Highlords of Phaer (Empire of Masks Book 1)

by Brock Deskins

  “Ah, yes. Although our population has recovered, there are few true believers, ones willing to make the sacrifice to earn the right to be called Necrophage. They instead try to lift themselves to higher levels through trickery and deceit, stealing what they cannot earn through hard work and study.”

  Amaia smiled and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. Fortunately, it was nothing I was unprepared to handle. I certainly hope they learned their lesson, but truly foolish children rarely become wiser no matter how severely you beat them.”

  “Unless one only perceives foolishness because they choose to see the world through eyes clouded with ignorance and delusions of their own glory.”

  “Courage often looks like glory seeking to cowards, like those who strike from the shadows instead of looking their foe in the eyes before driving the dagger into their heart.”

  Nerea stood, her jaw tight and her hands clenched into fists. “It is late, and I need to rest before tomorrow’s session.”

  Amaia stood with her and smiled. “Yes, we certainly do. I hope you are prepared whatever the outcome. I know I am.”

  Whatever retort Nerea had died on her lips as she spun and stalked from the cathedral. Not until she disappeared into the hall did Amaia allow her shoulders to slump under the fatigue weighing her down. She took several deep breaths before finding the strength to walk home.

  ***

  Amaia trudged into the house and found her parents waiting for her return. Her father showed a rare moment of compassion by wrapping her in a brief hug.

  “Amaia, what happened?” Moana fretted. “Dante came home and said you had been attacked. Are you all right? Where have you been?”

  Amaia backed out of Osane’s grasp. “I am fine. I had to see to some things before the council session tomorrow.”

  Osane frowned. “Amaia, I wish you would put this preposterous notion behind you. I doubt very much that whatever befell you was mere happenstance. You are too young to be making such powerful enemies. Take the hint and drop it. Pherick will likely step down within the next decade or even sooner. If the tempest continues to abate as you predict, your argument will be that much stronger and possibly made to a harbinger that is not already dead set against it.”

  “And who knows, you might find yourself sitting on the council by then with your very own vote,” Moana added.

  “It could be a century before a seat opens!” Amaia protested.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “Not likely, especially if Gaizar continues to ruffle feathers.”

  Amaia shook her head violently. “No, this could be a temporary lull in the storm. We cannot wait. I need you to support me on this. If you ever felt a true connection with me as your daughter, then you will not stand against me, not like you did.”

  Osane sighed. “Amaia, you are our daughter, of course we are connected, but this is a very delicate situation. You must understand why we had to split our votes. It was the only way to take a position of neutrality.”

  “There is no room for equivocation! You can either stand with me, vote to remove the harbinger, or be lost to me forever. I hope you make the right choice.”

  Amaia pushed past her parents and stormed into her room. Dante stood as soon as she entered and embraced her. “What have you been doing? I was worried.”

  “I’m fine. Everything is set for tomorrow.”

  “What about your parents? Will they cast their votes for you?”

  “I do not know. Whatever befalls them is entirely within their control. If they choose wrong, it is on their heads, not mine.”

  ***

  The Voulge hovered over Vulcrad’s mooring yard as the pilot prepared to set down in one of the massive cradles as softly as a leaf carried on a gentle breeze. Jareen leaned against the rail and stared out over the imposing city.

  While not quite as sprawling or majestic as Velaroth, Vulcrad was no less impressive. It was the manufacturing center of the empire, and everything about it marked it as a city built around the singular purpose of construction. Thick black plumes of smoke rose from the dozens of smelting and forging plants all across the city as if to compete with the smoldering volcano jutting above the horizon.

  The streets were wide and straight to accommodate a great deal of traffic, particularly the enormous wagons used to transport the iron ore and other materials brought in from the numerous mines carved into the mountains ringing the city. The people looked worn and tired but also strong, proud, and as unyielding as the steel they produced.

  Like all the great cities, a massive wall surrounded Vulcrad, protecting its citizens from Eidolan’s voracious wildlife and marauding nomads. Unlike its sister cities, Vulcrad’s walls and buildings remained raw, forgoing the esthetics of finishing their surfaces in stucco, thus reminding its citizens as well as visitors that it was a city that valued function far more than form.

