Highlords of Phaer (Empire of Masks Book 1)

by Brock Deskins

  “I have an idea for the shipwright, and she might know some folks in Nibbenar who will join us,” Atin said.

  Jareen asked, “Are you speaking of Rayna Dushane or Brelon Vanos?”

  Atin flicked his eyes toward Lorbash. “How do you know of Rayna?”

  “Or Brelon?” Merle asked, his posture going from relaxed to battle ready in an instant.

  “Quinlan mentioned their names along with yours when he was interrogating me. That’s how I knew you were the man I needed to speak with.”

  “Brelon leads a gang in Thuum who delights in terrorizing the highborn whenever possible,” Merle answered.

  Atin pressed his lips in a thin line and frowned. “If the inquisitor is already suspicious of Rayna and Brelon, then he is going to have eyes on them as much as possible. That complicates matters. I was going to tell you to go talk to Rayna about finding us some trustworthy shipwrights, but if Quinlan already suspects her of being a dissident, there’s no way we can use her.”

  “I’ll think on it. For now, we need to set up for the presentation. At the very least, Sah Auberon will have convinced the overlord to see what his powder can achieve.”

  “All right, tell us what we need to do,” Atin said.

  CHAPTER 18

  Atin looked to his men to ensure they were ready to run and nodded at Jareen. Jareen touched the flame from his helmet lamp to the fuse, and all four men raced back up the ramp and sprinted down the passageway. They did not stop running until they were well beyond where Quinlan had recovered the three corpses the day prior. Jareen gave Lorbash a look of concern at the sound of his labored breathing, but the lanky pilot’s legs continued to propel him onward. They ran down the passageway almost the entire way back to the lift before squatting down behind a stout barricade.

  Lanterns and magical light illuminated Auberon, Overlord Caelen, Sub Lord Zavanna, a dozen armed and armored soldiers, and of course, the ever-present Chief Inquisitor Quinlan. Atin could not help but think how pleasing it would be to collapse the entire mineshaft on such an esteemed party of highborn, even if he had to stand beneath it himself to effect it.

  He shook off the treasonous thought. Even if he could have arranged it in such a short time, he believed in Jareen’s plan despite the miracle it would surely require to pull it off. It was the one real opportunity they had of overthrowing the highlords, and he would not be the one to squander it.

  “Did it happen yet?” Atin asked.

  Jareen shook his head. “No, you’ll know when it happens. Every man in this mine will know.”

  Atin gave him a curious look that turned to fear when a massive blast shook the mountain and a gust of wind filled the tunnel with thick dust. The men held their face wraps tighter against their noses and mouths in an attempt to filter out the dust.

  Auberon’s coughing interrupted the silence that fell in the aftermath of the powerful explosion. Jareen stood and hastened to his master’s side.

  “Your medicine, sah,” Jareen said as he handed a small metal flask to Auberon.

  “I am sure it is just the dust, Jareen,” Auberon insisted but lifted the bottom of his shimmersilk mask and took a drink regardless.

  Jareen had spent hours the night before gathering ingredients and crafting Auberon’s tonic. The medicine stifled his coughing and restored some color to his waning pallor.

  “Is it safe to proceed, Foreman?” Overlord Caelen asked.

  “Let us scout the passageway ahead and ensure it is still sound, Overlord,” Atin replied.

  “It is progressing well, Jareen,” Auberon said.

  “I feel it is all going excellently, sah,” Jareen replied as he watched the miners disappear down the tunnel.

  “You certainly made quite a ruckus,” Overlord Caelen said. “We shall see if your powder is more than just noise.”

  “You will be as pleased as I am, Overlord, I promise you,” Auberon replied.

  “Let us both hope so. I do not relish scampering down dark tunnels like some skitter lizard. That is why I have slaves and criminals to do it for me. I will consider it a grave insult if you have wasted my time.”

  “I am supremely confident in my invention, Overlord.”

