Of Kings and Killers (Elder Empire Sea #3) - WIll Wight Page 0,1

rose in clouds, and both horses and the coachman were dead.

This wasn’t Karson’s moment yet, but it was the most crucial of the operation. Because now the Imperial Guard were enraged.

None of them had died. A Guard with hooked, clawed hands scaled the side of a building faster than Karson would have dreamed possible, tearing one gunman apart and tossing the other screaming over the side. A woman with organic plates bulging under her uniform protected another Guard whose eyes bulged from his skull. That one leveled a musket and took out a patriot with a resonant crack.

Another team, half a dozen men and women who put the good of the Empire ahead of their own lives, dashed out into the streets. They leveled weapons and shouted as loudly as they could.

Karson stared at them, determined to witness their deaths. Their commitment would temper his own.

They matched the Guards in number, but this team was called the Bait Team. They had the hardest job, for theirs was simply to die.

When the door to the carriage opened and a woman in polished black-and-red armor stepped out, Karson knew their bait had been taken.

General Teach had served the true Emperor, and not one of Karson’s patriots could fully explain why she had transferred her loyalty to a lesser copy. Some believed that the false Emperor had blackmailed her, others that she had been in thrall to the Elders all along, and the true Emperor had merely held her leash.

Personally, Karson believed she was just simple in the head, more animal than human, and she hunted like a dog wherever her master pointed. But dogs could be dangerous.

Icy blue eyes stared out from her helmet, and one of her gauntleted hands had already wrapped around the sword-hilt protruding from her shoulder.

Before a single one of the Bait Team fired a shot, Teach bared an inch of her blade.

A wave of darkness thundered down the street with a sound that Karson heard in his very soul. Flowers in windowsills died, dirt flew to the sides, and cobbles cracked.

All six of the Bait Team fell over. Simply dead.

The Imperial Guard who had been in the path groaned and braced themselves against the ground or nearby walls, looking sick, but none of them died or showed any injury. Teach raised her fist in a sign.

But her enemies had signaled each other too.

Ten of Karson’s companions burst from hiding, all around the streets. They surrounded Teach and her Guards, and the sound of gunfire was suddenly overwhelming.

General Teach couldn’t unleash Tyrfang, her legendary sword, unless she wanted to kill all her guards and her precious false Emperor at the same time. They had her pinned down. She could only murder them one at a time, which she did with clockwork efficiency, sending out lashes of darkness without moving from the carriage door.

All of the patriots had exposed themselves against her except one.

Finally, it was Karson’s turn.

For all the blood he’s spilled, the voice of his hatred whispered, you deserve to spill his.

He ran out, keeping low, holding his musket under one arm as he pulled out a pair of vials from his pocket. It was only a few paces to the carriage, but he breathed harder than he ever had in his life, dashing past Imperial Guards that were all occupied with their own opponents.

He needed only a second, hurling the pair of vials beneath the carriage. The glass shattered, spilling a pair of liquids on the street.

The instant the fluids touched, they reacted. A blaze shot up, consuming the carriage in a blink.

This was the most powerful incendiary that they could create, bound by their limited alchemical knowledge and the requirement that it stay stable until used. The Guards shouted, turning to Karson, but he had already raised his musket.

The plan had gone even better than Karson had expected. The door was opening, and Teach covered the other door, which meant the false Emperor was emerging without her protection. If he had come out the other side, Karson wouldn’t have the privilege of killing the man himself.

He raised his musket, the gun shivering with his excitement. The Guards would be too late.

The second a figure began to emerge, Karson squeezed the trigger.

The musket-ball bounced off Calder Marten’s helmet.

He wore a suit of pure white armor that covered him from head to toe, his helmet covering his face entirely. Karson couldn’t see an inch of the man’s skin, only the dark that stretched between white plates. Even