Our armed escort leads us toward the far end of the hall, past the yawning mouths of corridors agleam with half-light. This is the nexus of their sunken city, the heart of a nameless kingdom that few living beings know exists. There are no books in any of the Five Cities’ libraries that speak of this place, no stone tablets that record its history. Only one entity survives who remembers the glory of this lost city when it thrived in the sunlit world an eon past. Her gaze falls upon us now.
She sits upon a tusked throne made from crystal and the bones of mammoth Serpents. The nameless ones bow before her dais. I sink to one knee and my companions join me. She regards me in silence as I raise my head to speak.
“Greetings, Vaazhia, Queen of the Nameless Realm,” I say. “It has been far too long since last we spoke.” I use the common tongue because I know she understands it. Not even she remembers the long-dead language of her own kingdom.
Vaazhia’s eyes gleam bright as rubies with vertical pupils of ebony. She sits tall as an Uduri upon her throne. High cheekbones dominate her shapely face, and her full lips are purple as the skin of fresh grapes. Her tall forehead sweeps back into six horns that rise from her skull like a crown of yellowed ivory. A flood of night-black hair flows from the top of her head to cover her shoulders and breasts. Strands of jewels shimmer upon her arms and legs, where the scales of her scarlet skin reflect the glow of firelight.
“Shaper.” I am relieved to see that she remembers me. Her forked tongue darts from between her lips and slides back into the hollow of her mouth. “You have not visited me since the black desert ruled the lands above. Are these your daughters?” Her eyes shift to examine Alua and Sharadza.
“These are my honorable companions,” I say, emphasizing the last word. I introduce both women at length. Vaazhia was always impressed with formalities and courtly etiquette. Reminders of her lost Queenhood, perhaps.
“I am most honored to meet you,” Sharadza says with a curtsey. “Your hidden kingdom is… quite lovely.”
Alua’s only greeting is a silent bow of the head. “You are of the Old Breed,” Vaazhia says to her. She recognizes the subtle signs of our ancient kind. Her eyes return to Sharadza: “And you carry the blood.”
“My father was Vod, King of Giants, Breaker of the Desert,” says Sharadza.
Vaazhia’s eyes widen. She leans forward in her great chair. “Yes. I see him in your face, girl. Yet I knew him by another name. And his father I knew better than he did. Yet too short was his stay in my company. This cannot have been so long ago…”
“Only a few decades,” I say. “Time is an illusion that fools us all, cousin.”
Vaazhia looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. She nods, her eyes glazing with memories, or the shreds of memories. A silence falls upon the chamber. Even the orange flames, fueled by her sorcery, are without sound.
I break her reverie by speaking her name again. She blinks like a viper.
“Do you recall the name of Zyung?” I ask. The lizardess nods. “A great war falls upon the world above, and Zyung has become our enemy. We seek your aid in opposing him and those of our kind that he commands.”
Vaazhia laughs. “The world above does not concern me,” she says. “Long ago I enjoyed life beneath the sun and stars. This is my world now and I am content. My children take what I need from the fields above, and there are none to challenge my rule here.”
“Your… children… are known only as brigands and river pirates in the world above,” I remind her. “When they raided the desert they bore the stigma of nomads and the hatred of civilized folk. Now they are the scourge of the Stormlands, and still held in contempt for it. Do you not wish for allies, for respect, for companionship?”
“I have companions,” she says, spreading her arms wide to indicate the Nameless Folk. They stare at us, silent as mushrooms.
“I know the truth of these nameless ones,” I say. “They are creations of your sorcery, nothing more than phantoms designed to resemble those you once ruled here. In the world of the living they are nothing less than scavengers and thieves, all in service to an unknown sovereign. They neither think nor feel. You are alone here, Vaazhia. Yet you need not be.”
The lizardess stands, towering twice my own height. Sharadza takes a step back. Alua does not move.
Vaazhia opens her mouth wide, baring fangs like those of a cobra. “You insult me, Shaper…” The earth rumbles beneath our feet and sand trickles from the vaulted ceiling. The flames in her braziers rise higher and brighter. Serpents of fire dance there, ready to leap and devour us.
