Seven Sorcerers: Book Three of the Books of the Shaper

by John R. Fultz

  D’zan and Undutu exchanged a pitiful glance. They lived, yet their hope was dead. Perhaps they would choose to stay and perish with their fleets. Khama would not allow it.

  “Hurry!” he growled. His eyes flashed and they obeyed his orders in a daze.

  Undutu roused his countrymen with shouts, D’zan with the strength of his arms. Each of the survivors waded into the shallows and took his place upon Khama’s feathery coils. Undutu climbed on to reclaim his place at the base of the Feathered Serpent’s neck, and D’zan sat just behind him.

  “Grab hold of the feathers!” Undutu ordered.

  A vast roaring filled the whole of the earth as the echoes of the war horn died away. Khama knew it was Zyung who blew that terrible note.

  The dreadnoughts and the flock of Trills rose high into the air once again, leaving those who had evaded them to die swimming or bleeding into the brine. The waters of the beach suddenly receded away from the island. Khama sensed wrongness in the air. He flew west above the waterline as the reverse tide ran away from the island’s shores.

  The green slopes of hills and jungles passed by in a blur, and he skirted a cluster of villages on the island’s southern coast. The waters there had flowed away too, exposing the crusted hulks of ancient shipwrecks.

  Khama flew on winds of his own making, as fast as he dared. He could not risk the Kings or the last of Undutu’s men being swept off his back. Yet he raced ahead of disaster, and he knew it. Behind him a cataclysm was brewing like one of his storms, though far more deadly.

  The thirteen islands dwindled behind him, and the Armada of Zyung became a swarm of specks against the blue sky. Only when the God-King’s forces seemed tiny and harmless did Khama slow his flight and whirl about in slow arcs to watch doom fall upon Ongthaia.

  The sound of a great voice boomed across the waves, but the meaning of its words did not carry this far. It rang like distant thunder in syllables of condemnation.

  The men riding on Khama’s back called out to their Gods or hid their faces like frightened children when they saw the great wave rise up. A massive wall of blue-green seawater towered above the island chain. The fleet of dreadnoughts had risen toward the clouds. The mighty wave slid beneath them toward Zharua’s kingdom.

  The God-King’s wave swept over the isles as a tide sweeps over pebbles. On it came, unstoppable in its wrath, driving toward Khama. He flew westward again, doubling his speed. Undutu and D’zan wailed in the rushing wind. Few men had seen such a sight and lived. They would never forget the whelming of the Jade Isles.

  The great wave dwindled slowly as Khama hurtled westward before it. Soon the coast of the mainland continent appeared on the horizon, a line of purple cliffs with the peaks of misty mountains at its southern and northern tips.

  Khama spun about one last time and cast his far sight across the ocean. He was glad the men he carried could not see across the hundreds of leagues, for they were spared the worst part of Zyung’s punishment.

  Khama saw the islands battered and torn by the tidal wave, lying still in the shadow of Zyung’s dreadnoughts. A greater flock of Trills descended to pick over the flooded and smashed towns of the twelve lesser islands. Perhaps some of the islanders yet lived, those who had sheltered in the high caves and mountainsides.

  Of the last and greatest island, the seat of Zharua’s power, where walls of black basalt had failed to protect the Jade City, there was nothing left. The Jade King’s defiance had drawn the ire of Zyung, and a terrible penalty had been paid.

  Khama understood this as his far sight faded. He said nothing of it to Undutu or D’zan. No need to burden them further with the true depth of their loss. Not now.

  Zyung had made the sea rise up to swallow the Jade King’s island. Now there were only twelve isles left for the God-King to rule, and precious few subjects left there to enslave. None of this mattered to Zyung. His true prize was the Land of the Five Cities.

  Khama flew toward the green coast of the Stormlands, where the Kings of Men and Giants prepared for the next great slaughter.

  9

  Duality

  In the Almighty’s council chamber ten of the High Seraphim stood in attendance, visions of silver between the golden tree-columns. The great table had been removed and Zyung’s massive chair sat empty. Beyond the rustling tapestries at the chamber’s far end, slaves prepared their lord and master for his audience. The shuffling of these attendants’ feet against the smooth floor was the only sound.

