Shadowguard

by Gama Ray Martinez

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  They talked of their memories together, avoiding any mention of the baron. Minutes flew by, and eventually, Bartin got up and served Jez soup in a wooden bowl. It tasted as wondrous as Jez remembered. The fish almost seemed to melt in his mouth, and it was spiced just right, adding the slightest bit of zest to the cod without covering the flavor. He’d tried to get Dusan’s cook to make him soup like this, and while it never tasted bad, the attempts had never measured up to his father’s cooking. After dinner, they spoke for another half hour. The fire in the hearth had been reduced to embers when a loud knock came at the door. His father opened it and a large man in a chain shirt stood in the doorway. He wore a tabard with a closed fist on it. Bartin’s eyes flickered to the heavy dagger at his belt, and his eyes narrowed on the closed fist sigil on the hilt.

  “Hello Jabur,” Jez said. “It’s time to go?”

  The burly man smiled at Jez’s father before nodding. Jez embraced his father before following Jabur back out to the carriage. The full moon had just started to rise and looked like it was emerging from the sea. Jez wondered how long it would be before he saw his father again. As they started down the road, Jez resisted the urge to look back. He worried his father would see the tears in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Will Baron Dusan be joining us?” Jez asked as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth.

  It seemed like his voice should echo in the cavernous room, but it didn’t. He always felt a little ridiculous eating alone here, but he’d never had the nerve to ask to be served somewhere else. The long table could seat a dozen people. It often did at the dinners the baron hosted, but in the mornings it was nearly always deserted, and Jez sat alone at one end. He’d briefly toyed with the idea of sitting at the head, the spot reserved for the baron, but just the thought of Jabur’s scowl deterred him. He looked up at the guard standing near the doorway.

  “I’m afraid not,” Jabur said. “He’s busy in his counting room. He received a fresh batch of reports this morning, and he’s likely to be busy with them for some time. Korand doesn’t run itself you know.”

  “He’s always busy in his counting room.” Jez dragged a biscuit across his plate, soaking up the juices left from the fruit he’d just eaten. The mix of berries, apples, and oranges blended with the buttery flavor of the bread, and he smiled as he chewed it. “Maybe I can go in there to say goodbye.”

  Jabur gave him a smile. “You know you’re not allowed in there.”

  “It doesn’t feel right to just leave after all he’s done. I should at least thank him.”

  Jabur thought for a second. “Oh, very well. If you’re done with your breakfast, we’ll stop by.”

  Jez pushed aside his plate and got to his feet. The burly man nodded to a nearby servant who set about clearing the table. Jez and Jabur walked down the tiled hall. Jez grinned at the memory of the first time he’d walked through this passage. The tapestries adorning the walls had seemed so amazing. One depicted the Rumar Keep, the home of King Haziel. The setting sun colored the landscape orange. Jez had studied that one for hours. Master Dusan had promised to take him to meet King Haziel once his first term at the Academy was complete, and Jez was looking forward to that more than he had let on. Other tapestries showed great battles and legendary creatures. A few showed people or animals with strange proportions against backgrounds of eye-jarring colors. Jez thought they were ugly, but Dusan had called them dream tapestries, supposedly from a style far to the east. Apparently, they were modeled after what their creators had seen in their dreams. Jez had told him they didn’t look much like any dreams he’d ever had. The baron had looked down his nose at Jez who had eventually murmured an apology. Dusan had half a dozen dream tapestries, and Jez suspected each was worth more than his father’s home.

  “He sure does like red.” Jez spoke more to fill the silence than out of any real desire for conversation with Jabur.

  “What?” he looked up at an image of a ship sailing on rough seas. The sun hung near the horizon. Its reflection was distorted by the waves as it tinged everything with red, making the sea look more like blood than water. “Oh, those are just his house colors. After spending so much time here, I’d have thought you would’ve realized that by now.”

  “I did,” Jez said. “There’s just so much of it.”

