Highlords of Phaer (Empire of Masks Book 1)
Page 13
Jareen ducked his head. “I did, sah. You were right about my needing something to distract myself.”
“I understand why you chose to do such a foolish thing, but grief is not an acceptable excuse for betraying me. Give me a reason I should not punish you severely for it.”
“I cannot, sah. However, I may be able to put you in such a mood that you are willing to overlook it.”
Auberon raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? It would have to please me immensely to grant you a full pardon. Very well, delight me.”
“Sah, I believe I have discovered the world-changing use for your powder.”
Auberon tucked his chin to his chest and both eyebrows crept toward his hairline. “Have you? Now that would garner a great deal of forgiveness. Explain.”
“It is best I show you.”
“Very well.”
Jareen hustled about the laboratory, filling a sturdy pouch with the powder he had been working with last night and grabbed a large hammer and chisel. He led Auberon out of the lab and farther away from the palace. They crossed to the far side of a vast rock garden decorated with stone planters sprouting various cacti and desert flowers before stopping at a particularly large box of mortared stone filled with soil from which grew a flowering cactus the size of a man.
“This will take a few minutes to prepare, sah,” Jareen said as he laid aside the bag of powder.
“It had best be worth my time, Jareen. This would be an especially poor moment to disappoint me.”
“You will be very pleased, sah. I promise you.”
Jareen held the heavy chisel against a mortared spot between the planter’s stones and began striking it with his hammer until he was able to break it apart and remove one of the square bricks. He wiped away the sweat beading on his brow and running down his face before inserting a length of fuse into the powder and shoving the bag into the hole he created.
Touching off the fuse with a flint striker, he gently touched Auberon’s elbow and guided him away where they both hunkered down behind another large planter.
“Sah, imagine the planter is not mortared stone but solid rock and not a few inches thick but several feet or yards, and it is not soil inside but a large vein of iron or even void stone. It would take days for men to claw their way to it using hand tools, weeks if the rock is infused with void stone. But with your powder…”
Jareen pulled Auberon lower just before the burning fuse touched off the powder. A powerful explosion reverberated through the garden, shaking the ground, casting up a great cloud of dust, and causing a hailstorm of pebbles to rain down around them. Auberon clapped his hands against his ringing ears but otherwise ignored their plaintive keening as he ran toward the destroyed planter. He released a most undignified whoop of excitement as he surveyed the damage. The cactus was gone without a trace and the planter now had a three-foot breach in its side where the soil it contained had collapsed into a slope and run out.
“Jareen, we have done it!” He spun around and grasped his slave by the shoulders and shook him. “Do you know what this means? I have revolutionized mining as we know it! When I show this to the emperor and he sees how I have just tripled, maybe even quadrupled, the amount of void stone we can extract, he will shower me with praise the likes of which has never been seen. He will likely name a city after me once I show him what I have created. Ready my airship, Jareen. We must depart for Phaer at once.”
“I have an idea on that as well, sah.”
“An idea on what? What else is there to do except show off my discovery?”
“Do you know the name of the person who invented the first airship, sah?”
Auberon screwed up his face, as much annoyed by the question as he was confused. “I am sure I do if I think on it a moment. Some sorcerer in Nibbenar. What is your point?”
“My point is that within a few short years, maybe in as little as two, blasting through mountains to reach the ore it contains will be commonplace. It will no longer be revolutionary, it will simply be the standard.”
“What are you saying, Jareen, that this is not a momentous discovery, that I will be quickly forgotten and cast aside?”
“Not in so many words, but I think you can better cement your contribution to Emperor Arikhan and the empire than by simply giving away your powder.”
“Explain quickly, Jareen. You are pissing out the flames of my excitement.”
“You made mention of Vulcrad discovering a chunk of void stone the size of an airship.”
“I did. So what of it?”
“Why not do that then?”
“Do what?”
“Make an airship out of it and gift it to the emperor in your name at the next tribute.”
Auberon shook his head. “It is a stupid idea for many reasons. Firstly, Arikhan has demanded that all void steel go directly to his people in Phaer. Withholding it is punishable by death. Secondly, working void steel is a very challenging task that only a few can do and is certainly not a skill counted amongst those of any shipwright I know. Thirdly, if you could find a metalworker skilled in forging void steel and a shipwright capable of using it to build an airship, the vessel would be an absolute beast to fly. It would be too heavy and require at least twice the number of innervators to lift it off the ground and keep it afloat.”
“May I counter your arguments, sah?” Jareen asked.
“You may try.”
“We would not be withholding the void steel or using it for our own purposes. It is and will be the emperor’s, only as a completed product and not the ingots he normally receives. Given what we can expect in terms of increased mining output, he will likely receive more void steel than his people can forge already. Sending even greater quantities to Phaer would be akin to giving a drowning man a glass of water.
“Vulcrad’s void stone mine already has men on site capable of smelting the ore into ingots. It would be a small matter for them to roll it into sheets and forge framework under the guidance of a shipwright. All we need to do is find a suitable airship builder and have them instruct the metalworkers on what to build. Innervators to power the vessel should not be a problem to find. More and more sorcerers are coming from lowborn families and are desperate to find a place for themselves and be accepted into the ranks of the highborn. Many will scramble for the opportunity to be of service to the emperor.
