Of Kings and Killers (Elder Empire Sea #3) - WIll Wight Page 0,74
drop that resolve instantly.
He wanted to see her punishment with his own eyes. And he wanted to know why the Independents had ignored his messages; he had clearly told them that this was a matter of survival.
“The Champions…they couldn’t even save themselves from the Consultants.”
Calder looked from Guard to Guard. There were six still in here with him, as well as squads of four outside both doors into this storage room. Even a ghost couldn’t get into this room without raising an alarm.
All six of the Guards wore shadowed expressions. They looked like Urg’naut himself had pulled a shadow of gloom over them.
Calder almost reached beneath his armor. In a concealed pocket beneath the plates, he carried the Emperor’s crown. He had intended it as a backup weapon against the Consultants, but now it might come in handy to soothe his allies.
Or…would it?
The old Emperor hadn’t understood the emotions of men. Calder did.
He pulled off his helmet and sat it next to him. “Whew! Hard to breathe in that thing. I can see why you all don’t wear helmets all the time.”
Some glanced at him, but no one said a word about him taking his armor off.
“Listen to me,” Calder commanded, and somewhat surprisingly they all did. The six Guards turned to him with looks of expectation.
Well, he’d try not to let them down.
“As you’ve heard, three Champions were killed recently. I have no proof, but we all know it was the Consultants. There are a million rumors about them: they’re everywhere, they know everything, they can kill anyone. But you know what? They had to kill Champions in their sleep. Or bomb them when they went to relieve themselves.”
He threw out his hands. “You think they could touch Champions on a battlefield?”
A few of the Guards shook their heads; they’d all seen Champions at work before.
“Even at the Palace battle, it took entire teams of alchemists just to hold the Champions down. Not to kill them! Just to keep them from killing everyone else. Now, out there, we have a pair of fully armed and armored Champions against a squad of cowardly assassins who have never held a sword in their lives.”
One of the Guards cleared his throat. “My great-uncle used to work for the Consultants, and weapons training is standard—”
“Never drawn a sword in battle, then! It’s a figure of speech. The point is, if I were a gambling man—and I am—then I know who I’d bet on.”
The mist had grown a little thicker, which made his voice seem more faint, so he raised it further. “I’m putting all my money, and my life itself, in the hands of the Champions…and the Imperial Guard. What do a bunch of spies have on you, huh?”
The long-armed Guard forced a laugh, but at least his expression looked a little better. The other five were little more than shapes in the mist, but he hoped he had lightened the mood at least some.
The lock on the western door clicked, and Calder perked up. If the outside Guards were coming in, that meant there must have been some news. Which could only mean that the Gardener had either escaped or been taken.
Of the two Champions remaining to him, Tyria had the Soulbound power more suited to capturing enemies. Rosephus was temperamentally unfit for taking prisoners, and also his Vessel allowed him to create spectral weapons.
Apparently all the blades he had strapped over his entire body weren’t enough; he had to conjure new ones.
Most likely, Shera would escape. If she ran into Rosephus, she’d be dead, and Tyria would take her captive. He found himself rooting for Tyria, but he would accept any of those fates. At least they would come away from a conflict with the advantage.
“Identify yourself,” the Guard on the inside of the door called.
Before Calder could react, the door flew open and all of Bastion’s Veil flooded inside.
The fog had strange effects on sound, so all of the Guard shouts seemed to come from all directions. Panicked cries and questions bounced throughout the room, but Calder could see no one.
He couldn’t even see the helmet sitting on the ground next to him.
Panic spiked in his throat, and he scrambled with both hands, sweeping them along the floor. He knew the helmet had to be around here somewhere, and if Shera caught him with his head bare, he would die in an instant.
Finally, he hit something, and he seized the helmet in triumph.