  Jareen looked toward the bow and found Chief Inquisitor Quinlan also admiring the view. Having taken Sah Auberon’s advice, the inquisitor had kept out of sight for the past three days. Whether his decision to remain in his bunk was born of fear of the powerful sorcerer or he just needed the time to recuperate from his brutal thrashing, only he could say for certain. Jareen thought it was likely a mix of the two.

  Auberon appeared at Jareen’s side the moment the airship settled into the cradle and the crew rolled out the gangplank to the embarkation platform. The two men left the ship, with Quinlan following at a respectful distance, and descended the long stairs making a square spiral down to the ground.

  “I must admit, I am a bit concerned about my meeting with Overlord Caelen,” Auberon said as they navigated the steps. “I have no doubt that he has heard of the disastrous spectacle made of my previous demonstration, and that does create an obstacle for his hearing me out without bias.”

  “Explain its importance to him just as I did to you. He will at the very least want to see it for himself. Once he witnesses what the powder can do and what it will mean for him and his city, he will do anything to attain it.”

  Auberon smiled at his servant. “I was never one for giving speeches. Perhaps I should have you speak on my behalf.”

  Jareen shook his head. “The overlord will have no desire to hear anything a slave has to say. He would silence me the moment I opened my mouth. It is best that you speak with him alone while I work with the mine foreman to set up the demonstration.”

  “Of course; you are right.”

  A small delegation awaited them at the base of the stairs. The older man’s uniform marked him as the port-master while the others were obviously servants or laborers of some sort. The only other person of note was a stern, short woman in a uniform of red trousers and jacket. The coat bore black epaulets embroidered with a crossed gold hammer and pickaxe. Mousey brown hair pulled into a tight bun poked out from beneath the red, black-visored cap she wore.

  Taking a single step forward, she inclined her head at Auberon. “Sah Auberon, welcome to Vulcrad. I am Sub Lord Zavanna Wray. We received your message two days ago. Overlord Caelen will speak with you over dinner this evening about your proposal.”

  Auberon returned her nod with a slightly deeper bow. “Sub Lord Zavanna, I am pleased to know that the overlord has granted me an audience on such short notice. I promise not to disappoint him.”

  “Shall I ready quarters for your servant or will he reside with you in your rooms?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to secure him transport to the mine where I understand your people have recently discovered a very large deposit of void stone. It would provide the optimal setting in which to demonstrate my discovery for the overlord.”

  The sub lord nodded and cast her eyes toward Quinlan as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Chief Inquisitor Quinlan, I am Sub Lord Zavanna Wray. We were able to excavate the bodies of Sub Lord Rian and Phaer’s delegation. We left them untouched except to preserve them from further decay. I hope that does not interfere with your investigation, but they are in a deep mine, and
while it is dry, it is quite warm. I was concerned that letting nature take its course would leave you with an even more gruesome task.”

  Quinlan thought a moment. “No, that is fine, Sub Lord. The stasis spell should not pose an issue with my inquiries.”

  “Sah Auberon would like his servant to precede him to the mine. Since the site of his demonstration will take place near the collapse, I thought he might accompany you. I have an airship ready to take you whenever you are ready to depart.”

  Quinlan turned and smiled at Jareen. “I would be delighted for the company. I would love to continue the exuberant conversation we were unable to finish.”

  “Excellent. Sah Auberon, if you would follow me, I have a carriage waiting to take us to the palace. You may leave your man in the capable hands of Chief Inquisitor Quinlan.”

  Auberon nodded. “Give me a moment with my servant and the inquisitor. I need to give him a few last-minute instructions.”

  “Of course. I will await you at the carriage. My people will see to your luggage.”

  Auberon waited for the sub lord to get out of earshot before facing Quinlan. “Do not think that having Jareen away from my purview gives you any leave to torment or harm him. He still acts under my orders, and when it comes to my business here in the city, his word is law. Should anything unpleasant befall him, I will hold you responsible.”