  Sungui was certain that Zyung kept them all waiting to make a point: They served him and must wait upon his every whim. In this they were no different than the servants who scrubbed his flesh, cleaned his robes, and served his wine. Even the High Seraphim were slaves in the Living Empire; they simply wielded more power than any other slaves. As the oarsmen of the dreadnoughts were elevated above the rank-and-file servants, so were the High Seraphim placed above everyone else.

  Still wearing her female aspect, as she had for days now, Sungui scanned the faces of those gathered before the makeshift throne. Of course Lavanyia stood foremost among them, being officially responsible for the actions of every other High Seraphim. Her black eyes were as inscrutable as her sable hair was perfect. Brawny Eshad stood solid as stone in his silver raiment, the Warlord of the Holy Armada in all but name. Myrinhama stood near him, seeming to glow in the sunlight falling through the oversized portholes. Her gleaming eyes and hair were brighter than beaten gold, her tiny chin lowered in supplication. The alchemists Gulzarr and Darisha stood shoulder to shoulder; they dared not hold hands in the Almighty’s presence, but their hearts were almost visibly entwined.

  Four others waited with blank faces, hands clasped at their waists. Ondhi, Verrim, Tholduu, and Chariniha–Sungui knew their names but they were inconsequential. They were not among Those Who Listen. They had never come to Sungui’s covert gatherings to remember their true greatness. They were completely lost in the Great Dream of Zyung. Diminished forever.

  The Wolf and Panther were not here. That was good. Perhaps they had already slipped beneath Zyung’s notice. He enjoyed their counsel as far as the Land of the Five Cities and its elements of possible resistance, but had not taken them fully into his trust. Ianthe claimed that she and Gammir remained Undiminished as they served Zyung. Her claim had to be true, or Sungui might not be here at this moment. The Almighty would know that she had plotted with–and lain with–both of them. Surely if he knew he would send her to salt, or imprison her at the very least.

  Sungui noticed Lavanyia’s eyes upon her, felt the feather touch of her mind searching for secrets. The First Among Seraphim did not fully trust her, but that was nothing new. If Ianthe’s power could hide her ambitions from Zyung, it could certainly hide them from Lavanyia. Sungui kept her mind closed to Lavanyia, who eventually withdrew her mental caress. Yet her eyes lingered on Sungui until the sound of the Almighty’s footsteps resounded behind the tapestries.

  Zyung strode forth and took his place in the chair of curling Ethus wood. The branches sighed as they took the weight of his great frame. Tawny leaves sprouted about the chair in places, rustling against Zyung’s silvery mantle.

  “Eshad,” spoke the Almighty. “Speak to me first of our losses.” Sungui’s skin prickled at the deepness of his voice, and her pulse quickened as it always did in Zyung’s presence. So did the pulses of all those around her. Their eyes were transfixed by Zyung’s glorious beauty, which was far more than a physical trait. His very aura commanded love, fealty, and a longing to please.

  Eshad might have been Zyung’s own son, so similar was he in bearing and appearance. Yet he was only a small reflection of the High Lord Celestial’s greatness. Eshad spoke in a voice strong and firm with confidence. “Six dreadnoughts were lost to the power of the Feathered Serpent,” he said. “From those six we managed to save seven hundred Manslayers and two hundred oarsmen. The Lesser Seraphim who guided these ships are wounded but they will recover. However, our greatest casualty is the noble Dam
odar, who flew too close to the Serpent’s fury. His physical body was annihilated, yet I am certain he will return to us when his presence has fully manifested.”

  Sungui recalled the blazing singularity that Khama had become, his eruption of solar devastation. That was after he had physically broken two ships in half. She had never seen a single dreadnought brought down before this battle, not in the five centuries they had roamed the skies of the Living Empire enforcing its unity with light and word. The men in the pitiful fleets below had foolishly tried to set the sky-ships aflame with arrow and catapult, yet these weapons only scorched the hulls or marred a wing here or there. Even the lowest of the Lesser Seraphim could quench such terrestrial fires in moments.

