by Will Wight
Bodies littered the beaches, still intact as though they’d been killed moments before. Dust still rose from the wreckage of the chapter house, and a few clumps of trees had been torn away to reveal buildings inside. She’d missed an open battle, and judging from the landscape and the whiffs of desperate Intent, it hadn’t gone well for the Consultants.
A brief impression on her mind was all that stopped her from flying up to the Navigator ships and sinking them one by one. Another Reader would have been hard-pressed to detect anything in the cloud of Intent that hung over the battle, but this particular Intent was familiar to her. She’d lived with it for hundreds of years, technically speaking.
Jorin Curse-breaker was somewhere on the Gray Island. She just had to figure out where.
She risked being spotted by gaining a little altitude, ignoring her Vessels as they nagged her to reduce the Navigators to splinters. Once she made it high enough, the signs were obvious.
A third of the island was black and blighted, its trees withered and its grass turned to ash. It looked as though a thousand alchemical bombs had gone off in the same place at once, and it felt like a cesspool of murder and hatred.
She’d seen Jorin draw his sword before.
Black ash stirred, as though something burrowed beneath the ground, and Estyr lowered herself to that spot. Seconds later, Jorin stumbled out, coughing and covered in black-and-gray grit. His hat and shadeglasses were missing, his coat so shredded that it barely hung on his shoulders. Most notably, his sword wasn’t at his side.
But he was alive, so the fight couldn’t have gone too badly.
She grinned at him as she alighted, serpentine skulls spinning around her head. “Isn’t it nice to get some exercise every now and then?”
He was still scraping grime from his eyes, but he waved her away with his other hand. “Spare me, would you? I can feel your smile, and it sickens me.”
She didn’t drop the smile, which he couldn’t see anyway, but she did turn to look over the blighted area of the island. “You didn’t do all this by yourself, did you?”
He coughed out a cloud of dust, blinking his eyes open as he did. “Found myself on the headsman’s end of my old sword. Can’t complain about that, I could have been dealt a worse hand, but it turns out that novice Emperor has some teeth on him. He found himself a real sword.”
The mention of Calder Marten stoked her anger, and she drifted a few feet higher. “I hope he’s enjoyed it, then. Because I’m sending it down to Kelarac.”
Show him why he isn’t fit for the crown, her Vessels begged. This time, she agreed. She’d stood aside for long enough, trying to let the world solve its own problems. The time had come to take the helm.
Just as she began to fly away, Jorin seized her ankle, jerking her to a halt. “Wait!” he cried, his voice dying into another series of hacking coughs.
Despite the complaint of her Vessels, she slowed to hover over him, waiting.
He mastered himself just enough to choke out two words, “Baldesar Kern.”
The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t dredge up a face, so she kept waiting.
When he’d finished coughing, he squinted up at her. He must have recognized her incomprehension, because he pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Head of the Champion’s Guild, Estyr.”
She settled back to the ground. “What about him?”
“He joined Captain Marten, and not alone. He brought a few of his…pack. Open combat has always been your special suit, so I defer to your expertise, but I would highly advise a less aggressive approach.”
That went a long way toward explaining why Jorin had lost a battle but kept his life. He would have withdrawn as soon as Champions took the field.
It wasn’t that Estyr doubted her ability to take this Guild Head—she was the strongest of the first-generation Champions, after all—but adding in a few more, alongside whatever else the Navigator’s Guild had in their holds…
It would be better to withdraw and gather her forces. No matter what the Cloudseeker Hydras urged her to do.
Jorin glanced around as though hoping to see someone else, squinting in the light. “Is Loreli chastising Alagaeus on the other side, then?”
Estyr barked a laugh. “Far from it. When I tracked her down, she’d already talked her assassin out of killing her and converted him to the Unknown God. I hear he’s a devout Luminian these days.”
He brushed dust from his sleeves, arching his neck to avoid the ensuing cloud. “That’s a needle in my eye, then. Every time I think she’s fed herself to the Worm Lord, she makes it out better than I do. Even with her, though, we might be in a deep pit with no ladder. We need to finish this baby Emperor before he grows into something troublesome.”
Easy to say, something else again to fight through the Champions and Guild Heads around him. “I don’t like our chances without a Mistress of the Mists.”
Jorin salvaged a pipe from the depths of his coat, sticking it in his mouth. “Without one?”
Estyr looked up, into the blue sky. “The weather’s a little clear. No Bastion’s Veil, no mist. No mist, no Mistress.”
He grinned around his pipe, holding his index finger in the air like a lecturer about to make a point. “Ah, there’s the heart of it. If my instincts can be trusted, the Veil was not lost. Merely…misplaced.”
“Good.” Estyr walked over to the edge of the charred clearing, gazing out of a gap in the trees. Navigator sails dotted the horizon. “The new Emperor might be too well-protected for an open attack. But that’s why you hire an assassin, isn’t it?”
Jorin fumbled with a match, trying to light his pipe. “Indeed. Of course, there’s always the possibility that my instincts are grubby little liars, and the Consultants have given up the game entirely. If that’s true, we might as well try to swim the Aion overnight.”