“No,” I say. “I bring you a gift called truth.” I step closer to her, drawing her gaze lower. The long talons of her fingers curl on either side of me. “Far too long have you wallowed in the sorrow of your own memories. The world you built here died long ago! Yet you can build another. Do not waste your immortality sitting in the dark, lost in a prison of remembrance. Live, Vaazhia! Rise up and discover how fine and beautiful the world has become! I will help you!”
Her rage subsides. She does not weep, but sinks back into her throne. The braziers return to their calm state of illumination. She sighs, sweeping her gaze across the throng of phantom folk who have served her for millennia. Vaazhia’s curse is not to forget, but to remember. I must break her of it. I reach out with the invisible coils of my heart, hoping to reach her own. Eager to make her believe that something other than this futile existence is possible.
“How can I do this?” she asks. Her voice is that of a despairing child.
“Let me–let us–show you how,” I say. “You are of the Old Breed. You can remake yourself as you will. Come and see the world that lives green and golden above you. Fangodrel’s world.” Vaazhia loved Vod’s father Fangodrel, if only for a little while. When he refused to stay with her in this sunken realm, it only confirmed her despair. Yet Fangodrel was but a taste of the world that had moved on without her. I know she longs for more of that sweet flavor.
“There is so much goodness to discover in the world,” Sharadza says. “Light and love and the laughter of children. The gleam of sunlight on water and leaf. The breath of night and the glimmer of stars. So much more…”
Vaazhia sits in silence for a long moment.
The nameless ones collapse into piles of black sand and coarse cloth. They will no longer raid the ships of the Western Flow and the villages of the grassy steppe. They were nothing but mindless drones that served the will and appetites of Vaazhia. Now the lizardess must learn to serve herself.
“Tell me more of Zyung and this war,” she says.
In the coral palace of Indreyah the Mer-Queen we are received without ceremony by a cadre of Sea-Folk guards in scalloped armor. Alua’s flaming sphere has carried us far over the Cryptic Sea, and as we plunged into the blue waters I replaced it with a sphere of sunlight and fresh air. Once I was welcome here, but those days are done.
As we sank into the great chasm and left the aquamarine light behind, Vaazhia asked me a question that I could not answer. “Do you really believe your former lover will aid you in this struggle, Shaper?” The lizardess was blunt. The waters rushed by us in a swirl of bubbles. The purple glow of the anemone forest lay directly below us. Eels and schools of silver fish darted by our sinking globe of light.
“She may hold little love for me these days,” I said. “But she is quite fond of Sharadza.”
Alua and Vaazhia turned to the Daughter of Vod. Vaazhia had reduced her size to stand no taller than any of us. Her crimson orbs blinked with curiosity.
“I once visited her palace,” said Sharadza, “to reclaim the bones of my dead father. Later she aided me against a sorcerer who had imprisoned me.”
“You have lived a most interesting life for one so young,” said the lizardess. Of course, she had lingered for an eon in the cellars of a dead city. Having Sharadza as a companion would be good for her. The Daughter of Vod had given me a new passion for life, and I was sure she would do the same for Vaazhia. If we
all survived the coming of Zyung and retained our individual natures.
We descended among a multitude of gliding sharks, rays, and squids toward the avenues of the coral city. Spires and domes glimmered below like constructs hewn from monolithic emeralds. Shades of crimson, turquoise, and azure danced amid the incandescent marine gardens. The Sea-Folk swam thickly here, where streets and plazas were home to phosphorescent anemones, gardens of kelp, and groves of deepwater flora.
Curious crowds of the silver-scaled folk encircled us, staring with the amber orbs of their eyes. The sharp tines along the middle of their backs and on the tops of their heads twitched nervously. Some brandished tridents or harpoons of whale bone. Indreyah’s people were a cautious breed; the people of the dry lands had exploited the ocean’s riches for as long as there had existed divers, swimmers, and seagoing vessels. The Sea-Folk had good reason to fear the air-breathers of the world. I could not begrudge their lack of hospitality.
