Seven Sorcerers: Book Three of the Books of the Shaper

by John R. Fultz

  “What is the answer?” Zyung asked her.

  Sungui shook her head. “The Emperor of Uurz follows the Jade King’s path, and vows to end the reign of His Holiness.”

  Zyung sat silent for a moment in his great chair. He tossed back his head and laughed. “He will end my reign? I thought this Emperor would speak with more wisdom. Yet I did not expect him to submit gracefully. They never do.”

  “As you say, Holiness.”

  “Did you bring me his name?” asked Zyung.

  “He is Lyrilan,” said Sungui. “Son of Dairon, Brother of Tyro.”

  Zyung nodded. He dismissed the gathered Seraphim to their assigned duties.

  “Let the siege of Uurz commence,” he said. “We will reach the city within the hour.”

  They all bowed low and left the Almighty to his meditations.

  After a word with Eshad regarding the High Seraphim’s role in the coming battle, Sungui went below decks. She found Ianthe in her own cabin, drinking blood from a jeweled bowl. Gammir lounged nearby, doing the same.

  Sungui stared at the red fluid when she entered. She could smell its coppery tang.

  “Another accident among the slaves,” said Ianthe. “We cannot let his diligent substance go to waste.” Sungui refused an offer to drink from Ianthe’s bowl and took a seat upon the satins of her bed.

  “Well?” asked the Panther. “Did he accept the scroll? Did he read it?”

  “Yes,” Sungui said. “It seems that we have an understanding.”

  Ianthe and Gammir smiled at one another. Their lips were scarlet, their teeth pointed and feral. “You have done well,” said the Panther. “If Lyrilan can send Zyung to iron, he can just as well send him to salt.”

  “Only for a brief moment,” said Sungui.

  Ianthe’s tongue glided across her lips like the head of a red viper.

  “A brief moment is all we need, child.”

  Sungui considered the boldness of the move they had made this day.

  “Are you certain His Holiness knows nothing of this?” she asked.

  Ianthe rolled her eyes. “Again you doubt me?” Her taloned fingers glided to Sungui’s cheek, caressing it softly. Her touch was a rush of painful bliss. Sungui trembled.

  “Zyung can no more see the existence of that parchment than he can see this…”

  Ianthe bent her white head to kiss Sungui’s mouth. The familiar spell of heat and desire arose once more to supplant the world.

  Gammir lingered this time, sipping blood and watching like a patient hound.

  17

  The Siege

  Five hours past the sun’s zenith, the Armada of Zyung arrives at last.

  The great gate of Uurz is fortified with bands of Udurum steel. The flat stones of the northern road glimmer gray as pearls in the sunlight. The clouds have broken above the City of Sacred Waters, and the puddles of morning rain have disappeared.

  Vireon stands as tall as the city wall at his back. His new greatsword has grown to match his Giant stature, and so have we. All seven of us stand as tall as Vireon now, placing ourselves between the shuttered city and the approaching dreadnoughts. On the Giant-King’s left stand myself, the coiled Feathered Serpent, and Sharadza. Her spear and shield are made of sunlight frozen hard as diamond. On Vireon’s right are stationed Alua, Lyrilan, and Vaazhia. The white flame burns in Alua’s open palms, dripping like magma between her fingers to sear the flagstones.

  Blue-skinned Giants line the ramparts behind us, a thousand hulking Udvorg with spear, axe, sword, and mace. Above the great gate itself stands the band of Uduri led by Dahrima the Axe. The watchtowers are filled with Legions of Uurzian infantry. Legionnaires peer between the merlons alongside Lord Mendices and D’zan of Yaskatha. Behind the wall ten more Legions of Uurz and the surviving legion of Udurum wait in the deserted streets. Civilians are nowhere to be seen. The last of them have taken shelter in cellars, warehouses, or in the caves beneath the city, where the Sacred River flows.

  Uurz has girded itself for war.

  The great crowns of Lyrilan and Vireon flash in the sunlight, drawing the attention of the armada’s first wave. Vireon raises his gleaming Giant-blade and shouts at the ships above the green plain.

  “Zyung!” His voice does not command the thunder that rakes the sky; it is the thunder. The God-King must hear it. “Our duel is unfinished! Come forth and face me before the gates of Uurz!”

