Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1)

by Will Wight

  “End this quickly,” he silently begs his weapons. “For them, there will be no pain—”

  Calder cut off the vision before the grief and rage drowned out his reason. With the hatchets secure, he walked over to the Consultants.

  Children of Nakothi surrounded them, guided by the call of the Handmaiden, waiting for their opportune moment to strike.

  Good. It just so happened that he needed to kill something.

  The other two stared at him suspiciously, but Shera rose to meet him, her face devoid of any human expression. Not that he expected anything else.

  “It seems we have a common obstacle,” Calder said. He didn’t bother to hide his bitterness, in his expression or his voice.

  Shera didn’t react. But she didn’t stab him, which he took to mean she agreed.

  He pointed to her shining, shifting green blade. “Can you kill it?” He wanted to do it himself, but Kelarac had specifically cautioned him against using the blade against a Handmaiden. He’d prefer to risk Shera’s life than his own, anyway.

  Shera turned to Lucan, who nodded. “If we can get you close enough,” he said.

  Calder rubbed absently at the burning mark on his right forearm, looking up at the Handmaiden. He realized he was looking into her face, and his entire body shivered as he jerked away. It seemed less like a physical appendage, and more like a nightmare made flesh. “It’s planning on attacking soon. When it does, I’ll hit it as hard as I can. You’ll have to find your own opening.”

  To Calder’s surprise, Shera’s expression cracked. Instead of a passionless killer, she simply looked…tired. “What are the odds that it will stay dead?”

  “Based on my experience with the Elders? Abandon that hope right now.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed at her face with one hand, like a child up past her bedtime. “Maybe if I get wounded killing an Elder they’ll give me some time off. Meia, here’s your chance to stab me in the back.”

  Their other partner, Meia, was turning pale. She leaned the back of her head against the wall of the shed, panting and holding onto her bandaged wound. Disturbing shapes twisted and moved underneath her skin.

  She didn’t seem likely to rise to the bait.

  Lucan patted Shera on the shoulder, consoling her. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she would stab you if she could.”

  These were the ruthless assassins who had pursued him since he’d left the Capital? They acted like…well, like his crew. For some reason, the thought seethed with anger. What right did they have to joke with each other? They could kill his friend and still play around?

  “Just do your part,” he said roughly, and walked a short distance away. With his newfound sensitivity to Elders, thanks to Kelarac’s mark, he reached out his Intent, seeking out one Elderspawn in particular. A simple, unfathomable, alien mind. A Bellowing Horror.

  “Shuffles!” he yelled.

  A familiar silhouette flapped up on top of a half-collapsed stone column, tentacles writhing over its mouth.

  Calder spoke directly to his pet Elderspawn, backing up his words with intent to reinforce their meaning. “I need you to repeat everything I say as loud as you can. Do you understand? We need to reach The Testament.”

  “TESTAMENT,” Shuffles bellowed, and the entire cavern echoed with the force of his roar. Strangely, though Calder was standing next to it, Shuffles’ volume didn’t sound much greater than normal. By rights, a shout loud enough to reach The Testament should have shattered Calder’s eardrums. But he only knew it was louder than normal because of the way the dust vibrated all over the chamber, echoing from the walls.

  Whatever the reason, he was grateful for it. Maybe he wouldn’t go deaf today.

  “Foster,” Calder said.

  “FOSTER!”

  “Ready cannons.”

  “READY CANNONS!”

  Calder paused for a moment, giving Foster time to comply. Though the entire Gray Island seemed to shake under Shuffles’ announcement, he had no idea whether the gunner heard him. At this distance, he could barely sense his Vessel’s location; he had no chance of controlling the ship himself. And even though Kelarac had enhanced his ability to communicate with the Lyathatan, there was nothing the Lyathatan could do to fire a cannon.

  The Handmaiden heard him and must have understood, because her Intent sharpened. Her pale tentacles, covered in hands, slithered closer, and she shrieked, pointing at him with one finger.

