Of Dawn and Darkness

CHAPTER TWO

When Calder climbed up the ladder and onto The Testament’s deck, no one stood at the wheel. Andel was nowhere to be seen, and a pile of ropes sat at the base of the mast.

Foster hurried up to him, blood running down into his beard from a split lip. The gunner spoke only two words:

“She’s loose.”

Then the darkness of Urg’naut himself descended over Calder’s vision, and something slammed into his back with the force of a stallion’s kick. He buckled and fell, his belly pressed against smooth, seamless wood. His spine felt as though someone had run a carriage into it, and trying to catch a breath felt like inhaling a lung full of needles. The recent injury to his shoulder screamed, and he had unhealed bruises over practically every inch of his body.

His sense of time had shattered, so he didn’t know how long it took him to return to coherent thought. Only a handful of seconds, most likely, but it felt longer. With his brain returned to its proper position, he understood his situation in full clarity.

Someone was sitting on him. Someone with an arm wrapped around his eyes and a cold point of metal against the back of his neck.

He left his mouth to steer itself, hoping to say something witty, but all that came out was a sort of muffled grunt. The assassin on his neck sensed this and shifted her weight slightly, enough to allow him to breathe without unfortunate pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” the Consultant said, from her position on his back. “I can’t allow you to call on your Vessel, or I might have to kill you before we’ve had a chance to talk. Please understand.”

If I have to be assassinated on my own deck, at least she’s polite about it, he thought. Out loud, he said, “Quite understandable.” His voice came out as an animal noise, closer to the squeal of a pig than to human speech.

She flipped him over without allowing him to respond, knocking his wounded shoulder and the back of his head on the deck again. He scrambled for his bearings, staring up at the stretched, green-veined skin of his sails—translucent in the sunlight—that loomed above him. Before he gathered himself again, she had her knee pressed to the base of his throat and the tip of a bronze-bladed dagger under his chin.

“My name is Meia, Captain Marten,” she said. “We’re going to renegotiate the course of this ship.” Her voice was businesslike and professional, but her eyes were the vertical-slitted orange of a draconic Kameira. They had been blue only days before, when he’d fought her in the crumbling corridor of a Gray Island prison. Her blond hair hung loose, though short enough that it stayed out of her eyes, and she wore tight clothes of unrelieved black. One bronze knife was entirely too close for comfort, pushing as it was against his skin, and she held the other reversed in her left hand. Free for use, he supposed.

“I remembered your name, Meia,” he said, and his voice came out reasonably human this time.

“You should, since you abducted me. That’s a new crime for you, isn’t it?”

“As the offender, yes. I’ve been the victim of abductions, however temporary, more times than I would like to admit.”

“That should give you some sympathy for my position.” The cold edge of bronze pressed harder under his chin, and he couldn’t ignore the Intent that leaked out from the weapon.

The man begs for mercy, but mercy is not called for, so the blade draws his blood.

Agitated and drunk, the soldiers attack, but they do not know their opponent. The blade draws their blood.

The child of death and unnatural life lets out a howl, shrieking as it wraps its fleshy tentacles around the woman’s leg. Bronze flashes, and the blade draws its blood.

Over and over, Calder Read the history of violence. The visions came with the weight of endlessness, as though he could dig forever and always unearth some older death at the end of this assassin’s blade. Intent and significance hung heavy in the bronze, such that it took everything he had to shut them out.

So heavy that the weapon almost seemed to have a mind of its own. It wasn’t Awakened, he would have sensed that, but it was only one technicality away. He was afraid he might Awaken it with a stray thought.

Awakening would change the physical shape of the blade, likely resulting in his throat slit. As that was the exact situation he was currently endeavoring to avoid, he corralled his mind as tightly as possible.

“…for the Island,” Meia finished, waiting on his response.

The Reading hadn’t taken long, relatively speaking, but long enough that he’d missed whatever the Consultant had tried to say. He gave her a smile before realizing that even that much movement brought a flare of pain from the dagger’s tip. He gave up smiling.