  Vireon has made his appeal. Now we wait as two thousand warships blot out the sunlight. They encircle the city in concentric formations, just as Khama said they did at Ongthaia. They might easily begin the assault and ignore Vireon’s challenge, but Zyung’s pride will not allow it. He must come to finish what was begun at Shar Dni. We have staked our lives on my familiarity with Zyung’s arrogance. It is perhaps his defining quality, evinced in the form of a vast empire built in his image, and by the temple-palaces bearing his likeness.

  Yet Zyung also waits. His dreadnoughts move like titan hawks about Uurz, turning their beaked prows inward to face the streets full of anxious legions. From the sides of their hulls spring the iron tubes Khama described. Soon, very soon, they will vomit flames of alchemy upon the great walls and the city within. Even the flesh of Giants will burn.

  Still we wait. Serene. A wedge of seven monoliths with Vireon at our head.

  “Zyung!” Once again Vireon thunders at the unseen Conqueror. There is no telling which of the airships carries Zyung, yet it does not matter.

  We will draw him out like a Serpent from its cave.

  Sungui had expected the defenders of Uurz to come blazing through the air like ferocious meteors, blasting holes in dreadnoughts as Khama had done above the Jade Isles. Yet the armada had crossed the green plain with no sign of resistance, until the gold-green city came into view. There, like great pillars before the massive gates, stood the sorcerers Iardu had assembled.

  Giants, all seven of them now, with the wind in their hair and defiance in their eyes.

  Sungui stood on the foredeck of the Daystar with Gammir and Ianthe. Zyung remained hidden inside his council chamber, yet his awareness spread across the armada as a stifling pressure in the moist air. Now his mental command rang like a gong in their heads. The captains of the great ships began swinging their vessels into siege formation. The double wings of the Daystar flapped in unison with those on either side of her, and the aerial fleet spread itself about the city with practiced precision. The sky-ships fixed themselves between the golden towers and the blazing sun, casting bright Uurz into shadow.

  Along the ramparts the ranks of northern Giants were assembled for a fresh slaughter. How eager these brutes were to throw away their lives. They had died in the thousands at Shar Dni, where the New Holy Mountain had absorbed their bones. The Men of the city were far greater in number. They had little choice in the matter of defense, for it was their city that would fall today. The Giants might easily run to their icy northland and leave these humans to their fate. Sungui admired the loyalty of Giants, if not their common sense. They would stay and perish alongside the Men of Uurz.

  She expected Zyung to fall eventually beneath the power of Iardu’s band, as Ianthe’s plan had all but ensured. Yet before that moment came, Uurz would suffer and burn. A flood of death would drown the green plain, no matter who conquered this day. Like the stubborn navies who died in defense of Ongthaia, the defenders of Uurz were bound to enter death’s kingdom by the power of their own oaths, their vain pride, and the cruel honor shared by all warriors.

  Let them die, Sungui mused. As long as Zyung falls with them.

  She would help make it so.

  Yet first Ianthe’s coven must continue the charade of serving the Almighty. Make a show of assaulting his enemies and razing this city. The bones that were scattered across the ruined steppe would not be raised into a Holy Mountain. They would be left to rot in the sun and drown in the mud, until the Land of the Five Cities had entirely forgotten them.

  Sungui sighed. The la
st of the armada had assembled itself about the city, with the Daystar floating in the outermost ring. Great, golden birds of prey waiting to strike.

  “The Son of Vod will challenge Zyung first,” said Ianthe. “His honor demands it.” Her hand lingered on Sungui’s shoulder. The Panther’s touch was a constant murmur of pleasure.

  “Vireon is a fool,” Gammir said. “He believes that he owns the strength of Vod, and he will prove it by crossing blades with the God-King yet again. Yet even Vod could not stand against Zyung’s power.”

  “And if you were Vireon?” Sungui asked. “What would you do?” Her eyes lingered on the seven patient Giants before the gates of Uurz.

  Gammir’s lupine face regarded Sungui with contempt. His yellow eyes narrowed. “I would surrender and strike later, when my enemy least expected it.”

  “Of course,” Sungui said. More likely you would run and hide like a viper in some deep-earth crevice. She looked forward to parting ways with the Wolf when today’s deed was done. She would miss Ianthe’s touch, but not the presence of her minion.

