Seven Kings bots-2

by John R. Fultz

  She shook her head and stared about the garden. Between the slim fruit trees a shallow pool glimmered. Swift shapes glided in the crystalline water. A trio of brightly plumed birds flew down from the branches to drink from it.

  “How can I live on, knowing the horror of what I’ve done?” she asked. She sounded like a child seeking advice from her father.

  “If you have done ill,” said Iardu, “then overcome it by doing the opposite. Balance the scales of your heart. This is the beginning of your journey, not the end. You carry the greatness of the Old Breed inside you. Do not let the darkness that enslaved you destroy what you truly are. You are Vod’s daughter. You will endure.”

  She walked to the pool and watched the fat fish moving through the water. Their scales flashed gold and white, crimson and silver. The birds flew back into their trees, squawking and singing. A mass of white blossoms grew about the pool’s edge. Luminous dragonflies buzzed between the petals.

  Suddenly she realized that someone watched her from between the trees. She raised her head, Iardu’s voice still ringing in her ears, and met the face of her silent observer. The face was that of a lovely woman with tawny skin; her eyes were a mix of ebony and sparkling amber. A necklace of opals and amethysts hung below her slim neck, and below that swelled the broad chest of a golden beast. The watcher’s body was that of a lion standing tall as a pony, complete with black claws and a swishing tufted tail. Tiny wings with white feathers grew from between her leonine shoulder blades; they were far too small to carry her majestic bulk, yet they unfolded and spread themselves wide as her human face smiled at Sharadza. Behind her ruby lips gleamed a set of lion’s fangs, but there was no threat in their display.

  “Greetings,” said the creature.

  Sharadza had no words to respond. Iardu spoke instead.

  “This is Eyeni,” said the mage. He spared a loving smile for the creature. “She watches over my home when I am away.”

  Sharadza bowed in wordless greeting. She was still not in command of herself.

  The lioness nodded its woman-like head. “I recognize your sorrow,” she said. “Know that in this place all wounds can be healed. Trust in the wisdom of the Shaper.”

  “Thank you,” Sharadza croaked. She felt foolish and weak.

  Can I truly live with these memories?

  Eyeni paced around the pool and approached Iardu.

  “How fares the island?” asked the sorcerer. He rubbed a hand over Eyeni’s glossy coat. She purred for a moment as a true lioness might, then answered him.

  “All is well, Father. Will you stay for a while?”

  Iardu shook his head. “I cannot. Already I have lingered too long. A battle rages on the shore of the Golden Sea, and the fate of nations spins like a tossed coin.”

  He looked toward Sharadza where she sat on the grass near the pool. Tiny green monkeys with curious man-like faces scrambled through the treetops now, staring down at her and darting away like phantoms. They made no sound at all.

  “This is Sharadza, Queen of Yaskatha,” Iardu told the lioness. “Prepare a chamber for her. Something with a nice sea view, and not too far from the garden. She will stay here as long as she wishes.”

  “No.” Sharadza raised her eyes from the sunbright water. “You’re going back to face Gammir and Ianthe. So am I.” She stood and breathed in the garden air, the tears drying now upon her cheeks.

  Iardu shook his head. “Have you learned nothing?” he asked. “You rush blindly into danger like a farm boy eager for a sword fight. Elhathym imprisoned you in stone. And now Gammir-”

  “I broke out of that stone prison,” she reminded him, “and pulled you out of the empty void, as I recall.”

  Iardu sighed.

  “You said I must earn redemption for the things he made me do,” she said. “My redemption starts now.”

  “You do not understand,” said Iardu. “There is far more at stake. The slaves of Khyrei are rebelling. The black city lies under siege. The future of Khyrei and all kingdoms will be defined by what happens next. And there is yet more… much more that I have not told you.”

  “Zyung,” she said. Gammir had shown her the other side of the world in his enchanted glass. The monolithic empire of the one called the God-King. “I know what he is. I have seen his forces. And I know that he comes soon.”

  Iardu’s eyes flickered like twin prisms. “How?”

  “Gammir has allied himself with Zyung. He told me his plan to serve the Conqueror and one day replace him. Now Ianthe stands at his side again. You cannot go alone.”

