Of Kings and Killers (Elder Empire Sea #3) - WIll Wight Page 0,39

of blood, and a six-inch length of wood jutted from his chest. It had penetrated his armor, drilling through a piece of steel that was still fused to his flesh; Estyr must have launched it at him like a bullet in the last instant.

A member of the Alchemist’s Guild, no doubt taken captive out of the battle, worked desperately on his wounds. She took a breath as Calder walked in, wiping sweat from her forehead but leaving a swipe of Kern’s blood behind.

“I don’t have anything here,” she said to Bliss. The alchemist took on a begging tone. “Please, I can’t do any more. He’s gone.”

Kern’s chest still rose and fell with irregular breaths.

“He’s breathing,” Calder said.

The alchemist didn’t seem to want to look away from Bliss. “Champions don’t give up easily. Even when they’re already dead.”

Bliss stood against the wall with her spine straight, but her eyes were hooded and dark. “I could have silenced them all.”

“Yes,” Calder said. “I’m sorry.”

His mother looked at him with pain on her face, but she didn’t disagree.

Together, in silence, they stood vigil until the Head of the Champion’s Guild breathed his last.

Chapter Seven

three years ago

It took three days for Calder and The Testament to reach the roaming island, but when they did, he didn’t need Jerri’s confirmation of their coordinates to know they were in the right place.

The island was dense with growth, choked with jungle in a way that you rarely saw on the Aion Sea, and the water was shallow enough around the shore that Calder would never have pegged it for a roaming island except for one detail: the unmistakable shape of The Reliable tangled up in the treeline.

All Navigator ships were one-of-a-kind Awakened objects, but this one was distinct even among its fellows. It looked like a giant conch shell that had been grown into the shape of a ship, its form curving in pink-and-seafoam curls to form a hull. Its mast jutted up like a natural growth, though its sails were made from ordinary white sailcloth.

The Reliable had been caught in the island’s clutches. Trees and vines had extended from the jungle, seizing the ship and dragging it close. The sand beneath the ship pushed it upwards so that it had tilted, leaning drunkenly against the trees.

If Calder hadn’t known better, he would have thought the ship had run aground on this island years ago, long enough that trees and vines had grown up around it. But Captain Tommison’s contract had started a few months before, and his ship was half the speed of The Testament. He had made it only a week out from the Capital before the island had caught him.

If this roaming island had been predatory, the ship would have been sunk or consumed, the crown lost to Kelarac.

Looking at the pink ship, Calder thought of the man with the steel blindfold and what the Collector of Souls could do with the Emperor’s crown.

Even in the tropical wind, he shivered.

“We’ll have to take a longboat to shore,” he said, lowering his spyglass. “I don’t know how a roaming island brings a beach with it, but if that’s the strangest thing we see ashore, I’ll swallow a cannon.”

“Not one of my cannons,” Foster grumbled.

“I will, of course, require the services of my trusty cook.”

Urzaia Woodsman thumbed one of his hatchets. “Yes, Captain! There may be something delicious out there!”

Calder wasn’t entirely certain the man was joking, but he pushed on. “Foster, you stay here and man the guns. Petal—”

He was in time to catch one glimpse of frizzy hair before the trap door down to the hold slammed shut.

“—as you were, then, Petal. Mister Petronus, you’re coming ashore. Jerri, assist Foster with the cannons, if you don’t mind.”

Cheska had sent him away with the Guild’s best estimates of what could have happened to Captain Tommison and the crew of The Reliable, and Calder had spent plenty of time on speculations of his own. If they were only trapped by the island, then Calder would free them and escort them to the destination of their delivery.

Alternatively, they could have been apprehended by another party, in which case they were likely dead and the crown taken. Now that he could see the ship seized by the island, he considered this less likely…but still not impossible.

An enemy could have boarded the ship, killed the crew, and—unable to sail a Navigator’s vessel—run the ship aground.

Third, Captain Tommison could have taken the crown for himself and fled. Once again, the