Seven Kings

23

In the grand hall of the fractured palace, already the heart of New Khyrei was beating. Tong sat on the onyx throne where Gammir had dispensed judgments of doom and Ianthe had done the same before him. He wore now a robe of scarlet silk to match the rubies in his dark crown. The same sabre he had wielded in the burning fields lay oiled and gleaming across his knees.

Columns of basalt carved in the likeness of tremendous coiling vipers lined the hall, and between them marched the New Khyrein Guard. These former slaves wore the armor of the Onyx Guard and carried their weapons, but their faces were not hidden behind fanged masks. No longer would Tong’s people bend the knee to faceless agents of a ruthless order. The time of masks was done.

One by one, or in battered groups, Tong’s guardsmen hauled before him the generals and advisors of the Blood Regime. He listened to their pleas of remorse and decided who would be cast into dungeon cells to await trial for their crimes. Those captives who spat at his feet and professed undying allegiance to Gammir and Ianthe he put to death at the very foot of his throne. The New Guard was only too eager to provide this measure of pitiless vengeance. A crew of palace attendants rushed to scrub red blood from the basalt before the next prisoner entered. Those accused who begged forgiveness, hailed Tong as a liberator, and renounced their old loyalties, he most often allowed to rejoin the population. Many pampered functionaries, spoiled by an easy palace life, he cast into the streets or fields to learn the ways of laborers and craftsmen.

Nine out of every ten Onyx Guardsmen chose to honor Tong’s reign. Within the space of a single day he added thousands of experienced soldiers to the New Khyrein Guard. The dank cells beneath the citadel grew thick with unrepentant imperialists, or those whose contrition meant next to nothing in the face of longstanding crimes against the people. Not a single Overseer was spared; most of them had died in the night of flaming plantations. As for the rest, their severed heads joined those decorating the blades of tall pikes along the palace’s outer wall. Meek citizens walked about those walls constantly, searching for the rotting faces of their former tormentors, and cursing their souls to the darkest of hells.

The Plaza of Slaves was renamed the Court of Justice. A scaffold was built there in a matter of hours, and the members of notorious noble houses were hanged before cheering crowds. Most of the city’s fires had been extinguished, yet a new blaze was kindled outside the Southern Gate, overlooking the mass of charred and blackened fields. Here, within sight of their former domains, the dead bodies of hanged Overseers, loyalists, and infamous tormentors were burned without ceremony. The population of the black city cried the name of their new King and praised the Four Gods in his name. In their modest temples the priests of those same Gods hailed Tong and his liberators. In the climate of newfound freedom, their faiths would grow and prosper along with the freed people.

Sydathians prowled the streets and gardens. Most Khyreins had lost their fear of the beasts. They had witnessed scene after scene of the eyeless ones defending innocent women and children against rapacious guardsmen during the revolt. The pale-skinned sniffers were the terror of anyone not allied with the Free People of Khyrei; these lurking individuals they sensed in the way a panther scents its prey. Packs of eyeless ones hunted down fleeing noblemen with chests full of concealed wealth. They broke down the doors of estates where such criminals had taken refuge. There was no hiding from the eyeless ones. They were the living icons of Tong’s justice. The Hounds of Vengeance.

A band of twenty Sydathians lingered about Tong’s throne, his personal guard. Tolgur and six other freed men stood nearby, splendid now in the garments of noblemen and viziers. Each man clutched a spear or carried a sword at his waist, symbols of their new rank as much as instruments of protection.

Iardu the Shaper waited at the right hand of the throne this day, having arrived the hour previous. He hovered in the patient manner of one awaiting an audience with the busy monarch. Yet at times he leaned in to whisper at Tong’s ear, urging him to greater leniency when facing his enemies.

“If you offer the noble families mercy,” said Iardu, “they will follow you more faithfully than they followed those before you. Although they were not slaves, they too suffered under the Blood Regime. You would do well to remember this. Let them call you Tong the Merciful.”

Tong rubbed his tired eyes. He had grown tired of the killing, but there was much more to be done. Whenever the accused allowed it, by virtue of kind words or public remorse, he spared them. There would be enough justice delivered in the streets, especially for those who escaped official punishment. Iardu was correct: at this early stage of Tong’s reign, forgiveness was a quality that would serve him well. It was, in fact, the quality that separated him most from the tyrants who preceeded him. The people would take note of this. With his every word and deed, he established the new culture of his reborn kingdom. It must be a kingdom of mercy and kindness, and only he could make it so.

