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

by Mike Truk

  All creation before me.

  Manipura lifted me up, and with it I hurled myself at Verlech, skimming between Valeria and Brielle. It was like flying into a hurricane-force wind.

  The balefire blanked out the world in neon purple. But it was clearly no ordinary attack - my ward immediately began to degrade, growing thinner as the balefire consumed its substance.

  I gritted my teeth and pushed harder against the attacking, my progress slowing the closer I got. There seemed to be no end to Verlech’s onslaught. I couldn’t make out anything over the fire that engulfed me.

  The sheer amount of magic it was taking to keep my ward up was stunning. I activated the Second Prism, splitting my streams of refined magic, braiding them into distinct flows. I was able to keep Manipura and Anahata going at once, but even so, it was like pouring a bucket into an abyss.

  I wasn’t going to be able to power my way through the attack.

  Then the attack cut off.

  I flew forward, the sudden lack of resistance surprising me, only to pull up short at the last second. I saw Imogen standing on a stool beside Verlech, who was toppling over onto his side, his temple a blackened crater where she’d just unleashed a full blast of her levenbolt at point-blank range.

  I went to thank her, to say something, but Mohebeth appeared by her side, his blade flashing toward her neck.

  Imogen disappeared.

  I hurled my primed blast of Shard’s golden fire at the Morathi, but he disappeared just before I hit.

  Then Verlech began to rise to his feet. Blood was pouring from the corners of his eyes, rivulets running down his leather cheeks, smoke rising from his scorched head.

  Fuck. He hadn’t been lying.

  A crossbow bolt slammed into his left eye. He plucked it free and hurled it away without flinching.

  Brielle was moving out wide to get an angle of attack on him.

  Imogen and Mohebeth flickered into view off to my side, exchanging blows, then both disappeared.

  I swept Shard about me in a series of slashing cuts. “You picked the wrong fucking piglet of a youth to pick on, asshole.”

  Verlech grinned, his burned hide cracking to reveal raw, red tracery of flesh beneath. “Mewling, three-inch fool.”

  I swept Shard down upon him with both hands, seeking to cleave him in twain, but a purple ward sprang up at the last second. Shimmering right before my blade, a cloud of sparks blazed forth like a welder soldering iron.

  “That all you got, Savior?” he asked, voice a rough rasp that did nothing to hide his scorn.

  “Gimme a moment,” I grunted. Pain was rolling up my leg in great, mind-numbing waves, and I felt the Vam shuddering and threatening to shatter.

  Emma? Was she going to - ?

  Focus.

  I took a deep breath and bore down with everything I had. I redoubled the amount of power I was pouring into Manipura until I felt that Shard’s hilt would bend beneath the strength of my grip.

  Verlech laughed. “You know nothing!” He extended his clawed hand; his ward began to drive me back, coalescing into a square foot of luminous purple, all its strength focused along the line of my blade.

  Brielle let out a scream, and a gout of flame poured forth like water from a broken fire hydrant.

  Verlech didn’t even glance her way. His ward swelled out to encompass his flank, and her attack was deflected.

  “Let’s make this interesting,” said the huge saurian.

  Faster than I could follow, he stepped forth to swing an uppercut under Shard and straight into my gut, claws tearing deep into my stomach, shredding my abdominal wall and plunging into my viscera.

  My whole body went ramrod rigid. It felt as if a sun in a distant galaxy had gone supernova - a galaxy that was my body, but which my mind had flown away from in an instant, like a rocket blasted into the void.

  All creation - all creation before -

  Shard’s glow began to dull. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Verlech loomed over me, his grin growing wider as he twisted his fist about, mangling my insides.

  Pain. I was familiar with pain. But this was something else. This was someone pulling the plug on my strength, someone cutting the threads that held me upright, someone pulling out the ground from under me.

  A pain so total and annihilating that I couldn’t even conceive it. The shock so intense it simply froze the world, paralyzed my mind.

  Then a hand dropped onto my back, the touch sensed as if from ten miles away, and strength flooded into me.

