Read Online Of Dawn and Darkness (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 2) by Will Wight - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Will Wight
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brand-new ship.”
Calder did his best to match the man’s smile. “I wasn’t breaking myself out.”
He laughed like Calder had told a joke. “Well met, Navigator. We’ll get along, I can tell. You can call me Nine.”
Calder turned his attention to the man with the shield. “And you, sir?”
The pale man didn’t seem to notice that Calder had spoken. He kept his eyes on the cage.
“You’ll have to forgive Eight,” Nine said. “He’s picky.”
Eight didn’t clarify.
“Eight and Nine,” Calder said. “There aren’t seven more of you, are there?”
Nine chucked easily and rapped his knuckles on the bars. “We’re not supposed to use our real names on this trip. Not sure what the point is. You may have noticed that we have a little trouble blending in.”
It had been a busy, even catastrophic few days. That was how Calder justified it. There was no other explanation for why he hadn’t noticed the gold crest that each man wore pinned on his shirt.
A small, golden pin marked with the image of a crown.
The Golden Crown: symbol of the Champion’s Guild.
Calder couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. How had he not noticed before? There were a pair of Champions on his deck. Real, living, Imperial Champions.
On his ship.
No Guild had made more of an impact on Imperial history than the Champions. All the ancient writers spoke of them. Loreli, the original strategist: “If you may hire a Champion or persuade one to your cause, then victory is certain. Otherwise, heed my teaching.”
Heliora, the Witness who chronicled the Kings’ War: “I stood motionless from sunrise to sunset, watching the armies clash, recording every maneuver and every feint of one general against another. Then the Champions arrived, and I left, for the battle was over.”
Sadesthenes, the great historian and philosopher: “If all men were Champions, there would be no war, for such a conflict would be too great and terrible to consider.”
Nazin, the hero of A Tragedy of Sand and Tears : “I am not a Champion, my love. I am but a man.”
Everyone knew about Soulbound. They were impressive and even somewhat mystical beings, but as a Reader, Calder understood them. The birth of a Soulbound was simply one phenomenon of Reading and Intent, something that the Magisters were still studying to this day. They already understood how it worked, and someday they would understand why.
But Champions were not just Soulbound. They were the superhuman products of a secret process, trained from birth and raised to be unstoppable in battle. They were invincible warriors, the stuff of legends, the kinds of people who could tear giant Kameira apart with their bare hands and laugh while doing it.
And now, two of them were standing on his ship.
Calder couldn’t seem to fit his bulging eyes back into his skull. He tried to speak, but his mind had frozen.
Nine either didn’t notice his distress or didn’t care. He looked aside from Calder, where Andel was climbing out of the hold. The Heartlander man’s white suit was still pristine, somehow.
“The Captain has arrived, Pilgrim,” Nine called. “Make ready to sail.”
Andel didn’t bother to look at the Champion. “I’m not a Luminian Pilgrim any longer. And we’re still awaiting one more. A young lady.”
Nine gave a low whistle and nudged Calder with his elbow.
Calder felt the Champion was misunderstanding something, but he couldn’t find the words to explain.
Eight didn’t react to anything, keeping his pale arms folded and his eyes locked on the cage. For the first time, Calder noticed the man behind the bars.
He was obviously a prisoner, manacled to a set of chains that were themselves bolted to the cage floor. He was naked but for a cloth tied around his waist, and built along the same lines as the two Champions; he looked as if he could uproot stone pillars with nothing more than the strength of his arms. Blond hair fell, loose and ragged, to frame his face, and his
Calder did his best to match the man’s smile. “I wasn’t breaking myself out.”
He laughed like Calder had told a joke. “Well met, Navigator. We’ll get along, I can tell. You can call me Nine.”
Calder turned his attention to the man with the shield. “And you, sir?”
The pale man didn’t seem to notice that Calder had spoken. He kept his eyes on the cage.
“You’ll have to forgive Eight,” Nine said. “He’s picky.”
Eight didn’t clarify.
“Eight and Nine,” Calder said. “There aren’t seven more of you, are there?”
Nine chucked easily and rapped his knuckles on the bars. “We’re not supposed to use our real names on this trip. Not sure what the point is. You may have noticed that we have a little trouble blending in.”
It had been a busy, even catastrophic few days. That was how Calder justified it. There was no other explanation for why he hadn’t noticed the gold crest that each man wore pinned on his shirt.
A small, golden pin marked with the image of a crown.
The Golden Crown: symbol of the Champion’s Guild.
Calder couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. How had he not noticed before? There were a pair of Champions on his deck. Real, living, Imperial Champions.
On his ship.
No Guild had made more of an impact on Imperial history than the Champions. All the ancient writers spoke of them. Loreli, the original strategist: “If you may hire a Champion or persuade one to your cause, then victory is certain. Otherwise, heed my teaching.”
Heliora, the Witness who chronicled the Kings’ War: “I stood motionless from sunrise to sunset, watching the armies clash, recording every maneuver and every feint of one general against another. Then the Champions arrived, and I left, for the battle was over.”
Sadesthenes, the great historian and philosopher: “If all men were Champions, there would be no war, for such a conflict would be too great and terrible to consider.”
Nazin, the hero of A Tragedy of Sand and Tears : “I am not a Champion, my love. I am but a man.”
Everyone knew about Soulbound. They were impressive and even somewhat mystical beings, but as a Reader, Calder understood them. The birth of a Soulbound was simply one phenomenon of Reading and Intent, something that the Magisters were still studying to this day. They already understood how it worked, and someday they would understand why.
But Champions were not just Soulbound. They were the superhuman products of a secret process, trained from birth and raised to be unstoppable in battle. They were invincible warriors, the stuff of legends, the kinds of people who could tear giant Kameira apart with their bare hands and laugh while doing it.
And now, two of them were standing on his ship.
Calder couldn’t seem to fit his bulging eyes back into his skull. He tried to speak, but his mind had frozen.
Nine either didn’t notice his distress or didn’t care. He looked aside from Calder, where Andel was climbing out of the hold. The Heartlander man’s white suit was still pristine, somehow.
“The Captain has arrived, Pilgrim,” Nine called. “Make ready to sail.”
Andel didn’t bother to look at the Champion. “I’m not a Luminian Pilgrim any longer. And we’re still awaiting one more. A young lady.”
Nine gave a low whistle and nudged Calder with his elbow.
Calder felt the Champion was misunderstanding something, but he couldn’t find the words to explain.
Eight didn’t react to anything, keeping his pale arms folded and his eyes locked on the cage. For the first time, Calder noticed the man behind the bars.
He was obviously a prisoner, manacled to a set of chains that were themselves bolted to the cage floor. He was naked but for a cloth tied around his waist, and built along the same lines as the two Champions; he looked as if he could uproot stone pillars with nothing more than the strength of his arms. Blond hair fell, loose and ragged, to frame his face, and his
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