Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1) (2 page)

It was about time for extreme measures.

Calder knelt beside his Quartermaster. “Pardon me, Andel, but this is
my
ship.”

Then he pressed his palm to the deck and Read the ship. Visions flashed through his mind—
Calder nails one plank to another, begging them to stick; Calder’s mother places her own hands on the wood, persuading them to repel water.

He called on the bond between him and
The Testament
...and the bond between the ship and something far older.

A six-fingered hand rose up from the ocean.

The hand—webbed, dark blue, and big enough to rip the belly out of the ship—lifted out of the waves like a sunken tower cresting the surface. Dull, algae-spotted metal encircled the wrist: a manacle made of enough iron to re-cast every cannon onboard. Links of chain, each thicker than an anchor, trailed from the creature’s arm to vanish in the dark water beneath
The Testament.

Reaching up from the storm-tossed surface, the hand closed in a giant fist around the Stormwing’s tail, jerking the Kameira to a halt in the air. The Stormwing screamed, thrashing and beating its wings, even turning in on itself to sink its fangs into the scaled hand.

From the shadows beneath
The Testament
, a cloud of bubbles rose. A hiss of pain sliced through the storm, and the giant arm flexed. It whipped the Stormwing against the water with a crack that deafened the thunder itself. Water rose in a rolling wave away from the impact, a wall of the ocean rising for them.

“Brace yourselves!” Calder shouted, and the Quartermaster echoed him. Calder dove for the lines, wrapping himself in fistfuls of coarse rope. When he saw Foster still scrambling to control the loose cannon, he sent a simple mental signal to the ship. Ropes snaked over to Foster, grabbing him by the wrists and ankles and holding him fast.

“Light and life protect us,” he muttered to himself, as the wave loomed over them.

A weight settled onto his right shoulder as if a cat had suddenly landed there. Something tickled his cheek, and a deep baritone echoed him. “PROTECT US,” it chuckled.

Calder turned to glare at the creature perched on his shoulder. It was a squat little monster with a dark green, leathery hide and stubby little bat wings. Its eyes were solid black orbs, its mouth hidden behind a mass of squirming tentacles.

“Shuffles, what are you—”

Then the icy water of the Aion Sea crashed down on them both.

Darkness and cold rushed over Calder, trying to tear his eyes open, drowning his ears in a rush of sound. The water clawed at his body, trying to pull him out and away. His wrists burned where the ropes cut into him, but he didn’t dare loosen his grip.

Finally, the wave subsided. Before the water had completely washed over the ship, Calder was untangling himself from the lines, hurrying back to the wheel.

The Stormwing was still alive, but it wouldn’t be for long. Each of its wings was caught in the grip of a giant hand, and it struggled uselessly to escape.

As the Kameira writhed, a true monster rose from beneath
The Testament.

Both of its arms were bound in shackles that terminated beneath Calder’s ship, but the rest of its body was unbound. It stood like a man, with a row of ridges running down its spine like sails. Its head belonged to a predatory fish, though it bore three black eyes on either side of its face.

It drew the Stormwing closer as though to get a better look at its meal. The Kameira still struggled, but the towering monster’s grip was unbreakable.

The blue lips parted, revealing a mouth full of shark’s teeth. It hissed, a sound sharper than a knife’s blade, and gills flapped on either side of its neck.

Then the Lyathatan, the Elderspawn bound to the bottom of
The Testament
, tore its prey apart.

One wing came off in each hand, spattering the ship’s deck with droplets of luminescent blood.

Calder’s heart sank even as Foster fought his way free of the lines, sending a futile kick at his own cannon. “You couldn’t wait? You could not wait
one
more second for me to line up another shot?”

Calder sent his Intent through the ship, running down the invested chains, to the Lyathatan itself. The Elderspawn was old beyond imagining, but it did tend to listen to its captor. Most of the time.

Into his Reading, Calder poured his need for the Stormwing, his desperation to bring back something to sell, and his determination to extract the Kameira’s precious fluid.

Usually that worked, though sometimes he had to throw in a bribe.

