Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2)

by Martinez, Gama Ray

  Veilspeaker

  Pharim War Book 2

  GAMA RAY MARTINEZ

  Veilspeaker is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialog, and all characters are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover illustration and design by Holly Heisey, http://hollyheisey.com

  Copyright © 2015 Gamaliel Martinez

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  The waiting room in Rumar Keep was ornate to the point of being gaudy. Jez paced back and forth as he and his companions awaited his audience with King Haziel. Three tapestries covered one wall, each depicting great battles. A gold statue of King Haziel himself stood in the center of the room holding a spear in one hand and a scepter in the other. He seemed to be sneering at Jez. He squirmed in his chair and tugged at the lace at his collar to scratch his neck. Sileon, the squat little man who served as Jez’s advisor, cleared his throat, but Jez ignored him. The only reason the man was here was because the masters at the Carceri Academy said the king’s court was no place for a boy of thirteen to be unaided. Osmund, the only other person in the room, laughed and Jez glared at the seven foot boy. Osmund grinned, his too large nose wrinkling.

  “You really shouldn’t do that, Baron,” Sileon said.

  Jez resisted the urge to look around for Dusan, the man from whom he’d inherited that title. Unknown to most, Dusan had been an evil man who’d meddled with dark forces that had ultimately destroyed him. He had even taken a guardian spirit, a Shadowguard named Luntayary, and bound him to a stillborn child, giving it life and a soul. The secret known only to Osmund and one of the masters of the Carceri Academy, was that that child had been Jez himself, and though he no longer had memories from the time before his birth, much of his power remained.

  “It itches,” Jez said. “Couldn’t I have just worn my Academy robes?”

  Sileon snorted. “You’re the Baron of Korand, my lord. You can’t go before the king dressed as anything other than who you are.”

  “But I am a student at the Academy,” Jez said.

  “You’re not only that, though. This is your first appearance at court, and you need to make a good impression.”

  “Assuming the king wasn’t working with Dusan,” Jez said under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  The diplomat glanced down at the ring on Jez’s finger which bore the symbol of a blue starfish, the sigil Jez had chosen for himself. Sileon reached into his pocket. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the closed fist? As Dusan’s adopted son—”

  “No.” Jez lifted his hand. “Dusan may have adopted me, but this is the sign my real father always painted on his fishing boat. It’s what I want to be known by.”

  “Oh very well. Could you at least wear the sword?”

  Jez shrugged. “I left it in my quarters.”

  Sileon cleared his throat and Jez looked up at him. The man tugged at his collar and reached into his robes. He pulled out a blade in a scabbard of black wood. The image of a man with bat-like wings had been carved into it. A ruby engraved with the closed fist had been set in the pommel. The sight of the weapon made Jez shiver. Dusan had given it to him before he’d departed for the Academy. Not for the first time, Jez wished he’d just thrown the sword away. He started to shake his head, but Sileon interrupted.

  “Dusan was a powerful and influential man when he was at court. He could manipulate the tides of politics with a skill Ashtar has rarely seen. You would do well to have people think of you as his protégé.”

  “But I wasn’t his protégé,” Jez said. “I only knew him a few months.”

  Sileon grinned. “It’s what people think that matters.”

  Jez let out a breath and took the sword. “Fine.”

  He belted the sword and tried not to grind his teeth as Sileon smiled at him. Once it was done, Jez stood up for Sileon to examine him. The advisor bowed his head.

  “Much better. Now, if you would only pick a more...” he looked Osmund up and down, and hesitated. “Appropriate bodyguard. I’m sure I could arrange something.”

  Osmund stood by the door and was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and trousers. They were wrinkled but seemed mostly clean. He wore a tabard with a blue starfish on it and a sword that Jez probably wouldn’t be able to lift in two hands. The other boy grinned at the advisor, and for a second, his steel gray eyes became fiery orange. Sileon yelped, and fell out of his chair. Jez did his best to hold in a chuckle. Osmund didn’t bother and erupted in laughter.

  “You really shouldn’t do that, Sileon,” Jez said. “You know how battlemages are.”

  “Ah, well yes. Of course.” He made a point of not looking at Osmund. “Perhaps we should go over proper court procedure.”

  Jez sighed. “Sileon we hardly talked about anything else in the month it took us to get here. I think I know all I need.”

  “Well, it never hurts to review.”

  Jez groaned, but Sileon pretended not to notice. He drilled Jez on how deeply to bow to the king and to other barons. He should only incline his head to minor lords unless he happened to encounter Lord Nalion who was the king’s second cousin. It was inappropriate for him to speak to the king unless Haziel spoke first, or at least it was inappropriate in a formal audience. In a formal dinner, however, he could speak as long as he inclined his head to the king, but sometimes it was better to speak to the person seated next to the king and simply speak loud enough for the king to hear.

