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

by Mike Truk

  The bay bustled with activity. A large galley was being unloaded off the main stone pier; a score of men wrestled crates onto carts hitched to oxen; a complex crane built entirely of wood was swinging a net filled with boxes out over the water onto the loading area.

  The people were dressed in tunics that ended mid-thigh; all had heads of dark curly hair, skin tanned nut-brown by the sun, and feet sandaled. Most of the tunics were white, but a few were dyed richer colors. Some sort of social order began to present itself as we drew closer; dock masters giving commands, sailors moving indolently despite being berated, old, grizzled sailors mending nets before their cockle boats.

  The buildings were hard to tell apart; all were cubical or rectangular, with identical flat ceilings, some with bands of blue painted around their bases or with blue shutters. Here and there, a pergola was built atop a building, or two were joined by a bridge. Splashes of purple were present where flowering vines grew across facades, great orange canvases were stretched across small squares, and columns held up the tiled roofs of shrines.

  “We’ll stand out,” said Valeria quietly as she stood by my side. “We going to try and come up with a cover story?”

  “The universe is awash in refugees,” said Little Meow. “We could go with the most obvious.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “They’ve been conquered. They know what’s up. We’ll draw notice, but less if we seem honest.”

  “Anybody see anything concerning?” asked Imogen, pushing her glasses up her snub nose as she peered down. “It seems pretty quiet to me.”

  “Agreed,” said Valeria. “Little by the way of military presence. No walls, only a few patrols.”

  “No obvious signs of cruelty, either,” said Emma. “No bodies hanging from scaffolds, no stocks or whipping posts.”

  “Looks… kind of idyllic,” said Brielle. “Which is very concerning.”

  I adjusted my pack, moving back to the road. “Yes. That just means the corruption is under the surface. This Khalistria has to be fucking with the islands somehow.”

  “One way to find out,” said Brielle. “We ready to descend?”

  “Ready,” said Little Meow.

  “If we get separated or if trouble breaks out, the building we arrived in is our gathering point. Head back there if the town turns hostile,” said Valeria.

  “Then let's go,” I said, and led the way down.

  The surf pounded up the beach then withdrew, leaving foam to sink into the rough sand. I walked just above the waterline, enjoying the salt tang in the air, and stopped first before the pier where two men were folding nets into their cockle boat. One noticed our approach, tapping the other’s elbow, and both turned, wiping hands on their hips as they considered our group.

  Father and son, I reckoned, or something similar. They had marked noses like eagles, dark hair lightened here and there, bronzed by the sun. Their bodies were hard and made healthy by a life spent wrestling the sea, and their expressions were closed, suspicious.

  “Greetings,” I said, spreading my arms out in what I hoped was a universal gesture of peaceful intentions. “We’re not from here. Mind answering a few questions?”

  The older man, beard grizzled though his hair remained dark, placed his hands on his hips, and raised his chin. “What questions?”

  His son was desperately trying not to gape at my companions. I couldn’t blame him.

  “What’s the name of this town?” I asked.

  “Elleria.”

  Not the talkative type, then.

  “Elleria friendly to peaceful strangers?”

  “Those with coin, sure. There’s little patience for those who can’t pay their way.”

  Shit.

  “We can pay our way,” I lied smoothly. “Who rules Elleria? Are there any laws we should be aware of, to stay out of trouble?”

  The older man scratched at his beard. “A proposition. My son, Karios, will act as your guide for the day.”

  “I will?” asked the youth, his voice nearly breaking. Then he tried again, deliberately deepening his tone. “I will?”

  “But it will cost you. Thirty darakas, paid up front.”

  “Thirty…” Karios’s eyebrows went up higher, but he took control of himself, crossing his arms and staring at us with what he obviously thought was the same toughness as his father. “That’s right. Thirty darakas. Up front.”

  I saw the father’s jaw tighten a fraction in annoyance, and restrained a grin.

  “We don’t have darakas, being from far away, but I think we have something else you might appreciate.” I turned to my companions, hoping that someone had something they could offer. “Right?”