As we sank into the palace courtyard, pitted walls of crimson coral rose to hide the city from us. Indreyah’s finny warriors came forth to surround us with the points of their fishbone spears. Their captain rode on the back of a harnessed black shark and carried a crystalline blade. He spoke in the bubbling language of the Sea-Folk, and among our group only I understood him.
I addressed him by name, in my own language, yet by my conscious magic he understood my words. “Captain Aoliooyulp, you look well. Take us to the Queen if it pleases you.” He knew that my request was in truth a polite demand. Aoliooyulp had known my anger before and had no wish to draw it upon himself again. I was not always so level-headed in matters of the heart, or so cautious about releasing my rage upon those about me. One of my many faults. Indreyah had discovered most of them during my time in her watery kingdom.
So we enter the coral palace under heavy escort and are brought before the throne of sculpted sapphire. Indreyah the Mer-Queen leans back against the great oyster shell that rises from her high seat. The lambent jewels of a hundred lost kingdoms encrust the dais below her webbed feet. Strands of dark hair float about her silvery head, evoking an image of black flames. The topaz orbs of her eyes flash directly at me, as if she does not see my three companions at all. I do not wait for her to condemn me with words or compel me to leave. Before she can do either, I sink to both knees and spread my arms wide within the tiny sphere of air.
“Great Queen of the Sea,” I begin, “my old and dear friend, most beautiful of all creatures beneath the waves, ruler of the coral kingdom and keeper of the Great Pearl. My heart rejoices to see you again.”
Indreyah does not reply to my obvious fawning. I must play the fool here to disarm her; better to draw her amusement than her scorn. It is a fine dance that requires a perfect balance of charm and flattery.
The Mer-Queen’s eyes settle upon the ladies behind me. “Sharadza of Udurum, Daughter of the Great and Honorable Vod.” She smiles, baring teeth bright as pearls and sharp as fangs. “You are most welcome here.”
Sharadza performs her royal curtsey and offers a smile that is worth far more than my own words. “It has been too long, Majesty,” Sharadza says. “Since last we spoke, I have gained and lost a Queenhood. I am no longer of Udurum, though my heart still dwells there. Allow me to present Alua, Queen of Udurum, wife of my brother Vireon, King of Giants. Perhaps you have known Alua by another name long ago, for she is of your kind. And this is—”
“Vaazhia,” says the Mer-Queen. Recognition glimmers in her yellow orbs. “My cousin.”
The lizardess bows and her forked tongue darts in and out.
“I did not know you still lingered among us,” says Indreyah. “Yet I am glad to see you.”
“Empires may rise and fall,” Vaazhia says, “but the Old Breed are forever. Your realm is one of beauty and splendor.”
Indreyah turns her gaze upon me again. I remain kneeling before her dais, knowing that to do less would be unwise. “Iardu, what scheme of yours brings these great ladies together?”
I smile at the subtle nature of her insult. “No scheme but urgent need, Queen of Coral. Zyung has finally reached across the great water. He would conquer the Five Cities and all their peoples. I would not trouble you if the circumstances were not so dire. I come on behalf of Sharadza and her kingdom, as well as the kingdoms of Uurz, Yaskatha, Mumbaza, and even dark Khyrei, to ask for your support in the greatest struggle of this age.”
The Mer-Queen’s bubbling laughter fills her throne room. Her soldiers and courtesans join in her mirth, unsure of the reason for it.
I look at Sharadza, who understands what I need her to do.
“Majesty,” Sharadza says, “Iardu speaks truly.” She describes the Hordes of Zyung, the legions of Manslayers, the vast armada of airborne dreadnoughts. She elicits the threat of Zyung as eloquently as I could have done myself, perhaps even better. The Mer-Queen listens attentively and says nothing to interrupt her. Sharadza finishes her well-spoken plea and the Sea-Folk watch her as if they too understand. Perhaps some of them have studied the dry tongues.
“I have no wish to battle with this God-King of the Dry Lands,” says Indreyah at last. “I remember the power of Zyung from the time before Man walked the continents. Let him rule the world above the waves if that is what he wishes. He is no threat to me. If what you say is true, he will bring peace and order to the kingdoms of the Five Cities. If he wishes to parley with the underwater realm, I will speak with him as an equal. Yet I do not think he cares for my deep kingdom. I will not condemn my people to fight a war that does not serve their interests. I am afraid that you have wasted your time in coming here, though you are always welcome, Daughter of Vod.”
