Bane and Shadow

by Jon Skovron

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  Part One Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part Two Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Part Three Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  An Unbiased Overview of the Reign of the Dark Mage

  Acknowledgments

  Extras Meet the Author

  A Preview of The Empire Of Storms: Book Three

  A Preview of The Dragon Lords: Fool’s Gold

  Also by Jon Skovron

  Orbit Newsletter

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jon Skovron

  Excerpt from The Empire of Storms: Book Three copyright © 2017 by Jon Skovron

  Excerpt from The Dragon Lords: Fool’s Gold copyright © 2016 by Jon Hollins

  Map copyright © 2017 by Tim Paul

  Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Cover design by Lauren Panepinto

  Cover illustration/photo by Bastien Lecouffe Deharme

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

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  First ebook edition: February 2017

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  ISBNs: 978-0-316-26814-1 (mass market), 978-0-316-26817-2 (ebook)

  E3-20161215-JV-PC

  In memory of Eve Reinhardt Caripedes, bravest of warriors

  PART ONE

  It is neither fate nor chance alone that controls our destiny. Rather, it is the clash of those two terrible powers that gives violent and savage birth to our lives, and our legacy.

  And what of choice? I have never seen compelling proof that it makes the slightest difference.

  —from the secret writings of the Dark Mage

  1

  It wasn’t Brice Vaderton’s first tour of duty, but it felt near enough, because this was his first time captaining an imperial frigate. The Guardian was a newly constructed, three-masted, square-rigged warship with forty-two cannons. It was half again as large as his last ship, and with twice the firepower.

  Captain Vaderton’s quarters were big enough to hold a desk, a full-sized bunk, and a sofa. Had he been married, it would have been spacious enough to bring a wife. The cabin was positioned in the stern beneath the raised poop deck. It had several large portholes that offered a view of bright, cloudless blue skies and rippling dark green water as far as the eye could see. They’d had uncommonly good weather for the western edge of the empire, especially this time of year. As late summer gave way to fall, this region was usually raked with sudden, capricious blusters and sheets of icy rain. Instead, they’d had clear skies and a steady, manageable wind. Vaderton didn’t expect it to last, but he’d run with it as long as he could.

  The captain sat at his desk, catching up on his logbooks. He was meticulous in his record keeping, something his superiors told him was one of the reasons they felt confident entrusting him with one of the greatest ships in the empire, despite his age. Vaderton had just celebrated his fortieth year and was now the youngest officer to be given command of an imperial war frigate. He intended to prove that their trust in him was not misplaced. As part of the grand imperial inspection, his orders were to sail down the western edge of the empire until he reached the straights that separated the Southern Isles from the rest of the empire, then head east to Vance Post. Along the way, he was to stop in all ports of call, partly to gather the annual census reports, and partly to show the new, resplendent might of the imperial navy. As simple as this tour was, Vaderton intended to do it by the book, no exceptions.

  He checked his watch. Nine o’clock. Time for his mid-morning deck inspection. He stood and pulled on his heavy white coat. Despite the late-summer heat that still hung in the air, he liked the weight of it. The stiffness of the gold brocade in the front and the gold epaulets on his shoulders made him feel as if he was protected by the might of the entire imperial navy. He smoothed back his short, navy regulation–cut brown hair, then took his captain’s hat, also white with gold detail, and placed it securely on his head. He’d seen other captains wear their hat tilted back on the head. It cut a dashing figure, but it was terribly impractical. The first big gust of wind would fling it out to sea. Back at the academy, some of his classmates had teased him about obsessing over such minor details. However, none of them had yet been given command of a frigate, so he felt confident that his was the correct course.

  Vaderton opened the door and stepped out onto the quarterdeck.

  “Captain on deck!” called Midshipman Kellert.

  Anyone on deck who could stop what they were doing did so, and gave Captain Vaderton a sharp salute. Only a month at sea, and they were already shaping up to be a fine crew. Counting the cannoneers, the Guardian had approximately two hundred crew, more than three times the number of his last ship. In the past, he’d always made a point of learning every name. That was impossible now, but as he scanned the deck, he gave them each a moment of eye contact. It was as important to acknowledge good behavior as it was to punish bad.

  “Take your ease,” he said gravely, and they went back to their tasks. He turned to Kellert, who looked smart in his own white imperial officer’s jacket. That had been a point of contention between them when they first set out. By nature, Kellert was a slovenly, unkempt sort. Vaderton had suggested that if Kellert didn’t wish to look like a proper officer, he was welcome to the less-formal accommodations of the crew. A few nights sleeping in a hammock and eating with the men had straightened him out. One of Vaderton’s responsibilities was to groom his officers to one day serve the empire as a captain on their own ship. He took that duty as seriously as any other.