  The edges of Jabur’s lips tightened as he tried to hold in a laugh. “Well, I suppose he is overly fond of that color. Don’t you tell him I said that.” Jabur jabbed at Jez’s shoulder with a heavy finger, and Jez nodded as he held in a laugh.

  Near the end of the hall, they turned a corner and went through a small side passage that Jez had rarely gone down. Here, the walls were bare and unadorned, and their footsteps sounded oddly empty. A single door stood at the end of the hall. Jabur knocked twice. The silence stretched on for several seconds. Jabur was about to knock again, when the door opened just wide enough for the baron to poke his head out. His hair was disheveled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His body blocked the doorway so Jez couldn’t see the room beyond, but he did catch a flash of green light. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “What was that?” Jez asked.

  Dusan looked over his shoulder before shrugging at Jez. “Yes, was there something you wanted?”

  “Forgive the interruption Baron,” Jabur said, his head bobbing. “Master Jezreel wanted to see you before he left for the Academy.”

  Dusan’s eyes widened. “Oh yes. Of course.” He opened the door wider and stepped out, closing it behind him before Jez could get a look inside. “I’m glad you came by, or I would’ve forgotten until you were already gone. You wouldn’t believe the problems I have to deal with.” He glanced at Jabur. “I’ll need half a dozen messengers at noon.”

  “I’ll see to it.”

  “Good.” He turned to Jez. “I have some gifts for you. I would’ve given them to you last night, but I was already busy with the reports when you got back in.”

  “But Jabur said you just got them in this morning.”

  The baron glanced at Jabur, and the large man took a step back, but then Dusan shrugged. “Those were yesterday’s reports. Still, I should’ve taken the time to see you.”

  “I understand,” Jez said.

  “Of course you understand,” Dusan said. “I wouldn’t be proper otherwise. Still it’s no excuse. I am a gentleman after all, and I should be held to some standards.”

  Jez knew Master Dusan was trying to be funny and he forced a laugh. Dusan turned and gave him a hurt look. This time, Jez’s laugh was genuine, and the baron joined in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring with a red stone. An open hand had been carved in. He offered it to Jez who took it and turned it in his hands.

  “If you’re going to represent my house, you’ll need a signet ring.”

  Jez slipped in on his finger and stared at it for a few seconds before looking at Dusan. “Thank you.”

  Dusan nodded and motioned for Jez to follow. They walked in silence, turning down a series of halls until they entered a wide corridor with its walls covered with various forms of art. They stopped before a large gilded door with mystic shapes carved into it, Baron Dusan’s quarters. Dusan asked Jez to wait while he went in. He left the door cracked open, and Jez peered inside, though he couldn’t see much aside from an ebony table with a fist sized crystal atop it, Baron Dusan’s speaking stone. The baron came out after a few seconds carrying a wrapped bundle, which he handed to Jez. It felt heavy, and he waited for Dusan to nod before unwrapping it. He almost gasped when the leather hilt came into view.

  It was a sword.

  He shook it until the wrapping came free. The blade was long and thin, not like the heavy weapons he’d seen soldiers carrying. The sheath was made of some dark wood and the image of a man with bat wings had been carved into it. The pommel bore the symbol of the closed fist. Jez drew the weapon; the blade’s silvery metal shone so brightly it almost glow
ed. He swung it a few times, it felt lighter than he’d expected.

  “A duelist’s weapon,” Master Dusan said. He wore the biggest smile Jez had ever seen on him.

  “But Baron,” Dusan raised an eyebrow. “Dusan, I mean. I don’t know how to use a weapon like this.”

  Dusan chuckled. “Few boys your age do. I’ve arranged for a private tutor once you reach the Academy. Mind you, this is a gentleman’s blade. I don’t want to hear you’ve gotten into fights in back alleys. Proper duels happen by the light of day and with witnesses.”

  “Oh, of course not,” Jez said.

  “Do what you have to do, though.”

  “Baron?”