“Long before the novelty of a void-steel airship wears off, you will discover other uses for the powder that may prove to be more valuable than simply blowing apart rocks. You then release your discoveries shortly after the highlords begin to lose their excitement over the previous one.”
A look of intrigue creased Auberon’s face. “What other uses are you imagining?”
“None as of yet, but I am certain there are many more just waiting for discovery, to be unveiled at the most opportune times in order to secure your position as the most valuable citizen in the empire for decades to come.”
Auberon stroked his chin as he thought. “You are a wiser man than I have given you credit for being, and I have always held you in higher regard than most.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Jareen intently. “Perhaps I should keep a closer eye on you. It is never a good thing for a slave to be too clever lest they begin to get ideas that they exist far below their station and start to gaze upon lofty goals.”
Jareen cast his eyes to the ground. “Never, sah. I am your loyal servant to the end.”
Auberon clasped his slave on the shoulder. “Of course you are. Very well, Jareen. Let us hope I can convince Overlord Caelen as thoroughly as you have convinced me. I will need his support not just to grant me use of his void steel but to convince the highlords to craft a heart stone so that we can fly such a beast.”
“May I assume this mitigates my punishment, sah?”
Auberon’s smile stretched until it nearly reached his ears. “My dear Jareen, this is more important than the lives of a thousand pregnant slaves. Arikhan will make me a highlord. He has to!”
CHAPTER 14
Dante found Amaia sitting in a small study reading a letter. “What’s that?”
“It is from Councilor Weimar,” Amaia replied without taking her eyes from the note. “He wants to meet with me tonight.”
“He voted against you, did he not?”
“He did, but he says he would like to discuss the council’s future if Pherick is removed.”
The edges of Dante’s mouth curled down. “We are to meet with some of the other councilors tonight.”
Amaia nodded. “You and Gaizar can speak with them. I got the sense that Weimar was not an adamant proponent of Pherick’s decision. If I can bring him to our side, it is likely the vote we need to replace the harbinger and prepare our invasion.”
“All right, but be careful. You know as well as I that council politics are fought from the shadows more often than the debate floor.”
Amaia flashed Dante a lopsided grin. “Do you think the harbinger is going to attack me in the middle of the park?”
“Do you think he is above such a thing, particularly when his position is on the line?”
Amaia frowned. “To be honest, I am surprised he did not strike me down in the council chambers. Regardless, I have to go.”
“Of course you do. Just be vigilant.”
“I am always careful.”
Dante laughed. “You are as cautious as an enraged horned devil!”
Amaia narrowed her eyes and adopted a fierce gaze. “And twice as dangerous.”
Amaia set off for her meeting with six of her finest Ulec warrior slaves. This gave her ten guards, counting her rickshaw team. Normally, only her runners were armed with nothing but small bone blades, but this was supposed to be a friendly meeting, so her warrior escorts also carried the bone knives instead of their brutal macuahuitls.
The macuahuitl was a vicious weapon if somewhat primitive. It was a flat, wooden baton with horned devil teeth set all along its length on both sides. Amaia did not want to give her host the wrong impression by bringing slaves armed for battle, but only a fool would meet a stranger defenseless.
Only Niobe’s—one of their world’s two moons—thin crescent provided any natural light to illuminate her path. It was almost the night of the black moon, and Amaia considered the timing of its annual arrival as an omen. Her rickshaw was equipped with two lanterns, but their feeble glow stretched only a few yards beyond the lead runner. Amaia glanced back and could only see the nearest pair of her guards jogging dutifully behind the cart, but she could hear the others’ footfalls and cadenced breathing.
“Stop,” she ordered as they drew near the park.
The rickshaw rolled to a halt and her warrior slaves took positions around it, facing outward, and ready to meet any source of danger. Amaia stepped from the cart, looked around, and sent dark tendrils of magic to seek out any and all sources of life. The sensing magic returned the life essence of numerous small creatures, mostly skitter lizards and bats, as well as a few people wandering about. She did not detect any heightened anxiety amongst the pedestrians and dismissed them as people out for an evening stroll.
Amaia ambled toward the park entrance, her steps confident yet cautious. Her Ulec guards formed a defensive ring around her but maintained a respectful distance. Maglus, the leader of her bodyguards, stopped at the gap in the low wall surrounding the park and stared into the darkness, his head slowly pivoting from side to side as he took deep breaths through his wide, flat nose.
“What is it, Maglus?” Amaia asked.
“Do not like,” the hulking Ulec rumbled.
Maglus was one of the most eloquently spoken Ulec Amaia had ever owned, often stringing together three words to create a coherent sentence, four on rare occasions. It wasn’t that Ulec were stupid, they were far from it, they simply preferred brevity to the point of extremism.
