Will Wight - Of Dawn and Darkness

But Bliss cocked her head, thinking. “Someone has been considerate and removed Bastion’s Veil. If it stays gone, I can release the full extent of my ability. I can remove the island, if you like.”

Calder shivered.

“But if the Veil comes back, they will restrict me almost completely. I still do not think I will be in danger from the ordinary Consultants, but under those conditions, I will not be an opponent fit for Jorin Curse-breaker.”

Andel cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Bastion’s Veil?”

“The wall of mist that’s usually around the island,” Calder replied. He’d learned some things this past few months, after all. He had no idea what the Veil could do, but he at least knew what it was called.

Teach looked troubled, and her Kameira croaked at her from behind. She reached back to calm it, stroking the glittering scales crowning its head. “I was not aware of that. More reason to strike quickly.”

An explosion rang out from the island, followed by a splash next to The Eternal. The front of the Navigator fleet had gotten into range of the Consultants’ cannons.

General Teach’s gaze moved to Calder. “You have the crown?”

“Yes,” Calder said, resisting the urge to add ‘ma’am.’

“Try to use it on the Consultants. If it works on them from a distance, then you’ll conquer the island yourself. If Bliss and I can kill Jorin or force him to retreat quickly enough, we’ll force the Architects to surrender on our own.”

“And if they have countermeasures for both?” Calder asked, knowing the answer.

“Then we do it the hard way,” Teach said. She swung up onto the back of her winged Kameira, a legend in crimson-and-black armor. Tyrfang hung behind her in its sheath, radiating deadly Intent.

Bliss joined her a moment later, hopping straight from the deck onto the lizard’s back. “Good-bye, Calder Marten. I will see you again tonight, if we both survive. Perhaps also if we both die, assuming common beliefs about the afterlife are—”

The rushing wind of the Kameira’s takeoff swallowed her last words.

The cannons from the island were firing in earnest now, a distant and irregular drumbeat. No Navigators had returned fire, likely because none of them were within range of a valuable target.

Calder looked at what remained of his crew. Dalton Foster, the gunsmith, sitting on a cannon. Andel Petronus, the quartermaster, standing calmly with his hands behind his back. Petal, the alchemist, quivering with her head peeking up from below.

It was the first time he’d been alone with them in weeks.

“Five years,” he said quietly. “I’ve known some of you for longer, but it’s been five years since we knew I’d end up here. I was hoping that more of us would make it, but…we’re here, and we’re together.” He had more to say, but he concluded with a simple, “Thank you.”

Foster nodded. “Captain.”

Andel bowed. “For better or worse, you’ve made my life much more interesting.”

Petal popped her head up. “I still like it here,” she said.

Something snapped in the air like a leather flag flapping, and Shuffles bowled past Petal and flew up to Calder. Its claws dug into Calder’s shoulder, its tentacles tickled his cheek, and its black eyes scowled. “FOR BETTER OR WORSE,” it shouted.

Calder rubbed its head, though he couldn’t tell if it liked that or hated it. “That was almost heartwarming, coming from you.” With another effort of Intent, Calder once again Read the Lyathatan.

Move, he ordered.

Even as The Testament jerked forward, the Elder’s resentment came through clearly. The human orders me, he borrows the power of the Great Ones, but he will see. In only ten thousand years, I will rule a piece of this ocean floor, and my domain will be absolute.

In ten thousand years, maybe it would hunt down Calder’s distant descendants, but that was their problem. For now, he needed the ship to move.

Before long, he’d caught up to the rest of the fleet.

Two Navigator Vessels were obviously taking on water, having taken too many hits, their crew floating on longboats or simply swimming away. Several others sported damage, but most of the Guild reached the dock of the Gray Island largely unharmed.

The first ships pulled up to the edge of the dock or to the rocky shores of the island, Imperial Guards leaping off the decks and onto dry land.

They faced no enemy.

Silently, the Consultants were allowing the Navigators to settle in, delivering their payloads of soldiers. Other than the cannons, which had now gone quiet, there was no sign that the island was even inhabited.

Under the cracked sky, all was peaceful.

Calder pulled out his captain’s horn, a hollow tin cone that magnified his voice. It had been invested to amplify its effect, and as he spoke, his voice boomed out over the island.

“Friends of the Consultant’s Guild, this is the Imperial Steward, speaking with the authority of the Emperor himself. Lay down your weapons and come out of hiding. You will not be harmed. I repeat, lay down your weapons and come out of hiding. You will not be harmed.”

Calder had been somewhat worried that he wouldn’t be able to tell if the Consultants countered the power of the crown or if they simply couldn’t hear him, but he could feel the Intent flowing from the Emperor’s crown and infusing his words. If any Consultants were within earshot, and still felt any loyalty to the Empire, they would obey.

But at his words, a thin cloud of mist rolled down out of the trees. Not a thick bank of fog, but hazy wisps like smoke. The cloud got thicker deeper in the island, and he thought he heard crashes in the distance, but it could be the waves playing tricks on his ears.

Not one Consultant showed up.

Cheska called over to him, a captain’s horn of her own in hand. “The crown’s a misfire. We’re heading in.”

Calder waved back, acknowledging her point, as Cheska signaled the Imperial Guards, soldiers, and various members of the Navigator’s Guild to advance up the slopes of the Gray Island. Every ship had come packed with combatants except The Testament ; Teach had insisted that he should never come closer to shore than the sound of his horn would carry.

The sturdiest Imperial Guards marched in the front, those with thick skin or rigid carapace that would make them tough to kill. So they were the first to run into the traps.

Tiny alchemical explosives popped into flares of light all across the face of the island at the same time, sending chunks of rock rolling back into the advancing forces. Some Guards stood firm against the assault, while others bowled over into the men behind them.

After the miniature avalanche, the advance froze for a few minutes, while the Guards got their bearings. Calder didn’t see any deaths and surprisingly few injuries, but the armored Guards had taken the brunt of the trap. As they gathered themselves, the Imperial Guards advanced once again.

This time, Calder didn’t see what struck them down. It might have been darts, or a poison gas, or even bees, as far as he knew. But the front ranks started slapping at themselves, waving crazily in the air, and collapsing. Some of the toughest members withstood the traps, continuing forward, but many others stayed on the ground. Now, there were corpses.

But after the first wave, no one behind them suffered the same symptoms. Either the traps had run out of darts, or the Consultants were preparing a different surprise. It was hard to see details in the chaos, even through a spyglass.

Seconds later, the ground erupted in enemies. Black-clad Consultants burst from behind boulders, from under camouflaged trap doors, and from the trees. As one, they each discharged pistols, stabbed with spears, or struck with their daggers. They seemed to come out of nowhere, at least three attackers for each victim, and then they faded back into their territory.