  Iardu’s shoulders tensed. He paced across the green lawn and rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

  “You didn’t know about Gammir’s alliance until this moment,” she said. She could almost read his mind. “You fostered this rebellion. You’re trying to liberate Khyrei before the invasion comes.”

  “Yes, child,” he said, staring at the pathway of green marble that wound through the garden. “Time is short. Zyung is eager to take this half of the world.”

  “Your half,” said Sharadza. He looked at her, but his ageless expression was unreadable.

  “You need to rest,” he told her, pleading now. “You have suffered much and require time to heal.”

  “Only by returning to Khyrei and facing Gammir will I find any kind of peace,” she said. She walked to him. Eyeni lay upon the grass where the sunlight bathed her glossy pelt. The tiny white wings lay folded on her back. Her clever eyes followed their faces, as a child watches its parents engaged in an argument.

  Iardu sighed and threw up his hands. “You would walk through flames to take a swim,” he said.

  “What else will Gammir do?” she said. “Kill me?”

  Iardu’s brow lowered, casting a shadow over his gleaming eyes. “Oh, there are far worse fates than death for those like us.” And she knew he had accepted her insistence.

  “Sorcerers,” she said.

  “As good a word as any,” he replied. “We must go now.”

  “Shall we fly?”

  Iardu shook his head. The blue flame on his chest leaped and writhed. “There is no time. Even as eagles the flight would take too long. The slaves of Khyrei need help immediately.” He paced to a clear section of the marble path and motioned for her to join him.

  “To bring you and your runestones here, I opened a dangerous gateway,” he said. “A realm of living fire that lies between our own world and many others. It was the only way to transfer ourselves and the stones at once. The light and flame that slipped through this gate destroyed Gammir’s tower; it burned away his army of wraiths and bloodshadows. I will need to open it again, so that we can slip through that fiery dimension and step out once more into Khyrei. It will not be without pain.”

  “I am ready.” Pain. How could simple physical pain ever scare her after the horrors she had endured? She would never fear pain again. Flesh and bones were ephemeral, a suit of clothing to be worn or shed at will.

  She no longer wielded power. She was power.

  How she longed to unleash it upon the heads of Gammir and Ianthe.

  “Farewell, Father,” said Eyeni, raising her head from her paws.

  “Farewell for now, Eyeni,” said Iardu. “See that Sharadza’s quarters are established for our return.”

  “It shall be done.” The lioness loped through the garden toward the trio of pale towers.

  Sharadza kissed Iardu’s cheek. Then she stood back and spoke to him with her eyes.

  Take me to Khyrei.

  Iardu raised his arms and sang the ancient worldsong of light and flame.

  When the great gate swung open, three thousand slaves and ten thousand Sydathians flooded into the streets of the black city. The fields outside blazed, but the streets were mazes of gloom pierced only by the glow of hanging lanterns. The Sydathian vanguard, five thousand strong, had swarmed the southern wall in a matter of moments, casting down the torn bodies of Onyx Guards and hapless archers. There would be no more arrows ra
ining down on the Free Men of Khyrei. Once over the wall, the eyeless ones had no trouble forcing the Southern Gate open to admit the rebellion.

  Tong lost sight of the Emperor and Empress. They had fled the wall when the eyeless ones began to climb it. No doubt they were investigating the fiery destruction of the palace’s westernmost tower. Tong knew it was Iardu’s work, a false sun to burn away the armies of shadow. He blessed the wizard under his breath as he rushed into the gloomy streets.

  Earlier he had wondered how many legions still dwelled within the city, since the bulk of them were sent to secure the western border. He still had no answer to this question. His heart sank as a fresh legion of black-masked soldiers charged through the main street toward the ruptured gateway. The Onyx Guardsmen sprinted behind a shield wall brimming with pikes.

  The pikemen would have killed hundreds of slaves in the first moments of the battle, except that they could not reach them. Sydathians ran along the horizontal shafts of their spears, bounded past their lacquered shields, and found tender flesh with their razory claws. Tong’s sightless brothers would kill every armored man in the city, but they shared his understanding of mercy for women and children. His bond with them was beyond even his own comprehension, but he felt the city give way beneath the press of pale bodies, felt the warm blood gushing between talons and fangs that were not his own.