The burned fields would be replanted and the crumbled structures rebuilt. All by the hands of freed men, who would profit from the sweat of their brows. The vast warehouses full of grain and the fruits of recent harvests would remain in the control of the throne, yet the former plantation workers would supervise and facilitate the portioning, trading, and shipping of such resources. For the coming season the warehoused goods would serve to feed the city; it would be a full season before the plantations were restored. The rebellion had cost Khyrei an entire harvest, eaten by flames, but there was more than enough in storage to avoid famine. Tong set a committee of freed men to oversee the city’s agriculture and another body to reform its trading laws. No longer would the devil-head ships spread piracy and death across the Golden Sea. He was determined to make Khyrei a respected trading partner among its former enemies.

He was glad to have the Shaper’s wisdom at his disposal. Replacing widespread chaos with a new and just order was no easy task. Somehow Iardu had found the keys to Gammir’s deep-buried treasure vault, where lay the accumulated plunder of centuries. Mounds of gold and jewels filled the cellar, along with suits of golden armor, jeweled swords and daggers, priceless jewelry of antique splendor, and coffers full of scrolls writ by the sages of long-dead kingdoms. Tong’s mind could not easily grasp this immense wealth. Here were the resources to build New Khyrei into a nation that would make the world forget the Blood Regime and all its crimes. That was a task for future generations, but it must begin now, among the ashes of the old city.

“You must expand and refortify this palace,” Iardu told him. “Yet those towers destroyed by the living fire must never be rebuilt. The ground on which they stood must be walled off and considered accursed. You may replace the blood-hungry gardens of Ianthe with more wholesome courtyards, but you must never allow anyone to build on-or even walk on-the ground where the central or western tower once stood.”

“Perhaps we should demolish the entire palace and build a new one,” Tong said.

“A worthy idea,” said Iardu. “Yet you must see to the feeding and protection of your people first. Time later for building a new citadel… if that is what you decide.”

Tong agreed. With the hordes of Zyung approaching, he must prepare New Khyrei for war. Only the alliance with his fellow kingdoms gave him any hope of resisting such an invasion.

Such politics must take priority, even as he began the reconstruction of the shattered city. He was pleased that so many experienced guardsmen chose to pledge him their fealty. The course of history had changed, and most soldiers were wise enough to change with it. They would no longer wear the inhuman masks, but they would still serve King and country. As for those few who remained loyal to the Blood Regime in the face of death, it seemed a kind of madness to him. The mad loyalists died cursing his name.

Now the hour approached for Tong to make his first official address to the People of New Khyrei. He dismissed all but the wizard, his seven human advisors, and the band of twenty Sydathians. The visiting Kings would all be in attendance. Last evening they had dined together and seen Iardu’s sobering vision. After the public address, Tong would call a second Council of Kings and begin forming a plan of resistance. Iardu told him the coming war would see an alliance greater than any in recorded history. Yet in the face of Zyung’s massive forces, even that did not seem enough.

Accompanied by advisors, guards, and Sydathians, Tong walked the broad corridors of the palace and climbed the stairs to the great pulpit adjoining its western wall. Here a broad forum stood lined with the statues of former Emperors and Empresses; all those marble effigies had been cast down and were now only piles of jumbled rock. The forum itself was crowded with freed men and their families, as well as the bulk of the middle-class city dwellers. Tong’s revolt had liberated not only slaves, but also thousands of downtrodden citizens who knew only life in the shadow of terror. Among the common folk of Khyrei there were very few who bore honest love for the Blood Regime. The mass of Khyreins had simply endured tyranny for centuries, an endless parade of sorcerers, witches, and despots stretching back through history.

The multitude cheered as one for Tong when he mounted the high stage of the forum. The thunder of their voices rocked the stones so that he feared the remainder of the black palace at his back might collapse. The morning sun was bright and hot in his face; he squinted to observe the crowd below his vantage. Curious Sydathians milled among the population, sniffing and licking at the grateful and cautious hands of Khyreins. Seeing for himself how these beastlings, so grotesque of appearance, no longer struck fear into the hearts of his countrymen, Tong smiled. Already there was a crude understanding of the eyeless ones and their kindly nature.

