Seven Sorcerers(90)
Sharadza cries out when Ianthe mentions the fall of Vireon. She longs to ask if her brother still lives, but she will not lower herself to ask this of the Claw.
“You should have been there, Shaper,” says Ianthe. She grins, enjoying the pain her words bring. “Yet you were held fast in the dream of Udgrond while your body lay at rest. You slept while thousands of your people died. You abandoned them.”
“Stop it!” She has raised my ire. She has known how to do this since the world was a cooling mass of stellar gasses. “Do not tell me of my own failings! They will haunt me enough without your gloating. You say we have three days until Zyung sails for Uurz.”
“In the evening of that same day his dreadnoughts will reach the green-gold city,” she says. “This time you must be there to face him, along with any of the Old Breed who will stand with you. There are a thousand of our kind who serve Zyung, although they are Diminished in his presence. I have freed you from Udgrond only so that you may stop the advance of Zyung. Never forget that I have done so.”
“Do you then stand with us?” I ask. It cannot be so easy.
“No,” she said. “I sail with Zyung. Yet you already know this.”
“You hide your treachery well.” Suddenly it becomes plain to me why Ianthe has rescued us. We must rise and reclaim our bodies now. There will be no aid from Udgrond.
“You have three days, Shaper,” Ianthe says. Distant stars blink in the abyss of her eyes. “I could have entered your citadel and destroyed your bodies. I did not. Remember this too.”
The red-black flame rises into the raw stone of the cavern roof.
“Come,” I say. “We must arise.” I steal a last look at Udgrond slumbering on his throne.
Our spirit-selves rush upward far faster than they descended. Thousands of leagues of magma, rock, and glittering earth-crust flash by us like a torrent of waters. Yet it is our souls that move, not the substances about us. The rush of ascension is dizzying. At its end the world of flesh and blood claims us as the earth claims a falling star. Yet we have fallen upward, and the star is our united immortal essence.
Our bond fades, and our bodies reclaim their spirits.
Again my eyes open, and this time they are actual eyes. Groggy and unsteady on our feet, we rise up to stand about the circle of power. With a word of dismissal I break the spell, plucking the Flame of Intellect from the circle and restoring it to my chest. Our bodies are sore and stiff after long days of lying inert. Our bellies are empty and growling. A great thirst strikes me like a shot arrow.
“We must refresh ourselves,” I say, “then travel at once to Uurz.”
When the spirit chamber’s doors open, Eyeni greets me by rubbing her cheek against my thigh. “You slept too long, Father,” she says. “I was worried.” She lopes beside me as we walk the corridor to my dining hall. Her tiny wings flutter upon the glossy fur of her back.
“I am unharmed, child,” I reassure her, stroking her hair. I do not mention that Ianthe’s spirit-self somehow eluded my guardian’s astral vigilance and followed us into the titan’s domain. If Eyeni had stopped her, we would still be lost in his long dream. Or Ianthe would have slain Eyeni to reach me. There are some powers that cannot be prevented from going where they wish to go. I recall Ianthe’s condemnation of my own foolishness and mentally chastise myself. I cannot afford to make such a mistake again.
Thousands upon thousands have died already, and we are out of time.
My guests gather about the banquet table beneath the tapestries of fallen kingdoms. Invisible attendants bring us a meal of fruit, cheese, fresh bread, and roasted lobster. I drink deep of the wine, a heady Yaskathan vintage, and stuff my empty belly until it is full. Sharadza, Alua, and Vaazhia break their fasts as well, pausing only to ask questions of me. Sharadza eats hardly at all; concern for her brother outweighs even her deep hunger.
Outside the high windows sunlight gleams across the green ocean. The tittering of monkeys in the courtyard mingles with the joyous songs of birds. These favorite sounds revive my spirit as the food and drink enliven my body.
Sharadza speaks first. I already know the worry that darkens her emerald eyes. “Ianthe said that Vireon was dead. Is it true?” She looks at me as a child looks to its father for truth.
“We will know soon,” I tell her. “The Claw mixes lies with truth. Nor does she know all. Before the sun sets, Alua’s magic will carry us to Uurz most swiftly.”
“Vireon is my husband,” says Alua, as if remembering this for the first time. Sharadza clutches her hand. There is concern but no sadness in Alua’s eyes. I think that she still does not recall her love for the Vodson, although she remembers the man himself. When she sees Vireon in the flesh, that will be the test. And if he is truly dead, then it will be better for Alua that she does not remember too much.