The Ravens of Death (Tsun-Tsun TzimTzum Book 4)

by Mike Truk

  Everywhere I looked were heavy leather tomes, the walls bounding with shelves from the floor to the ceiling that was lost in shadow. The air smelled of woodsmoke, leather, and old yellowed pages; it was hard not to be comforted by the scents, all of which in one way or another reminded me of better times.

  “Welcome,” said Emelias. “Welcome, welcome, oh tenth Savior and his brave companions. Won’t you please have a seat? There is much for us to discuss.”

  I lowered myself cautiously into one of the leather armchairs, earning an amused look from Emelias as he sat across from me.

  “Oh relax, Noah! The chair doesn’t bite. This is probably one of the safest places in all Ur-Gharab for you, though you won’t believe me. And your delightful companions? Won’t you also sit?”

  “No, thank you,” said Imogen stiffly. “We’re fine on our feet.”

  “Have it your way. Drinks? No? Then let us get down to business.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Let’s. You can start by telling me what game you’re playing, Emelias. Boredom doesn’t explain you helping us.”

  “You’d be surprised. Are surprised, I take it, because yes, my kind - well. We Morathi. We’re obviously on different sides of this war from you. No doubt you think us evil, and of course, we have our own explanations for what we do. But it would be so tiresome to bend your ear with justifications. Let us agree to disagree on why we do what we do, and instead move to the consequences.

  “Life was quite exciting here in Ur-Gharab for a while, but that was nearly a decade ago. A decade since Lilith stormed this peerless city and claimed it for her own. Ah! The nights of fire and wine, of conquest and the heady thrill of victory, are now long gone. And we, we glorious conquerors? Well, some of us were sent on to lay siege to the next spheres. Others were given plum appointments across the spheres as they fell. Most were sent to rule the countless planets that have fallen to Lilith since, setting themselves up as kings and queens under her aegis. But we, we poor, undistinguished few? We were chosen to remain in Ur-Gharab, and uphold the dignity and gravitas of Lilith. For it is to here that the multitudes must march to pay obeisance, and someone must keep the lights on.”

  Emelias gazed off to the side, slitting his eyes as he stared into the depths of the fire. “Oh, it was sold to us as a great honor. To be Lilith’s representatives in this hallowed city. But in truth? It’s quite, quite boring. There’s simply nothing to do, and being worshipped, believe it or not, grows quite boring after a while. Loses its savor. And boredom breeds cruelty, which in turn breeds excess, which culminates, a few years later in apathy and cynicism. Which is where you find me. Dying for stimulation, for novelty.”

  He turned to smile at me. “So, you can guess how excited I was to see you materialize before me like a gift from Lilith herself. A Savior, with a full entourage! How thrilling! Only three others ever made it this far, and did I come within spitting distance of them? Oh no.”

  “Three others?” I sat up. “Who were they?”

  Emelias waved his hand as if the question were a paltry annoyance. “Oh, I don’t recall their names. They were brave and bold, determined, and ultimately unequal to the task. Two of them died here in Ur-Gharab, but one managed to press on and reached Malkuth. I surmise it didn’t go well for him there. But regardless. You are my guests, and I shall see to it that you are housed and fed, entertained, and informed until we must finally part ways. So please, begin. I shall answer everything you put to me as best I am able.”

  “How ironic,” said Brielle, arms crossed and hip pressed to the side of my armchair, “seeing as how you’ve already refused to answer Noah’s first question.”

  Emelias raised an eyebrow. “About the three Saviors? Not a refusal, my dear, but an inability. I can learn their names, however, if you desire it.”

  “Please do,” I said. “So fine. You’re bored, and we’re your entertainment. I still don’t believe you, but whatever. Why does the regent want to meet with me alone?”

  “Because you’re a Savior, dear boy. Chosen by the Source itself to champion it against Lilith. You are by definition remarkable, even if you don’t seem so at first sight, and she’s no doubt burning with curiosity. Poor Morgana. She spends every waking moment overseeing Ur-Gharab, guiding young Alusz, sometimes assisting her in receiving homage from ten or twenty delegations at once. She must be climbing the walls.”

