Of Dawn and Darkness (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 2) (38 page)

He shivered as he felt her Intent pass through the ship, questing and insistent. After almost fifteen minutes, she steadied herself on the rail and pulled herself to her feet. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

He couldn’t conceal his surprise. She had scanned his ship and found
nothing
unusual?

“Really?” he asked.

Another quarter-second smile flashed across her expression. “Nothing out of the ordinary for a Navigator’s ship. We’ll take our leave immediately, and I apologize once again for the inconvenience.”

She started to turn, but Calder needed more information. If they were looking for Urzaia, why hadn’t they thought to look ashore? If they weren’t, then why had they chased him into the shallows?

He began hesitantly. “If I may ask, what
were
you looking for?”

She turned back to him, tightening the glove onto her hand. “These past few months, reports of Elder activity have increased weekly. The Emperor has the entire army, both the Luminian Order and the Blackwatch, and half the Navigators on containment duty. Every city and town supervised, every vessel inspected. It’s hard enough on us, but the alternative is leaving Imperial citizens to the Elders. And the Emperor would never allow that.”

No, the Emperor would
never
abandon his citizens to danger when he had the power to save them,
Calder thought, and he could taste the cynicism. But he had one more question. “I’m sorry. Increased Elder activity...all along the Izyrian coast? Surely there’s somewhere we can safely make port. They can’t be everywhere.”

She eyed him with an expression he couldn’t read. “Not everywhere along the Izyrian coast, Captain. Everywhere. We’ve received emergency reports from all over the Empire.”

His heart began to pound like a war-drum.

“When I said the Blackwatch and the Luminian Order had been mobilized, I meant all of them. The entire Guilds. Every chapter, everywhere.”

Calder nodded acknowledgement to the Under-lieutenant, giving her one of the shallow half-bows that polite society favored in the Heartlands. “Thank you for your concern and your prompt response, Under-lieutenant.”

“Take my advice, and bring your crew elsewhere. I know the Navigators are exceptions to most rules, but this town was quarantined for a reason. There’s no sense taking chances, especially now.”

Under-lieutenant Belyard saluted one more time and left the ship, taking her men with her.

When she left, Calder let out a deep breath. “All hands on deck,” he said quietly, and Andel opened the hatch to shout down for Petal. Technically, he should have brought Petal up on deck for the officer’s inspection, but that would have shaken Petal’s nerves for days. As she was an alchemist, he’d planned on saying she was in the middle of a delicate project that could not be abandoned without risk to the safety of all onboard. In the end, it hadn’t mattered.

Petal emerged a few seconds after her hair, quivering and looking around for soldiers. When she saw none, she scurried up to the stern deck to join the rest of the crew.

Andel stood as dispassionately as ever, hands behind his back, the silver crest of the sun gleaming on his chest. Foster grumbled into his beard and fiddled with a musket. Petal glanced up at him through the veil of her hair. Jerri stood in the center, in a simple green dress totally unsuited for the deck of a ship. Her emerald earrings flickered in the sun, her braid hung down behind her, and she gave him a brilliant smile.

He winked at Jerri but watched the whole crew, minus Urzaia, fixing them into his mind. For once, the Aion Sea was the direction
away
from the Elders, which showed that everything in the world had gone wrong. And here they were in Silverreach, where they more than expected a Great Elder was buried. If he’d heard the reports of Elder activity before, he would never have stopped here.

But here they were, and Urzaia was ashore alone. Granted, he was the one most likely to survive an Elderspawn assault by himself, but he still wasn’t safe.

In case the worst happened—and in this case, he couldn’t even imagine how bad the worst possibility was—he wanted to remember the crew like this. As they were now.

From beneath his feet, a male voice boomed out in rumbling laughter. Shuffles was joining in.

So they
were
headed into lethal danger. Strangely, that made Calder feel better. At least he knew.

“We’re going to get Urzaia,” Calder said. “Jerri and Foster, stay with the ship. Andel and Petal, with me.”

There was a moment of communal confusion as everyone worked out what he’d said. Jerri’s eyes flashed. “Petal can stay,
I’ll
go.” Petal shivered like a leaf in the wind, and even Andel looked confused.