  Jareen did well keeping the disdain he felt for his master off his face. Outwardly, he remained impassive. Inwardly, he seethed. The powder belonged more to him than Auberon. Were it not for his discoveries, Auberon would still be using it as a parlor trick to entertain the masses. The miners’ return broke him out of his hatred-laced reverie.

  “The passage is littered with stones, so I must caution everyone to watch their step, but it is otherwise sound,” Atin announced.

  Caelen made a brushing motion with his hand. “Lead on, Foreman.”

  Atin, Merle, Lorbash, and Eldon preceded the overlord and his retinue down the tunnel and back to the large chamber where the mountain’s heart lay, or once did depending on the powder’s impact. Even before they made it to the bottom of the ramp leading down into the enormous chamber, Jareen knew it had been a success.

  The huge mound of rubble that had acted as a sort of pedestal for the colossal boulder had nearly been flattened and raised the average level of the chamber floor by at least a foot. The giant, black nugget of void stone lay shattered, a third of its mass reduced to rubble and scattered across the cavern floor.

  Everyone was silent until Overlord Caelen spoke. “Foreman, how long?”

  “Overlord?”

  “How long would it have taken your men to reduce the boulder by this amount?”

  Atin shone his light over what remained of the heart. “Weeks, Overlord, maybe two months or more, at the very least.”

  Caelen turned to Auberon. “I must have this powder, as much as you can manufacture.”

  A broad smile played across Auberon’s face. “You will grant me what I ask?”

  “Anything I can do, everything I have, is yours for the asking.”

  “Overlord,” Quinlan broke in, “I would caution you against overextending yourself for the sake of this discovery. It is certainly fantastic, but—”

  “Inquisitor, if I need your opinion regarding how I operate my mine or execute the duties of my office, I will ask for it. Do not presume to offer me unsolicited counsel.”

  Quinlan bowed and took a step back. “Of course, Overlord. I did not mean to overstep my bounds.”

  Caelen softened his stern gaze and returned it to Auberon. “How do we proceed from here? I want to begin operations with this new device as quickly as possible.”

  “Well, first I will need to procure large quantities of ingredients, and…uh—”

  Jareen broke in, “Sah, if I may.”

  Auberon ducked his head.

  “Overlord, Sah Auberon has tasked me with the minutia of the logistical plans, which I would be happy to go into detail with you someplace better suited to hosting your esteemed presence, and a bit more—” he cast a glance at Quinlan “—private.”

  “Of course. We can discuss the matter back at my palace over dinner. Foreman, lead us out of here, if you will.”

  “Yes, Overlord,” Atin replied.

  Jareen laid a hand on the foreman’s arm to hold him back. Atin jerked his head at Eldon and Merle to take the dignitaries and their guards back to the surface. Jareen waited until he, Atin, and Lorbash were alone before speaking.

  “You are certain Rayna is the one we need to build this airship?” Jareen asked.

  Atin said, “She isn’t the only one, but she is the key if you want only our people working on it. But if Quinlan is already watching her, I don’t see how we can get her without arousing a great deal of suspicion.”

  Jareen sighed. “I have an idea, but it is risky and certainly not going to be appreciated.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s best I do not tell you, but you must trust and support me no matter what.”

  “You ask a lot for a man I just met yesterday.”

  “I know. If you cannot trust me,
then trust that our goals are the same and I will give everything I have, even my life, to make them come to pass.”

  Atin stared into Jareen’s eyes for several seconds. “All right, but be very careful. If you misstep, Rayna’s people are not likely to be as amiable or trusting as I am.”

  ***

  Quinlan’s magically conjured light lit up the large chamber like the brightness of the afternoon sun. The air still reeked of sulfur and whatever other elements comprised Auberon’s explosive powder. He ran his fingers across the rough surface of the enormous boulder still occupying the room’s center, rubbing them together and sniffing them for the telltale hint of chemical residue.

  He shifted his investigation to the chamber walls, inspecting the heavy scoring and other damage caused by the impressive blast. He had to admit, Auberon was certainly correct in his assessment that his powder would change the world. Quinlan just was not certain it would be in the way the highborn had planned.

