by Will Wight
Dark blood sprayed from the Lyathatan’s side and it staggered, windmilling one arm to keep balance.
Only then did Calder land on the Elder’s shoulder.
Sword-down.
The power of the Awakened blade corroded Elders, dissolving Elderspawn immediately, but it couldn’t contend against those of a higher rank. Kelarac had warned Calder about that from the beginning, telling him it couldn’t slay a Handmaiden of Nakothi.
But that didn’t make it worthless.
The wound in the Lyathatan’s shoulder turned black, and the creature hissed in pain right into Calder’s face. From only a few feet away, that hiss sprayed Calder from head to toe in foul-smelling seawater. The Lyathatan’s black eyes were filled with malice, and from this close he could see how big its teeth really were. More than large enough to shred him to pieces.
The Elder swatted at him.
Without his enhanced reactions, Calder would have been crushed into paste. Instead, he vaulted off the Lyathatan’s shoulder.
And seized a link of the chain running from the Elder’s wrist.
Reading the Lyathatan was nothing in comparison to his glimpse of Urg’naut. How could he worry about looking into a quicklamp once he’d already stared directly at the sun?
He even had the mark of Kelarac, which filtered his will and helped him sense and communicate to Elders.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had already strained his mind to its breaking point twice today. The dread and horror of Urg’naut lurked beneath his every thought, ready to overtake him if he gave it too much attention. He couldn’t push himself any further.
So he Read the Intent in the chain.
The Lyathatan’s Intent is a tangled nest of rage and patience, malice and pragmatism, hunger and desires too inhuman for Calder to grasp. But today it feels like it has completed a long journey sooner than expected. There are tinges of regret here, and surprise, among other emotions that he has no name for.
Its deal with Kell’arack comes to an end when this world does. All its bargains are now fulfilled. It must reach Kelarac in time to return home.
It cannot break the chains under its own power, but the Great One will do so. It is in his nature to see that bargains are completed.
Then the Lyathatan will be free. It is a shark trapped in a well. Now its time to return to the ocean is nigh.
The Lyathatan’s Intent was the outer layer of the chain, the easiest to Read, but there were others. The Intent binding the Elder to the ship. The Intent of Bliss, and the Blackwatch, and Calder, and Calder’s mother.
Serve us, the chains said. Carry us in our service to humanity.
The chains had been Awakened along with the ship itself. They couldn’t take on new Intent, but Calder could align his voice with what was already there.
The world is still here. We are still here. You still serve me.
The Lyathatan’s hand stopped on its way to crush Calder. It struggled, rage growing stronger among the emotions flowing through the chain. Its eyes flashed with anger, and Calder was certain that the Elder meant to kill him before he could enforce the contract.
His saber was still embedded in the creature’s shoulder while he dangled from the chain nearby. Could he reach it in time?
A pure light began to shine brighter and brighter from the deck of The Testament. Andel stood at the edge, one hand holding onto the rigging and the other clasping his White Sun medallion. Even as flashes of light and sound came from the heavens, this light stayed steady, and he kept his eyes on the Elder.
The Lyathatan flinched back, shielding itself from the light with its hand. Its Intent grew weaker.
And weaker still.
The creature’s knees buckled slightly before it caught itself, and Calder looked back to The Testament.
There, a grinning Foster hefted a red-painted cannonball as Petal shivered behind him. Redshot was filled with alchemy, usually a sedative, and used to bring down huge Kameira. It had taken a little time for the solution to work, but whatever cocktail Petal had devised, it was flowing through the Lyathatan now.
Through the visor of the Emperor’s helmet, Calder looked into the Lyathatan’s eyes.
“It seems your life is in my hands,” Calder said, letting his Intent flow through the chains as he spoke. Though he suspected the Elder could understand him regardless. “Shall we renegotiate?”
The Elder’s fury at the indignity warred with its pragmatic understanding of the situation.
Shuffles fluttered up until it was in between the Lyathatan’s eyes. “LIFE IN MY HANDS!”
Intent flowed back through the chains, and Calder interpreted the message into words. The Great One allows no one to steal from him.
Calder’s will blazed like molten iron, and he couldn’t tell if it was from a lingering shred of the Emperor’s Intent or if it was his own.
“You’re not his anymore,” he said. “You’re mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
There is a law beyond this world. We are apart from it, against it…but we are not above it. It binds even our kind.
—Kelarac
present day
Without Loreli at his side, Calder would never have made it into the Imperial Palace.
Between the half-complete evacuation, the attack from Urg’naut, the shattering of the sky, and the still-thundering battle that shook the heavens, the Capital had descended into complete madness. The streets were choked with panicking people fleeing, fighting, or shattering windows to snatch whatever was within.
He’d thought the Guild War had pushed the Capital to its limits, but the end of the world had removed those limits entirely.
So he was glad he had taken the time to rescue the Regent.
She had been traveling aboard another Navigator’s ship—Captain Marstrom’s Heart of the Aion—and they had been virtually stranded on the storm-tossed ocean. The arrival of The Testament had been a godsend, and the Regent had gratefully accepted his offer of a ride.
Though she had demanded that he rescue all of Captain Marstrom’s crew as well. Not that he minded.