  “Report, Mr. Kellert,” he said as he scanned the deck, watching the men work.

  “All clear, Captain.” Kellert gave a slight smile and said, “Well, except the ghost ship.”

  Captain Vaderton did not return the smile. “What do you mean by ‘ghost ship,’ Mr. Kellert?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, sir. Young Jillen, who takes the night watch in the crow’s nest, thought he saw a ship in the distance a little before sunrise. But when he
called down to me, I couldn’t see anything with the glass. He’d probably just been dozing off for a minute, but the men started teasing him that he’d seen a ghost ship. You know, to frighten the poor boy.”

  “He still maintains that he saw a ship?” Captain Vaderton asked.

  Kellert looked a little uncomfortable now. “I suppose, sir.”

  “You suppose? Did you not question him further? Perhaps for details on this ship he saw?”

  “The boy’s only twelve years old. It could have been anything, sir.” Kellert was beginning to look nervous.

  “Anything includes pirates, Mr. Kellert.”

  Kellert blanched. “Yes, sir. Would you like me to question him now?”

  “Send him to me. I will question him myself.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kellert meekly.

  Captain Vaderton nodded, then watched the midshipman hurry off. He decided his charge still had a long way before him.

  Vaderton walked unhurriedly across the quarterdeck, then down to the main deck. As he went, he watched the crew move around him with tight precision. It made him marvel that these men—none of them interesting or remarkable on their own—could be combined to perform the daunting task of sailing one of the most powerful ships in the empire.

  He climbed the short ladder up to the forecastle, where he stood and looked out across the rippling green water to where it met the smooth blue sky on the horizon. In general, Captain Vaderton kept his thoughts and feelings close. But the sight of the open sea before him and the smell of salt wind in his lungs always softened his grip, if only a little.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” asked a light voice.

  Captain Vaderton turned and regarded Jillen. The boy was an odd one, which was probably why Vaderton remembered him. He was uncommonly short and slight of build, even for one so young. He spoke with the slurring cadence of someone born to the slums of New Laven, but he was surprisingly intelligent for such humble beginnings. Vaderton had even noticed him examining books and notes, as if he had some rudimentary knowledge of letters.

  “Mr. Kellert informs me that you saw something on midnight watch?” he asked the boy.

  “I did, sir. Off the port stern. Looked like a ship, sir.”

  “Can you describe this ship?”

  “Two masts crowded with sail. Heading toward us. And it didn’t have any imperial flags. Least, none that I could see.”

  “And did you report this to Mr. Kellert?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “And he didn’t think it worth bringing to my immediate attention?”

  “As I understand it, sir, he thought I must have dreamed it. Because by the time he took a look, it had disappeared.”

  “A disappearing ship? That is your report?” Vaderton asked gravely.

  “I suppose so, sir.” Jillen gave the captain a nervous look. “I know it sounds slippy, but that’s what I saw. Sir.”

  Captain Vaderton understood why Kellert had not been eager to report this. The midshipman thought it impossible. Vaderton might have made the same mistake himself when he was younger. But if the last few years had taught him anything, it was never to count on something being impossible.

  “Young Mr. Jillen,” said the captain. “Tell me what a ship is.”

  “Sir?” Jillen seemed even more nervous, his eyes darting around like he was looking for an escape.

  “You’re not in trouble, boy,” said the captain. “Just tell me, in plain words, what you think constitutes a ship.”

  “It’s a wooden vessel that floats and has sails that catch the wind to make it go.”

  Captain Vaderton nodded. “Not bad. But a ship is more than the vessel. It’s also the people on it. They are a part of the ship as well. Each has his job, which he must carry out for the good of the whole. If any of those parts stops working, the entire ship suffers.”

  “Like bees,” said Jillen.

  “Bees?” asked Vaderton, caught off guard.

  “Sure, it takes hundreds of bees to make a beehive and keep it going. Each bee has his or her job. The queen bee is in charge, but even she has a job to do. That’s how a hive works.” Jillen beamed up at him, then added, “Sir.”

  “Yes,” said Vaderton, wondering at how this New Laven street urchin could have such knowledge. “And do any of the bees ever decide that perhaps they won’t perform all their duties and hope the queen won’t notice or mind?”

  “Of course not, sir. If the bees stop working, the whole hive might die.”

  “Indeed,” said Vaderton. “What if a person on a ship decided not to perform all his duties? Let us say he took it upon himself to determine if something was possible or not, instead of bringing it to the captain for him to decide. That crew member might well put the entire ship in jeopardy.”