It could be so. The Consultants obviously hadn’t won this recent battle, but…as she stretched her mind out over the Gray Island, she didn’t get the sense that the game was over. All powerful Readers learned to trust their intuition to some degree, and hers was telling her that they still had cards to play.
This might be nothing more than wishful thinking, of course. But she didn’t think so.
“No,” she said. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
~~~
The remnants of the Consultant’s Guild were packed aboard Bastion’s Shadow. The ship was a Navigator’s Vessel built for Consultant use, capable of traveling the Aion as well as any Navigator. It was built from seamless black wood, and an enormous Elder eye rested atop the mast. It swiveled from side to side as they drifted out of the harbor, scanning the horizon.
But Bastion’s Shadow was meant to depart in secrecy, under the cover of the Veil. Without the gray wall of cloud, it was exposed as soon as it set sail.
The Navigators approached like a pack of wolves converging on a lame deer, The Testament in the lead.
Shera leaned against the railing, watching. “So you’ve been with Calder Marten all this time?”
Meia cleared her throat. “It seemed prudent. The Elders are moving, and Captain Marten convinced me that I could make the most difference fighting against them.”
“And Lucan?” Shera asked quietly.
The ice had steadily receded in the hour since the battle. Maybe it was Syphren’s sealing, or maybe she’d just run down. Now, she mostly felt tired.
Which was familiar enough.
“I saw it,” Meia said, equally quiet. She met Shera’s eyes, earnest. “Shera, it wasn’t Calder. He and Lucan were talking. They were close to an understanding. It was Jyrine, Calder’s…former wife.”
Shera nodded, weariness settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Of course it was Jyrine Marten. Someone else she’d allowed to live.
So much grief in such a short time, all because of the one assignment she’d failed. Well, it didn’t look like she would get the chance to trim that weed anytime soon.
The Na
vigators were closing in.
Of the three closest ships, one bore the green-veined sails of The Testament, with chains starting at the base of its hull and descending into the water, where Shera knew they attached to the wrists of a hulking Elder monstrosity. It was nothing more than a shadow under the waves now, like part of the boat.
The second was a rust-colored ship with bright red sails that trailed flames along the ocean’s surface. The golden lettering on its side said The Eternal, which Shera recognized as the vessel of the Navigator Guild Head.
The third ship was white and long, like hollowed-out bone, and it had a flame-eyed skull on the front that grinned at her. That one, she didn’t recognize.
On the deck of The Testament, a red-haired man stepped up and raised a cone to his mouth. It was a captain’s horn, an invested device made to carry a voice over long distances, and indeed Calder Marten’s words boomed out a moment later.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Consultant’s Guild, you may notice that we have you surrounded. We’re going to escort you back to the Capital, where—”
He was interrupted by another voice, deeper and more menacing, that shouted out across the sea. “SURROUNDED!”
There was a long silence before Calder continued. “…where representatives of loyal Guilds will gather to determine your treatment. I can say that, if you cooperate, we would be delighted to have an organization with your expertise on the side of the Empire. We only wish for humankind to stand united, as the Elders wish to consume us all—”
“CONSUME US ALL!” Something dark fluttered up onto the railing, and an indistinct figure ran across the deck chasing it.
Calder’s irritated muttering was audible even from the deck of the Shadow, but after another brief pause he picked up the horn again. “I assure you, we have only your best interests at heart.”
The deep voice laughed an Elder’s laugh, so alien and cruel that even Shera shuddered. “BEST INTERESTS.”
Somehow, that was the most menacing one of all.
A commotion arose from the deck around her, and Shera heard Yala’s voice rising above it, but she kept her attention fixed on Calder Marten. Somehow, the Navigator captain had actually managed to get himself installed as Emperor. Without the support of the Consultants, the three other Independent Guilds may be able to keep going—the wealth of the alchemists could create a popular appeal all its own—but it would take them years to recover.
How long would Calder last? Shera couldn’t imagine the Elders letting him live until the end of the year.
At least it was no longer her concern.
As the ships loomed closer, the commotion on deck gradually made its way over to her. It was Darius, breathing heavily inside his hood, voice excited. “Shera! I actually did it! Don’t ask me how, though. There’s something strange about these knives, it’s as though they were about to Awaken on their own. I barely had to do anything.”
Shera grabbed his arm, slowing him down, and got a closer look at what he was carrying in both hands.
It was longer than Syphren and smoother, but its blade was equally transparent. Instead of tiny hands, billowing silver-blue clouds pressed against the inside of the “glass,” rolling and shifting as though in the wind.
She seized the hilt, and a whole new awareness bloomed in her mind. This one wasn’t as hungry as Syphren, but…deeper, somehow. Older, broader. If Syphren was a thunderbolt, this was the wind itself.
With a silent prayer to the Luminian God—there were enough knights and Pilgrims onboard that He should be listening—she cast her Intent all around her.