  The canvas wings were easily replaced. The Feathered Serpent and his power had been the only true threat in the Battle of Ongthaia. The sea vessels burned like matchsticks, and the men died like wingless sparrows cast into the sea. She remembered Khama from the ancient ages. He had always stood tall among the Old Breed, yet had never been part of Zyung’s vision. Iardu and Khama had crafted their own dream of how the world should be. In this, they were guilty of the same artifice as Zyung.

  Khama might have destroyed more ships–and more Seraphim–if Zyung himself had not intervened. His great, dark hand had snuffed the raging star that was Khama’s quintessence. The one danger to the armada had dropped into the sea as nothing more than a scorched mote. Like Damodar, Khama would return when his spirit found some distant sanctum and reformed its physical shell. None could say where or when that might be. Damodar would manifest somewhere back in the Celestial Prov ince, most likely within the Holy Mountain itself. Yet she doubted he would travel across the world on his own power to rejoin the armada. Unless Zyung were to specifically summon him, which was a possibility.

  Zyung’s eyes, brighter than the sun even at their most dim, shifted to Sungui. “These losses are of little consequence. Our victory here was assured and the resistance we faced was an act of foolish bravado. Yet we can expect more fools to rise up and challenge our advent upon the mainland. Khama has survived his humbling. He will join those who prepare to stand against us.”

  Now Zyung’s eyes shed their gleam upon Lavanyia. “What of our prisoners?”

  “None of those on Morovanga survived its sinking,” she said. “Yet we have gathered some five thousand from the highlands of the lesser islands. All have pledged themselves and their families to serve the Living Empire. I have dispatched three Lesser Seraphim to remain here and construct a temple. When this is done, a new King of the Jade Isles will be chosen from the survivors to rule in the name of the Almighty. As for the forces that supported Khama’s resistance, all were burned, drowned, or devoured by Trills. Our foes died bravely, if stupidly.”

  Zyung nodded and turned his gaze to Gulzarr. “And how fare our alchemies?”

  “Our stores are not in the least depleted, Celestial One,” answered Gulzarr.

  “Seven hundred vats of liquid fire remain untouched,” added Darisha. “And the oarsmen we lost to the Feathered Serpent’s sorcery mean extra elixir for the rest of them. When we reach the mainland we can gather ingredients to produce more. We hope to set up a foundry with the building of the new Holy Mountain.”

  Zyung asked Myrinhama for details of the surviving slaves’ distribution. She summarized the dispersion of the oarsmen plucked from the wreckage of the lost dreadnoughts. Their strength would ease the burden on ships whose oarsmen were reaching the end of their short lives. The drugs that gave them inhuman vigor tended to shorten their natural lifespans, and the journey across the Outer Sea had been their most taxing service yet. Still, Myrinhama assured the Almighty that more than enough healthy oarsmen remained to reach the mainland, where a few days of rest would restore their vitality.

  The other four Seraphim spoke of minor shipboard matters, confirming what their lord must already know. Again Zyung’s blazing eyes turned to Sungui, but there was no question for her. At least, none put into words.

  “We sail at once for the ruins of Shar Dni,” announced Zyung. “There we will crush our enemies and build the seat of the Extended Empire. Iardu the Shaper gathers forces against us, a handful of Old Breed who remain defiant. We will cast them down as we did the Feathered Serpent. This was no true battle, but an act of deliberate insolence. A symbol of the true resistance we must soon face. Spread my word across the armada, as you are accustomed to doing. We will meet again when the mainland shore has been secured. Go now, all of you, to consult your captains.”

  The ten Seraphim bowed as one and turned to leave.

  “Sungui, remain,” said Zyung. “I will speak with you in confidence.”

  Sungui resumed her place of attention, ignoring the jealous glance of Lavanyia as she departed. The great doors closed, leaving Sungui alone with the Almighty.

  This would be the true test of Ianthe’s power. If she could screen Sungui’s thoughts from Zyung’s all-knowing gaze, it must be now. Perhaps he already knew of Sungui’s verbal and mental treachery. This could be the day of her execution.