  Vireon’s voice rattled the sky, and Zyung’s unspoken command echoed once more in the minds of Seraphim, Captains, and Manslayers. The firing tubes of the dreadnoughts emerged from their glistening hulls, pointed like a million accusing fingers at the city below. Sungui admired the expansive gardens and orchards, the marbled streets and plazas, the sheer beauty of the Uurzian palace. All of this would soon be no more.

  As surely as Ongthaia had drowned, Uurz would burn.

  She watched the impassive faces of the High Seraphim across the decks of nearby ships. How many would choose annihilation over revolt today?

  A second mental command resounded, and the Seraphim floated from their ships into the air, converging above the gates of Uurz and its seven titans. Protective spheres of light blinked to life about each of their hovering bodies. Zyung had called forth his High Ones.

  The Almighty was indeed coming to meet the Giant-King face to face one last time.

  Be patient, came the voice of Ianthe in Sungui’s head. She knew that voice was heard by all the coven. Wait for my signal. Until then, serve your God-King.

  Joining her brethren in the sky above the doomed city, Sungui waited.

  One by one, tiny stars erupt in the purple sky above the gate. Surrounding our group of seven as the dreadnoughts surround the city, a thousand silver-robes appear inside globes of condensed light. They are the size of Men, so to us they are but a swarm of fireflies. Yet only when the last of them appears does Zyung manifest himself before us, accepting Vireon’s challenge.

  The unspoken rules of Zyung’s response are clear: We are not to interfere in this final duel, or his High Seraphim will pelt us with their brilliant destruction.

  Giant-King and God-King face one another yet again.

  Today Vireon defends a living city, not a haunted ruin.

  The Giant-King strides toward Zyung, whose flaming blade ignites from the center of his fist. The Conqueror says not a word. He will let his power speak for him.

  Vireon’s blade arcs forward, a bolt of lightning against a pillar of flame. There is thunder, and black clouds swirl above the swarm of dreadnoughts. Wind blasts the battlements of Uurz. The gigantic blades howl and collide again.

  The Flame of Intellect leaps upon my chest. I sense the presence of Ianthe and Gammir among the legion of Old Breed who watch this contest of titans. They, too, await the perfect moment to strike. Yet all eyes are focused on the two colossal combatants.

  The dust along the gate road leaps as the great blades connect. Vireon steps away from the burning blade and parries a downstroke. Zyung moves very little, yet his arm is a leaping cobra with a tongue of flashing fire. Vireon’s steel begins to smoke from the touch of the burning blade.

  Giant-King circles about God-King, and Zyung swivels to keep his eyes on Vireon. His arm knows no weakness or fatigue. He deflects Vireon’s every blow and thrust. His flameblade singes Vireon’s eyes, leaving a cut across the Giant-King’s cheek that steams and sizzles. Vireon feints to avoid the next blow and locks his left hand about Zyung’s right wrist. The flaming blade vanishes, only to reappear in Zyung’s left fist. It turns Vireon’s blade away and slips upward to catch the Giant-King in his left side, running him through. Zyung withdraws it instantly. Steaming blood spills from the hole above Vireon’s hip, spilling down his bronze legs. A more central thrust would have ended the duel at once.

  Vireon staggers but does not fall. His blade rises to protect his neck from the flaming sword’s arc. The two blades are locked now, emitting sparks and black smoke. The eyes of Vireon and Zyung are also locked. A third deadlock: Their free hands have come together, fingers entwined in a crushing grip.

  “Vireon!” calls Sharadza. “Vireon!”

  It is too late. Stellar flames from Zyung’s eyes blast Vireon in the face. The Giant-King howls, losing his grip as his iron-dense flesh melts away from the skull beneath it. Zyung spins his flame-blade and takes off Vireon’s right arm at the shoulder. Then the burning weapon arcs upward and sideways, cleaving off the Giant-King’s head.

  The great crown of iron and sapphire falls free of the head as it tumbles. Vireon’s smoking skull never meets the earth. Zyung catches it in his free hand. Vireon’s blade falls to join his crown. Yet before either of them hits the ground, the Conqueror’s voice rings out. The towers behind us tremble.

  Vireon’s head is a mound of white salt in Zyung’s palm.

