Seven Sorcerers: Book Three of the Books of the Shaper

by John R. Fultz

  On the next deck above the oarsmen, hundreds of Manslayers honed their blades, oiled their armor, and spoke in anxious voices about the battles to come. Above that level the quarters of sailors and Lesser Seraphim ran the length of the ship. Finally, the upper deck vibrated with the steel-shod steps of Manslayers sparring or keeping watch, the tread of busy sailors, and the footfalls of slaves preparing meals in the ship’s galley.

  In the forecastle the palatial cabin of the Almighty himself was empty of his presence. Holy Zyung stood near the mainmast, directly beneath the rippling violet sails stitched with the likeness of his flame-eyed face. Next to him stood Red Ajithi, the flagship’s captain. The two were speaking, but Sungui could not hear their words from the heart chamber. He imagined the Almighty’s eyes scanning the western horizon of the sea, perhaps looking beyond the waves toward his goal. Zyung must see further than any of those who served him. Perhaps he saw his future victory lying beyond the heavy clouds.

  Sungui sensed the familiar presence of two others next to his sovereign. The Black Wolf and the Pale Panther walked always at Zyung’s side these days. His favorite new pets. The Wolf he called Gammir, the Panther Ianthe. He named them his allies, but Sungui knew them to be little more than traitors. Both had abandoned their kingdom in the Land of the Five Cities and come to Zyung’s side as fawning turncoats. At times they walked in the shapes of man and woman, but they seemed to prefer the bestial forms. Or perhaps it was Zyung who preferred those forms. Vis ible reminders of their true nature?

  Black Wolf and Pale Panther were two important keys to the coming triumph.

  Sungui removed his hand from the Ethus bark and floated downward through the leaves. He left the heart chamber through its single portal and climbed the spiral stairs to the door of his own deck. Walking the long hallway he approached two Lesser Seraphim on their way to the upper deck. They halted and bowed on either side of Sungui as he passed. Although the Lesser Ones were mortal, they were disciples of the High Seraphim, devotees of the minor sorceries allocated to their kind. Many served as dreadnought captains in the armada. These two were part of the thirty or so who served Zyung directly, thus their presence here on the Holy Flagship.

  The deck’s central corridor was a broad tunnel of seamless yellow Ethus wood. At its far end Sungui opened the door to the alchemical laboratory where Gulzarr and Darisha worked amid an array of crystal decanters, glass tubes, cauldrons, and braziers. The pair were lost in their work, beautiful and serene as always, brewing potions and elixirs for the potency of slaves and vitality of the Manslayers. Sungui sat the basket of Ethus trimmings on a workbench, along with the curved sickle, and departed without words. The leaves and sap from the trees were highly effective in the endeavors of alchemy. The alchemists had even brewed a delicious mead from the sap, one only the High Seraphim and Zyung himself were permitted to drink. The couple’s work now, on the edge of the invasion, was focused on more practical concerns.

  Sungui climbed another spiral stairway to emerge on the middle deck. The fierce winds grabbed his hair and tossed it about his head. Manslayers in scalloped plates of steel and spiked helms paced the deck with tall spears clutched in their gauntlets. To either side of the hatch stood a row of Trill stables; every dreadnought had facilities to house twelve of the bronze-beaked sky-lizards, though only half of these were occupied at any one time. The stables were empty now, the Trill Knights having taken their mounts into the clouds for maneuvers. The winged beasts must fly daily or they grew restless and hard to control. They also caught seabirds as fodder on these flights, requiring less of each ship’s supplies to feed them. The reek of Trill feces stung Sungui’s nostrils, but the wind quickly tore it away from him.

  Captain Ajithi remained standing near the mainmast, studying a map scroll while the great sail thundered above him. Zyung had left him alone there. Sungui supposed the Almighty had returned to the privacy of his great cabin. Red Ajithi had earned his way up through the ranks of Manslayers to dreadnought captain by quelling three separate revolts in the Outer Provinces during his thirty-year service. The man was in his fifties now, and still wore his polished breastplate, shoulder guards, and skirt of silver scales. He had forsaken the beaked helmet of the Manslayer for a turban of purple silk that matched the ship’s sail. An onyx gemstone large as an egg sat in the fabric above his forehead, and his waist-length hair was completely bundled into the turban. A curved greatsword hung upon his back, its pommel set with a ruby that matched the size of his turban’s onyx.