Calder met Jerri’s eyes. “If we don’t make it back, we need people aboard who can actually sail out of here. That means someone who can navigate and a Reader who
might
be able to persuade the Lyathatan to move. That’s you and Foster. I need someone with me who can fight, and that’s Andel. He can also potentially help me carry Urzaia out of there, if Urzaia is...immobilized. For the same reason, Petal is coming along for potential first aid.”

Andel moved to the second longboat, which was actually salvage from another Navigator’s wreckage. It was three feet shorter and a little wider than the first longboat, so they had taken to calling it the ‘shortboat.’

“That makes just enough sense that I won’t reject it out of hand,” Andel said. “Personally, I would rather take a few potions than Petal herself. I’m afraid she’ll freeze up if we’re in danger.”

Petal raised a hand. “Me too,” she said softly.

Calder placed a hand on her head, feeling as though he was comforting a child. “I have every faith in you, Petal.” The thought came to him that she was
still
almost five years older than he was, but it was too late to change his attitude now. “You’ve never run before.”

“I usually hide,” she whispered, but he ignored that too.

“All ashore that’s going ashore,” Calder called, dropping the shortboat and spinning out the ladder. Jerri was still glaring at him, but she did wave to him as he left. Foster was loading one of the port guns, leveling it at Silverreach. Calder appreciated the caution.

In the shortboat, Calder and Andel took one oar each—the first longboat wasn’t wide enough for two, but this one was. They began pulling for shore, and Calder couldn’t help but notice how much longer it took them together than it had Urzaia alone.

As they drew closer, Calder extended his Intent. If he remembered correctly, he should be able to get a sense of the same strange, Elder Intent he had detected last time. It had hung in the air, thick as spring fog.

This time he sensed...nothing. Just as he might have expected in a normal town.

They tied up to the dock and walked ashore; other than the boards creaking under their weight, the town was absolutely silent. When they got closer, Calder leaned a hand against the closest building.

The Intent was calm, almost welcoming. As though a happy family had lived within for years, investing the house around them with their peace.

For once, there’s
less
danger than I expected,
Calder thought, pleased with himself. He’d over-prepared this time, and that was a good state to be in.

Then his memory died.

It was impossible to put into words, that sensation. It was as though someone had reached up and pulled a chain, switching his awareness off like a quicklamp. The world didn’t go black, it just...vanished, as though he’d forgotten to pay attention to anything.

When he came back to himself, blinking and looking around, the crew was gathered together in the pool of light cast by a single candle. The
whole
crew.

Urzaia, looking around grimly with a hatchet in each hand. Jerri, her mouth half open in awe. Andel, clutching his White Sun medallion with his eyes closed. Foster, sputtering and jumping to his feet. Petal, quivering and holding a tiny quicklamp out for light. And him. He realized he had his sword in hand, but didn’t remember drawing it.

As he adjusted to the gloom surrounding the dim light, he realized they were standing on smooth tile, not the rough cobblestones of Silverreach’s streets. Dark shapes loomed over them, the silhouettes of a hundred towers.

No.
He squinted closer.
Not towers. Bookshelves.

Books lined the towers in shelf after shelf, stretching up to the distant ceiling. They were shadowed and difficult to make out, but he caught a glimpse of a dozen different colors and styles of cover. More books than he had ever imagined.

They were in an enormous library.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When we speak of ‘the void,’ we mean that vast and empty realm we occasionally observe as powerful Elders travel or communicate. Some ancient scholars believed that this void connects us to other worlds, but none could ever prove it.

Who would lightly step into the realm where Elders tread?