  “This is a lesson they won’t teach you in the Academy. Fools concern themselves with matters of right and wrong, but real life is never as simple as that, and you’ll find right and wrong are mere illusions. Things aren’t black and white, and many of us have to exist in the shades of gray. If you must get in back alley fights for whatever reason, handle your business quietly.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to hear about it. Do you understand?”

  Jez’s throat went dry and for a moment, he couldn’t find his words, so he nodded. Dusan smiled.

  “You really are a terrible liar.” Jez’s face heat up, and he was on the verge of saying he was proud of that, but the baron laughed. “Don’t worry. Once you spend enough time among the right kind of people, you’ll learn. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging your classes for your first term. You’ll study art, history, and philosophy. I know you have an interest in magic so I’ve signed you up for an illusion class.”

  “Illusion?”

  “It’s the only area of magic people of our class study. Oh, there are some that dabble in other areas, but almost everyone has some training in illusion.” Dusan smiled and his eyes glowed red for a second. “It’s like art and will give you something in common with your peers.”

  “What about battle magic?” Jez asked.

  Dusan snorted. “You saw the combatants last night. Oh, they’re entertaining enough, and we certainly need their kind in the army, but those aren’t exactly the kind of people we want to associate with on a daily basis.”

  Jez lowered his eyes. “Oh.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. You’re free to make friends with them. They’re useful to have around.” He nodded at Jabur. “Jabur himself is quite skilled at battle magic, but you come from different worlds, and there’s a wide chasm between your relative positions in society.”

  Jez looked at the ground. “Like there is between me and my father, you mean.”

  Dusan put a hand on his shoulder, and Jez looked up. The smile on the baron’s face had faded.

  “Jezreel, I know you love your father very much, and you always will. You’ll be able to provide for him in a way you never could if you’d followed in his footsteps and become a simple fisherman. You could very easily end up with an appointment to King Haziel’s court, but you need to remember that you and your father are now from different worlds.”

  “I know.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, I promise I’ll see he’s taken care of while you’re away.”

  “Thank you, Dusan.”

  Jez only stumbled a little when saying the name. Dusan smiled and drew him into an embrace. It only lasted a second, and Jez found himself looking into the baron’s eyes. He thought he saw tears there, but they had to be his imagination. The baron never cried.

  “Jezreel, my life has been enriched by your presence more than you could believe. I think of you almost as a son, and I would love to spend the morning talking with you. Unfortunately, the business of the barony will not wait.” He gave Jez a small smile. “I’m afraid it’s another one of those matters where responsibility takes precedence over privilege. Why don’t we go make sure all your things have been carried into the coach, and I’ll see you off?”

  Jez, left speechless by the uncharacteristic show of emotion, only nodded. They went outside. The coach Dusan had hired was waiting. One of the servants Jez didn’t know was overseeing a group of men as they loaded the heavy trunk containing Jez’s belongings, though most of those had been a gift from the baron. Jabur extend his hand to Jez. They shook, with Jez’s hand almost disappearing in the man’s meaty fist. When Jez tried to shake Dusan’s hand, the baron drew him into an embrace again.

  “Be well, Jezreel, son of Bartin. Remember, you go bearing the honor of Korand.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The Korandish grasslands seemed to go on forever. The wind created waves in the sea of grass, and Jez imagined bandits charging out at them. He pictured fending them off with his new sword. He was honest enough to admit that he wouldn’t be able to do very much, but in his imagination, he fought off a dozen men on his own.

  His coach was one of six on a road that cut through the grass. A dozen armed men rode around them, and if there were any bandits nearby, the sight of such a heavily armed party scared them away. They ate smoked meat and bread that was stale more often than not. Once, one of the guards shot a rabbit. There wasn’t enough to go around, but the caravan leader, a stout woman with red hair, made sure Jez got some and made Jez promise to tell the baron she’d treated him well.