  Ajithi looked up from his map as Sungui approached.

  “The pruning is complete,” Sungui told him.

  Ajithi nodded. “His Holiness wishes to speak with you in his chambers,” said the captain. Sungui returned the nod and watched him march immediately to his command chair high on the quarterdeck. Like the entire ship, the captain’s chair was an extension of the Ethus Tree, a chair-shaped conglomeration of lesser branches woven specifically to accommodate a man-sized commander. Nestled into its curved comfort, pillowed by orange leaves and surrounded by the pointed tips of curling limbs, the captain communed with the tree as well as any Seraphim. During the regular pruning sessions most captains vacated the command chair to avoid sharing the pain of the tree. This was a luxury the pruning Seraphim themselves could not enjoy.

  Ajithi wrapped his hands about two curling sprigs at chest level and resumed control of the vessel. A faint smile grew on his lips as his tree-bond returned. Sungui knew the warmth of that bond, and he envied the captain’s right to avoid the tree’s pain. Yet because Sungui felt that pain which no captain deigned to endure, his bond with the Ethus was the stronger one.

  Sungui turned about and headed for the forecastle. The wind whipped at his silver robes and chilled his bare feet. Beyond the far railings at left and right, banks of gray clouds rose like billowing mountain ranges. A few Trills and their riders could be seen darting through those clouds. The bulk of the Trill Knights flew behind the flagship, but the lizards would pursue tasty avian prey with great speed before returning to the ranks. Knowing when to indulge a Trill’s appetites was a large part of commanding such a mount. Sungui had not the talent for it, but he admired the warriors who dedicated their lives to mastering the lizards.

  Below the cloudscapes a green ocean simmered with white-capped waves. Three weeks the Holy Armada had been flying, and still no sign of land. The sea below must be truly vast. Yet they must be close to the other side of the world now. Sungui could feel it, as he had felt the entirety of the ship while communing with the Ethus at its core.

  He stood now before the double doors of Zyung’s quarters. As tall and grand as any palace portals they stood, engraved with holy sigils and the flame-eyed face of Zyung. The doors were made thrice the height of a man to accommodate the Almighty’s great size. Rarely did Zyung reduce himself to the size of a mortal, though it was easily within his power. The multitudes needed to see that their God was a massive and imposing figure. Two hulking Manslayers stood before the portal, one on either side. They bowed as Sungui approached, uncrossing their barbed spears and pulling the doors open.

  The Almighty’s council chamber was as large as a provincial King’s throne room. It spread across the entire width of the forecastle, with oval windows admitting rays of sunshine through colored glass. The ceiling was high and vaulted, supported by eighteen pillars of amber wood. Each pillar was shaped into the form of its own tree, although these were merely extensions of the great Ethus Tree below. Tapestries of jeweled silk hung along the walls or separated the front of the chamber from the sleeping quarters at its far end. The Almighty’s personal slaves scurried about the room carrying pitchers of wine and water, sweeping the rich carpets, and preparing platters of foodstuffs for their lord and his visitors.

  Zyung’s gigantic form sat in a larger yet less ornate version of the captain’s command chair. Before him sat a table of polished obsidian scattered with oversized scrolls, leather-bound tomes, maps, quills, and goblets. A circle
t of flawless platinum held back Zyung’s black mane. His skin was polished bronze, and his silver robe was the exemplar upon which all the robes of the Seraphim were patterned. His eyes were miniature suns, his chin a block of marble. A chain of black opals glittered across the slab of his chest.

  Before the high table, in seats built to accommodate their lesser sizes, sat the three advisors who had already arrived: Lavanyia with her mound of sable hair wound in golden wire; Gammir the Black Wolf in his slim human form, and Ianthe the Pale Panther in her womanly shape. Ianthe’s skin and hair were pale as milk, her nails sharp as talons, her lips red as blood. Her beauty rivaled even Lavanyia’s. She stared at Sungui with feline eyes. No longer did he imagine Lavanyia as a lioness of the plains; the feral nature of Ianthe dispelled all notions of Lavanyia as a predatory creature. Ianthe still looked every bit the cat, even when shaped as a woman. Gammir’s black hair and eyes likewise maintained their lupine aspect, although he was unexpectedly handsome. Sungui wondered if the two expatriates were related in some way.