  All the Children of Nakothi on the island swarmed down into the shattered arena, hungering for his blood. They sought Shera’s blade more than anything else, but they would dismantle him on the way as nothing more than a distraction.

  He turned back to Shuffles, and he couldn’t help a smile. Jerri would love this.

  “Take aim!”

  “AIM!”

  He waited a moment longer, forcing himself to stare the Handmaiden in the face. He began to tear up, his eyes trying to force themselves away from the sight as a purely physical reaction, but he kept looking. He wanted to see this.

  “Fire.”

  “FIRE!”

  The announcement echoed from every corner from the island.

  An instant later, missiles slammed into the Handmaiden’s chest, sending up geysers of white blood. Seconds after that, the sound caught up, and every cannon on The Testament cracked at once.

  Calder grinned straight up at the Elderspawn’s unfathomable face and shouted again. “Fire!”

  “FIRE!”

  A few seconds of delay, and two cannonballs crashed into the Handmaiden’s ribs, and a third snapped a tree in half.

  That was all he had time to witness before Nakothi’s Children struck him like a cresting wave. He devoted himself to reading the flow of hostile Intent, lunging and dipping and dodging as he swept his cutlass through each of the dead Elderspawn.

  Not one of them needed a second strike.

  He kept limping along as he fought, Shuffles flapping along behind him, and occasionally shouted the order to fire.

  Sword-first, he worked his way up the staircase.

  He wished Shera the very best of luck, but he wasn’t going to stick around to see how the fight turned out. If his fortune had turned for the better, the Handmaiden and the Consultants would kill each other.

