Seven Sorcerers(107)

“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.