“I apologize, Consultant Meia, I was distracted by your weapon. Would you mind repeating that? Please?” He had no choice but to pray to the Unknown God that she found it easier to persuade him than to throw his body overboard. She could sail the ship, with enough motivation. As long as the Lyathatan beneath the ship remained quiet, The Testament would function as well as anything else on the water. It would be a bit undermanned, but he was certain Meia would find her way around that minor obstacle.

Her hand on the knife flexed, muscles unnaturally bulging and shifting. Veins stood out blue against her pale skin, and her nails extended half an inch. Orange eyes flared.

But she gathered herself with a visible effort, and no strain or anger dyed her voice when she spoke. “This ship will return to the Gray Island immediately, where you will deposit me and surrender yourselves to the Consultant’s Guild. You will not be killed, nor even harmed, only detained and questioned. Gently. You will remain a prisoner, but a safe one, if you cooperate now and set course for the Island.”

“Attractive,” Calder said. “I can see what happens if I don’t oblige.” He could feel blood leaking out around her weapon’s tip.

“I’d prefer it if you did.”

“Very well. I give you my word of honor that I will sail back to the Gray Island without resistance. Furthermore, I will not harm you, and I will remand myself into the custody of the Consultant Architects upon our arrival.”

Meia withdrew her dagger, and her eyes faded to blue. It was a disturbing sight. She let up pressure on his chest, leaving only a throbbing ache, and stood. “You’ve made things much easier for all of us, Captain Marten. It would have been a waste to kill you when you can make the journey so much faster.”

We’re being very polite to each other for a couple of liars, Calder thought. For one thing, he harbored no illusions about what would happen to him if he returned to the headquarters of the Consultant’s Guild. He’d just launched an attack on their Island, during which—due to no fault of his—most of the landscape was destroyed. On top of that, a Consultant assassin had pursued him for the last several months. He couldn’t imagine they would let an outstanding contract go, if only for the pride of their Guild.

Meia was certainly lying about his treatment…which was just as well, because he had no intentions of returning.

Foster and his bloody beard stumbled over, watching the retreating Consultant’s back carefully. “She’s a polite one, but you shouldn’t take her lightly. Play it quiet for now.”

“Where’s Andel?” Calder asked.

“Play it quiet for now,” Foster insisted. “You’re ignoring me, and that makes me edgy.”

Calder sat up glanced over the deck. No one but Foster and the Consultant. “Is he okay?”

“You’re still ignoring me, and I’m starting to sweat. I’m thinking you’re going to try something, Captain, which would be a bad idea. Captain. Captain.”

With a wince, Calder hauled himself to his feet. He knew it was going to hurt, and it did—a lance of pain shot up from his bandaged leg. As he climbed to a standing position, he shot his Intent down into the ship.

The ship has only a dim sense of who travels within it, besides the Soulbound, who flares like a beacon in The Testament’s awareness. Two ordinary humans walk on the deck, near the Soulbound captain. Two more ride below. The smaller one is tucked away in the corner of a passenger cabin, while the larger waits in the hold.

“Why is he in the hold?” Calder asked.

“He, uh…” Foster squinted in the distance and scratched his gray-bearded chin, avoiding Calder’s gaze. “He thought the Consultant might be hungry.”

Calder braced himself against the mast as though trying to push it over. He’d lost Urzaia and Jerri both—the second memory burned hot—and now what crew remained had given in to the demands of an enemy. Petal he could understand; she was crouched in her room, distracting herself with alchemy. He’d expect nothing less. But Foster would oppose anyone given the slightest excuse. And Andel? Calder would have thought the Quartermaster would go to his grave before he surrendered.

Meia had retreated to a polite distance, keeping her eyes on the sea, and it occurred to Calder that she was being respectful. Giving the Captain a moment with his crew member. An assassin should know better than to lower her guard.

“…you’ve got that look, Calder, and it’s not going to lead us anywhere wise. You hearing me?”