  The flaming blade extinguishes itself. Zyung’s hand touches the chest of Vireon’s headless body, which has not yet fallen. It becomes an icon of white solidity now, a great effigy of salt that holds its shape as if wrought of pale marble. Zyung casts his fistful of salt–Vireon’s pulped head–across the salted body. The scattered grains adhere to the body’s surface like thistles in a hunter’s cloak. Yet the head does not reform. Nor will it ever. The Conqueror will either consume the salt himself when the siege is done, or give it to his Seraphim to imbibe.

  Sharadza cannot find a voice to cry out. Alua stares at her salted husband, tears of white flame drizzling from her eyes. Her mouth is open, but like Sharadza her scream has not yet begun.

  All at once it begins. Here is the signal the armada has been awaiting: the Giant-King’s death. Orange flames pour from the sky-ships, washing across the ramparts of Uurz into the streets and gardens beyond. The wails of burning Men and Giants rise on currents of stifling air.

  The Feathered Serpent leaps at Zyung with Vaazhia at his side.

  Sharadza and Alua advance screaming with spear and flame.

  Lyrilan and myself circle about to approach Zyung from behind.

  A hail of deathlights falls about us as the High Seraphim unleash their power.

  A sea of flame deluged the city as the six titans fell upon Zyung.

  The High Seraphim needed no command to begin defending the Celestial One. They cast bolts of solar conflagration toward Vireon’s rushing avengers.

  Again Ianthe’s voice rang in Sungui’s mind, and in the minds of the five hundred.

  Not yet, my children. Do not unleash your true power. Throw beams of gentle sunlight upon these defenders of Uurz. Allow them to weaken Zyung. We must neither prevent nor aid them. Wait for my signal. Be patient…

  Among the thousand High Ones there remained half who were not among Ianthe’s coven. They hurled honest deathlights at the six sorcerers below, and there was nothing Sungui could do to prevent it. Yet Iardu’s followers were not so easily ashed as the soldiers who had died by the thousands at Shar Dni. As for the ranks of Lesser Seraphim, their power was directed at the besieged city. Their sunbolts sent towers and bridges toppling while the dreadnoughts poured rivers of flame across the battlements. The Men and Giants there sent up volleys of arrows, burning logs, catapult stones, and screams of hatred. Other than that, they could only burn and die.

  Sungui poured harmless light upon the Feathered Serpent as its maw struck at Zyung. Ianthe and Gammir floa
ted among the High Ones nearby, indistinguishable from all the rest in their silver vestments. The entire coven pretended to defend their master with impotent rays of light, while the five hundred who were not among Ianthe’s revolution poured raw power upon the Sorcerers of Uurz.

  Each of the loyalists would have one last chance to join the coven. The wisest among them would choose treason instead of oblivion. The rest of them would not be missed.

  Be patient…

  We are six now.

  Zyung ignores the torrent of starfire rushing from Khama’s jaws, though it burns away his silver raiment. He grabs the Feathered Serpent by the throat with both massive hands. I have seen men kill vipers in this way by strangling them to death. Khama’s black stinger strikes home again and again, puncturing the God-King’s marble flesh. The Serpent’s convulsions knock over the salted remains of Vireon, who crumbles to white powder among the tall grass.

  Vaazhia’s leap brings her falling upon the God-King’s shoulders like a raging lioness. Her claws rip both sides of his face, carving rents in his stony cheeks, while the talons of her feet dig deep into his back. Sharadza’s spear of hard light impales Zyung’s gut, emerging bloody from his back. Alua casts streams of flame like whips about the God-King’s legs.

  I weave a curtain of sorcery to block the deathlights that rain upon us. Lyrilan does the same as he positions himself behind Zyung.

  Beyond the burning walls Giants hurl spears and burning logs at the sky-ships. Volleys of flaming arrows fly upward, but they will do no good. We already know that these ships do not easily burn.

  Alua pulls her flame-whips forward and Zyung topples backward. Instead of falling he rises into the air. His voice erupts like a volcano, spilling across the snared Feathered Serpent. Khama’s bright coils turn to milky crystal, losing color and flexibility. Like Vireon before him, Khama is sent to salt. Zyung breaks the salt-Serpent in half, hurling both pieces to the ground, where they erupt in clouds of dust.