Iardu, Tolgur, and the rest of the advisors sat in high-backed chairs behind Tong as he stared across thousands of eager faces. At the last moment Sharadza joined them on the platform. She beamed at Tong with fierce green eyes as she took her chair. He calmed his leaping stomach with a deep breath. At last he raised his arms and the multitudes fell silent.

“People of New Khyrei!” he cried out. “You are free!” His words echoed off the forum’s cleverly designed walls so that they were amplified enough to find every ear in the crowd. A convulsion of cheering erupted across the square. Beyond the leaping, shouting masses lay the gleaming calm of the Golden Sea. The sails of the Yaskathan and Mumbazan navies sat at ease there, silent reminders of the great invasion soon to come.

Tong raised his arms again and was gifted with more silence. “No longer will our families suffer and die under the yoke of servitude. The fields of Khyrei belong to all of us. Together we will work these fields, and together we will share in their bounty.”

Another round of cheering expressed the crowd’s approval. Children bounced on the shoulders of their fathers. Sydathians crawled along walls and rooftops, excited by the fevered emotions. They, too, understood Tong’s words, although they did not speak his language. The bond of the Godstone had joined him to their silent brotherhood. It was this understanding that had guided them in the taking of the city. He wondered briefly how many of them had died to make Khyrei a free nation.

“Emperor and Empress are no more,” Tong said. “Even now the greatest criminals among us are being brought to justice. They will join our former masters in death. Yet far more of those who served the Blood Regime have chosen to side with us. To become servants of our new society. I welcome them. This day Khyrei is reborn!”

He paused again, allowing the people their jubilation.

“In this New Khyrei, none will go hungry. None will labor without fair wages. None will die to feed the monstrous appetites of their oppressors. None will be consigned to live in the dirt of the fields, banned from the city’s comforts. Inside our great wall, every man, woman, and child will live with honor and freedom. All these promises I make as your chosen King.

“New Khyrei forsakes any ambitions to conquer the island nations. We will meet our fellow kingdoms in honest trade, not in piracy. We give up our claims to the trackless jungle and the volcanic mountains beyond. These lands are wild, poisonous, and have little to offer us. Khyrei is no longer an empire. It is a nation. A new nation, reborn in the cleansing fires of liberation. Hail, New Khyrei!”

As he intended, the cry spread across the forum and into the crowded streets. He allowed his words to sink deep into the hearts of all those present, waiting until the bulk of their noise died away. Waiting for the perfect moment when they longed to hear his next words. Their eyes fell upon him like a million flashing sparks.

“Now I would speak with you regarding our liberators, our allies, our eyeless brothers. Many of you have already met them. All of you owe them your lives. Let every man understand this: without the aid of the Sydathians our revolution would have perished. They have fought and bled for us. They have died for us. They have saved us. For this the People of Sydathus have my everlasting gratitude. They will forever be welcome inside our walls, for they are brothers to us all. Hail the Sydathians!”

And hail they did. The eyeless ones leaped and twisted with pleasure as the People of New Khyrei honored them. Some of the commoners even hugged their oblong heads and kissed their pink snouts. Children rode upon their backs, grasping their horns like the reins of ponies. Human and inhuman, the boundaries of the two terms were blurred to the point of non-existence. Both Men and Sydathians were now denizens of the black city.

“Although they do not speak our language, they understand our hearts and minds,” said Tong. “I have spent time in their city, Ancient Sydathus, which lies beneath the red jungle. I have worshipped their Godstone and seen beyond the barriers of eye and tongue. It is because I joined them in such understanding that they agreed to foster our liberation. We owe them our friendship, our lives, and our freedom. And we also owe them our understanding. Therefore, I am sending a hundred men and women to accompany our pale brothers back to Sydathus. These ambassadors will do as I have done. They will gain the wisdom that only the Godstone can provide. When these hundred return, another hundred will be sent, and another hundred after them. Sydathus and New Khyrei will be brother cities, and thus we will stand as no other nation before us. Our brotherhood with the Sydathians will be the envy of all who visit our land. And it shall be the seed of our new security.”

The people roared, and thousands shouted for their chance at ambassadorship. Tong would decide later who to send first. Young Tolgur would be among them, for Tong had it in mind that the sturdy youth should be his chief advisor. In order to earn this honor, he must spend time with the Sydathians.