Calder focused once again on the Intent bound into his ship, the power that fused each dark green board together into a smooth whole. His mind slid down below the hull, to the bolts that anchored the first links of two ancient chains.

The chains were invested to restrain an Elder, to restrict its powers and bend them to the will of the ship’s captain. They connected to a pair of manacles, which wrapped around a monster’s wrists.

With a thought, Calder ordered the Lyathatan to rise.

Next to the ship, the water darkened and swelled. A head the size of a longboat crested the waves, its deep blue scales glistening in the sun. Six black eyes emerged in two rows of three, gills on its neck flapping in the air. It opened a shark’s mouth and hissed, revealing endless legions of jagged teeth. Webbed spines flared up on its back. Its torso was like a man’s, covered in the pale skin of a fish’s belly, and its muscular arms ended in taloned hands.

The sea was more than deep enough to submerge the Lyathatan completely, but it stood as though the waves were only waist-high. Calder had never clearly seen its legs, but from what he’d glimpsed, they looked like a combination of human legs and a pair of fish tails. Like some sort of bizarre, Elder-spawned echo of a mermaid.

Meia had begun to turn as soon as the ocean surface bulged, but Calder’s mind was already in the ship. It was easier than flipping a finger to wrap her in the ship’s lines, binding her while the Lyathatan made its entrance.

The ropes lasted exactly no time at all, as two bronze blades flashed. For a heartbeat he couldn’t believe it, even as he watched shredded pieces of rope float down. Her knives had been sheathed, and she’d been facing the other direction. She couldn’t have sensed the ropes coming. It wasn’t possible, even for a Reader.

He started to tip The Testament even as the Lyathatan reached out, but it was too late; Meia had already reached him. One bronze knife sliced his belt, which slid to the deck, carrying with it the sword he’d tried to draw. It was an Awakened blade, granted to him as part of a deal with a Great Elder, but it did him precisely as much good as a bent wooden stick. Her other knife was back in its sheath, but just as he noticed, he realized that her empty hand was coming up to his throat anyway.

Not empty. The sunlight glinted off a needle pinched between her fingers.

Calder winced at the pain in his neck as she struck like a scorpion. He’d been poisoned by one of these needles before, so he knew exactly what to expect.

Only two seconds later, he collapsed. Every one of his injuries burst to life again. The agony swallowed him, but at least he had one thing to look forward to: soon, he would pass out.

From his angle lying on his side, he could just see the Lyathatan’s chest and elbow, but he still felt its Intent. It had stopped as soon as he was incapacitated, and Calder wasn’t sure whether that came from concern for his well-being or a cruel sense of humor.

A strange Intent crawled up the chains. In addition to the Elder’s usual distant calculations and slow rage, it was now feeling something new. Something almost like…amusement.

The Lyathatan opened its mouth, though Calder could only see its lower jaw, and let out a hissing laugh.

Even the Elders were laughing at him.

Foster knelt by Calder’s side and rapped him on the forehead. “Well, that was the most stupid thing I’ve ever seen you do. And that’s a prestigious record, I don’t say it lightly. She fought Urzaia, you’re not going to catch her off guard.”

You could have reminded me sixty seconds ago, Calder thought, but nothing made it out of his paralyzed mouth.

Andel emerged from below deck, climbing out with a bottle of wine in one hand and a basket in the other. “The bread is relatively fresh, and we have some seasoned fish and olives to go with it. I’m not quite sure about the wine, with Petal…ah, I see the Captain is here.”

Meia sighed. “He tried to set his Elderspawn on me. Evidently he mistook my mercy for idiocy.”

“The Captain’s inadequacies aside, we’re about to have a problem.” Andel turned to the Lyathatan, which spat out laughter even as it slowly descended into the ocean, its six black eyes trained on Calder. If the Elderspawn weren’t completely capable of destroying this ship and everyone on it, Calder would have sought revenge for this humiliation.