  Meanwhile, he had a date to keep.

  ~~~

  Jerri pushed her way back against the wall as the bone-clawed crab, one of Nakothi’s Children, snapped and slobbered through the bars of her cell. It strained its claw, reaching for her and falling well short.

  It stood in a red mess—what was left of another prisoner, who had fled from deeper in the complex. Apparently there were more cells deeper within that Jerri had never seen, and some of their occupants had tried to make a break for it.

  This one had run into an Elderspawn and been dismantled for his trouble.

  Mindless minions. Useless. What good was an Elder with no wisdom? Nakothi was the one Great Elder that Jerri wouldn’t mind staying asleep forever.

  The bars squealed under the Child’s assault, and Jerri pressed herself further against the stone. She was distracting herself, she could admit that. She just didn’t want to confront the fact that in a few seconds, the bars would fold, and then she would end up just like the other prisoner: a puddle of red meat and cloth.

  She shouted for help again, but of course anyone left alive in these tunnels would be locked in a cell, just like her.

  If only she had her Vessel, she could protect herself. If only. But wishes hadn’t freed her during her incarceration, and they wouldn’t protect her now.

  The crab raised up a spindly, misshapen leg that looked like it was made of nothing but skin stretched over bone. The leg wriggled in between the door, working at the twisted lock.

  And the abused, weakened metal finally snapped. With a groan, the door to Jerri’s cell folded open.

  She forced a crazy grin onto her face, raising her fists. Whenever she’d imagined her own death, she’d pict
ured herself going down fighting.

  Well, this wouldn’t be much of a fight. But she’d take her best shot.

  The corpse-crab hissed in glee, scrabbling over the stone to get closer. It moved with the eagerness of a dog, suddenly unleashed, bolting for its first meal in days.

  You’re late, Calder, Jerri thought.

  Then the stone at her back grew much, much colder.

  She almost staggered backwards as the wall behind her disappeared, but she managed to stop herself at the feeling of her heels moving out over empty air. She was standing at the very edge of a cliff.

  A void transmission? Now? Whatever the cabal was going to do, they had best do it quickly.

  A single piece of jewelry tumbled through the air, gleaming green and gold.

  She recognized it instantly, just as she felt her own limbs, as she recognized her own face in the mirror. This close, she didn’t even need to touch it to call on its powers—she’d been reaching for it mentally for days. But she caught it nonetheless.

  The fury of her Vessel filled her, and she lashed out with a blade of emerald fire.

  The crab’s body divided into two smoking halves, each sliding around her and vanishing into the void.

  Jerri gripped the earring with so much force she was almost afraid she’d crush it, fist shivering with relief. After weeks of waiting and wondering, she was finally whole.

  The voice from the void, this time, was multi-layered and female, like three sisters trying to speak over one another. “We have made you wait. We apologize. The summoning did not go as we expected.”

  “You’re here now,” Jerri said. She couldn’t help a surge of joy. Being separated from her Vessel was like losing her arms and legs. She stuck the earring through her right ear, sighing in satisfaction.

  “Our plans have fallen apart,” the voices said. “Yet we have succeeded in unexpected ways. Now we must make new plans.”

  Jerri started to walk toward the bars, slashing them into two red-hot halves. “Contact me when The Testament docks.”

  “Negative. Your transportation is prepared.”

  Jerri turned, surprised. The Sleepless cabal had never objected to her going where she wanted before.

  In the swimming lights and endless black of the void, an Elderspawn floated. It looked like an octopus, tendrils swimming in unseen water, but its head was smooth and flat. Was she supposed to ride on that?

  Jerri didn’t sense any hostility from it, or intelligence of any kind, but she still hesitated. She wasn’t so comfortable with the void that she wanted to ride into it on the back of an unknown creature.

  The ceiling creaked above her, and she stepped to the side just in time to avoid a waterfall of rock dust.

  “This structure is unstable,” the voices said. “This is the safest way out.”

  Jerri still hesitated. “I want your word that you will release me. I have personal business to attend to.”

  “If you leave any other way, you will die.”

  “Give me your word, or I walk out of this cell right now.” She had no doubt they were telling the truth about the unstable structure, but they couldn’t predict the future. She would take her chances with the crumbling building if she had to.

  “Our word is granted,” the mysterious voice said.

  Hesitantly, Jerri walked up to the edge of the voice. She glanced down, and immediately wished she hadn’t: it was as though the world ended at the back of her prison cell. Colored lights and darkness swirled around at every angle.

  The Elderspawn platform drifted closer, anchoring onto the stone edge of the cell with its suction cups.

  “Time is short,” the disembodied voice whispered.

  After one more instant of hesitation, Jerri stepped out onto the creature’s flattened head.

  Wait for me, Calder. I’ll sort this out.

  She’d left just in time. Behind her, through the shrinking void portal, she saw the roof of the prison crumble.

  “We told you,” the voices said, smug.

  ~~~

  Calder reached the hidden door to the prisons just as the ground caved in, like a suddenly collapsing sinkhole.

  No, he thought. No, it’s not possible.

  He had agonized for so long about whether to save Jerri or not, and here he had arrived five seconds too late?

  Calder jerked the door open, hobbling down the staircase on his wounded leg. The first part of the tunnel was surprisingly whole, giving him some hope. The whole island was apparently riddled with tunnels and underground chambers, after all. Maybe a different part of the network had collapsed.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see clearly that the end of the tunnel was choked with debris, but the cells on his left were surprisingly clear. Sure, Lucan’s cell was covered in rocks and dust, but the door had swung open. It was nothing that would pose a threat to anyone.

  Cautiously, afraid to brush against the wall lest he cause another cave-in, he edged to the next cell.

  A pile of blood, bars sliced in half, and a cell filled with rocks.

  For a moment, Calder’s mind stopped working.

  This didn’t make sense. Why didn’t Jerri’s cell look like Lucan’s? His was almost untouched; it was just a little dusty. This one was only next door. Why was it so much worse?

  I was too late. After all that…too late.

  The thought tore at his sanity, pulling at the stitching that held his mind together. But only a few seconds later, his reasoning reasserted itself.

  He didn’t know anything. And someone had cut these bars—the collapsing tunnel hadn’t done that.