  It was a sweet, soothing strength that quenched the flames of hell, turning the tides of madness. White, luminous energy emanated, before which agony was stilled; it knit my flesh together, drawing my calf muscle back down, healing the wound in my core even as Verlech tore it open anew.

  The shock receded but a fraction. Had I not gone through all my recent trials, it wouldn’t have been enough. Had I not battered my mind and soul against the cliffs of torment so many times, I’d still have been undone.

  But a sword had been plunged through my chest. My body had been tortured and tormented to the point of insanity. I’d suffered wounds without count, and found it within me to rise above.

  So it was that I was able to center myself, to grimly and with utter resolve pronounce the words that were the foundation upon which I stood:

  All creation in a drop of water.

  Verlech’s smirk slowly faded as he strained against me.

  A second hand came down upon my back. Emma’s power flooded into me, tinted green in my mind’s eye; the knowledge that she was up, that she was alive, that she was sufficiently healed to provide me with her own energy, was more enlivening than the healing power itself.

  All creation before me.

  Verlech’s claws flexed, tore, and shredded, but the damage was immediately healed. The pain became distant, masked by the healing balm of Little Meow and Emma’s powers.

  “I’ve fought my way across Ghogiel,” I said, voice implacable. “I’ve killed shoxar. I’ve witnessed betheliim in flight. I destroyed an ur-grouth single-handed. I’ve led armies. I’ve faced my worst fears. I’ve been killed by a woman I loved and brought back to life by another. Within me resides the Source.”

  With each word, Shard’s energy blazed brighter. With each word, its edge cleaved deeper into Verlech’s ward.

  “I love and am loved in turn,” I said, the pain finally falling away altogether. “You are nothing to me, Verlech Jaselle, third Warden of Elleria. For I am the tenth Savior, and all who worship Lilith must fall before me.”

  With a cry, I cut through the last of his ward, slicing through his arm and cleaving through his torso, shearing him from one shoulder to the opposite hip.

  Blood sprayed. The cut was so fine, so precise, that the upper part of his torso remained affixed to the lower for a second before sliding away and collapsing in a torrent of gore.

  His arm hung from the hole in my gut for a moment, then its own weight tore it free. The moment it fell away, Emma and Little Meow’s healing power closed the wound in my stomach, knitting the muscle, restoring my organs. The sensation burned and itched as if a million fire ants swarmed within me; then it was gone, and I turned to look for Imogen.

  She was invisible, but I could sense her, feeling her off to the left side of the room, stalking along the wall.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Emma looked a fright, her front drenched in blood, neck a bloody bruise, eyes sunken hollows, skin as pale as a Morathi’s. But she gave a thumb’s up, and with obvious effort restored her ward .

  “Don’t bother,” I said, turning back to survey the room. “Mohebeth can pierce wards. Save your energy.”

  “Where is he?” demanded Brielle, picking her way over flaming wreckage to rejoin us. “I can’t see the bastard!”

  “Just relax,” said Valeria. “When you can’t see an enemy, it’s best to just wait, to unfocus, and be ready to react the moment he appears.”

  “Great advice,” said B
rielle. “Fantastic. Utterly brilliant. Wake me up when he appears.”

  Valeria grimaced, loading another bolt. “That or you could just fill the room with fire and flush him out.”

  “Now we’re talking,” said Brielle, and extended her palm. “Watch out, Imogen!”

  With a roar, the tavern filled with fire. Brielle raked her palm back and forth, causing billowing gouts of flame to pour over the walls, into the corners, under the already burning tables, and over the small bar at the back of the room, which collapsed with a crash.

  Smoke was filling the spaces between the burning rafters. The walls were rippling with curtains of fire.

  This place wasn’t going to last long.

  But it worked - Mohebeth flickered into sight, coughing into his sleeve, just long enough for Valeria to loose a crossbow bolt. It hit him between the shoulder blades, and he let out a scream of pain, his back arching.

  And Imogen appeared, a step to his side, loosing a levenbolt right into his face.