  “Here,” said Little Meow, bringing her pack around and rooting around inside to draw forth a small bead of gold. “This might suffice.”

  I took it from her with a grateful smile, then walked up to the pier proper, where I held up the bead between thumb and forefinger. “We good?”

  The father frowned down at the bead, his son’s eyes widening comically again.

  “We’re good,” I guessed, extending the bead to drop it into the heavily-calloused father’s hand. “Karios? I’m Noah. My friends: Valeria, Imogen, Emma, Brielle, and Little Meow.”

  “Little Meow?” Karios blinked. “I mean, yes, hello. Welcome to Elleria. I’ll… should I take them into town now?”

  “You expect them to wait while we fold nets, boy?” His father placed the bead in a belt pouch. “And send your cousin to help me finish.”

  “Right,” said Karios, and hopped down off the pier onto the sand with a wide smile. “Welcome to Elleria! Come, are you hungry? Mrakina serves the best food in town if you are.”

  “We’re hungry,” I said, turning to check with my companions, all of whom nodded. “What is Mrakina’s?”

  “My cousin’s place, close to the dock.” Karios led us along the sand, almost walking backward as he spoke. “But don’t think I’m taking you there because she’s my cousin! She serves the best blackened lamb, and her lentil soup is…” He gave a chef’s kiss and grinned. “And her wine! She imports white wine from Karyakitios itself! I’ve never tried a sip myself, but from the faces of the sea captains who order a bottle, it must be like sweet manna from the gods itself!”

  “Mrakina’s it is,” said Brielle with a tone of utter finality.

  “Good! Never explore a new city on an empty stomach is my number one rule,” said Karios. “You will not regret it.”

  Valeria’s smile was wry. “How many new cities have you explored, Karios?”

  “Me?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Oh - none. But it’s still my number one rule.” His grin was irrepressible. “However, one day? I shall sign up with my uncle’s trading galley, the Vasatos, and see all the islands. From grand Karyakitios to distant Anefeli, the last island before the endless horizon. And believe you me, I shall observe my number one rule at every port we stop in!”

  We’d passed a number of tiny piers then left the sandy beach as Karios led us up a set of stone steps to the docks.

  I was on high alert, taking in the people, the doorways, the rooftops. At any moment I expected enemies to appear or a guard patrol to challenge us - danger to manifest and the pain to begin.

  But Karios led us confidently along the docks, greeting folks and puffing up with importance as everybody glanced from him, to us, and back again. An older man stepped up, chewing on a slender pipe.

  “What’s this, Karios? Who are your new friends?”

  “Alas, respected Markos, I cannot stop and explain. I am being paid for my time. But my father no doubt can buy you a cup of wine if you find him and ask!”

  At that we passed, leaving a trail of curious looks in our wake, to stop before one of the cube-shaped buildings that abutted the harbor. Its doorway was open, with bunches of brightly colored flowers growing from window boxes set before the painted shutters. Bees hummed overhead as they dipped into more flowers that hung from the flat roof’s edge, and the
chatter of conversation greeted us as we followed Karios into a large, high-ceilinged room.

  After the sheer intensity of the sunlight, the interior appeared gloomy, but that was an illusion that a few seconds of adjustment dispelled. Large windows allowed light to spill over the simple tables set in the front half of the room; the back was dominated by a bar set across two large barrels, a wall of shelved goods behind that. Bunches of flowers hung from the rafters, along with strings of onions, garlic, and dried herbs. A small fire flickered within a protruding chimney, inside which spits of meat were roasting to a warm, honeyed glaze.

  A half-dozen men and women were seated within, many half-turned to take in the other tables, giving the place a convivial air. Nobody stood behind the bar, but a young woman arose from one of the tables to approach us, a flicker of concern passing across her features before she smiled warmly.

  “Welcome, strangers! And you, Karios! Shouldn’t you be fixing nets with your father?”

  “Mrakina, lay off! I’m being paid thirty darakas to show these strangers around. This is Noah, and Brielle, Valeria, Imogen, Emma, and Little Meow.”