  On and on it went as it had gone in the weeks since they’d left the Academy and headed for Rumar, the capital of the kingdom of Ashtar. Osmund didn’t escape Sileon’s lectures either. He was to have his sword tied to his sheath with a silk ribbon anytime they were in the keep. He should keep his hand on his hilt whenever Jez was in a meeting with anyone ranked lower than him. He could also do that with someone of equal rank, but only if Jez wanted to deliver an insult. Under no circumstances, save to protect Jez, was he to actually draw his weapon. Osmund’s eyes glazed over. Jez couldn’t blam
e him. All the talk of swords was pointless. If it came down to it, Osmund was more likely to fight with fire and wind than with a blade.

  Jez didn’t know how long they waited. Sileon said it wasn’t unexpected. With Jez being both a baron and, potentially, a powerful mage, Haziel was probably making them wait as a way to establish dominance over Jez. Dusan had done things like that when he’d received visitors, and Jez hadn’t cared for it then either.

  “Have you been able to find out why King Haziel appointed Dusan as the Baron of Korand?”

  Sileon shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my lord. I would refrain from asking him, though. He might take that as an accusation.”

  Jez grunted but didn’t reply. A few minutes later, an old man with brown eyes and a hawk-like nose came into the room. Though shorter than Osmund by nearly two feet, he managed to give the appearance of looking down on the boy. He inclined his head to Jez. Jez remembered just enough of Sileon’s lessons to know that was a calculated insult, but he didn’t let it bother him.

  “The king will see you now.” He sniffed at Osmund. “You may bring your retainers, if you wish.”

  Sileon’s face reddened. Any noble of Jez’s rank was permitted to bring his party before the king unless specifically forbidden. By explicitly granting permission, the king had implied Jez was equal to a minor lordling. Jez nodded to the chamberlain and followed him into the hall. If being insulted was the worst thing that happened to him, he’d be happy. He just hoped it didn’t turn out that Haziel, King of all Ashtar and Defender of the Land, was his enemy.

  CHAPTER 2

  King Haziel’s throne room was even more opulent than the waiting room. Marble statues of the past kings of Ashtar lined the walls. The vaulted ceiling had to be at least three stories up. Seven windows, each twenty feet tall, held the stained glass images of the seven pharim high lords. Jez’s eyes immediately locked on the image of Sariel, lord of the Shadowguard. It was only by the blue robe that Jez recognized him. He had deep blue eyes and wore a gentle smile. He looked more like a kindly old grandfather than one of the most powerful beings in existence. Whoever had created it had obviously never seen the real Sariel. Jez chuckled under his breath. It was entirely possible that, aside from Osmund and himself, no living being had ever seen the pharim lord.

  They approached a pair of thrones made of gold and ivory, though only one throne was occupied. Four guards in mail shirts and steel helmets stood around them, men by the king’s throne and women by the one that should’ve been occupied by the queen. A woman with dark brown skin and black hair that went to her shoulders stood next to the throne. Like the king, she wore deep purple robes, and a word from Sileon identified her as Villia, the king’s chief mage. A boy a few years older than Jez himself with short red hair and pale green eyes stood behind her, presumably her apprentice.

  King Haziel had a well-trimmed beard. Gray had long ago begun to encroach on his dark hair, which was closer to white than black. Aside from that however, he showed few signs of age. He had wide shoulders and piercing brown eyes. The crown of Ashtar, a single golden band, rested on his head. He wore deep purple robes, and had a pair of swords at his waist, one long and one short, the throne having been built to accommodate the weapons. If the stories were to be believed, though, his wife, Queen Istar was the deadlier of the two. Jez fell to one knee and heard Osmund and Sileon do the same behind him. They were on the ground for at least a minute before the king spoke.

  “Rise.” Jez obeyed. “We are pleased to finally meet you.”

  “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for inviting me to your court.” His eyes flickered to the empty throne. “Is your lady wife not present?”

  “She and our son are visiting the Baron of Nakior at the moment. This summons,” Haziel let the world hang for a second as he narrowed his eyes and made it clear that the ‘invitation’ had been a command, “was long overdue. Though we cannot condone the actions that led to his death, we offer our condolences for the loss of your adopted father, our esteemed cousin.”

  “Cousin?” Jez asked, but as soon as the word had left his lips, he wished he could call it back. The higher nobility all referred to themselves as cousins. He felt his face redden. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. I’m sorry. I didn’t spend a lot of time with Dusan, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to learn more from him.”

  The king raised an eyebrow and the guards shifted their weight. One of them brought a hand to the hilt of his sword. Too late Jez realized what he had said. He opened his mouth to explain, but the king’s sharp voice cut him off.