  Lavanyia’s presence was surprising. She tended the Ethus Tree of the Flametongue, and had never set foot on the Daystar until now. Yet she stood first among the High Seraphim, so the Almighty must have summoned her for some reason. Perhaps a new strategy had been devised for the coming invasion.

  An empty chair waited for Sungui. He bowed to the Almighty and settled himself in its cushioned seat. Both of the expatriates wore the silver robes of Seraphim. Were the Wolf and Panther to be counted among the ranks of the Holy? It must be so, for only Seraphim were permitted to wear such garments. Sungui would not be foolish enough to question the Almighty’s wisdom on the subject. The four guests sat meek as children before an imposing father.

  Zyung regarded them with eyes hard and bright as diamonds. His voice was the rolling of distant thunder. One did not simply hear the Almighty’s words, one felt them resonating in the bones that lay beneath flesh and skin.

  “Tender of my Ethus Tree,” said Zyung. “Your work does not go unnoticed. Would that I had another thousand with your skill at woodcraft.”

  Sungui bowed his head. The eyes of Lavanyia fell upon him, but he felt the gazes of Gammir and Ianthe most keenly. Their stares were leaden weights upon his shoulders.

  “I live only to serve His Holiness,” Sungui said. The words were ritual, the only proper response to such praise.

  Zyung waved one of his great fingers and a network of chromatic lights spread through the air between his guests. In a moment’s time the colors resolved themselves into a map, one with which Sungui had some familiarity. Yet now the map bore details and reliefs that had never existed in previous versions. It hovered before them, a vision of the continent to which they were heading.

  “While awaiting word from Ongthaia,” said Zyung, “I have learned much from the Wolf and Panther. Before your eyes stands the Land of the Five Cities in more detail than any have seen until now. I have discussed our strategy with my generals and decided upon the most favorable tactics. We shall establish the seat of the Extended Empire here…”

  Zyung’s finger pointed to a stylized city etched upon the floating light-map, the representation of a metropolis with tiny towers and domes encircled by a high wall. It sat upon the eastern shore of the greater land mass. “Here lie the ruins of Shar Dni, destroyed eight years ago by the wrath of its enemies Ianthe and Gammir. These ruins are uninhabited save for ghosts and blood spirits. It lies in a fertile valley at the mouth of a mighty river. There are abundant croplands for our slaves to work. Our legions will be well fed. Here we will build a new Holy Mountain from the shattered stones of the dead city.”

  Sungui scanned the lands beyond the valley of Shar Dni. To its north lay a continent-spanning range of high mountains. Beyond that, the forests of the Giantlands and the city called New Udurum. To the valley’s west lay the broad plains of the Stormlands, marked with the gold-green city of Uurz. South of Uurz stood a mighty cliff labeled as the Earth Wall, and beyond that a realm of untamed wilderness. In the southern half of the continent he counted three great cities: Mumbaza and Yaskatha on the western coast, and Khyrei on the eastern coast directly across the Golden Sea from Shar Dni’s ruins. Two peninsulas of rugged mountains and volcanoes hemmed the Golden Sea to north and south. The Jade Isles of Ongthaia did not appear on this map. The Almighty must believe them unimportant to his invasion. A few stepping stones to cross on the way to his true prize.

  “Holiness, what of this Khyrei?” Lavanyia pointed at the city. It gleamed with dark purple light. “Should we not establish a foothold there as well to secure the southern half of the continent?”

  Gammir shifted in his seat. “That is my city,” he said, glaring at Lavanyia with a wolf’s inscrutable calm. His eyes shifted to Ianthe and he corrected himself. “Our city. A revolt of slaves and sorcerers has temporarily removed it from our power. His Holiness has promised to restore it to our care. We shall rule it in his name.”

  Lavanyia stared at Sungui. Her look said: These traitorous fools should not be here.

  Sungui offered her the slightest of smiles.

  “Khyrei will be spared until we have conquered the Stormlands,” said Zyung. “Then we will send legions south with Wolf and Panther to take back their city. A few of the High Seraphim will join them. When Khyrei is secure, these southern forces will move upon Yaskatha and Mumbaza. Yet our greatest concerns at present are these two northern cities. Uurz must fall first, followed by Udurum, City of Men and Giants. The Giant-King’s armies must be destroyed when he comes to the aid of Uurz, as I am told he will surely do. Without the power of the Giants, Udurum cannot stand for long.”