  “At once?” asked Imogen, moving to stand at my other side.

  “Oh yes. You think it efficient to listen to one petitioner at a time? No, the palace is positively riddled with throne rooms, and an image of the queen and her regent appears in each, before which the delegations can fawn and bow and scrape to their heart’s content. And no, not a mere image. An actual iteration of their selves, capable of speech and consideration, just like the one you met with.”

  “The queen is an adept of Sahaswara?” asked Imogen.

  Sahaswara. The seventh sanskara, the thousand-petaled lotus that crowned the head. The sanskara of enlightenment and spiritual connection, the most refined and most difficult to access - much less master.

  “Oh, my dear, no. Not young Iphigenia, but Morgana. Why do you think she is our regent?” said Emelias, bowing his head. “But yes. Morgana is… ‘adept.’”

  Imogen stirred with unease, and I felt it as well. The last person we’d met with access to that august sphere was Blindness, back in Ghogiel. They’d been a force of nature.

  “Regardless. You asked what the regent wishes with you, and I believe she primarily, at least at first, wishes to take your measure. You are the tenth, are you not? The tenth Savior to seek our destruction. Perhaps - just perhaps - this time the Source will win through. Why wouldn’t she wish to gauge the mettle of your soul?”

  I stirred in the armchair. “Will the queen be there?”

  “Iphigenia? No. She leaves these matters to Morgana.”

  Why did I feel disappointed? I thought of the young queen’s pensive frown, her remote gaze, her delicate beauty. No; it wasn’t just her striking appearance. There had been something in the depths of her eyes, in her disinterested words… I couldn’t quite pin it down.

  “You’re dancing around the real answers I desire,” I said. “You’re not a band of spectators in the war between the Source and Lilith. You’re her most elite leaders. You have a dog in this race, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

  Emelias spread his hands appeasingly. “Then I suppose this conversation is ended, since you already know everything?”

  I glowered at him.

  “Know this, Savior. We may be Morathi, but we’re still human. We’re not all of us caricatures of evil, doing our utmost to bring evil and degradation to the world to further Lilith’s dreams. Some of us are a little more complex than that, a little more conflicted. But never mind. You’re clearly not interested in nuance, so let us leave that be. Ask about the great portal and the way to Malkuth.”

  “Very well,” I said, sitting back, trying not to sound surly. “How do we get there?”

  “There’s a column far below in the realm over which we hover. It acts as the fulcrum of the universe. From there, any planet may be reached, and many of the great spheres themselves. Gha Agsheblah, Tagimron, Gomaliel, and yes, even Malkuth.”

  “Where is this column?” I asked. “How do we get to it?”

  “Lilith is of course reluctant to have Saviors pounding on her door, and this being the only way that your kind can enter her realm without her permission, she’s made it hard for you to access it. As such, it moves about Ur-Gharab. The only person who knows where it is located at any given time is Regent Morgana herself.”

  “And let me guess,” I said. “She’s going to demand something in exchange for that information.”

  Emelias chuckled. “Perhaps. Who can tell? Such will be determined in your audience with her.”

  “Morgana,” said Imogen, tone terse. “Why would she ever tell us its location?”

  “I
will not speak for the regent,” said Emelias with sudden gravity.

  “And how are we to trust her? Or any of you?” I asked.

  Emelias shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps because you have no choice?”

  Valeria stepped forward, hand on the stock of her crossbow. “We could force it from you.”

  “Because that worked out so well for you last time,” drawled Emelias. “Really, can we skip the posturing? I find it so tiresome.”

  Valeria clapped a bolt into the crossbow and raised it to her shoulder, sighting down its length at where Emelias sat. “Who said I was posturing?”

  “Very intimidating, yes, I’m quite terrified. Now, we all know you’re not going to shoot me -”

  Valeria squeezed the trigger and the bolt leaped forth - not at the Morathi’s head or chest, but at his thigh. It was only stopped by a flickering patch of pale green light that appeared directly before its path.

  I’d seen that kind of magic before when we’d intercepted the Final Skulls inspector back in Tagimron. It was an advanced form of warding that only appeared before the attack itself.

