John Fultz - Seven Kings

She gazed eastward at the horizon dotted with white and golden warships. “The time for sweet words is past, D’zan. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

A look of shock spread across his face. “But… you are my Queen. I love you. She is only my Second Wife. Try to understand…”

“I have tried,” she said. “I do not belong in Yaskatha. The mother of your child should be your First Wife. I… will not be returning with you.”

He stared at the spreading mass of tents where laughing Giants waded carefully among Men and horses. “This would sadden me more if I believed any of us would be returning to Yaskatha. This Zyung may well be the end of us all.”

“Iardu and I will help however we can. There is still hope. You must believe this.”

“I suppose I do,” he sighed. “Or I would sail from here with all speed and never look back. Yet I’ve always found it best to confront one’s terrors instead of running from them.”

“Iardu has worked long and hard to make this unity of nations possible. It is the greatest weapon any of these kingdoms possesses.”

“Will you be the bride of Iardu, now?”

She laughed. He could be dense at times. “Of course not. He is as old as the hills.”

Older. Far older.

D’zan shrugged. “Love is blind, they say. Therefore it must be ageless as well.”

“I do not love Iardu,” she said. “Not in that way. He is… like a father to me.”

“Where will you go, Sharadza? Your home is with me. You will grow to accept the ways of Yaskatha. I promise you.”

She shook her head, dark locks whipping from side to side. “I will never accept sharing my husband with another woman.”

D’zan’s eyes fell to the polished boards of the deck. He offered no response.

“Iardu has offered me sanctuary on his island,” she said. “I will make a home there. At least for a while.”

“I do not like your decision,” he said. “Yet I must accept it. But know this: you can always come back. I will leave your chambers untouched.”

She gifted him with a warm smile. “You are most kind.”

“There is a war council tonight,” said D’zan. “Kings and wizards will form battle plans, calculate our strategies. None of us will sleep well until we do.”

“The world has reached a turning point,” she said. “Nothing will ever be the same, no matter what happens. Be brave, D’zan, as you have always been. Be strong, as I know you are. Remember that you have already conquered death. And call upon me when you need me.”

“I will do all of these things,” he said. She came forward and kissed his cheek. He grabbed her about the waist and pressed his lips against hers. One last moment of shared passion. She let it run through her body, explored his mailed back with her hands. She pulled away.

“Until tonight,” she said. It was far better than saying goodbye again. To do that would only force the welling tears from her eyes. “Farewell, King of Yaskatha.”

“Farewell, Sharadza.”

His eyes lingered on her as she shifted back into the gull’s shape and rose toward the pearly clouds. She flew toward the palace at the heart of the city, looking back once to see him staring after her with those unnatural green eyes.

She met Iardu on a high balcony overlooking the ashes of a palatial garden. Already palace attendants were shoveling the charred remains into buckets while gardeners planted new trees and vines in the dark soil. In a matter of months the splendor of the royal courtyards would be restored, and without those blood-hungry jungle plants so favored by Gammir and Ianthe. The Gardens of Tong would grow wholesome and verdant, a symbol of his reborn kingdom.

Iardu sat with a decanter of red wine overlooking the garden workers and the bustling streets beyond. Occasionally a great cheer rang across the city, the sound of another prisoner executed in the Court of Justice. She wondered how much of the killing here was truly just, and how much was simple vengeance. Yet it was not her place to condemn the long-suffering Khyreins for their actions. She had seen their plight from the inside out; she had participated in it while snared in the grip of Gammir’s will. Part of her longed to join the spectators and watch the last of Khyrei’s evil stamped out forever. Yet another part knew that these were only empty gestures. As long as Men had free will they would choose good or evil for themselves, and they would not always choose the former.

She dropped to the balcony and assumed her womanly shape once more. Iardu beckoned her into the empty chair beside his own. He poured a cup of the red vintage for her. Perhaps he sensed her uncertain mood, or perhaps he had seen her flying from D’zan’s ship. She took the cup and drank deeply. An Uurzian vintage, quite old. It must have come from a ship raided by Khyrein pirates. For a moment she wondered at the morality of drinking away such a purloined treasure, then she considered how ridiculous it would be to carry all the stolen wine in the vaults of Khyrei back to Uurz.

“How is D’zan?” Iardu asked.

“He is well,” she said. “Anticipating the joy of a strong son. Yaskatha will have its heir.”

Iardu turned from his city inspection to search the shadows of her face.

“You told him?”

“I did.”

“You will enjoy life on the island,” he said. “There is no more peaceful place in all the world.”

“Eyeni called you father …”

Iardu grinned briefly. “She is one of my many… singular creations. Beings too gentle to be tossed into the brutal world. They would not survive it. The island is their home as well.”

The sound of a cheering mob floated across the city. Another oppressor silenced forever.

“How much more do you know about this God-King?” she asked. “Have you known all along that he existed? Have you visited the other side of the world?”

“So many questions all at once. I have known Zyung since the time before recorded history. Yes, I have visited the other side, but it was long, long ago. Before he had even begun to build his empire. It was a wild and savage place then. As were all places in this world.”

“Gammir said Zyung was of the Old Breed. You told me I was of that same breed, as are you. How many more of the Old Breed still live?”

“All of them, I suppose,” said Iardu. “You must understand that the Old Breed are primal forces, entities from outside the world who chose long ago to make this place their home. In the early days we formed empires and religions, spawned lesser races to worship us and build monuments to our glory. All this I have already told you.

“Some of the Old Breed grew tired of ruling the world. Others fostered civilizations for ages, only for the joy of ultimately destroying them. Some fell into the world itself, becoming part of it, forgetting their true natures. There are several of these Dreaming Ones scattered across both halves of the world. Others continue to manipulate the affairs of Men and their nations. Ianthe was such a one, and you can be sure that she will return eventually. She was the worst of us all, entirely consumed by her own selfish appetites and worldly lusts. There can be no reaching an understanding with someone like her. She can only be confronted and defeated time after time. This is the pattern of her existence, which even she cannot change.

“You are descended from the Old Breed, as are all Giantkind. There are other races descended directly from us. And there are those of us who never forgot who we are, those who continue to strive and shape and guide this world to a place where we believe it needs to go. Khama and I have spent ages doing exactly that. Unlike me, Khama owes his allegiance to one people. He is the ancient guardian of the Mumbazans. That is his pattern. I take a broader view, moving freely among the nations. I tell stories, foster legends, and sometimes create them.”