  Quinlan grinned, ignoring the twinge of pain it caused. “Sah Auberon, I will protect him with my life.”

  “Yes, you will. Do not forget it.”

  Auberon left his threat hanging in the air as he followed after the sub lord.

  Quinlan turned his grin toward Jareen and extended his arm. “Shall we? It appears we have an airship to catch.”

  ***

  The airship Sub Lord Zavanna had arranged for Quinlan was half the size of the Voulge. Thankfully, the inquisitor appeared to be content with watching Jareen from afar and did not force him into more uncomfortable conversations. Jareen stayed near the bow, splitting the four-hour flight time between staring at the horizon and glancing over his shoulder where he inevitably found Quinlan’s eyes fixed firmly on his back.

  The airship settled on the ground outside of the mine’s primary entrance. Crew slid down ropes and hastened to tie off mooring lines to the supports planted deep into the ground to prevent an errant gust blowing the vessel over. Once secure, other crewmen slid out the gangplank to the somewhat crudely erected platform.

  Jareen followed behind Quinlan as he made straight for the squat building set into the side of the mountain next to an enormous tunnel entrance. Four men exited the building to meet them. The man in the forefront stood proud, his posture erect, and met the eyes of the two men approaching his underground kingdom without a hint of fear or subservience. One of the men behind him was fairly ordinary, stout of build and covered in the filth that was natural to all miners.

  The third man stood out from the others due to the facial tattoos visible over the cloth wrap covering his nose and jaw. Jareen figured him to be the strongest, and most dangerous, of the four despite him being shorter than the others. His facial ornamentation, height, and shaved head marked him as a Thuumian. If he held true to his heritage, he would be the one most easily offended and most likely to strike.

  The fourth man might have been the most unusual of the quartet. A head taller than the rest, he was whipcord thin with long, greasy, greying hair, hollow eyes, and a gaunt face. He barely paid any heed to Jareen, instead fixing his gaze firmly on Quinlan.

  Atin stepped forward, gave a small bow to Quinlan, and nodded at Jareen. “Atin Cienne, foreman of this mine. If we keep getting this many visitors, we’ll need to build a cradle to handle the traffic. You must be Chief Inquisitor Quinlan. I was told to expect you.”

  “I am,” Quinlan confirmed. “I assume you are my escort to the…accident?”

  “I am. I hope you do not mind me bringing some of my workers with me. The mines are dangerous, and if something should happen, we will want some strong workers with us.”

  “This is your domain, Foreman. I will defer to your judgement. Take me to the site.”

  “Will your man be accompanying us?”

  Jareen said, “I am here on separate business. My name is Jareen Velarius, servant to Sah Auberon Victore, son of Alexis Victore, Overlord of Velaroth. I will need to speak with you at length as soon as possible as well as gain access to the void stone lode you recently discovered.”

  “You know of the mountain’s heart?” Atin asked.

  “It interested Sah Auberon.”

  Atin shrugged. “Fine by me. It’s not as though you can steal it. It lies near where we are taking Inquisitor Quinlan. You can come along and we can talk there while he performs his investigation.”

  Jareen clenched his jaw. He had hoped to get away from the inquisitor, but this was likely his best chance of speaking to the foreman anytime soon. “That should work well for me.”

  Atin gestured to the men behind him. “These are my best men, Eldon, Merle, and Lorbash.”

  “Eldon, you were also there when the accident occurred,” Quinlan stated.

  “He was,” Atin answered. “As the only other survivor of the collapse, I assumed you would want to speak to him.”

  “You assumed correctly. I will save my questions until I see for myself what happened.”

  Atin nodded. “Merle, Eldon, grab an extra pair of helmets for the gentlemen.”

  Merle, the Thuumian, passed Jareen a helmet with an oil lantern affixed to it and plunked one onto his own bald head. Eldon handed one to Quinlan after donning his. Atin squeezed the handle of a striker, casting a shower of sparks onto his helmet’s wick until it lit. He used his helmet lantern’s flame to light the others, and all six men strode into the mountain’s great black mouth.

