Of Killers and Kings

by Will Wight

  The two Champions were already gone.

  That was probably for the best.

  Shera tried to concentrate enough to find them through the mist, but she was on the verge of collapsing. It was a headache to use that power even when she was at her best. The Champions escaped, but that was worth not having to fight them.

  The bad news was that they had taken Calder’s body with them.

  There was no doubt that he was dead, not with Shera’s testimony and the handful of Imperial Guards who had seen the body, but now there was no way to prove it.

  She dispatched a team of Shepherds immediately, hoping that the Champions would ditch the corpse after they’d stripped it of the Emperor’s armor and the crown.

  With the Champions, the Steward, and their Guild Head gone, the Imperial Guard had given up. Some of them fled, but most threw themselves into serving Jorin immediately, gathering under the Emperor’s Stage less than an hour after he’d arrived.

  They had only one authority figure left: the Regents. Or at least the one Regent they could reach.

  It was a change so abrupt that it startled Shera. At first, she eyed everyone in a red-and-black uniform as a potential enemy, keeping a hand on Syphren. Meia clearly felt the same, as her eyes stayed orange and she kept her claws out.

  However, they sensed nothing from the Guards but fear and despair. Jorin’s performance in the battle for the Imperial Palace must have made quite an impression, as they served him as though he would execute anyone who didn’t obey quickly enough.

  She still didn’t plan to trust them so easily. For one thing, the terror and reverence they showed Jorin didn’t extend to her. Four Guards pulled weapons on Shera over the course of the first night and had to be restrained before she killed them.

  She didn’t blame them. Shera had buried enough Imperial Guards recently to be considered the number one enemy of the Guild.

  She wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up petitioning Jorin to hold her accountable for her crimes once everything settled down, the possibility of which didn’t worry her. One crisis at a time.

  The people of the Capital were a separate concern.

  The citizens gathered in the courtyard had seen the silvery mist of Bastion’s Veil, heard the battle from outside, and seen Jorin draw his sword to melt a hole in the wall. Afterwards, they had pressed forward to see what was going on inside, only to be repelled by a group of Imperial Guards.

  Even the blind and deaf among the crowd knew something had gone wrong.

  To assuage their fears, Jorin stepped up onto the Emperor’s Stage, wearing his hallmark shadeglasses and hat. Even in the depths of night.

  The disquieted rumbles quieted at the sight of him. Even those who had never seen a portrait of Jorin Maze-walker still recognized his description.

  Most hadn’t spent any time with him personally, but Shera had. She knew that he tried his best to avoid speaking to crowds whenever possible.

  He cleared his throat, the horn mounted in the Stage railing picking up his every noise and broadcasting it clearly.

  “Well,” Jorin said. “You see. Here’s the thing of it.”

  The audience had grown quiet enough that Shera could hear them shuffling in place.

  He took a few heavy breaths, which were magnified in volume, and then resorted to reciting a formal declaration that Shera would bet someone else had written.

  “In the name of the remaining Regents—Loreli and Estyr and myself—I declare an end to the internal conflict that has been called the Guild War. We intended to overlook the actions of the so-called Imperial Steward, but the criminal behavior uncovered by Estyr and revealed in today’s news-sheets persuaded me that I could no longer remain indifferent.”

  He spoke stiffly and mechanically, but the words still set the crowd aflame.

  Hundreds still waved news-sheets in their fists, and they collectively let out a shout. Some of their anger was directed at Calder, Shera was sure. But some wasn’t.

  The crowd stirred, and Shera braced her battered and exhausted body to run.

  They had not brought enough Consultants to secure this place, and the Imperial Guard was still scattered. Two flanked Jorin, but Shera certainly didn’t have the influence with the Guards to get them to control the crowd.

  Still, she doubted even a mob would lose their minds enough to try and rush Jorin Curse-breaker with violence in mind.

  “The Imperial Steward Calder Marten has been taken into our custody,” Jorin went on, and Shera could now see from her vantage point behind him that he was sneaking glances at a small piece of paper cupped in his palm. “From now on, the other Regents and I will resume our collaboration with the regional governors in managing the Empire. We encourage the other Guilds to return and help us rather than clinging to division. That is all.”

  Abruptly he turned and walked away, leaving a confused and roaring crowd behind him.

  As he walked past her, she could see him sweating. Part of her wanted to tease him and lighten his mood, but she didn’t have the energy.

  Meia sat down next to Shera, both Gardeners leaning their backs against the wall.

  “Well, you got him,” Meia said.

  “Looks that way.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Tired.”

  Meia nodded, staring off into the distance. There was a haunted look in her still-orange eyes.

  If she had expected Shera to spare Calder after everything, she had set herself up for disappointment.

  “What now?” Meia asked.

  “Now,” Shera said, “I find someone else to do my job.”

  On the deck of Heart of the Aion, Loreli, Regent of the West, vigorously scrubbed the boards. Her braids dangled into her face and sweat dripped from her forehead onto the ship.

  One of the crewmen, Terrens, slid over to her again. She didn’t look up, but she was sure he was wringing his hands.

  “Ma’am, why don’t you stop now? We don’t make passengers do our work for us.”