  “I see.” Mrakina was short and curvy, her face broad and clearly given to smiling. Curly black hair fell over her shoulders, spilling down her back. “Well, in that case, welcome to Elleria. Can I offer you some lunch?”

  “Thank you,” I said, aware of how everybody was studying me and my friends. “And a table out of the way would be great.”

  “Of course. Come.” She led us to a trestle table in the corner, setting a pot of flowers in its center. As we sat, she placed clay cups before us, which she filled with water. “Food? Drink?”

  “Noah, may I order for the table?” Karios had remained standing. “I promise to not spend your money casually.”

  “Go for it,” I said.

  “In which case, we’ll have five platters of blackened lamb, with your tomato salad, a large pot of lentils, grilled vegetables, and - wine?”

  He glanced at me uncertainly.

  “No wine,” I said. “Perhaps next time.”

  “Ah, well.” He turned to Mrakina. “Thank you.”

  “Payment first,” she said. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” I said, and half-turned to Little Meow again.

  She held another tiny bead out in her palm. “I’ve only gold. Can you…”

  The doorway darkened as two figures stepped into the tavern. I glanced over reflexively and tensed.

  Two Morathi stood in the doorway, their pallid skin burnished by the sun, each doffing a wide-brimmed hat as they surveyed those gathered within.

  “Ah,” said the first, a looming giant with an eyepatch of gold. “There they are.”

  Chapter 9

  The gathered locals froze where they sat, conversation cutting off as if severed by a knife. Mrakina grasped her skirt with both hands, knuckles turning white, though she forced a smile.

  “My lords, welcome, I -”

  The giant raised a palm, cutting her off without even glancing at her. Runes were tattooed across his palm, creeping around the back of his hand and disappearing up the hem of his sleeve. They seemed to writhe, as if they were in truth dark worms which had burrowed just beneath the surface of his skin.

  His companion wore a white cloth over his eyes; though dressed in the same dark, military garb, he had the air of an ascetic. He was a reed beside the ruinous size of his companion, sloop-shouldered and pigeon-chested. But something about his utter self-control, the way he seemed to drain the energy of the room like a vortex, made me believe he was the more dangerous of the pair.

  I rose to my feet.

  The giant had a face like a granite cliff. He reminded me of the leader of the War Dogs back in Valeria’s manifold trial - what had been his name? The same obdurate strength, the same unyielding brutality.

  “Word was sent that a Savior was in town,” said the giant, the rasp of his voice that of a lifelong smoker. “A puling piglet of a youth. Who chose his companions for their comely faces and fuckable tits. Ah, to think the Source has come to this.”

  One by one, my companions stood, their expressions grim.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  The man drew up short, brows lowering. “I’ll ask the questions here.”

  I drew Shard, sending a pulse of power flowing down its length. Its blade flared painfully bright, causing stark shadows to stream from behind every object. “Your name, buddy.”

  The giant glanced askance at his silent companion, then stood tall. “Verlech Jaselle, third Warden of Elleria, Primus of Saer, bearer of the Viridian Ember, and master of Astaroth.”

  “Too long for your tombstone,” I said, rolling my head from one side to the other, eliciting a series of pops. “We’ll just write: Here lies Verlech. He was an asshole.”

  The giant’s face darkened in anger, and he clenched both fists so tightly I heard the knuckles crack. A palpable wave of magic pulsed out from him, its energy crackling, tasting of ozone. “Cute. You’re to come with us. Khalistria was warned of your arrival.”

  “Yeah?” I propped Shard on my shoulder. “Thanks, Morgana. And if we say no?”

  Verlech grinned, showing very large, very white teeth. “Then we get the pleasure of dragging you in by the heels. I do so hope you resist. Right, Mohebeth?”

  His buddy remained quiet, hands folded inside the opposite sleeves and out of sight.

  “Confident,” said Valeria. “Apologies, Mrakina. Karios. Everyone. You might want to get outside.”

  Karios grabbed Mrakina’s hand and ran toward the back of the tavern. The other patrons scattered, knocking over benches, dropping flagons of wine. In a matter of moments, it was just us and the Morathi.