  The bolt bounced clear off the green light as if it had hit stone, then disappeared into the darkness.

  Valeria gaped. “But…” She stared down Lizbeth’s crossbow. “This can pierce wards…”

  “Some wards,” said Emelias, tone bored. “It’s what, Level 3? My dear, my wards are just a smidgeon more advanced than that. Please. You insult me.”

  “Valeria,” I said. “Stand down.”

  I could feel the waves of displeasure boiling off her, but she stepped back.

  “Honestly, you’re lucky you’re all so beautiful,” said Emelias. “My patience might otherwise rapidly be strained. Now. Trust. Let me paint you a picture. You are akin to a young swimmer who has decided to plunge into a raging river after training for a few weeks in a placid pond. Suddenly you find yourself out of your depth, being swept toward a colossal waterfall. I am a man standing on an outcropping past which you are being swept. I reach out my hand, and yell, ‘Take hold! I will help you!’”

  Emelias’s eyes glittered as he stared at me, his gaze so intense I felt them like red-hot pokers boring into my own eyes. “And you, poor, deluded fool that you are, rather than take my hand, cry out: ‘How can I trust you?’”

  My disquiet turned over and became anger. To better control my feelings, I initiated the Vam Mantra, whispering in the recesses of my mind: All creation in a drop of water. All creation before me.

  “Your point is well taken,” I said. “But let me refine just one detail. This swimmer doesn’t see the waterfall with his eyes. Instead, as he swims, he sees this kind stranger atop a rock, yelling, ‘Beware! A waterfall is going to destroy you! Take my hand!’ The swimmer looks about and fails to see the waterfall. ‘Where is it?’ he calls, to which the stranger yells, ‘Don’t ask, just trust me! Take my hand!’”

  Emelias frowned. “If you don’t see the waterfall, then you are in even more trouble than I presumed.”

  “We’ve done all right so far,” I said.

  “All right will prove insufficient in Ur-Gharab. Can any of you raise even a basic ward? No? Then you will die the moment you enter combat below. The time for child’s play is over, sweet ones. You will not be able to browbeat your way past the opponents that await you. You no longer cavort on Ghogiel with innocent babes, no longer play at war in Tagimron with infantile idiots. This is the real deal, and if you prove unequal to the task? Then you shall surely perish. As the others have before you.”

  His words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was only the crackle of the fire.

  “We met someone called Ghalesha in Ghogiel,” said Emma, breaking the silence. “Killed her pretty easily. Was she just an innocent babe?”

  Emelias’s face darkened. “So, it was you.”

  “I don’t know,” said Brielle. “She gave it a good try. And what was the name of the other man with her? Salathis? I remember we stopped him cold as well. But that should come as no surprise, seeing as they were just ‘innocent babes.’”

  Emelias took a deep, steadying breath, and his smile became fixed. “Perhaps I cast pearls before swine. You can mock me all you like. But when the end looms over you, when your companions lie strewn around you like broken dolls, then perhaps you will remember this conversation and realize that actually, I did seek to help you. Sought to do so in vain.”

  “Don’t pretend to be our friend,” I said. “We’ll get on much better if you’re honest. So fine. We need to journey to this mysterious column. You don’t know where it is, but Morgana might tell us. Fair enough. That covers the basics.”

  “He’s right,” said Valeria, voice steeped in bitterness. “None of us know how to raise a ward. We’ll not last long without them.”

  “It doesn’t look good at first glance,” said Emelias, seeming to relent and relax. “But you need not dive headlong into your first trial. There is room to train and improve your skills before you go.”

  “You’ll train us?” asked Brielle, her voice rich with disbelief.

  “Perhaps. If you cease shooting crossbows at me.”

  “Again,” I said, grateful for how the Vam Mantra kept me calm. “The question becomes ‘Why?’ Why would you expend resources on your enemy?”

  Emelias’s smile glittered in the firelight. “I think we’re past trying to explain that one. But remember this: you always have a choice. You can choose to avail yourself of my assistance or turn it down. Nobody will stop you either way. It’s your call. But you saw how you fared against mere city guards. How will you last against far greater opponents?”