Amaia stood next to Maglus, taking comfort in his proximity, and used her eyes as well as her magic to try and seek out the source of her slave’s discomfort. The park was dotted with stone sculptures and large cacti and other flora that were able to subsist on scarce amounts of water. It provided ample places to hide from prying eyes, especially given the level of darkness, but veiling attackers from her magic would be an impressive feat. Just shy of her centennial, Amaia was young by her people’s standards, but most regarded her magical skills almost as highly as she did.
Still unable to detect any source of danger, Amaia stepped through the entrance. “I trust you to keep me safe, Maglus.”
Maglus rumbled his grudging assent and kept pace just ahead of her with the rest of his detail flanking their mistress. Amaia strode toward the prescribed meeting place near the center of the park, wary, her magic tingling the tips of her fingers. Despite her and her guards’ alertness, the attack still managed to surprise them.
Brutish forms leapt out of the shadows from behind raised planting boxes. Amaia now recognized that many of the islands of darkness in which they had been hiding were unnatural in origin. Her Ulec entourage rushed to her defense without hesitation. Despite being outnumbered and out-armed, her guards did not waver in the face of twice their number. Her slaves gripped their curved horned devil claw knives in each hand with the blades running parallel to the inside of their arms.
Her attackers, numbering at least half a score and most wielding deadly macuahuitl swords, made her force look weak by comparison, but her Ulec were trained to survive outside of city comforts and battle anything the harsh hinterland could throw at them. Ulec had no word in their language for fear, and if they were capable of experiencing such an emotion, none ever showed it.
Amaia had faith in her Ulec, but unlike most of her kind, she was not content with leaving her defense entirely in the hands of others. She spent much of her off time learning the art of combat from her best fighters and pitting her magical prowess against Dante in frequent sparring matches. Her greater concern was the Necrophage who had the skill to hide so many warriors against her seeking spell. Whoever they were, they posed far more of a threat to her than even a dozen blood-crazed Ulec.
The black arts assault nearly took her by surprise. A lance made of shadow but carrying the mass of void steel launched out of the darkness. Amaia raised a shield of dark power an instant before it struck, but the projectile impacted with such force that it lifted her from the ground and cast her back twice the length of her own body.
Maglus, seeing his mistress struck down, turned from his battle with two of the attacking Ulec and made to rush to her aid. Amaia flashed him a stern look as she bolted to her feet, and he spun back to face his foes, barely avoiding getting decapitated by a macuahuitl arcing toward his thick neck. He lunged forward as the weapon sailed harmlessly over his head and emptied the attacker’s entrails onto the ground at his feet with twin swipes from his daggers.
Unable to pierce the deep shadows in which her foe was hiding, Amaia traced the black lance’s path back to its point of origin, her sensing spell following her gaze like the tip of an archer’s drawn arrow. No longer veiling herself and her assassins, the spell relayed the presence of Amaia’s attacker along with a strong hint of feminine aura. Even before the petite frame burst into view, Amaia had no doubt as to her identity despite the black hooded robes concealing her features. She knew it had to be Pherick’s little sycophant, Nerea.
Ebony tentacles burst from Nerea’s fingertips like striking serpents, launching themselves the score of yards separating them. One of Amaia’s guards stepped into their path and was struck in the chest. He bellowed in pain as the ethereal snake bit deep and set his blood aflame.
The other
four feelers slithered through the air, skirting around the stricken slave to seek out their primary target. Amaia poured energy into her ward, but the tentacles wrapped around her body and lifted her from the ground. Her feet kicking the empty air beneath her, she summoned a shadow blade in her left hand, brought it across the constricting appendages, and severed them cleanly. The coils around her body vanished in a puff of oily, black smoke.
Amaia dropped to her feet and hurled an onyx sphere the size of an Ulec’s head and crackling with cerulean energy back at her. Nerea leapt aside, dodging the orb. The sparking ball exploded the moment it reached the spot where Nerea had been standing. The blast aided her headlong flight and sent her sailing through the air before she crashed and tumbled to the ground.
Nerea rolled to her feet and began hurling black bolts of power almost wildly, forcing Amaia to run and seek cover. Amaia peered over the lip of the stone planter she was hiding behind and saw that only Maglus and one other of her guard were still standing, and both were heavily pressed by the five remaining attackers not counting Nerea. Her slaves had given a good account of themselves, but she knew they could not hold them off much longer. Even as she watched, the Ulec fighting at Maglus’ side slipped in a pool of blood, faltering for only a fraction of a second, but that was all his attacker needed to land a lethal blow and take him down.
Maglus had recovered one of his foes’ macuahuitl and swung it like a crazed farmer scything oat stalks, killing one of the assassins and driving the other three back. Amaia saw Nerea turn her attention to her guard captain and knew his time was drawing to a close, and with him gone, she would certainly soon fall as well. She burst out from behind her shelter and thrust her hand forward. Midnight streamers, similar to those Nerea had used against her but with a decidedly different purpose, snaked from her fingertips.
The first one struck Maglus in the back, causing him to arch in pain. The others pierced his attackers’ chest, locking them immobile as the spell pulled their life force from their bodies and fed it to Amaia. Maglus whipped his head around to look back at his mistress and caught her gaze. He understood her intent in an instant and stopped fighting her dark magic, letting his soul flow freely from his body so that she might defeat their foes and live.