  A divot in one of the pilings, too uniform to have been caused by a rock hurled by the force of the explosion, caught his eye. Quinlan stuck his finger into the hole bored into the wood and felt an object lodged inside. Augmenting his sword with magic, the inquisitor cut through the wood with relative ease and freed the item from its prison.

  Quinlan rolled the lead ball around on his open palm but could not decipher its purpose. He looked out in what he thought might be the direction of Vulcrad. “What are you about, Jareen?”

  ***

  Amaia’s stomach churned as she strode into the council chamber with her head held high and her eyes locked onto Harbinger Pherick. Of the eleven councilmembers, only Gaizar greeted her with a smile. Her parents and those she hoped were on her side sat with blank expressions and appeared to set their gaze on the wall behind her. The others hid behind visages of barely veiled hostility. Only Pherick wore his disdain openly.

  Pherick spoke the moment Amaia reached her place on the floor. “Amaia Aldana, you brought forth a measure that was sponsored by Councilman Gaizar Viteri to renounce me as harbinger and open a call for my replacement. I gave you three days in which you were to lobby the councilmembers, so we will dispense with any further argument and proceed straight to the vote. All those who support Preceptor Amaia and Councilman Gaizar’s motion to discharge me will signal their vote with a white token; those opposed to removing me from my position will choose the black token. Your votes are to be held in secret until instructed to reveal your choice. We will commence voting now starting from my left to my right. As always, I will cast the final vote. Proceed.”

  There was a deep feeling of déjà vu as the proceedings carried on just as they had a few days before. It made Amaia’s stomach clench knowing that whatever the vote’s outcome, it was just the beginning of far greater things to come. She stared at her parents’ backs, as they made their choice, willing her eyes to see past the flesh and bone to the color of the token in their hands.

  Amaia turned her eyes to Gaizar who did his best to feign indifference as he sat with his chip clasped in his meaty hand. His slack posture was an illusion, and she saw through it to the clenched muscles in his jaw and back. He glanced at his closed fist and gave her a barely perceptible nod.

  The preceptor turned her attention back to the forefront as the last councilmember cast their vote. Pherick made a grand show of turning to the voting boxes and selecting a black token without even attempting to conceal his choice. There was no real need, although decorum insisted upon casting ballots in secret, but he was the harbinger and there was no one to rebuke him.

  The smile creasing his craggy face declared the referendum’s outcome before he even spoke. “Councilmembers, reveal your decisions.”

  Amaia’s heart dropped into her stomach when everyone revealed the token they had chosen. The shock of losing the ballot was eclipsed by the utter disappointment at seeing the negative votes cast by both her parents.

  “The vote to remove me as harbinger fails with a count of four to seven,” Pherick announced, his tone matching his gleeful smile.

  Amaia met her parents’ eyes. “Why have you done this to me?”

  Osane had the decency to look abashed when he responded. “I am sorry, but it was the right thing to do. We are not ready to return to Eidolan and face the sorcerers once again, but perhaps now we can take a good look at the possibility and work toward that worthy goal sometime in the future. When we do, we must do so united and not divided by petty politics.”

  Her mother was not as apologetic. “You have always been a reckless child. It has served you well in your studies, but it does not suit our people or this council. I will not be a party to your dangerous ideas and allow you to lead us down a path of destruction.”

  Amaia was crestfallen. “You should have supported me.”

  Pherick cleared his throat to gain her attention. “Now that we have resolved this nonsense, the only future in question is yours. I am afraid it does not look bright, young lady.”

  Amaia’s eyes flicked between Dante standing off to the side of the council room and Gaizar who was sitting in rapt attention. Both men gave her a quick nod.

  “No, Harbinger, I know exactly what my future holds, and it is one that does not include you or this flock of cowards you call a council.”