  It was a rhetorical question; or at least, our silence made it one.

  “You won’t,” said Emelias finally. “You might struggle through one, maybe two battles, but you’ll suffer bitter losses. How willing are you to sacrifice your companions, Noah? Sacrifice them for nothing - for assuredly, as you stand, none of you will reach the column.”

  “It’s a risk we’ve accepted from the beginning,” growled Valeria.

  “But that was then, this is now, and you nearly died yesterday,” said Emelias. “Or have you so soon forgotten? And Isossa won’t be there next time to help your cat-faced healer.”

  Stony silence was our only response.

  “So.” Emelias dusted a speck off his lap. “Soon you will see the regent, and if you impress her, be told where the column is. At which point you’ll be free to go whenever you’re ready. We’d all understand if you chose to leave right away - your people are dying in Bastion, are they not, as they fend off my dark lady’s army? Or you could raise your chances of success by learning the most basic of military strategies, such as wards and flight. Unless you all already know how to fly?”

  More stony silence.

  “I see. Well. Your end will be quick, at any rate. There’s that for consolation.”

  “All right,” I said, marveling at my smooth tone. “You’ve made your point, Emelias, and we’re grateful for your council. I think it best to deliberate your offer before making a decision.”

  “Wise,” said Emelias.

  “Do you have a sense of when the regent will summon me?”

  “Tonight, possibly. She yearns for diversion, and being the Savior, you are a man of some import. Do you have something more… fitting? To wear?”

  I resisted the urge to look down at my traveling clothes, simply raising an eyebrow in response.

  “Then with your permission, I will arrange for you to wear something more becoming of your station and dignity. Fear not! I won’t bedeck you in foppish finery. Something reserved, in good taste, and worthy of your title. Unless you would rather approach her dressed as a traveling mendicant?”

  “I’ll take a look at whatever you come up with,” I said, rising to my feet. “Thank you for your time.”

  “But I’ve questions for you!” exclaimed Emelias in dismay. “I promised Isossa we would have a fun afternoon learning all about you
r past, your adventures…? No? Alas.” He slumped back into his chair. “Perhaps when you trust me more. For you will come to trust me, Noah, I assure you of that.”

  “Perhaps.” Now it was my turn to smile coldly. “Though you said I had a choice in everything.”

  Emelias narrowed his eyes a fraction and made no response.

  “I look forward to the regent’s summons.” I moved to the door, my companions following. “This will lead back to our suite?”

  Emelias waved a hand, not bothering to look in our direction.

  The door opened to our pool room. We filed in, and Little Meow pressed it shut with a deliberate click.

  “That was…” began Brielle, scratching at her scalp with both hands then flinging her arms down to turn and drop into a lounge chair. “Frustrating? Infuriating? The gall of that man! He acts insulted that we don’t consider him one of our boon companions yet.”

  “I think most of that was an act?” Little Meow had stayed close to the front door, stepping aside to run her fingers over the drooping tendrils of a potted fern. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

  “Agreed,” said Imogen, tone precise, expression troubled. “It’s a finely calibrated act. We can’t underestimate him. I think that’s what he wants. To lower himself in our esteem so we make mistakes down the road.”

  “He turned my bolt,” said Valeria, tone subdued, “as if it were nothing. He’s powerful.”

  “Yeah,” I said, walking back to the breakfast table. It had been cleared and reset with carafes of coffee and juices; I poured myself a cup of black liquid. “And don’t forget how quickly got us access to the queen.”

  “And how he took the captain of the guard aside after we nearly killed her?” continued Emma, joining me in pouring a cup. “He’s got some serious clout.”

  “Then I don’t understand,” said Valeria. She sank into the lounge chair beside Brielle’s and set her crossbow on the ground. “Why pretend to be less than he is? Why not try to impress or intimidate us?”

  Imogen approached the table, reaching for what looked like the orange juice. “I think, for one, that he enjoys the act. There is a streak of sadism in him a mile wide. I recognize it well. I had professors like him back at the Academy.”