  “There’s a reason we’re confident,” said Verlech, pounding his fist into the other palm. “We’re Wardens. You know how good you must be to make that rank? How much magic you need to master? Of course not. You know nothing.”

  Imogen rose from where she’d been surreptitiously kneeling. “Nobody else in the area. Just these two. He’s not joking. They are powerful.”

  “Of course we’re powerful -” began Verlech.

  “Same formation as before,” said Valeria. “Emma, Little Meow, hang back and handle the healing. Imogen, you and I will hold the center. Noah, Imogen - take the flanks.”

  “We can hear you!” bellowed Verlech. “You think we’ll just stand here while you -”

  Mohebeth disappeared.

  “Harmiel!” cried Imogen. “He’s using Hexenmagic to hide!”

  “Wards!” I shouted, and projected my own forth, dumping a truckload of magic into Anahata. The green ward burst to life within my core, and a platinum sphere burst out around me.

  “Harmiel ain’t bad,” said Verlech. “But check out Astaroth.”

  And he began to change, to grow. His frame shuddered and rippled; his musculature thickened as his skin grew coarse, taking on a chitinous appearance.

  Emma screamed as Mohebeth appeared within her ward, plunging a serpentine dagger into her neck.

  Chaos descended upon Mrakina’s.

  Valeria squeezed off a shot, loosing a bolt which slammed into Verlech’s chest.

  Imogen disappeared.

  A split second later, Brielle unleashed a gout of flame that engulfed the still-growing Morathi, turning him into a wavering silhouette within the inferno’s core.

  Little Meow let out a cry of alarm and grabbed Emma by the throat, her palm bursting with light as she poured healing into the mortal wound. Mohebeth lashed out at her in turn, his dagger flickering and darting forward like a serpent’s tongue. She parried each thrust with the back of her wrist, deflecting so fast I couldn’t keep track.

  Vam Mantra. All creation. First Prism. My magical reserves began to flow torrentially into Muladhara, immediately growing in potency.

  Time to act.

  I pointed Shard at Mohebeth and sent a pulse of golden light flashing where he stood.

 
; He vanished just before the attack would have taken off his head; instead, I cut a curling line clear through the back of the tavern.

  “Watch out!” screamed Brielle.

  Verlech appeared beside me. He didn’t move to my side, but just appeared.

  Fucking teleporters.

  He’d finished changing. He had a saurian appearance now, his skin heavily scaled a slick green like the hide of a hoary crocodile. He loomed over me, easily eight feet tall, a wall of muscle and chitinous protrusions. His face distended into something demonic, horns backswept and dripping with ichor.

  “Hello,” he growled, and slammed his fist into my ward.

  It was like being sucker-punched in the breadbasket; the sheer power behind that blow would have shattered a wall. I stumbled back, heels sliding over the dirt floor, and saw my ward ripple and distend beneath the attack.

  Verlech disappeared.

  Instead, Mohebeth appeared beside me, having penetrated my ward as well. His dagger swept across the back of my heel, cutting through my Achilles tendon. With utter clarity, I felt my calf muscle spring up the back of my leg like a roller shade violently retracting.

  His pale eyes flicked up to meet my own, and though his face remained as expressionless as that of a corpse, I could have sworn I sensed him grinning with delight deep within his wormy soul.

  Then he was gone.

  I collapsed onto my side, seeing that Verlech had appeared in the far corner of the tavern. Emma was sinking to her knees, held up by Little Meow’s impossibly strong grip. Valeria and Brielle were orienting on Verlech just as he cracked open his maw and virulent purple fire came gushing forth.

  “Balefire!” screamed Little Meow, and stepped before Emma to interpose herself between the wounded and the attack.

  Valeria and Brielle both turned away, raising their arms, and the purple fire washed over them both, deflected by their wards.

  I had to get a grip on this fight.

  My right leg was nothing but hellish agony, but I compartmentalized the pain. Hanging tightly to the Vam Mantra, I poured Manipura into my leg, fortifying it and dulling the sensation.