“Indreyah…” My tone is pleading. “You are far more than the Queen of the Sea-Folk. You are of the Old Breed! Do not forget what this means…”
“I am what I wish to be,” Indreyah says. “As are we all.”
Her amber eyes smolder with pent flames.
“Is there nothing I can do to sway you?” I ask. “I returned your great pearl years ago. Do you still begrudge me so?”
“I begrudge no one,” Indreyah says, spreading her long webbed fingers. “I will not seek war when there is nothing to gain from it. Only fools and madmen do so. Perhaps you should consider negotiating with Zyung instead of forsaking his dream of peace.”
“I have already achieved peace between the Five Cities!” I almost lose my temper. She has to see the tragic irony of what befalls us. “There is peace now above the waves–for the first time there is no war among Men! Ianthe no longer rules Khyrei. There is a chance for a new and brighter world here, far from the oppression of Zyung’s empire. A dream I never thought possible has been fulfilled only to face extinction from the other side of the world. I cannot let everything I have worked so long to build be crushed beneath his heel.”
“Everything you have built?” She mocks me. “Your manipulations are like those of Zyung, yet you realize it not. How many Kings have you tricked into following your designs? How many Men and Giants have given their lives to your scheming? How many lost races and crumbled kingdoms? You speak of freedom and liberty, but you have always been a tyrant where it concerns your personal stakes.”
The remnants of old arguments have risen like hungry krakens to tear at our hearts.
“You never did understand me,” I tell her.
“I have spoken,” says the Mer-Queen. “You may stay here as honored guests, or depart on the moment. But I will not join your war.”
Sharadza is silent. She knows there is nothing more to be said.
“Time grows short,” I say. “We cannot linger. There is one last ally we must try to win.”
Indreyah glides from her throne to hover above our airy sphere.
“Go then with my blessing,” she says. Then to Sharadza, Vaazhia, and Alua: “Return to me when you have no favors to ask. I would enjoy your company.”
“If we live to see victory,” says Sharadza. “I promise that I will.”
/> The Mer-Queen glides into a shadowed hallway, followed by a coterie of silver-scaled attendants.
The air inside our glowing sphere has grown thin. The guards lead us into the courtyard where I will the sphere to rise, taking us as fast as I dare toward the surface. I had hoped Indreyah’s fondness for Sharadza would win her to our cause. I should have known better. Like Vod himself, the Queen of the Sea-Folk would never forget or forgive the ways in which I had wronged her.
“I am sorry,” says Sharadza, her hand on my shoulder. I can only smile at her. I promise myself now that I will never give her cause to hate me as Indreyah does. As Vod had done.
“You plan to seek the Maker of Mountains,” says Vaazhia, guessing my next move.
I nod a silent confirmation.
“You would disturb his long sleep?” she asks, reptile tongue darting nervously. “Do you not fear risking the wrath of Udgrond?”
I cannot lie to her, or the others.
“Yes,” I say. “I do. But we have little choice.”
“Who is Udgrond?” asks Sharadza.
“The Maker of Mountains,” I answer. She need not know more at this time. Our sphere breaks above the waves, and Alua weaves the white flame about us once again.
I close my eyes and look inward, seeing a vision of the Jade Isles wracked by typhoon and wave. Beyond that scene, cleaving the very heart of Khama’s wall of storms, the Holy Armada of Zyung approaches. Khama and the Southern Kings will not long delay him. I cannot dwell on the hundreds of ships and the thousands of lives that will be soon lost. Instead, I plant a vision of our destination into the mind of Alua, and the flaming sphere carries us across the sky.
For a fleeting moment I consider sending my companions across the continent to join Vireon’s forces in the Sharrian valley. Or to the Jade Isles, perhaps to lessen the inevitable slaughter. Then I realize that all our powers might be necessary in this current endeavor. We must go together if we are to have any hope. We have only a day, perhaps two. Three at most.
Seven Sorcerers: Book Three of the Books of the Shaper Page 12