—Notes from the Blackwatch archives

~~~

The battle between Jarelys Teach and Jorin Maze-walker had been terrifying enough through a spyglass from a safe distance away. As Calder stood on the Gray Island docks, amidst the scattered bodies of those who hadn’t run fast enough, he found that the experience close-up was far worse.

Teach, clad in red-and-black armor, carried a matching sword. Tyrfang’s Intent was the macabre madness of a slaughterhouse, the sharp edge of an executioner’s axe, the fear of the condemned facing obliteration. It pressed against Calder’s mind with visions of blood and inescapable death, even as its aura actually darkened the ground around her. As Teach fought, desperate and defensive, the earth died with each of her retreating steps.

And Jorin advanced, following her, his own sword a twisted mirror of hers. Up close, Calder saw its defects: patches like rust or bloodstains that mired the surface of the blade. They seemed to crawl, like patches of worms, and its Intent was a knot he couldn’t begin to untangle. Like every spiteful, hateful, murderous Intent he’d ever felt, all trapped inside one weapon. Its power wasn’t as focused as Tyrfang, but it was heavier, the weight of two thousand years crashing down around Teach’s defenses. Jorin moved forward almost casually, hacking his way closer to a lethal stroke, his dark-tinted glasses flashing in the sunlight.

Mist played around their legs as they fought, and with every clash of Awakened blades, darkness and crazed Intent swallowed them. Rings of dirt blasted out whenever their swords met, as though even the dirt couldn’t bear to be so close.

And Calder was planning on walking into
that
.

Surely I’d be better off shooting him.
He’d considered it before, but back on the ship, he hadn’t wanted to draw Jorin’s attention to
The Testament
for nothing more than a distant chance. Now, though...

Calder pulled the pistol from his belt and fired.

It wasn’t likely to be a lethal shot. At thirty yards, even someone much more skilled would need their share of luck to kill someone with a single bullet. Foster was always mocking his abilities, trying to goad him into practice, but today it seemed his luck was good. Jorin staggered back, struck in one arm, and for an instant Teach was able to push
him
back.

A pink light shone within the wound, as though Jorin hid a quicklamp in his coat, and an instant later he was as strong as ever. The light continued to shine, giving Calder hope that he’d at least inflicted some injury.

Then the Regent flicked his gaze over to Calder, just for an instant, and a river of dark Intent whipped out. That was all the attention Calder warranted, and it would be more than enough to kill him and dissolve his body. But Calder had prepared a defense.

He hoped.

As he’d done once before, Calder drew his own Awakened sword and braced his Intent through Kelarac’s mark. His Intent seemed to solidify, as though propped up by a bigger, more permanent force. He felt himself steady, and as Jorin’s power struck him, it was first lessened by the aura of Calder’s orange-spotted blade. The strange energy invested in this weapon seemed to be toxic to Elderspawn, and it did an admirable job of reducing Jorin’s attack.

So when the wave of shadow struck him, slamming up against his Intent fortified by Kelarac’s mark, Calder expected to survive. He didn’t expect to push through it so easily. It felt like pushing against a freezing wind blowing off of a graveyard, stinking and repulsive; it wasn’t pleasant, but it certainly wasn’t difficult. Resisting Tyrfang’s aura had been much harder back in the Imperial Palace, and judging by the way Teach had been repeatedly pushed back, Jorin’s weapon couldn’t be weaker.

Calder opened himself up to Read the atmosphere around him, and instantly understood. The Emperor’s white armor. He was wrapped in protective Intent so ancient and solid that it defended even his essence, letting him march forward even under Jorin’s attack.

That worked,
he realized, with no small measure of disbelief.
Now, can I take a direct hit?
He decided not to test that.

Jorin still wasn’t watching him as he jogged closer, evidently having dismissed him with the single attack. Calder’s heart pounded. He only had to distract the Regent, to occupy him long enough to give Teach a chance to kill him.

Calder was close enough to begin his strike, stepping forward to drive his Awakened cutlass into Jorin’s side, before the Regent saw him. Jorin’s head jerked back in disbelief, and he barely managed to avoid a cut from Teach as he back-stepped away from Calder.

Together, Calder and the Guild Head forced Jorin onto the defensive. It wasn’t pleasant, fighting within both corrosive auras—it was like forcing his way through a lake of raw sewage—but it was bearable. Between his own sword, Kelarac’s mark, and the Emperor’s armor, he could stand among two of the greatest fighters in Imperial history.

For about five seconds, Calder had never felt more powerful.

Then Jorin blasted him with Intent, another gust of freezing wind, staggering him in his tracks. The Regent followed up with a slash to Calder’s face, making him jerk his cutlass up, but it was a feint. Jorin reversed the strike to land on Teach.