Tong spoke then of Zyung the God-King and his approaching hordes. His audience grew silent as he described the vision of Iardu and the role the visiting Kings would play in the coming war. “Only together, united with the forces of Yaskatha, Mumbaza, Uurz, and Udurum, can we hope to stand strong in the face of this Conqueror. These nations, formerly our enemies, now join us as allies. Vireon the Slayer, King of Giants and Men, stands with us! D’zan the Sun Bringer, King of Yaskatha, stands with us! Undutu, Son of the Feathered Serpent, King of Mumbaza stands with us! Tyro the Sword King of Uurz stands with us! New Khyrei shall endure!”

He left the pulpit to the sound of their applause and shouts of jubilation. There was much left to do, and little time. The legions of New Khyrei must be assembled and organized. Many slaves-turned-soldiers would require training. Weapons and armor production must increase while the work of restoring streets and fields progressed. Life must go on in the freed city, even as the greatest war in history threatened its existence.

Iardu and Sharadza walked with Tong to share a breakfast of succulents in his council chamber. Outside the vaulted windows, the sounds of excited chatter filled the blackened courtyards.

“You speak with power and grace,” Sharadza said. “Your people love you.”

“I hope that is so,” said Tong. “As I hope I am worthy of their love.”

Iardu patted his shoulder. “You are, Tong,” said the wizard. “It is why I chose you.”

Tong regarded Iardu’s chromatic eyes over the bowls of sliced pomegranates and heaped grapes. The cooks and servants of the palace were only too glad to embrace Tong in place of their former masters. He would not demand the use of their flesh for his own pleasure, nor would he drink their blood to satisfy his thirst.

“Since it was you who picked me to guide the rebirth of Khyrei,” Tong said, “I must ask this: could you not have prevented the death of she whom I loved?”

Iardu’s ageless face lowered. “I am sorry that I could not. Even a sorcerer cannot be everywhere at all times. Even we have our limits. Yet it was this tragedy that set you upon the path I knew you must walk.”

Tong considered this as he sipped from a goblet of amber wine. “I would trade all of this to have her back,” he said. His eyes swelled. “I would rather live as a slave with Matay at my side than be a King without her. I speak only the truth of my feelings, which I have shared with no one else.”

Sharadza regarded him with pity. She reached a hand to cradle his atop the polished table. “Losing someone we love can be our greatest challenge,” she whispered. “Yet such pain makes us what we are. Survivors.”

He met her green eyes with his own and suddenly he envied the King of Yaskatha. Here was a woman worthy of marrying a King. Beautiful, wise, and possessed of unguessable power.

“Your victory honors her memory,” said Iardu. “You must live in a way that would make her proud. You must choose a worthy Queen from the ranks of your freed folk, another who has known the yoke of slavery. It seems only fitting.”

Tong did not mention the unborn son that died with Matay. She would greet him again someday, when he was ready to enter the Deathlands. Perhaps that day would be soon, what with the ancient might of Zyung about to fall upon the world.

“Iardu is right,” said Sharadza. “You must choose a Queen. Someone to soothe your aching heart. Someone to share your burden.”

Tong stared out the southern window. Beyond the plain of blackened fields, the red jungle steamed in the glow of morning. Already groups of freed men worked there, removing debris and detritus, clearing the rows for fresh plantings. The houses of Overseers had been trampled into the earth and would not be rebuilt.

He sensed the truth of Iardu and Sharadza’s advice. When a tree falls in that ruddy wilderness, another eventually rises to take its place. This was the cycle of existence. So must he find another Matay, another mother for those children he had yet to father. Among all the new duties of his royal status, this would prove the most difficult.

He squinted at the disk of golden sun rising low in the eastern sky.

The splendid sun that she had loved so well.

Forgive me, Matay, he asked silently.

Forgive me for what I must do.

In time he would claim another wife, provide a living Queen for his people. She would give him not a single son, but many. Such was the way of Kings, and as a King now he must abide by it. He owed nothing less to the People of New Khyrei.

For all their sakes, he would take the hand of another woman and learn to love her.

One day he would smile at the faces of his strong sons and lovely daughters.

One day he would forget the face of Matay.

Yet that day would not come soon.