Loreli could never be nondescript in her trademark silver-and-white armor, and surely someone would have recognized her if not for the blinders of terror. However, as they disembarked, she began to radiate such an aura of peace and tranquility that even Calder felt the shadow of Urg’naut in his mind begin to recede.
Red-faced men with overflowing trunks stuffed under their arms came stumbling to a halt when they got close enough to the Regent, blinking rationality back into their eyes. The mob filling the streets slowed its actions, fading from manic fear to a more controlled dread.
Loreli carried a small bag—the only luggage she had brought with her from her ship. From within it, she pulled a captain’s horn and raised it to her lips.
“Fear not,” she announced. Magnified by the Intent in the horn, her voice carried up and down the street. “I have come to resolve this. Stay in your homes and wait. We will keep you as safe as we are able.”
A crackling wholly unlike thunder shook the air along with a flash more alien than lightning. Calder thought the effect might undermine her words, but the crowd began to filter away as though they had been controlled by the Emperor’s crown.
“I can’t do this all the way to the Palace,” Loreli said. She tucked the horn back into her pack. “We’ll have to hurry.”
She continued projecting her aura of peace as she leaned down into a sprinter’s crouch, then kicked off and dashed up the street into the city.
Calder followed her, certain that he would overtake her in seconds. He had just taken another potion to stabilize himself, and as far as he had ever learned, Loreli was no Champion.
He ran through crowds that were just being struck by her calming aura, and he leaped over the heads of puzzled people who had just begun to lower bloody weapons. Several blocks down, however, and he still hadn’t caught her.
He never did, reaching the gate of
the Imperial Palace on her heels.
Either her armor enhanced her physical abilities or she had been alchemically augmented at least as much as he had. The Emperor’s armor, which he was still wearing, did nothing to empower him. Only to protect him.
Even so, he was surprised at her speed. He supposed he shouldn’t have been. It would be almost impossible for anyone to survive direct combat with a Great Elder without an enhanced body.
Darkness stabbed through his thoughts as he remembered Urg’naut raising an arm and striking at him from across the water. He had stared annihilation in the face, and it had missed him by inches. How fragile life was, even now.
He gripped himself tighter as Loreli commanded her way through both the Imperial Guards and the Luminian knights on patrol. Some of the latter glared at him as he walked in, but he was wearing his helmet, so they might not be sure who he was.
On their way to Jorin, they marched past a particular building, and he found himself moving in front of the Regent. “I know we’re short on time, but would you mind stopping here first? Someone needs your help.”
Loreli’s braids shook as she looked from him to the building and then into the sky. “General Teach of the Imperial Guard,” she said. “Wounded by Jorin’s blade.”
Though he tried to prepare himself, he shuddered as she turned her dark eyes on him and asked a question. “What happened when I left?”
“Negotiations broke down,” Calder said. “But we need everyone we can get right now.” He was glad that his armor covered the mark of Kelarac on his arm, and doubly glad that Estyr was dead. Jorin would tell Loreli what happened, and after that the remaining two Regents would be his enemies.
At least Estyr Six wouldn’t be among them.
“Hurry,” Loreli said. The Guards weren’t standing at their posts so much as they were cowering by the doors, shooting terrified glances up at the broken sky, but they could not have been more eager to open up for Loreli.
They reached Teach’s bedside in moments. Her transformation had progressed.
Her hair spilled behind her in long navy waves, her cheekbones stood out sharply, and her skin had a purple tinge. Her limbs even looked slightly longer, though that could have been an illusion caused by her sprawl across the bed.
Her breathing was labored and rough, and she tossed in her sleep. Loreli pulled off a gauntlet and pressed the back of her hand to Teach’s forehead. “Her temperature’s high, but there is no sweat.” She moved her fingers to press against the Guild Head’s throat. “Pulse is loud and strong. She has the heart of a Bonereaver?”
“She does.”
“The original purpose of the heart is to strengthen her body against Tyrfang’s intrusive Intent. When Jorin struck her with a greater amount of similar Intent but failed to kill her, the heart overreacted, transforming her to increase the compatibility between her Kameira graft and the rest of her.”
Loreli waved her hand and a soft white-gold light surrounded Teach. “I can easily remove the hostile power remaining in her body, and she will awaken in moments. However, the transformation is quite advanced. She may no longer be herself. She may even be a liability in combat.”
Teach’s eyes snapped open, flickering restlessly across the ceiling. Her icy blue irises were now spotted with flecks of silver. She leaped out of bed, scuttling on all fours into the corner and then resting on her haunches, growling at them like a dog.
Loreli had a hand lightly resting on the pommel of her sword. “Jarelys Teach. Can you hear me?”
A wave of Intent washed out from the Regent, and Calder could feel her wish for Teach to recover and see the world clearly.
Light flashed outside one of the windows, and the air crackled again. In that moment, Calder sensed some more of Loreli’s intentions. Not through his power as a Reader, but through pure intuition.
Every second she wasted meant a step closer to the end of the world. She had been willing to risk this detour for the possibility of restoring a rare warrior who could fight against a Great Elder, but her time was too valuable.