Andel walked below deck, presumably to check on the rest of the crew, but Foster was still going. “Now we’re locked in the middle of a storm with nothing to show for it, and we won’t find another one this late in the season—”

He was cut off when the severed tail and spine of the Stormwing landed on the deck, leaking glowing yellow-white fluid. It was big enough that it crossed
The Testament
from stem to stern, and bright enough to drown out the illumination of the thunderlights.

Calder heaved a sigh and let his whole weight rest against the wheel. “Foster, get Petal and Urzaia up here. We need to preserve as much as possible.”

Foster marched down the ladder. “Petal! Woodsman! Get your buckets and get on deck before I make you bleed!”

Shuffles chuckled in Calder’s ear, tentacles waving. “BLEEEED.”

Calder ignored it. The Bellowing Horror liked to imitate the most disturbing words it heard, but the creature was entirely harmless. He’d begun to treat the thing like a parrot. Ship captains were supposed to have parrots.

It didn’t look like they’d get the full payoff they’d hoped for, but they could probably retain sixty or seventy percent of the Stormwing’s luminescent liquid. Two-thirds of a fortune was still a fortune; the Alchemist’s Guild would pay in hundreds of goldmarks for vials of this fluid.

He grinned, settling his hat back on his head, and bowed in the Lyathatan’s direction.

The giant was slowly settling beneath the waves, hissing as it disappeared under the water.

Disconcerting and reassuring at the same time.
As Sadesthenes said,
“The worst enemies make the best allies.”

Calder wasn’t sure he could count the Lyathatan as an ally, exactly, but certainly as an asset. It had agreed to serve him for a short time, but ‘a short time’ to the ancient Elderspawn could extend into the lives of Calder’s grandchildren.

He turned the wheel, sending his Intent down, and the Lyathatan obediently dragged the ship along. Away from the flashes of lightning. After weeks of chasing this Kameira, they could finally leave storms behind them, and Calder had never before looked so forward to sunshine.

Boots pounded back up the ladder, and Urzaia Woodsman appeared, a bucket dangling from each of his huge hands. He gave his gap-toothed smile when he emerged, staring up into the rain with his one remaining eye. “I never get tired of the rain. No matter how often I feel it, you hear me?”

“Well, I’ve felt it
too
often,” Calder called down. “We’re heading out to smoother seas.”

“That is a shame. The monsters here are much bigger.”

Petal slid out behind Urzaia without a word, her frizzy hair hiding her face. She sank onto the deck beside the severed Stormwing spine, crooning as she milked glowing liquid into her bucket.

Calder didn’t bother saying anything. When the ship’s alchemist was lost in her own world, nothing so mundane as human speech would get her attention.

The next person onto the deck was a surprise: his wife, Jyrine Tessella Marten.

Jerri wore a bright green raincoat that matched her emerald earrings. Bracelets flashed on her wrists as she hurriedly pulled her hair back, tucking it under her waterproof hood. She wore a wide, eager smile that instantly worried him.

It had taken him days of pleading to get her to stay below during the confrontation with the Kameira. There was nothing she could do to help, and the more people they had on deck, the greater the risk. She had finally agreed, but she wasn’t happy about it.

If she thought there was something in the hold more interesting than two giant monsters fighting, he needed to see it.

She rushed up to him, pecking him on the cheek and wrapping him in tanned arms.

Alarm bells sounded in his head.

“You would not
believe
what I found down in the hold!” Her eyes sparkled as though she had heard wonderful news.

Calder leaned back, examining her expression from arm’s length. “What did you find?”

She pulled on his wrist, tugging him away from the wheel. “You’ll have to come see!”

The last time she’d had a surprise for him, it had ended up being a clawed Elderspawn that he’d been forced to nail to the inside of the hull. “Should I bring my pistol?”

“Only if you plan on shooting Andel, which I would wholeheartedly support. It’s not a monster this time, but I would have sworn it was
impossible
. Maybe a Reader could tell me how they did it.”

That was entirely too intriguing to pass up, so he let her guide him down into the belly of the ship.