  The screams of dying men rose to join those atop the wall, where the sentinel towers were forsaken and already full of bodies. Across the roofs of warehouses, granaries, and manor houses Tong saw the barbed spires of the great palace. Never had they loomed so close or so high. He had never been inside the city before this night. A labyrinth of streets and plazas lay between his army and the Emperor’s house.

  “Find all slaves!” he yelled to his human brothers. “Free them all! Let them join us!”

  This became his mission as the Sydathians rushed through the streets, slaughtering the black legion. Tong, Tolgur, and a hundred other men bearing stolen sabres and spears rushed from house to house spreading the word that freedom had come to Khyrei. Women clutched their babies and shied away from their windows and doors; their husbands and sons came forward to take up the bloodstained pikes and blades of their oppressors. Within every manor house and squalid tenement the rebels awoke, and the numbers of Tong’s slave army grew.

  Another legion came marching from the city’s eastern quarter to engage the Sydathians. By then it was too late: Sydathians far outnumbered Men as the city fell into chaos. Someone set a fire, intentionally or accidentally, and now the city’s buildings burned like its fields. Some of the masked ones made the mistake of surrendering to the enraged mob. They were stripped of their fanged masks, then their armor and clothing, followed by tongues, eyes, and finally their lives. Tong could not speak out against this cruelty, and if he did no one would listen. His people had suffered so long that he expected such brutality. He expected more dead slaves as well, but the Sydathians protected the freed men who were brave or foolhardy enough to engage Onyx Guards in combat. As a loyal hound fights for his master, so did the eyeless ones protect the marauding slaves. Still, a few slaves were cut down before their Sydathian wards could intervene. Yet in most instances the eyeless ones ended such uneven fights with the swipe of a single claw.

  A man who was slave to a merchant lord of the city came forward. Tolgur brought him to Tong because he claimed to know the city streets well. His ragged nightshirt was smeared with blood and he clutched a spear in trembling fists. His name was Odumi, and a mad joy blazed in his dark eyes.

  “Can you lead us to the palace?” Tong asked. He pointed at the black spires.

  “Yes!” answered Odumi. “I hear the Empress has returned. Let us welcome her with blood and fire!”

  “We have pikes for both of their heads!” cried Tolgur. The lad raised a spear and howled with the throng.

  Tong led the bulk of the freed men through the streets with Odumi at their head. What would he do when he reached the palace? He must face Gammir the Undying and Ianthe the Claw. Was Iardu done with aiding him? It did not matter. This rebellion could only end with a free city. Tong would die for the cause if he must. His would be a worthy death.

  They ran through shadowed streets and smoke-filled avenues where the flames had not yet reached. Sydathians leaped in their midst. Any guardsmen who showed themselves were quickly speared to death or torn apart. In this way the mob came through the maze of walls, doors, and arches into a great plaza. Stained blocks of stone at the far end of the square were set with iron rings with chains attached. He wondered which of his ancestors had stood upon those blocks and been sold into the fields.

  No man, woman, or child would ever stand there in chains again.

  Beyond the open mall the ebony palace loomed nearer. Yet Tong could not see all of the structure due to the massive statue standing at the head of the slaving square. Carved from gleaming onyx, it stood taller than a sentinel tower, draped in the semblance of a sable robe that mimicked the starry sky. His jaw dropped as he gazed upon it. It wore a face of cruelty and wickedness, with eyes of solid ruby set below a seven-pointed crown. One clawed hand hefted a mighty spear, while the other held aloft a globe of murky crystal. The army of slaves stood in awe of the construct, having never seen anything of its proportions. The blind Sydathians largely ignored it, rushing up the broad steps to fill the plaza with their sniffing, bounding bodies.