  Calder reached out a hand, afraid to touch the blood and flesh. He didn’t want to conjure a vision of a violent death, but he had to know if it was Jerri.

  The Reading was vague, as the death hadn’t occurred long ago. There was very little Intent clinging to the remains, and none in the surrounding rocks. But he sensed panic, and fear, and finally desperation.

  Along with a familiar, mindless hunger. The Children of Nakothi had been here.

  He reached his hand farther into the cell, seeking a vision, probing for Jerri’s presence.

  Jerri looks at the Child trying to force its way into the cell…

  Joy surges in her chest as she finally feels complete for the first time in weeks…

  She needs to break open a hole between her cell and Lucan’s…

  The transport doesn’t look reliable, but she’s determined to live…

  He was getting brief flashes of Intent, a few fractured visions, but they were all broken. Weak. Out of sequence.

  If he could only learn a little more…

  A crack ran down the wall behind him, and he grimaced to himself. He was out of time. All he knew for sure was that Jerri had made it out of the cell.

  One way or another.

  He turned away from the rubble-filled hallway and almost lost his head.

  A bronze blade flashed at his neck, and only years of training let him bend backwards, narrowly missing the edge on the skin of his throat.

  The blond Consultant, Meia, panted as she leaned with one hand against the wall. “You…will not…escape,” she panted.

  Her skin was pale, her face covered in scrapes and cuts, her body trembling. She looked worse than Urzaia had when he died.

  At that thought, Calder steeled his resolve and drew his sword. “You should have checked behind you,” he said.

  She didn’t even blink, her eyes hardening.

  Then Shuffles flapped up behind the Consultant. “BEHIND YOU!” he declared, tentacles waving.

  Meia spun on the Elderspawn, but she was too slow. Calder clubbed her on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. She didn’t lose consciousness, not entirely, but she did collapse. That was good enough for him.

  He confiscated her two obvious knives, the bronze ones she kept buckled to her back, and stuffed them into his belt next to Urzaia’s hatchets.

  Meia struggled weakl
y as he tossed her over his shoulder, just as Andel had carried Naberius. The wound in his chest screamed in pain, but he was getting used to ignoring agonizing injuries. Just as he was getting used to holding captives. At this rate, he would soon have more prisoners on The Testament than crewmen.

  Shera’s not the only one who can take prisoners.

  Taking Meia hostage wasn’t the best idea he could have come up with, but he was more comfortable improvising. It was likely the years of practice.

  But he couldn’t help thinking, as he carried Meia and Shuffles back to The Testament, that he may have possibly made a mistake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Are all seven of the known Great Elders malicious? I do not think so. I think that most Elders think of themselves as benefactors. Their ways are simply so alien, so absolutely incompatible with humanity, that the kindness of the Great Elders will very likely kill us all.

  Nakothi likely believes, in her way, that she is improving humans by warping their bodies into the monstrous Children.

  Kthanikahr cares not for humanity, but he is interested in preserving this planet as a habitat for his worms.

  Urg’naut works for peace, as he sees it: the true peace of nonexistence.

  Tharlos prefers a world of constant, endless change.

  Othaghor wants, above all, to preserve life.

  Ach’magut seeks knowledge at all costs.

  Kelarac could say that he grants wishes.

  -Artur Belfry, Imperial Witness, concluding his confidential report to the Blackwatch

  Eleven years ago

  Bliss stood on the top branches of the leafless tree, peering out of her greenhouse. From a vantage point like this, she could see the Capital spreading out all around her: ancient spires and gleaming clock-towers rising like fresh shoots from the soil of shingled townhouses. With a view like this, she could almost forget that she was surrounded by walls of glass.

  The Spear of Tharlos squirmed within her coat, knocking against the fabric like a fist against an oak door. It didn’t speak to her, not today, but she understood its pleas nonetheless. It thought those towers should be volcanoes, the clocks should be filled with muscle and skin instead of cogs and gears, and the townhouses should be solid blocks of ice.