  Jillen’s eyes went wide. “But, Captain, I told—”

  Captain Vaderton raised his hand and Jillen immediately went silent. Smart boy. “As I said before, young Mr. Jillen, you are not in trouble. But I want you to keep what I have said fixed firmly in your mind while you witness Midshipman Kellert receive ten lashes.”

  “Y-yes, sir,” said Jillen, looking no less frightened.

  All hands were called to witness Kellert receive his lashes at midday. The sun blazed brightly overhead, gleaming off the blood and sweat that ran down the midshipman’s back as he clung to the mainmast. No doubt some of the men thought the captain too harsh, especially Kellert’s fellow officers, who tended to think themselves above such punishment. But by such a public show, the captain made it clear that he would tolerate no shoddy work, be they crew or officers. Furthermore, this lesson also benefited Kellert. For all its great ships and fierce fighting men, it was the iron resolve of the officer class that kept the imperial navy afloat. And it was Captain Vaderton’s solemn duty to make sure that the captains of the future were just as resilient and exacting, tempered by the fires of experience and discipline so that they had iron wills of their own.

  Captain Vaderton took no pleasure in it, though. In fact, he was pleased to note that Kellert didn’t cry out. Even as he was led away to the officers’ quarters to recover, Kellert walked steadily, back straight, head high. He might not be the most reliable officer, but at least he could take a beating.

  Once the ordeal was over, and the men sent back to their posts, Captain Vaderton set a double watch at all hours, with orders to report anything they saw, no matter how minor or strange, directly to him. Then he took a turn at the helm. It wasn’t necessary, of course. The Guardian had several helmsmen. But Captain Vaderton liked the feel of the hard wooden wheel in his hands now and then, especially after performing some of his more distasteful duties. The late afternoon sun sent sparkles skittering across the white-flecked sea. He took in a slow breath and allowed himself to savor the steady pull of the wheel against his hands—the surge of the ocean itself. To his mind, there was nothing more grand in all the world.

  Gradually, Captain Vaderton became aware of a presence standing respectfully nearby.

  “Mr. Jillen,” he said. “Something on your mind?”

  “Begging your pardon, Captain.” Jillen squinted up at him in the hard sun.

  There was something almost pretty about the boy’s delicate features. Vaderton knew if the boy didn’t toughen up, his peers would soon be giving him hells. But it was not Vaderton’s duty to instruct the regular crew. That was the bosun’s responsibility. So Vaderton said nothing about it. “Out with it, Mr. Jillen. You’ve already disturbed my serene repose.”

  “Well, sir.” Jillen looked up at him earnestly. “I just wanted to know what you think it was I saw. The disappearing ship, I mean.”

  “I don’t know,” said the captain. “But there are stranger things in this world than ships that seem to vanish, I can assure you. I have seen weather that gave no warning. I have seen oarfish the length of this deck. And once, off in the distance, I saw a giant ship encased in metal.”

  “A ship of metal, sir? How did it not sink?�
�

  “Perhaps some sailing art not yet known to us. Perhaps by biomancery.”

  “Biomancers, sir?” Jillen hesitated for a moment. “The men say you know one, sir. A biomancer, I mean. Is it true?”

  “I’m not sure any normal man can know a biomancer. But I did serve one for a time, and he was pleased with my service.” Vaderton knew that many of his peers whispered that this was the real reason he had been given a frigate at such a young age. The favor of biomancers held sway in both the navy and the imperial court.

  “Are they really sorcerers, sir?” asked Jillen. “It’s not just tricks?”

  The captain smiled faintly. “Did you know, young Mr. Jillen, that we are not the only large and deadly thing in these seas called the Guardian?”

  “I thought no two ships could have the same name.”

  “Oh, but it isn’t a ship,” said Vaderton. “It’s a great sea beast created by the biomancers to protect the northern borders of the empire against invaders. I saw it myself, once, while I was in service to the biomancers. A terrible kraken as big as an island that can crush a ship in one of its massive tentacles as easily as you crack an egg.”

  “It sounds incredible, sir.” Jillen’s eyes were as wide and round as whirlpools.

  “Think of the power of that kraken. Then imagine the power it must have taken to create such a thing. And that is the power of the biomancers.”

  Jillen shivered.

  “You’ll find, young Mr. Jillen, that the world is full of wonders and terrors far beyond our humble expectations. Like as not, you’ll see some before the end of this tour.”

  Jillen looked frightened, but also thrilled. “I hope so, sir.”

  Vaderton smiled. “It is ever the prerogative of youth to seek adventure. But most have their fill sooner than they expect.”

  “Not me, sir,” Jillen said, his thin face confident. “I’ll seek until the end of my days.”