  In that instant of wonder which seemed to last hours, a great rumbling shook the flagstones. Nearby garden walls collapsed, and several of the plaza’s columns fell over and splintered into rubble. A great moaning came from the sandaled feet of the statue, each one large enough to contain a granary if it were hollow. A wave of fear passed across the slaves then, and Tong felt it like a poison shot into his veins by some hidden dart. The Sydathians felt it too, and they grew still in the grip of the trembling earth.

  The mighty statue lowered its head, ruby eyes glowing brighter than blood.

  Some men went mad and fled shrieking from the plaza. Tong stood transfixed by the impossible vision. The colossal figure of stone and jewel raised one of its legs with a horrible sound of grinding stone. Baring its black fangs, it stamped down upon a mass of scrambling Sydathians. Dozens of eyeless ones were smashed to a greasy pulp of blood and bones. Others climbed the gargantuan legs trying to dig claws into its stony flesh. The gigantic effigy quivered and tossed them like vermin across the city.

  Again its great foot rose and descended, flattening more Sydathians, shedding more from its living stone legs. The scene reminded Tong of the day he had trod upon an anthill in the fields. The insects had swarmed up his leg while he struck at them with palm and sandal. He had escaped the angry ants’ fury only by running to leap in the River Tah. He did not think the great statue would head for the river. It would stomp here until every last slave and Sydathian was dead.

  This must be the work of the Emperor’s sorcery. Kill Gammir and the monstrosity would also die. But how to kill a sorcerer? And how to find him? The jewel eyes of the statue sparkled with a fresh blaze of light, and Tong realized that sunrise had broken over the Golden Sea. The night of blood and fire was over, but the battle for Khyrei was only beginning.

  The statue bellowed a hateful word and tossed the crystal globe into the midst of the crowded plaza. The sphere exploded like glass, showering Sydathians and slaves with razor shards. Tong felt that brittle rain and sheltered his head with his arms. When it was done a host of bleeding lacerations covered his skin, and that of the men about him. Those closest to the sphere’s point of impact had been cut to shreds. The minced bodies of Men and Sydathians were mingled in a ghastly pile.

  Still a throng of eyeless ones tried to climb the hem of the statue’s glimmering robe, and still it swatted and stamped them into oblivion. The beastlings might slay every guardsman in the city, but they could not harm the Emperor’s terrible likeness.

  Tong’s blood dripped on the flagstones, and he considered for
the first time that his rebellion and his death might change nothing. This was still Gammir’s city. The morning sky was obscured by black smoke. The dawn of freedom looked nothing like Tong had imagined it.

  The Emperor’s statue raised its great spear. It might easily strike down one of the palace spires with that colossal weapon if it chose to do so. Tong shouted to his fellows; they ran for their lives toward the nearby palace while the eyeless ones fought and died for them. Any second now the head of that great spear would strike the earth and the city would quake again, its very walls collapsing like mounds of sand. The stones of the crumbling city would crush the rebellion as quickly as the foot of the titan crushed Sydathians. Gammir would destroy his own city rather than see it freed from his grasp.

  Tong heard the crashing of a thunderbolt. Above the looming palace another false sun erupted, exactly like the one that had vanquished a horde of shadows.

  This time its flames blossomed directly above the barbed crown of the central tower. The Emperor’s Tower.

  Iardu!

  Golden rays shot across the city, bright spears piercing a canopy of oily smoke. The freed men rushed toward the palace gate, which stood closed to them as had the city gates. The statue of Gammir brought its terrible spear down in the midst of the Sydathians. The resulting earthquake scattered the eyeless ones like pitched pebbles. The city shook, and structures near the plaza fell into shards, claiming more lives.

  Thousands of Sydathians rushed to replace their dead brothers, spilling toward the palace in a white wave as the second false sun faded from the sky. Two massive golden eagles soared above the spires now. Tong lost sight of them as his rebels reached the palace gate, which the Onyx Guards had already deserted. The freed men banged on its surface with the butts of spears and axes, hammered at it with jagged stones.

  Sydathians climbed up and over the gate, claiming it as they had claimed the city wall, and with far less resistance. The masked ones would no longer fight these blind killers of men. They served out of fear, not loyalty, and their fear of the Sydathians outweighed their fear of Gammir or Ianthe on this fateful morning.