  The Morathi was lifted off his feet and hurled through the air, lightning prickling over his body, to collide with the burning wall and smash right through.

  Ominous creaks and groans sounded as the structure began to sway.

  “Out!” I roared, clasping Emma to my chest with one arm, wrapping the other around Little Meow’s waist, and flying straight toward the archway.

  The building groaned again, a deep, dolorous sound like a dying yak, and it all began to go. I put on a burst of speed, stopped sharply just before the door and releasing both of my friends so they could roll free. I reversed my direction, the ceiling and rafters starting to crash down, and flew right where Valeria and Brielle were sprinting in my direction. They vaulted over the wreckage, casting terrified gazes above them.

  One chance.

  I put everything I had into my ward, pushed its platinum perfection out wide, then barreled between Brielle and Valeria. Catching them across the waists, I lifted them straight into the burning inferno that was falling upon us from above.

  I heard screams. My ward smashed into the ceiling like a wrecking ball, and with a shattering roar, we burst outside, trailing smoke and flames.

  Up into that perfect cerulean sky, I turned and hovered, both women held easily to my sides through Manipura’s blessing.

  Below us, Mrakina’s imploded, walls falling inward to send funnels of sparks and smoke high into the air.

  Little Meow and Emma had cleared the blaze, orienting themselves on Mohebeth, who was crawling away.

  “Imogen?” asked Brielle, holding onto me and studying the burning ruin below, her voice near-panicked. “Where is she?”

  My magic was giving out. I flew down, descending to land before Mohebeth. I was aware of the growing crowd, watching us from the length of the docks, turning out from the other buildings to gape.

  Mohebeth looked up, bloodless face burned and charred, the cloth that had fallen from his eyes revealing sightless sockets. He sighed and lowered his brow to the road.

  I scanned the burning building, heart rising to my throat, searching, needing to see Imogen - then there she was.

  And holy shit.

  She was amazing.

  A sphere of perfect blue appeared in the center of the blaze, sending an angled rafter toppling aside. She strode forth, her black and white-clad form shimmering with lightning bolts. They played up and down her body, collecting in the hollows of her eyes, her glasses blazing white.

  She moved with utter deliberation, radiating power, braids dancing about her head like living snakes. Her black skirt flared out; she looked like some half-crazed goddess of maids. Her outfit was insane, her power shifting the burning building away as she strode through it. She finally emerged, and stopped before Mohebeth.

  Goosebumps ran down my arms. I loved that she could still surprise and amaze the shit out of me.

  “Morathi,” she said, voice resonant with power. “Harmiel has run its course. You have failed. In the name of the Source, I end your life.”

  “Wait,” whispered the Morathi, raising his face once more. “I can share secrets with you, tell you -”

  A bolt of lightning broke from the cloudless sky, splitting the world for an instant into radiant, shocking silver and black, smiting the Morathi in the center of his back. His torso burst asunder, cauterizing flesh even as gobbets of cooked meat were flung forth, annihilating the man before he could get out another word.

  “No,” said Imogen, as color returned to my vision. Her ward disappeared, and her braids settled across her shoulders, the lights going out from behind her glasses. “I don’t think so.”

  The only sound was the whispering roar of Mrakina’s being consumed by flames.

  “Emma?” I turned to where she stood, leaning against Little Meow.

  “Good,” she rasped, though the wound in her throat still looked raw and awful.

  “Not true,” said Brielle, striding to her side and slipping under her arm. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

  “Karios!” I turned to the crowd and saw the youth standing pale faced beside Mrakina. “Attend us!”

  The boy peeled himself away from his cousin’s side, but she caught his hand at the last moment. Joining him, she moved protectively by his side so they both strode to where I stood.

  “Apologies for your tavern,” I said. “We’ll find a way to repay you.”

  “You… my tavern…” Mrakina searched for the right words, then snapped her fingers. “It means that much. Who are you?”

  Fuck it. The enemy already knew.