That all made Calder certain: if the Guild Head didn’t recover immediately, Loreli was going to kill her. There was no time to wait and see what happened.
When her Intent washed over Teach, there was no visible effect. The Guild Head continued to snarl, her loose patient’s robe flapping open and revealing muscles corded with tension.
Gently, the Regent’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword.
Calder moved his back in front of her, keeping his eyes on Teach. He felt a chill down his spine at the thought of having Loreli’s sword behind him, but he focused entirely on the Guild Head.
“General Teach, please. I need your help.”
She snarled, slashing at him, but he ducked back. Her nails left red-and-black streaks lingering in the air for a moment, echoes of Tyrfang’s power.
“The Empire needs you.”
She hissed at him.
In desperation, he tightened his mind, focusing on every word he spoke, hoping the Emperor’s armor would hold up if both women attacked with him in the middle.
“Don’t let the Emperor down.”
He didn’t know if those were the words that got through to her or if Loreli’s healing finally kicked in, but the wild look in Teach’s eyes dimmed. She blinked, looking around the room in confusion.
Calder seized on the moment. “He entrusted the world to us, and we’re failing him.” He hated that there was actually some truth in his words, but he pushed on. “Please. Help us stop the Elders before the Empire falls apart.”
Teach’s muscles loosened. One knee hit the ground, then the other.
She bowed her head.
“Regent,” she said. Her voice rasped with disuse. “Steward. How…long?”
The entire building shook with the crackling overhead, and her silver-and-blue eyes flicked to the window. “Never mind. Situation?”
“Urg’naut took human form and escaped,” Calder told her. “Kelarac is alive and we think he’s coming here. The sky is…wide open.”
Teach closed her eyes. Her expression trembled, but she slowly rose to her feet. She really did seem taller. “Light and life,” she whispered. “Emperor hold and protect us all…”
Then she raised her voice to a shout. “Guards! My armor!”
Loreli gave her a kind smile. “Glad to have you, General. Time is of the essence, so meet us in the throne room as soon as you can. Jorin is already there.”
Calder had more he wanted to say, but the Regent had already taken off down the hallway. He had debated several speeches over the weeks since Teach had passed into her transformative coma, but he settled on the simplest one.
“Thank you for saving my life,” he said.
She grunted. “Try to be worth it.”
Jorin was indeed waiting for them in the Emperor’s throne room, as was most of the Empire’s remaining leadership.
The Regent wasn’t visibly injured from his fight against Urg’naut. He stood at the foot of the throne, his long pocket-filled jacket hanging around him, shadeglasses over his eyes, and wide-brimmed hat providing further shade. But he leaned on a nearby pillar with one hand, and he trembled where he stood.
Cheska Bennett had her red hair tied back in a bandana and she wore clothes that looked like they had been stolen from the poorest deckhand in the Guild, and she gave a one-eyed scowl into the distance. Her other eye was covered by a ragged black eyepatch.
Had she injured it? Lost it? He would ask her later.
Bliss looked like she was in equally bad temper, but her ire was clearly directed toward a person. Her hands were in the pocket of her Blackwatch coat, and she threw a razor-edged stare across the room at Bareius.
The Head of the Alchemist’s Guild seemed…the same as ever. His hair was immaculate, the rims of his glasses polished, and he smiled at no one in particular as he flipped through reports. He was the only one sitting, resting on a stool with his papers sitting on a col
lapsible table he must have brought himself.
Shera was missing. So was Loreli.
A thought flitted briefly through his mind: Jorin was weakened and unarmed, so once Teach arrived, the Imperialist side would have an overwhelming advantage in combat. If they struck without warning…
The thought didn’t feel like his own, and for one dizzy moment he teetered on the edge of forgetting who he was once more.
This wasn’t the time for infighting. They had a world to save.
He withdrew a wax-paper packet from the satchel that Petal had sent him, pulling out two capsules and popping them into his mouth. Bareius noticed and started to speak, but Jorin beat him to it.
“I can’t say it’s all peaches and roses to see you awake, paper Emperor, but Loreli left you breathing. We are a matter of hours away from being devoured by Elders. If she’s willing to vouch for you, I’m willing to keep you in one piece. So long as you’re pointing your sword in the right direction.”
He eyed all the former Imperialists. “And that goes for all of you.”
Calder forced a broad smile. “Aye, Captain.”
“I don’t stay at the table after I’ve already lost,” Cheska said.
“It is only out of respect for you that I have not turned Nathanael Bareius into a handbag.” Bliss was still glaring at the alchemist. “Do you think he will be useful to us in the coming battle?”
“More so than a handbag,” Jorin said wearily.
“Very well, then I will wait.”
Teach strode in with Tyrfang over one shoulder, and she looked more savage than she ever had. Brutal. Almost unrecognizable.
Until she saluted Jorin and spoke. “What is the plan, sir?”
Calder found himself relieved, which was itself a surprise. She had personally executed his father…though she had also stepped between him and certain death.
“We’re still waiting on the last cards in our hand.” Jorin turned to the back of the room, and Calder thought he saw a light flash behind the man’s dark glasses. “Fortunately, we don’t have to wait long.”