Come to think of it, why did he have to witness this scene at all? Why was he still conscious?

“The Eternal will have seen that,” Andel continued. “They’re only minutes out. We intended to follow them to the Capital, but now that they’ve seen something’s wrong, I’m sure they will send someone over.”

Meia’s soft footsteps padded past Calder’s ears as she stepped over his head. “So the Elderspawn was a signal. Nice try, but if Shera were in my position, she would have killed the captain immediately. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Calder hadn’t thought of using the Lyathatan as a signal, but he appreciated the results. When he discussed this with Andel in the future, he would pretend this was his plan all along.

The Consultant leaned over, pulling Calder’s spyglass from inside his jacket. She turned to the railing, and metal scraped as the spyglass slid open. She must be inspecting Cheska Bennett’s ship. “Who’s onboard?” Meia asked.

“Three Guild Heads,” Andel answered grimly, and the assassin let out an involuntary growl. An actual growl, as though Calder was lying at the feet of a massive hunting dog.

She didn’t give any sign that she’d done anything out of the ordinary, but Calder wished he could exchange glances with Andel and Foster. “How long before they get over here?”

“Not long,” Bliss said.

Calder’s hopes soared.

The Head of the Blackwatch Guild slid into his view—actually slid, skating over the portion of the deck that had been splashed in the wake of the Lyathatan’s rise. He hadn’t seen her arrive on the ship, but that was no surprise. He doubted he would have seen anything even if he could still turn his head.

Bliss looked exactly the same as always: her long hair a shade closer to white than her skin, wearing a black coat that hung down to her ankles. The row of silver buttons down the middle each bore the crest of the Blackwatch: six inhuman eyes on a bed of tentacles.

She fixed her gaze on a point over and behind Calder. “Oh? Calder Marten said you were tied up.”

“I was, at the time,” Meia responded. Calder’s spyglass fell as she dropped it, hitting him on the chest. It struck him right in the bandaged shoulder, and a weak groan escaped from his chest.

Why wasn’t he unconscious yet? His vision wasn’t even fading; nothing new seemed to be happening to him, but he was still locked in paralysis with his burning injuries.

Bliss slid sideways on the slick deck without taking her eyes from the Consultant. “You look strange. Do you know Nathanael Bareius?”

“I’ve never met him, but I’m familiar with his handiwork.” Meia’s hand flexed, stretching further. Muscles rippled up her arm, and her nails extended into claws.

“Hmm. We need Calder Marten, we’ve all agreed, but I don’t know what I should do with you. You’re not supposed to be here, you know. I—”

Bliss was cut off when Meia launched herself explosively across the deck. Calder could actually feel his Vessel tense beneath him at the force of her leap, and she descended on the Guild Head an instant later with bronze in one hand and claws bared in the other.

Calder had to strain his eyes to catch what happened next, and it still took several long seconds for his brain to piece it together. Meia’s dagger plunged down before her feet had even met the deck, and Bliss’ hand moved. The knuckles of her fist struck the flat of the blade, then the hand unfolded and pushed against Meia’s wrist. The Guild Head’s other arm came down straight onto Meia’s, pushing the clawed hand down and away.

As a result, the assassin landed with both arms pushed wide apart, as though she meant to wrap the shorter woman in an embrace. While Calder was still puzzling over their first exchange, Meia pushed her arms together, trying to overpower Bliss with sheer strength.

But Bliss released her immediately, skating backwards on the wet deck. Meia stopped before she drove a knife into her own palm.

“I see now,” Bliss said, calm as ever. “They’ve given you some supplementary systems. That’s very sad for you. How do you deal with the voices?”

Meia had stopped where Calder could see her face, and her Kameira eyes blazed with orange light. “You’re an artificial. I’d heard the rumors, but I never checked your file.” The Consultant’s face reddened and her shoulders trembled with palpable rage, but her expression remained focused and her knife steady. The combination made her seem much less human, giving the impression that her body was shaking without her. Like her flesh bore an anger that her mind could not touch.