  “Be glad you did not. I’m told his lair contained workings used to summon the greatest of evils. Man was never meant to meddle with those forces. I would not like to learn that you have an interest in such things.”

  Jez’s head bobbed. “Yes, Your Majesty. I mean no, I don’t. I only meant that I’m sorry he didn’t teach me the proper manners of the court.”

  The king snorted. “Then you know nothing of what he was trying to do?”

  Actually, Jez knew a great deal. Dusan had freed the demon lord Marrowit, and only by accessing the power hidden deep inside himself was Jez able to fight the creature and eventually destroy him. In the end, Balud, the chancellor of the Carceri Academy had decided to suppress knowledge of the incident, even from the king. Haziel may rule Ashtar, but matters of magic and demons were the province of the masters of the Academy.

  “No, Your Majesty. I was only his ward for a few months and his son for just over a week before he died. The masters say he had to have been preparing for years.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told. There are many who have asked me to relieve you of your title. They think he intended to take you on as an apprentice.”

  Behind him, Sileon took in a sharp breath. Jez nodded once. The title didn’t really mean much to him, but without it, he doubted he’d be able to afford to attend the Academy. Still, he couldn’t really offer an argument. It wasn’t like he was qualified to hold the position. The king raised a hand.

  “As despicable as what Dusan did was, it’s not illegal to summon such creatures. No doubt he intended some treachery once he succeeded, but I will not punish you for what he only intended to do, not when I myself approved your adoption. I’ve been told you have great potential as a mage, and I would not want to lose you as an ally.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. You are most kind, and I am your faithful servant.”

  The king nodded. “You will join us tonight for dinner. Lord Varin has also arrived recently, and I would have you acquainted with him.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. It would be my pleasure.”

  Haziel’s eyes flickered over Jez’s shoulder. “After that, we will talk further. I believe you would benefit if I were to send an advisor with you when you return to Korand.” Jez nodded and the king waved at him. “You may go.”

  Jez bowed deeply and turned. Sileon’s face was red and he was clenching his teeth, but he didn’t say anything as Jez walked past him. He was almost at the door when the king’s voice stopped him.

  “Baron Jezreel.”

  Jez looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “It’s not necessary to use my title in every sentence.”

  Jez nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The corners of the king’s mouth tightened and Jez felt blood rush to his face. He bowed again and rushed out, Osmund and Sileon on his heels.

  CHAPTER 3

  As soon as the door to Jez’s sitting room closed, Sileon cried out. The act was so uncharacteristic of the normally calm man that both Jez and Osmund stared at him.

  “Insult after insult,” Sileon said. “I don’t know how you can stand it, my lord.”

  “How did he insult me?” Jez asked as he walked across the room and plopped down in one of the half dozen cushioned chairs. “He actually seemed nice at the end. He invited us to dinner after all.”

  “He invited us to dinner with Lord Varin.” Sileon pra
ctically spat the name. “He’s one of the lowest ranked nobles in the kingdom. To make matters worse, the king didn’t even claim you as an honored guest. He’s putting you on the same level as Varin.”

  “Varin,” Osmund spoke slowly, as if tasting the name. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  Sileon shook his head. “Varin is a minor lordling from...” he hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know the barony.”

  “You don’t think we should refuse to go to dinner, do you?”

  Sileon paled a little and shook his head so hard it could almost be called violent. “Oh no. That would be an insult to the king. Perhaps you could manage that if you had Dusan’s influence, but your position in the court is too precarious to risk insulting anyone.”

  Jez rolled his eyes. “I thought I was one of the highest nobles in the kingdom.”

  Sileon let out a long breath. “There is rank, and there is influence. The lowliest knight can affect change if he has the right alliances.”

  “Rank can help, but it’s not enough by itself.” Jez completed the thought almost by rote. “I know. You’ve said that before.”

  “But you don’t learn.” Jez looked up at him, and Sileon bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lord. I meant no offence.”

  Jez waved off the apology. “He didn’t actually tell us when dinner was, did he?”

  Sileon shook his head. “I can find out if you wish, though it may be seen as a sign of weakness to display our ignorance. Still, the alternative is to stay here and wait to be summoned. It may have been intended as another insult. We should be careful in how we proceed.”

  Jez threw up his arms in frustration. “Oh go ahead and ask. I’m getting so tired of this. We’ve only been in Rumar a few hours, and I already have a headache. I just want to get this over with.”

  Sileon’s eyes widened. “But sir, if you want to increase your influence, court is the best place—”

  “Go Sileon.”

  The advisor’s face went red, but he bowed his head and scurried out. Jez tried to glare as he left, but Sileon looked so ridiculous trying to maintain his dignity that it was impossible. He disappeared through the door. Osmund met Jez’s gaze, and they both laughed. It was several seconds before they calmed down enough to speak.