  Atin spoke their destination into the speaking tube and guided his guests into the lift cage. Out of sight, a team of rammox turned the massive wheel that worked the winch, and the cage began to descend deeper beneath the mountain.

  Quinlan glanced at Jareen. “You needn’t look so uncomfortable, Jareen. I never had any intention of killing you, you know. I just needed to find out what you were up to.”

  “Now that you know, was it worth the thrashing your curiosity earned you?”

  “We shall see. I have a feeling the story is not yet over. I would like to know what is in your pack and how it could possibly warrant your need to delve into the mines.”

  Jareen shifted the heavy satchel on his back. “That is Sah Auberon’s business, and I am not at liberty to discuss it.”

  Quinlan flashed Jareen another one of his arrogant grins. “I could take a look. We both know you cannot stop me.”

  “Sah Auberon would take great offense at such an intrusion, and we both know you cannot stop him.”

  “Do you think he would dare kill me?”

  “I am very surprised he did not kill you before. There is no doubt in my mind that assaulting me once more in the guise of your investigation would destroy what little restraint he has thus far shown you.”

  “An inquisitor’s job is nothing if not perilous.”

  It was Jareen’s turn to smile. “I have seen Sah Auberon take the better part of a year to kill a man, and before he delivered the final death stroke, his enemy suffered more torment, loss, and anguish than anyone I have heard of throughout history. As you said, if your curiosity is so great, I cannot stop you.”

  The miners inched away from the two men but watched with rapt attention, wondering if they were about to become embroiled in a melee while trapped in the same cage as them.

  “Patience walks hand in hand with prudence, so I suppose I can wait for Sah Auberon’s big reveal.”

  The tension eased as the cage continued its descent. After riding two more lifts, in blessed silence, they reached the mine’s lowest levels.

  “The collapse happened near the end of this tunnel,” Atin said, indicating one of three passages branching off from
the lift area. “We still haven’t laid tracks yet, so it’s about a half-mile walk from here.”

  “I will follow your lead, Foreman. If another collapse should occur, I want to be very close to those most able to dig me out,” Quinlan replied.

  “We’ve done a lot of additional bracing, and the cave-in actually settled the rock quite a bit. I don’t expect we will have any trouble.”

  “But you did expect it before?”

  Atin grinned at the inquisitor’s quick tongue. “We knew the shaft was unstable, that’s why we stopped digging where we did and hadn’t attempted any mining despite the void stone vein we found.”

  “Then why would you take two of the emperor’s top advisors into it?”

  “Because Arikhan is obsessed with making void steel, and they insisted despite both me and Braden’s warning,” Atin responded.

  “Emperor Arikhan,” Jareen corrected.

  Jareen’s lamp reflected off Atin’s teeth when he turned his smile toward him. “Emperor Arikhan. I beg your pardon. We diggers don’t stand on formality much. Rarely a need to do so since highborn don’t normally crawl down into our holes. You said you’re the servant of an overlord’s son?”

  “I am.”

  “By servant do you mean slave?”

  Jareen’s jaw muscles tightened. “I do.”

  The miner’s eyes flicked toward Jareen’s belt. “Isn’t it unusual for a slave to carry a sword?”

  Quinlan said, “It is, given his non-combative position, and he is unusually adept at wielding it. Possibly the best I have ever faced.”

  Jareen flicked his eyes to the inquisitor and answered both men. “My roles are varied, one of them being Sah Auberon’s bodyguard. It is one of several duties for which he has trained me, and he accepts nothing less than the best.”

  “Now I see why he was so upset at the thought of losing you,” Quinlan said. “Replacing you would be expensive and time-consuming. It’s a shame there are no more from your litter. He’ll have to breed you again to maintain such an exemplary pedigree.”

  Jareen’s hand flashed to his sword. He stopped in the middle of the tunnel, gripping the hilt until his fingers ached as he fought to maintain his composure. It was a telling blow, as devastating as a well-aimed sword thrust, and it had struck home. The men following behind him spared him a glance as they walked past.