  Pherick and several of the councilmembers’ faces clouded over, but looks of anger turned to pain and fear as the hands holding the onyx tokens blackened and split as if cast into an intense fire. The ruin crawled from their hands and up their arms as the afflicted looked on in horror, blinded by searing agony.

  Pherick tore his gaze from his dying appendage and laid his rage on Amaia. With determined focus, the spreading malady ceased its advance and began to retreat, the charred flesh knitting back together and regaining its proper color.

  The harbinger cast her a grim smile as he defeated her cleverly set trap. Amaia was not about to let him escape now. She flung her hand forward and cast her soul sourcing tendrils into Pherick, both of her parents, and two of the stricken councilmembers and sought to tear their souls from their bodies. Gaizar shouted and his Ulec warriors rushed into the chambers with weapons gripped in their hands, most already bloodied.

  “Seal this room!” he ordered his slaves before striking one of the dissenting councilmembers with a black ray that froze the flesh and turned the victim’s heart into a block of ice.

  Nerea managed to halt the withering disease eating her flesh and sought to strike out at Amaia, hoping to free her allies from her soul-wrenching spell. Dante rushed to his consort’s aid, cast his hand forward, and clenched his fist. Nerea’s cries could not drown out the sound of her bones breaking and stabbing into her flesh from the inside. Sweat beaded on Dante’s brow as he put all of his strength into the gruesome spell. Nerea’s wailing became a gurgle as she choked on her own blood and fell lifelessly to the floor.

  Amaia heaved on the soul tethers, but it was like pulling the leads on a team of recalcitrant rammox. Pherick’s power was so great it may as well have been a mountain for all it would budge, and her parents’ strength was also respectable in its own right.

  The three remaining councilmembers, who had thus far abstained from joining in on the assault, broke free from their emotional stalemate at the sight of Nerea’s horrific death. They struck out at those Amaia had tethered, battering them down with magic until they writhed on the floor as she drained them.

  Still they fought, waging an internal battle to retain their souls and deny their killer what she sought. Amaia trained most of her effort on Weimar, the weakest of her victims, and his soul lost its grip on its host. She felt his power pull free from his body and slam into her. Strengthened by the stolen energy, she focused on the next one, and then the one after that until all five bodies lay on the floor, their desiccated visages locked in silent screams.

  Amaia trembled with stolen power. “Benat, Ganix, Haizea, go out into the acropolis and secure the new council’s legitimacy with the others. Gaizar, Dant
e, and I will remain secure here until it is safe to come out.”

  Councilman Ganix recovered his nerve enough to ask, “Who do we say is the new harbinger?”

  “I am the harbinger,” Amaia declared, “unless of course you want to vote on it.”

  The four remaining councilmembers glanced at the corpses lying on the floor, and Gaizar intoned, “Long live the Harbinger.”

  “Long live the Harbinger,” the others breathed.

  Amaia smiled. “Go. We have an invasion to prepare.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Jareen clung to the Voulge’s rail and admired the view. Far out on the horizon, a black and furious tempest raged, devouring the blue sky and anything foolish enough to attempt breaching its raging winds and rain. The eternal storm made its presence known on the distant land by sending powerful waves crashing into the cliffs beneath Nibbenar, hurling geysers of water a hundred feet high, trying but falling far short of cresting the city’s walls.

  He marveled at the glorious city below his airship. Although smaller than Vulcrad and Velaroth, Nibbenar made up in splendor what it lacked in size and population. The city appeared pristine, far removed from the dingy, almost gloomy appearance of Vulcrad, even surpassing Velaroth in its beauty.

  Every building Jareen could see was plastered and painted white without a speck of soot or filth to mar its surface. Scores of towers stabbed up from the city like quills on a thorn rat, each seeming to be in competition with the others in their effort to reach the sky.

  Although smallest in population, if one did not include Thuum’s many tribes surrounding their capital city, Nibbenar boasted the greatest number of sorcerers outside of Phaer. Some speculated it was their proximity to the highlord-made tempest, that magical sentinel barring passage across the sea.