Read Online Forged In Death, Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles by Jim Melvin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jim Melvin
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instincts, Sōbhana memorized each twist and turn of Avici’s main causeway. Nevertheless her efforts lacked conviction. Of what use was resistance? Invictus was too great. With Bhayatupa as its ally, Avici was a power beyond compare. The forces of good were destined for slaughter.
Even so, on that sunny morning she continued to follow the ox-driven wagon and the hordes, always staying within sight of her king. Sōbhana’s spirit was fading, but her love for Torg was not. She would stand by him until doom took them all—even if the mountainous dragon himself tried to stop her.
Mala paraded Torg along a paved roadway lined by two-story cement buildings with elaborate marble facades. Men, women and children wearing white robes leered from the balconies that protruded over the street, the adults shouting obscenities, the children hurling chunks of garbage. Sōbhana was incensed, but helpless. She couldn’t kill thousands and thousands.
She knew through her studies that the eastern portion of Avici was built upon the remnants of a volcano that had raged and fumed before the Ogha River was born. The volcano now was lifeless, and its sides had long since crumbled and smoothed. A tangle of buildings—jammed side by side on the hill—blocked Sōbhana’s view of what lay beyond. When she finally came to the crest, she was able to see more clearly. At that moment she beheld Uccheda for the first time.
The great tower of Invictus dominated the valley that lay on the northeast side of the city. It filled Sōbhana with the same dismay she’d felt when she’d seen the dragon. The evil sorcerer’s dwelling place was by far the largest edifice she had ever beheld, dwarfing the temples in Senasana and Dibbu-Loka. Even the central keep of the fortress of Nissaya did not match this level of grandeur.
Uccheda was spherical in shape, tapering slightly as it grew—and it was so tall, clouds sometimes gathered about its roof. But the tower’s height was not its most amazing attribute. What stunned Sōbhana more than anything else was the scope of its decadence. Much of its outer surface was coated with gold. Of all the known bullion in the world, it had been rumored that more than a third had been used in the construction of the tower, which blazed beneath the rising sun like a beacon of despair, blinding anyone who attempted to look at it directly.
The main roadway led downward into the valley. Torg was drawn toward the tower. Hundreds of thousands followed. Mala marched ahead of the wagon. Bhayatupa glided in lazy circles above Uccheda’s roof. No one paid Sōbhana any attention. She walked freely in her new disguise.
There were no visible apertures at the tower’s base, but fifty cubits above the ground, hundreds of doors and windows opened onto a circular balcony. The largest portal, adorned with jewels and inscriptions, faced the roadway.
Slowly the portal swung slowly open.
The crowd grew silent—and bowed.
Bhayatupa landed on the rooftop of Uccheda. Even at such a great height, she could see him clearly on a day as cloudless as this one.
Then her eyes were drawn back to the portal. Ten standard-bearers, adorned in golden armor studded with diamonds and rubies, led the way onto the balcony, their banners bearing yellow suns outlined in red on backgrounds of white.
Next, a woman of unparalleled beauty appeared, wearing a crimson gown and a bejeweled chaplet. Sōbhana curled her upper lip, recognizing Chal-Abhinno, the Warlish witch who’d obviously chosen to return to Avici after her humiliation at Dibbu-Loka. A pair of dracools, winged beasts that looked like small dragons but waddled on two legs, escorted her. Behind the dracools strode an impressive soldier wearing decorated armor. He carried his helm in the crook of his arm, and his golden locks danced in the breeze.
A stately woman with luxurious blond hair hanging past her waist joined the soldier. She was tall and magnificent in her long white gown. Despite
Even so, on that sunny morning she continued to follow the ox-driven wagon and the hordes, always staying within sight of her king. Sōbhana’s spirit was fading, but her love for Torg was not. She would stand by him until doom took them all—even if the mountainous dragon himself tried to stop her.
Mala paraded Torg along a paved roadway lined by two-story cement buildings with elaborate marble facades. Men, women and children wearing white robes leered from the balconies that protruded over the street, the adults shouting obscenities, the children hurling chunks of garbage. Sōbhana was incensed, but helpless. She couldn’t kill thousands and thousands.
She knew through her studies that the eastern portion of Avici was built upon the remnants of a volcano that had raged and fumed before the Ogha River was born. The volcano now was lifeless, and its sides had long since crumbled and smoothed. A tangle of buildings—jammed side by side on the hill—blocked Sōbhana’s view of what lay beyond. When she finally came to the crest, she was able to see more clearly. At that moment she beheld Uccheda for the first time.
The great tower of Invictus dominated the valley that lay on the northeast side of the city. It filled Sōbhana with the same dismay she’d felt when she’d seen the dragon. The evil sorcerer’s dwelling place was by far the largest edifice she had ever beheld, dwarfing the temples in Senasana and Dibbu-Loka. Even the central keep of the fortress of Nissaya did not match this level of grandeur.
Uccheda was spherical in shape, tapering slightly as it grew—and it was so tall, clouds sometimes gathered about its roof. But the tower’s height was not its most amazing attribute. What stunned Sōbhana more than anything else was the scope of its decadence. Much of its outer surface was coated with gold. Of all the known bullion in the world, it had been rumored that more than a third had been used in the construction of the tower, which blazed beneath the rising sun like a beacon of despair, blinding anyone who attempted to look at it directly.
The main roadway led downward into the valley. Torg was drawn toward the tower. Hundreds of thousands followed. Mala marched ahead of the wagon. Bhayatupa glided in lazy circles above Uccheda’s roof. No one paid Sōbhana any attention. She walked freely in her new disguise.
There were no visible apertures at the tower’s base, but fifty cubits above the ground, hundreds of doors and windows opened onto a circular balcony. The largest portal, adorned with jewels and inscriptions, faced the roadway.
Slowly the portal swung slowly open.
The crowd grew silent—and bowed.
Bhayatupa landed on the rooftop of Uccheda. Even at such a great height, she could see him clearly on a day as cloudless as this one.
Then her eyes were drawn back to the portal. Ten standard-bearers, adorned in golden armor studded with diamonds and rubies, led the way onto the balcony, their banners bearing yellow suns outlined in red on backgrounds of white.
Next, a woman of unparalleled beauty appeared, wearing a crimson gown and a bejeweled chaplet. Sōbhana curled her upper lip, recognizing Chal-Abhinno, the Warlish witch who’d obviously chosen to return to Avici after her humiliation at Dibbu-Loka. A pair of dracools, winged beasts that looked like small dragons but waddled on two legs, escorted her. Behind the dracools strode an impressive soldier wearing decorated armor. He carried his helm in the crook of his arm, and his golden locks danced in the breeze.
A stately woman with luxurious blond hair hanging past her waist joined the soldier. She was tall and magnificent in her long white gown. Despite
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