  At night, their wagons would make a circle and they had a fire. The adults talked, but Jez didn’t feel very welcome among them. They kept giving him sidelong glances and he had the feeling they were guarding their words. On the third night, he just began eating his food apart from them and lay down as soon as he was finished. He was filled with a sense of perpetual emptiness, and it took him four days to realize it was because he missed the smell of the sea.

  After two weeks of uneventful travel, the Telag Mountains appeared on the horizon. One peak stood out and seemed to have a flat top. The caravan headed in that direction. Three days later, they reached the city of Hiranta at the base of the flat mountain. It was a bleak city made of black stone, the buildings were square and there weren’t any that rose higher than two floors. They arrived in the middle of the day. It was perhaps twice as big as Randak and as soon as they reached the town square, they were surrounded by people eager to buy supplies off the wagons. Jez waited for his coach to stop, but it broke away from the others and stopped in front of an inn. Unlike the ones in Randak, this one had a single floor but took up the space of three buildings. As soon as Jez stepped off, he was greeted by a man in a blue robe. He was short man, no taller than Jez himself, but looked solidly built. If not for the robes, Jez might have thought he was a blacksmith or a stonemason.

  “You are Jezreel Bartinson?”

  “I am.”

  He extended a hand. Jez shook it and realized his hands were covered in callouses, but he didn’t intentionally try to hurt Jez as some of the nobles he’d met recently did.

  “I am Besis, protection master of the Carceri Academy. I will see you the rest of the way to the Academy in the morning.”

  “Why wait?”

  “It takes most of the day to get up Mount Carcer.”

  “Up the mountain?” Jez glanced upward. Far wider than it was tall, the flat topped peak dominated the sky. Spots of white, where he assumed the snow hadn’t melted yet, dotted the areas near the top. It was like some great beast slumbering on the edge of wakefulness. Jez had trouble believing anything could be that big. “We’re going up there?”

  “Of course. The Academy is a place of power, and few places offer as much power as a fire mountain.”

  The stew the inn provided had neither the savory taste of his father’s fish soup nor the overly spiced tasted of the more exotic food Dusan had provided. By comparison, it was bland and tasteless. Chunks of meat Jez couldn’t identify floated in a broth that tasted more like dirty water than anything else. He decided he didn’t really want to know what it was. Still, it was better than most of what he’d had on the road, so he suffered through it. The innkeeper apologized to Master Besis for the quality of the meal by saying that he’d been running low on supplies b
efore the caravan had arrived, and offered them a free room as compensation. Jez couldn’t help but notice he didn’t do that to anyone else, though.

  “The Academy carries a lot of prestige,” Besis said when Jez asked.

  The inn itself was filled with wood smoke. Big men, most with black smudges on their faces, occupied nearly all of the tables. Besis said they were miners who searched the mountains for gems. They looked like rough men, but as soon as it became apparent that an Academy master was looking for a table, two men who were only slightly smaller than mountains vacated theirs.

  “Aren’t you worried that the fire mountain will explode?” Jez asked

  Master Besis chuckled. “Everyone asks that. No, the Academy uses potent magic to keep it dormant.”

  “I still think it would be safer to have it in the city.”

  This time, Besis erupted in laughter, drawing uneasy looks from other patrons. “If the fire mountain exploded, the base of the mountain would be no safer than the top.”

  “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

  Besis’s face grew serious. “The Academy has stood for a thousand years. In that time, Mount Carcer has tried to erupt twice without success. The first time, the Academy’s terramages redirected that power and used it to build the central spire that now houses some of the quarters of the Academy. A two hundred foot tower arose overnight. The second time, they constructed the subterranean levels where some of the most dangerous artifacts are stored, and they created permanent wards there. If the mountain tries to erupt again we’ll use its power for some other beneficial purpose.”

  “Can I learn to do that?”

  “Terra magic?” Besis shrugged. “It depends on whether or not you have the talent for it, but terra magic is a down down-to-earth sort of power.” The master chuckled at his own joke. “Most people have an affinity for one dominion, and terra magic is part of mine, but it’s not something the nobility usually concern themselves with.”