  “You speak of sorcerers, Wolf,” said Sungui. “How many are there to oppose us?”

  Ianthe laughed and answered for Gammir. “A handful of the Old Breed,” she said. “Iardu the Shaper struggles to rouse more of them, but most will continue to languish in their long sleep.”

  “Yet there were enough to steal away your southern city,” said Lavanyia.

  Ianthe’s eyes focused on her. Sungui expected bolts of flame to leap from them and reduce the highest of the High Seraphim to ash. The Pale Panther only smiled.

  “We did not yet stand in the grace of the Almighty when this happened,” said Ianthe. “By his power we will shatter our old foes. In his presence we grow mightier than ever.”

  “Indeed,” said Lavanyia. Her eyes returned to the glimmering map.

  “When we reach the Sharrian valley,” said Zyung, “the High Seraphim will conjure up these blood spirits and bind them to aid us in the siege of Uurz. The Lesser Seraphim will begin construction of the new Holy Mountain and a city to serve it. Any slaves taken from the interior will be sent to work there. What was once Shar Dni shall stand again as New Zyung, Heart of the Extended Empire.”

  Zyung’s listeners bowed their heads in a simultaneous gesture of understanding.

  “Lavanyia, Sungui, you will travel among the Seraphim tomorrow and dispense these new commandments. When you have accomplished this, report to me your success. We have only a few more days until we see the Isles of Ongthaia. After that, a single day will bring us to the Land of the Five Cities.”

  Again the four heads bowed. The floating map faded like a snuffed torch. Sunrays gleamed in Zyung’s great eyes. Or perhaps they beamed from his eyes. Sungui could not be certain which was true.

  “Rejoice, my children,” said Zyung. “You will bring abiding peace to a realm that has known only war, strife, and chaos for ages. Through these mighty works of ours, future generations of Khyreins, Uurzians, Yaskathans, Udurumites, and Mumbazans will know the bliss of ultimate order, the strength of holy unity, and the sweetness of a universal harmony that spans the entire world. Rejoice, for the future of mankind grows brighter with every league we travel.”

  Sungui could not help smiling at the brilliant truth of the Almighty’s words. The others also shared this breathless awe. Here was the naked joy of Zyung’s presence: the absolute con
viction that the world was made better by his very existence, and that your part in the great drama was to help him spread that ecstasy across the earth. Power brought Order; Order brought Peace; and Peace brought Bliss. Zyung and his Seraphim were about to unite the world as it had never been united in all its long, bloody ages of struggle. First there must come a great pruning, then the Tree of Empire would grow stronger and healthier than ever.

  A final round of bows preceded a goblet of highborn wine for each of them. Then the four were dispatched from mighty Zyung’s presence. On the windy deck outside, nothing much had changed. The Daystar sailed through the sky with the Holy Armada trailing behind it, three thousand Holy Dreadnoughts filling the blue heavens in all directions. The great flock of Trills spread itself between the airships, flapping leathery wings, and the armor of knights riding on their ridged backs gleamed bright as diamonds.

  Sungui breathed deeply of the cool, fresh air. He let the winds caress his face like the gentle fingers of a lover. Gammir and Ianthe went down the main hatch where the comfort of their quarters waited. Surely there were others among the Seraphim who resented the presence of these newcomers, but to voice opinions on the matter might bring one in direct conflict with Zyung’s wishes.

  Lavanyia lingered at the railing of the middle deck, her eyes searching among the dreadnoughts for some unspoken sign. Sungui joined her, sensing that she wished to speak.

  “I do not trust these traitors who often wear the forms of beasts,” she said, her eyes still on the armada. The rattle of sails mingled with the sound of the Daystar’s flapping wings. “It is said they drink the blood of slaves.”

  “This is true,” Sungui told her. “Six days past a galley slave was burned nigh to death in an accident. Captain Ajithi ordered a spearman to put the wretch out of his misery, but the Black Wolf came instead and took the wounded man away with permission from His Holiness. Later I witnessed the Manslayers toss a charred and shriveled corpse into the sea. There was not a drop of blood left in the body. Sergeant Mhirondu tells me they have requested more slaves’ blood, but His Holiness denies them. Yet they will be allowed to drink their fill in the coming battles.”