  “The tenth Savior,” I said. Immediately whispers of awe and amazement spread through the crowd. “We’re here to defeat Khalistria.”

  An older man emerged from the crowd, his face dour, his hair, the hue of iron, shorn close to his scalp. “I am Markos, the harbormaster.” His voice had a grave authority that was at once strangely calming and severe. The kind of man who’d restore order on the deck of a sinking ship. “Be welcome to Elleria, Savior, but you will not find peace here. You have slain the second and third warden. The first remains above in the temple.”

  I looked up, along with everyone else, to the colonnaded building at the peak of the town. “Khalistria isn’t here?”

  Markos’s eyebrows shot up. “In Elleria? No. She resides in the capital, on the great island of Argossa.”

  “How long does it take to sail there?” asked Brielle.

  “With a good ship? Three days should see you in its harbor. But you shall face far greater difficulties there than you did here. There are thirty wardens, and then, of course, Khalistria herself.”

  “Then we’ll deal with this first warden before resting,” I said, though every cell in my body begged for no more. “Then we’ll rest, regain our strength, and leave in the morning. Harbormaster, can you loan us a ship and a crew to take us to Argossa?”

  He rubbed at his jawline. “Whoever helps you will be judged accomplices and slain.”

  I smiled. “You assume I will fail.”

  “Those who came before you did.”

  “I am not like them.” I straightened, ignoring the taut pain in my abused middle, and gazed over the assembled people of the town. More were joining them by the minute. “People of Elleria, I won’t give you a pretty speech. I’m too damn tired, and there’s still a warden to kill. I am the tenth Savior, the last Savior, and I am destined for Malkuth and Lilith herself. Your assistance will be forever remembered by all who worship the Tree of Life. Who here will take my companions to Argossa? We would leave at dawn tomorrow.”

  Nobody spoke up. Many exchanged guilty glances and looked away; a few even shuffled their feet in hesitance. At last, a figure shouldered his way to the fore.

  It was Karios’s dad.

  “Senca!” He glared at where another man with familiar features stood. “Why do you not step forward? Where are your boasts as to your ship’s speed now?”

  Senca froze like a deer in headlights.

  “I
, Khandros, shall help the Savior,” said Karios’s father. He pitched his voice well, and it carried over the crowd. “Why? Why do I risk my family, my livelihood, and my life? Because I still remember life before Lilith. I still remember marching in the Pelagic Legion against the Hemostii on the mainland. Remember those bastards? I almost miss them.”

  Scattered laughter sounded.

  He turned to me. “My cousin and I will see you to Argossa, Savior. You have my word.”

  “I never -” protested Senca, but fell silent when Khandros glared at him.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And I pity the Hemostii. You must have given them a hard time of it.”

  Khandros grinned. “Not too hard. We never wanted to frighten them away altogether. Or else where would we find sport in the summer?”

  Imogen had removed her glasses, and was wiping the remaining lens on her skirt. “What can you tell us of the last warden?”

  Khandros grimaced up at the temple. “We see her little. Rassanna, she is called. She communes with Khalistria through daily sacrifice. Has reduced our flocks to nothing in the process.”

  “Better our sheep than ourselves,” said Mrakina bitterly.

  “Truth,” said Khandros heavily. “Truth. She no doubt is watching us now. Her power lies in seeing every misdeed, hearing every treasonous word.”

  “A seer?” asked Imogen, biting her lower lip as she considered. “That would make her a practitioner of Dantalios. The dark mirror of Sahaswara.”

  “Best way to fight her?” asked Valeria, who’d lowered herself into a crouch, arms looped over her knees.

  “I’m not sure. I mostly just know the name - Dantalios, the art of revealing the hidden. If she’s watching us now, then any attempt at surprise or to plan something complex will fail.”

  “How long will it take her to notify Khalistria?” I asked.

  “If she has a life to carve asunder upon her altar?” Khandros shrugged. “Then she is probably doing so now.”

  “It’s not as if Morgana hasn’t probably already sent word,” I said. “It’s almost as if she was setting us up to fail.”