pistol on the deck, once he saw the longboat deploy from the nearest ship. He was making a show of being unarmed, which would demonstrate his cooperation and goodwill toward the boarding soldiers.

But he was a Navigator aboard his ship, and the Lyathatan was restless beneath them. He was anything but unarmed.

It took Jerri and Foster both to wrestle Shuffles back into its cage. Its deep voice kept booming, demanding and angry at once, but they eventually got the Elderspawn back under control. When the resonant voice vanished, Calder knew they had finally gotten Shuffles’ blanket over its cage. He’d invested the blanket to lull creatures to sleep, though it didn’t seem to work reliably on Elders.

But it had worked this time, and with only minutes to spare; the Imperial longboat was close enough that Calder could make out the individual faces of its passengers.

He squared his hat, unfurled a ladder over the side of the boat, summoned a welcoming smile, and waited.

The first aboard was a man Urzaia’s size, with slabs of thick muscle that made him look as though he could put his fist through
The Testament
’s mast. His skin was darker than Andel’s, so he must have been a pure-blooded Heartlander. Far from home, then.

He scanned the deck with a hand on the butt of his pistol and, finding nothing amiss, he bowed to Calder. Then he stood aside. Two smaller men climbed aboard next, followed by a Heartlander woman. They all wore the deep red uniforms of Imperial officers; similar to those worn by Imperial Guards, but different in style and trim. These were not Guild members, just soldiers. But in this case, they outranked him.

The woman was Calder’s age, perhaps a little older, and she had no badges of rank on her chest. Even so, the others stepped aside as she walked forward.

When she was ten paces from Calder, she saluted crisply. “Second Under-lieutenant Mora Belyard, sir. Permission to come aboard?”

Calder wasn’t sure where a “second under-lieutenant” ranked, but he doubted it was very high. And he couldn’t ignore the irony of a potential enemy asking to come aboard after she was already standing on his deck.

But then, he had very little idea what to do with the Imperial army. In the Capital, virtually everything was controlled by the Imperial Guard, with whom he had entirely too much experience. He knew the Guilds had less of a direct presence outside of the major cities, but he’d never learned the proper etiquette for greeting a second-under lieutenant as she stood on his deck.

He let none of his uncertainty show on his face. Instead, he returned a haphazard version of her salute—he tried his best, but he couldn’t do anything about a lack of practice—and nodded to her. “Welcome aboard, Under-lieutenant Belyard. I admit, I was surprised to see your flag, but we’ve moved all our weapons and most of our cargo up for your inspection. If you’d like to see the rest, I’d be happy to show you our hold.”

Not ‘happy,’ exactly, because Shuffles was currently in the hold. If they removed the blanket from the cage and came upon an unexpected Elderspawn, he would have some quick talking to do.

A smile flickered over Belyard’s face. “That won’t be necessary, Captain. Give me a moment, and I’ll be off your ship and we can leave you to...whatever you were doing in an empty, condemned town. To which the Emperor has restricted access.”

Calder winced. He hadn’t known Silverreach was restricted, though in hindsight it made perfect sense. The Emperor would have learned about the Elder presence by now, and had doubtless issued the restriction to keep ordinary vessels from stopping here. As a Navigator, he wouldn’t have been expected to dock here at all—Navigators only traveled where they were requested, and who would put in a request for an empty town? Besides, Calder contacted the Guild as little as possible. Even if his Guild Head tried to keep all her ships out of the area,
The Testament
might never have gotten word.

But that couldn’t be the reason Under-lieutenant Belyard was here. The five ships had been on him before he’d decided to set course for Silverreach.

Why, then?

Belyard pulled the glove off her right hand and knelt, pressing her bare palm against the deck.

Of course.
He’d been afraid of a Reader coming aboard ever since they’d picked up Urzaia, but for some reason he hadn’t considered it today.
Stupid.
It was possible that, with a little luck, she might be able to pick up a remnant of Urzaia’s Intent.

And it was absolutely impossible for her to miss the presence of the Lyathatan, chained beneath their ship. The Elder’s presence was permitted by the Navigator’s Guild, but if she didn’t know that, she might take Calder into custody and turn him over to the Blackwatch. Which would have its own set of complications.

One of which included being forced to abandon Urzaia ashore in an Elder-haunted and abandoned town.