  She looked up and flashed him a smile. “Put your mind at ease. I’m doing this for my own satisfaction.”

  It would probably be more considerate of her to stop, since her cleaning the ship only made the crew uncomfortable, but she had never been able to relax with idle hands. They would get used to her eventually.

  Terrens gave her another nervous assurance that she could stop, reminded her to tell the captain that it was her idea, and left her alone.

  She spent the next hour enjoying the rhythm of the cloth on the deck, the cool sea breeze, and the rocking of the ship. She let the peace of the ocean wash over her as sea birds cried in the distance.

  At least, she assumed they were birds.

  Here on the Aion, they could be anything.

  It had been a long time since she’d sailed this haunted sea, and it promised just as much adventure now as it had then. She supposed it shouldn’t feel like too long—it had only been a few years since she woke up—but the coffin didn’t shut out time entirely.

  Though it had physically felt like nothing more than a long nap, some part of her had always been distantly aware of the decades passing. About two centuries this time, though she hadn’t learned that until she woke up.

  It was always fascinating and a little melancholy to wake and see everything that had changed…and everything that hadn’t.

  Loreli pushed herself to her feet as she finished, wiping sweat away and looking proudly over the deck. She’d completed her task just in time.

  She could feel something familiar approaching.

  One of those things that hadn’t changed.

  Captain Marstrom had the wheel. He was a tall, whip-thin Heartlander man with a pointed beard and a hat that resembled a nesting tropical bird. The Navigator gave a long, fluted, elaborate whistle when he saw her; he had a special whistle for every occasion.

  “I hope the state of my deck now meets your standards, Madam Sunblood. I hope it isn’t inappropriate of me to say, b
ut it was soothing to watch you work. You show such grace and focus in your movements.”

  “Years of training in the sword, Captain. I could give you a lesson, if you like.”

  He laughed and held up a hand as though surrendering to a superior joke, but Loreli had been entirely serious. A dedicated exercise regimen would do wonders for anyone, both physically and mentally.

  ‘Sunblood’ had been her alias when she booked passage on the ship, but it was something of a joke. It was what the ancient Izyrians had once called her after she pierced the side of Urg’naut and light spilled out. It had looked like a bleeding sunset, they said.

  To her, it was more like being inside an exploding volcano.

  The sun was setting now, but it wasn’t the only light on the horizon. As the sun sank behind them, a clean yellow-white flame burned ahead of them.

  She was just beginning to be able to make out the details of the light, but she knew what it looked like. It was a two-hundred-foot-tall stand of wrought iron holding a glass-paned cage with a crystallized Kameira skull inside. The skull had glowed for over a thousand years, bathing in the light of the sun during the day and blazing with Intent at night.

  Loreli’s Intent.

  The ship steadily approached as the lantern radiated the feeling of an old friend: soothing, calming, and protective. It stood guard here, keeping the darkness at bay.

  Silently, she thanked the Unknown God for protecting it all these years. Her handiwork had stood the test of time, resisting the push of hostile Intent that never…

  Her thoughts trailed off. The Intent of her guardian lantern remained bright and steady.

  She rushed over to the railing, extending her Reader’s senses out over the water.

  Ordinary Readers wouldn’t be able to sense anything from the ocean at this distance, nor would they dare to try if they could, but Loreli had been born with every bit as much talent as Estyr or Alagaeus. She had honed that talent under the Emperor’s tutelage, and now she extended her awareness, searching for something that should be there.

  A sly, cunning, hungry presence. Infinitely devious and selfish, the dark Intent should have lasted even longer than her guardian lantern.

  She couldn’t feel Kelarac.

  The Collector of Souls had been imprisoned on the ocean floor only a few miles from here. Her lantern was both a defense against his influence and a boundary marker warning people away.

  “The light looks healthy today,” the Captain observed. “That’s a good omen.”

  “No…it isn’t.” She turned to face him. “Captain Marstrom, it is imperative that we sail beyond that lantern immediately.”

  He gave a whimsical whistle that reminded her of laughter. “Madam, I have no doubt that you have a great deal of experience, but this is my specialty. Ships that go beyond that marker don’t return. You should take the dangers of the Aion Sea seriously.”

  She went down on one knee, bowing her head, in a pose appropriate to someone begging a favor. “I beg you. I am a Reader, and I have made this boundary my…personal study. I can assure you that there is something wrong here. I fear that many more lives may be in danger than just ours.”

  He looked like he was going to argue further, but she stayed kneeling humbly on the deck. He finally gave a louder, sharper whistle.

  Terrens stepped forward with arms behind his back. “Call to stations!” he bellowed. “Stand ready!”

  Relief flooded Loreli. The Captain had no reason to trust her, and she would be in danger if she revealed her true identity to him. “Please accept my thanks,” she said.

  “Mark my words, Madam Sunblood: if I see so much as a shadow in the water, we’re sprinting out of here faster than a Luminian running from a brothel.”

  She appreciated the sentiment, even if she didn’t particularly like that saying.

  The crew started off on high alert, keeping their eyes sharp on the waves. But the farther they sailed past the boundary, the more they relaxed. After about an hour, they began to crack jokes about the rumors being exaggerated or the sea clearing up.