By contrast, Bliss grew cold, her entire demeanor freezing over. “That’s a very rude thing to say. It suggests that I am an object, which I do not appreciate.”

Meia spent a long moment struggling, clearly trying to find the right words. “This is a waste of time for both of us,” she said at last. “I need transportation back to the Gray Island. Give me control of this ship for two days, and we can go our separate ways.”

Bliss squinted at Meia. “You’re suggesting that you will kill Calder Marten if I don’t comply. You could, I suppose. It would take me an instant to reach you, and he’s very close. You could step on his neck from there, or drive your dagger into his brain, or tear his head off, or kick him and break his spine, or crush his skull, or poison him, or constrict his windpipe…”

Calder wasn’t sure what Bliss intended, but he wished he could move enough to ask her to stop.

“Those are all options,” Meia agreed.

“That would be inconvenient for me,” Bliss allowed. “And I suspect Calder Marten wouldn’t like it very much either. Where would we find another Emperor at this hour?”

Meia went very still, and Calder would have groaned if he had any control over his voice. The last thing he needed was for Bliss to give the Consultants another reason to kill him.

“You want him to sit on the throne?”

Bliss nodded once, very precisely. “Well put. Yes, that’s exactly what we want him to do.”

The Consultant’s eyes flickered from Bliss to Calder, and Calder strained to move. He could practically hear Meia trying to decide if it would be worthwhile to assassinate him, even with the Guild Head there. Bliss’ litany rolled through his head, taunting him with all the ways he could die: crushed skull, collapsed throat, severed head, pierced brain…

With all his willpower focused on his body, Calder managed to lurch a few degrees to the side. He heaved himself over until most of his weight rested on his injured shoulder, sending lightning lancing through his arm and his entire chest. Perfect. Now I’ll be in even more pain before she kills me.

From his new perspective, he couldn’t see Bliss at all. Meia’s black shoe rested close to his head, and Andel stood at the other end of the ship, cradling the food and wine in his arms. He had stayed completely silent during the entire exchange, Calder noted, but at least he had the decency to look concerned. Foster was nowhere to be seen, but he hadn’t challenged Meia either. Surely he should have been able to line up a shot by now.

The rest of Calder’s view was taken up by the green-black of the deck and a stretch of bright, rolling ocean. The red outline of The Eternal bobbed like a toy in a bathtub as it headed toward him, which was almost a relief; Cheska Bennett would arrive just in time to leave him a stirring eulogy.

He left those thoughts behind, searching for some way out before the Consultant’s blade descended on his neck. He wasn’t dead yet, so there had to be some options.

Focusing his awareness, he prepared to Read the ship. Any unnatural movement would surely alert Meia, so he had to be careful…

At that moment, his new point of view proved to be an advantage. Just as he started to send his Intent down into The Testament, he caught a glimpse of motion around The Eternal. He moved his eyes up, concentrating on the crimson ship.

The Guild Head’s flagship was a deep blood-red, and made of seamless wood just as Calder’s own Vessel. Its sails were a bright red as well, and alchemical flames trailed along the bottom of the hull as the ship set the ocean alight wherever it sailed.

But as Calder stared, that spot of scarlet began to twist, warped as though by heat. The air shifted in a visible spiral, forming into a bubble of distorted space that engulfed half the ship.

This was the Aion Sea, where the bizarre was more commonplace than the natural, but still…Calder had never seen anything like this. Was this an attack, or some strange attempt on Cheska’s part to rescue him?

He got his answer an instant later, when the bubble popped, tearing The Eternal in half.

The bow stayed entirely intact, but the stern vanished in a spray of debris. Not an explosion but a dismantling, like the twisting bubble had taken the vessel apart piece by piece.

The sound reached Calder’s ears a second later, like a cannon-shot. Deceptively slowly, The Eternal filled with water, its mast tilting backwards like a felled tree. Its nose twisted up, angling toward the sky.

Then he heard the screams.