  Her body began to change, almost instinctively morphing toward her more dutiful male incarnation. Her jaw began to pulse and lengthen as her chest grew smaller and muscle mass began its expansion.

  “No,” said Zyung, his voice a drum in her ears. “Maintain your female aspect, Sungui the Venomous. That is what they call you?”

  She reversed the flow of her unbidden power, mastering her body once again, reinforcing her female nature and eliminating the masculinity that had begun to manifest. In a matter of seconds she was once more fully female. Her eyes studied the floor of living wood. Her bare feet upon it connected her with the Ethus Tree below, and she drew upon its deep calm to fortify her own.

  “Some have named me that, Lord,” she admitted. “A testament to my fierceness in both aspects, I am sure.”

  Zyung smiled. She was not looking at his face, but she felt the smile.

  “Your duality is the core of your nature, child,” he said.

  I am as ancient as you are.

  No, hide that thought. Think only of his greatness and your worthiness to serve him.

  That is what he wants from you. Nothing else.

  Silence hung between them. She feared him enough not to break it. Perhaps he was reading her mind in that very moment. He might do this without ever alerting her to his presence.

  “Sungui.” He said her name again, this time with a deep tenderness. Like the lazy thunder that still rolls when storm has departed. Or perhaps it was the sound of thunder looming in the distance, heralding the approach of the true storm.

  “I know that you seek to betray me,” said the Almighty.

  Sungui’s legs grew weak. She nearly fell. Her breath stopped for a second.

  She would face obliteration with bravery, defiant as she had lived. If she must.

  “Look at me,” Zyung said, and she had no choice but to obey him. The flares of his eyes burned low, like simmering coals.

  “Will you send me to salt?” she asked. “Devour me?”

  “Perhaps I should,” he mused. “But no. I will speak with you instead.” At his unspoken command, a servant brought her a chair. She lowered herself onto its soft cushion.

  What game is he playing now?

  “You have two aspects, but a single heart,” said Zyung. “And I know that heart well. You have served me with honor in the building of my empire. You have championed order and peace in all ways. You have killed in my name and built monuments to my glory. You were the first to foster the Ethus Trees which are the soul of my Holy Armada. Yet your uncertainty remains, a seed of doubt buried deep in your immortal being. I have often wondered what fruits will grow from such a seed.”

  Does he know of Ianthe’s plans? Does he know of my involvement? He must.

  As he must also know about Those Who Listen. Those Who Remember.

  But then why allow my continued existence?

  This was not Zyung’s way. It
never had been.

  Unless she did not truly know him at all.

  “Why not destroy me?” she asked. The question burst from her. She regretted it immediately. Let him speak plainly, or get on with her annihilation.

  He did not answer her question directly. “This great land that we have shaped is a construct built for unity, stability, and peace above all else. One deity serves all the peoples of the Living Empire, one set of laws, one governing body that sits above all others, and humanity thrives in a world free of incessant war and conflict. Yet all of this is but the extension of an idea, Sungui. A theory, if you will. The idea came from me, and most of the Old Breed adopted it. Those who refused to do so fled across the world, and will soon answer for their denial.

  “Ideas are thoughts, and thoughts are the manifestations of power. All wise creatures recognize this truth. Yet what is the worth of the idea that is untested, unquestioned, taken on blind faith to be the ultimate truth of existence? I have kept you close to me throughout these millennia not because you are the most faithful disciple of my Great Idea. I have elevated you into the ranks of my foremost Seraphim not because of your fealty, but because you are the question that tests my resolve.

  “You are the speck of doubt that floats upon the sea of my consciousness. You are the other side of the coin. No, you are both sides of the coin: A living embodiment of contradiction and duality. I value this quality in you, Sungui. That is why I allow you to doubt me, and to recall the greatness of your own past.

  “If you, who doubts the truth of my empire, who second-guesses my conquering of the world and its peoples, who remembers that all of this is only an idea enforced by a single will, if you continue to serve me, then I know that my idea remains worthy. Now, as we prepare to spread our great peace across the second half of this world, I need more than ever to know that you stand with me, despite your doubts.