  Loreli, on the other hand, grew more and more tense with every foot they traveled.

  She dipped below deck for a moment, bringing up her sheathed sword. She wore her White Sun Beacon around her neck, beneath her shirt, but the sword was a weapon that had been at her side for centuries.

  Cradling her blade, she approached the captain, who was in a noticeably better mood.

  “Is your curiosity satisfied, Madam Sunblood? Quiet as it seems, I am not eager to spend longer here than I must.”

  “A wise policy,” Loreli agreed. “But I’m afraid I must impose on you once more. Please lower me down.”

  Captain Marstrom gave a low, long whistle. “I beg your apology; I knew you were adventurous, but I didn’t realize you were suicidal. I hope you won’t mind if we contain you to your cabin for your own safety.”

  “I will be entering the water, Captain. The only difference is whether you are here to pull me back up or not.”

  When she put it that way, she left the captain no choice but to slow down. He really was a decent man, and she resolved to honor him when she returned.

  He didn’t drop anchor, but he did furl his sails and turn the ship, letting their momentum dissipate among the waves. As they slowed, she shared her plan. Such as it was.

  “I will be going for a short swim,” she told the astonished crew. “If you see me pulled suddenly underwater, if I begin speaking a language you don’t understand, if you hear a voice from nowhere, or if anything rises from the depths of the ocean to attack me, immediately flee for your lives.”

  The faces of the crew members darkened with every word. Several of them voiced protests, but Loreli had already walked up to the railing.

  “I will jump if I have to,” she said, “but I’d prefer it if you lowered a ladder.”

  Terrens reluctantly unspooled a rope ladder for her, and she thanked him before climbing down one-handed.

  Her blade was tucked into her left elbow; she wasn’t about to wear her sword-belt when she had to go swimming. It was foolish enough to take the sword, but in this case, it would have been more dangerous to leave it behind.

  With every rung, she prepared herself mentally. She focused her thoughts, embraced her power, and sent a brief prayer up to the Unknown God.

  As I go into the darkness, please help me bring the light.

  She waited on the final rung for one last, deep breath. Then she carefully slid into the Aion Sea.

  Despite what she’d said about swimming out, she knew she had to approach this carefully. She held on to the bottom rung of the ladder with one hand, holding her sword in the other. The water was calm and the weather pleasant, but even the gentle bobbing of the ship felt violent from down here on the level of the waves.

  Holding tightly to the ladder, she ducked beneath the ocean and opened her senses wide.

  Heart of the Aion was a momentous presence against her back, its power and its accumulated history pressing against her like a massive weight, but she filtered that out, letting her Reader’s awareness spread through the water.

  A Kameira like a fat whale drifted over the ocean floor, coasting on currents of warm water. It was lazy and content and felt only the faintest curiosity about her presence.

  Ordinary fish were everywhere, their presence dull in her mind. Some rested from the sun in the shadow of the ship while others ran away from the disruption that the object caused on the surface.

  And they weren’t the only things to flee.

  Something dark and alien scuttled across the sand, its feet made of sharpened bones. The stray Child of Nakothi fled from the touch of Loreli’s mind; it may have been nothing more than a stupid drone, but it still recognized the presence of its ancestral enemy.

  It hadn’t run fast enough.

  With a stray thought, she triggered her Beacon. The diamond at the center of her White Sun medallion kindled with pale fire, and blinding light
streaked out from her. It torched the Elderspawn in an instant, the Child of Nakothi dissolving to ash even in the depths of the sea.

  But that only took a fraction of Loreli’s attention. She gripped her sword, even opening her eyes as wide as she could, waiting for Kelarac’s power to crash into her. He would have sensed her light and would strike back to kill or possess her.

  The ashes of the Elderspawn drifted away on the currents.

  The Intent of the Aion Sea remained as calm as its surface.

  No news could have been worse.

  Loreli hauled herself up with one arm, calling up to the captain to make ready to sail. She climbed even faster than she’d descended, and when she reached the deck, she found the crew still gathered around waiting for her. They hadn’t returned to their stations at all.

  She tried to give them a reproachful look, but it was hard to do while she was swiping seawater from her eyes. “The situation has changed. The people of Izyria will have to do without us for a little longer. The Capital is in danger.”

  The Captain rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you certain? We are halfway there. It might be faster to send a message once you reach Izyria.”

  Loreli drew herself up. She had hoped to avoid this; friendly though she may have become with the Navigators over the last few weeks, their Guilds were still supporting a false Emperor. Once they knew who she was, they wouldn’t be wrong to see her as an enemy.

  “It is my presence that is required,” she announced. “A Great Elder is at large, and I must destroy him once more. For I am Loreli, Regent of the West and first of the Luminian Order.”

  Captain Marstrom gave an awkward cough. “…yes, madam, we know.”

  She turned a confused look from him to his crew, none of whom met her eyes.

  “We weren’t certain at first. Your appearance is famous, but it’s copied so often as to be commonplace. But with the way you behaved, and the sword…I think we all agreed the first night after dinner.”

  There was a murmur of agreement among the rest of the crew.