Bastion’s Veil exploded into being, springing out from the blade, shrouding the ship in fog.
There were shouts from the other ships, but the captain of Bastion’s Shadow didn’t hesitate. They banked hard, sails unfurling.
Shera, meanwhile, was struggling not to pass out. The effort it had taken to hide the entire ship was staggering, and it was fortunate that the Veil seemed to be maintaining itself; if it took any more from her, she was afraid she’d start trying to drain the life from everyone else around whether Syphren was sealed or not.
There was a much bigger commotion on deck this time, including Meia shaking her arm and asking if she was all right, and Darius demanding that she not strain herself. She paid attention to none of it. She was unspeakably drained, more tired than she’d ever been in her life, and all she wanted to do was collapse.
After an agonizing twenty minutes, during which cannons fired blindly into the mist and crashed just short of the ship, the fight died down. The crew of the ship let out a muffled cheer, which earned them a shout to keep it down.
Finally, someone stomped over to Shera, grabbing her by the chin and raising her eyes. It was Yala.
“Was that you?” Yala demanded.
Shera couldn’t think of a response, so she just held up her new Vessel. Bastion, she supposed it should be called. Seemed to fit.
And Lucan would have named it.
Yala’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the cloud in the blade. Then she fell to one knee. “Guild Head,” she said.
Tired as she was, Shera couldn’t figure out what those words meant.
One by one, the Consultants dropped to a knee. “Guild Head,” they murmured. “Guild Head.”
Meia was the last, leaving Shera and a handful of confused Luminians as the only ones standing.
“Fascinating,” Darius said.
At last, Shera had kept her eyes open for long enough. Curling up on the hard wood of the deck, she finally let herself sleep.
THE END
Of Dawn and Darkness
The Elder Empire, Book Two: Shadow
Glossary of Terms
Am’haranai – The ancient order of spies and assassins that would eventually become the Consultant’s Guild. Some formal documents still refer to the Consultant’s Guild in this way.
Architect – One type of Consultant. The Architects mostly stay in one place, ruling over Guild business and deciding general strategy. They include alchemists, surgeons, Readers, strategists, and specialists of all types.
Awaken – A Reader can Awaken an object by bringing out its latent powers of Intent. An Awakened object is very powerful, but it gains a measure of self-awareness. Also, it can never be invested again.
Jarelys Teach, the Head of the Imperial Guard, carries an ancient executioner’s blade that has been Awakened. It now bears the power of all the lives it took, and is lethal even at a distance.
All Soulbound Vessels are Awakened.
Children of the Dead Mother – Elderspawn created by the power of Nakothi out of human corpses.
Consultant – A member of the Consultants Guild, also known as the Am’haranai. Mercenary spies and covert agents that specialize in gathering and manipulating information for their clients.
Consultants come in five basic varieties: Architects, Gardeners, Masons, Miners, and Shepherds.
For more, see the Guild Guide.
Dead Mother, The – See: Nakothi.
Elder – Any member of the various races that ruled the world in ancient days, keeping humanity as slaves. The most powerful among them are known as Great Elders, and their lesser are often called Elderspawn.
Gardener – One type of Consultant. The Gardeners kill people for hire.
Intent – The power of focused will that all humans possess. Whenever you use an object intentionally, for a specific purpose, you are investing your Intent into that object. The power of your Intent builds up in that object over time, making it better at a given task.
Every human being uses their Intent, but most people do so blindly; only Readers can sense what they’re doing.
See also: “Invest,” “Reader.”
Invest – Besides its usual financial implications, to “invest” means to imbue an object with one’s Intent. By intentionally using an object, you invest that object with a measure of your Intent, which makes it better at performing that specific task.
>
So a pair of scissors used by a barber every day for years become progressively better and better at cutting hair. After a few years, the scissors will cut cleanly through even the thickest strands of tangled hair, slicing through with practically no effort. A razor used by a serial killer will become more and more lethal with time. A razor used by a serial-killing barber will be very confused.
Kameira – A collective term for any natural creature with unexplainable powers. Cloudseeker Hydras can move objects without touching them, Windwatchers can change and detect air currents, and Deepstriders control water. There are many different types of Kameira…though, seemingly, not as many as in the past. The Guild of Greenwardens is dedicated to studying and restoring Kameira populations.
Humans can borrow the miraculous powers of Kameira by creating Vessels from their body parts, and then bonding with those Vessels to become Soulbound.
Mason – One type of Consultant. Masons are craftsmen and professionals in a particular trade, covertly sending back information to their Guild. There are Masons undercover in every industry and business throughout the Empire.
Miner – One type of Consultant. This secretive order is in charge of the Consultants’ vast library, sorting and disseminating information to serve the Guild’s various clients.
Nakothi, the Dead Mother – A Great Elder who died in the Aion Sea. Her power kills humans and remakes their bodies into hideous servants.
Navigator – A member of the Navigator’s Guild. The Navigators are the only ones capable of sailing the deadly Aion Sea, delivering goods and passengers from one continent to the other.