The hold had been packed with barrels, crates, and packets of gear, though most of the space was unoccupied. They had planned to return with a new load of cargo, after all. Now, raindrops and thin rivers of luminescence flowed in from the fractured deck above, through the hole that the Stormwing had blasted. Some of the crates had cracked open, leaking salt or wine, and a loose barrel rolled around on the wood.

Calder stopped the wild barrel with one foot, looking around for anything unusual.

Jyrine picked up a quicklamp, shook it, and raised it to one side.

In the splash of yellow light, Calder saw a message burned into the inside of the hull, as though someone had scorched a letter onto his ship. Thin wisps of smoke still rose from the charred wood.

Calder kicked the barrel aside, walking up to examine the lettering. “Petal didn’t do this?”

“I came in here after the explosion to survey the damage, and I saw it being written. It burned itself into the wood as though someone was writing with an invisible pen.” She clapped her hands eagerly, like a child at a show. “Now read it!”

He did, his own excitement growing by the word.

Calder,

Hope this mysterious message finds you well! I just learned how to do this, and it’s going to blow the pants off certain people back in the Capital. If you see it first, show it to Jyrine. She appreciates a good touch of theater.

The Guild has a new client. A pair of Witnesses wants to hire you to take them to a certain island, and withdraw a certain relic.

This could be huge, Calder. Not just for you, but for the Empire. And for the Emperor.

Calder stopped reading for a moment, shooting a glance at his wife. “The Emperor?”

Jerri’s smile widened. “Keep reading. It gets better.”

Whatever else this letter said, the Emperor had been dead for over five years. What did the Witnesses hope to find on the island? A way to bring him back from the dead?

With the Emperor, they might even be able to do it. That was a disturbing thought.

And by the way, this
will
be big for you. This was the Chronicler in charge of finance in the Imperial Palace. He wants me to tell you that if you’re successful, you will “sleep under sheets of golden silk in the cabin of your flagship. At the head of your brand-new fleet.” His words.

So I suggest you get your leaky tub and your flea-bitten crew back to port before he comes to his senses and hires somebody else.

-Cheska

Captain Cheska Bennett, Head of the Navigator’s Guild, was prone to exaggeration. But if she’d taken the effort to burn an entire letter onto the wood of his ship to get his attention, then this
must
be big. And if the reward was half as generous as promised...

He felt his mouth go dry. Sadesthenes once said,
“The wise man is not blinded by gold, but only a fool turns it down.”

Calder rushed back up to the deck, Jerri following close behind him. “Andel! I’m raising the sails! I find myself suddenly homesick.”

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Everyone has Intent. Even you!

You use your Intent every day: when you use a pillow to sleep, a brush to straighten your hair, or a coat to protect you from the wind, you are lending some of your Intent to an object.

Over time, your Intent builds and builds, helping that item get
even better
at doing its job! You will fall asleep faster on your pillow, your brush will never snag, and your coat will stay warm year-round!

What an amazing world we live in!

-From Chapter 1 of the best-selling children’s guide,
Reading About Readers!

Thirteen years ago

Calder walked through the wood-paneled halls, over carpets soft as an owl’s whisper, and tried to look bored. When he passed an urn with delicate gold filigree worked into the edges, he moved his eyes over it, as though he took in such sights every day.

One hundred silvermarks,
he guessed. Then he spotted a collection of pocketwatches, hung on the wall and arranged in a tasteful display.
At least fifty silvermarks apiece. Maybe a goldmark for the frame.
The snarling head of a Kameira, something like a lion with a head of sterling silver, mounted over the coat-rack.
 

A hundred goldmarks? More? Who could you hire to stuff a Kameira, anyway? Is that legal?

Altogether, the house positively reeked of
money.
Walking beside him, Calder’s father adjusted his fake glasses and blew out a fake moustache. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but Calder could all but feel his excitement.

Their host, Mister Karls Dunwood, led them to a spacious office walled in polished logs to make it resemble something like a hunting lodge. A stonework hearth against one wall enhanced the effect, and an array of more stuffed heads—black bears, twelve-point bucks, and even what seemed to be a young Nightwyrm—completed the impression.