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

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The Ravens of Death (Tsun-Tsun TzimTzum Book 4) Page 30

by Mike Truk


  “Peace,” I said, cutting him off with a raised hand. “You have our thanks. We agreed with every step of the plan. But we’re up against seers and who knows what else. There’s no guessing what they can do or where they noticed us. What’s done is done. Now we just have to figure out what to do next.”

  “Plan our attack,” said Valeria grimly. “Against an enemy that is both overwhelmingly powerful and expects us.”

  “It’s not fair,” said Emma. “I know I sound like a child, but why give us the pretense of a chance if they’re going to stack the deck so badly against us?”

  Brielle scowled. “That’s why they were so smug. That’s why Obui and Jevenna no doubt were defeated. They don’t pretend to be fair.”

  “Well, they do pretend,” said Little Meow. “All that hospitality and training and so forth. But this is the last sphere before Malkuth. They have no intention of letting us succeed.”

  “Regardless,” I said. “We have to attack that temple complex. Thing is, we don’t have to do it when expected. We could go once Imogen joins back up with us, or tomorrow, or…”

  “Won’t be easy,” said Valeria. “They’ve thirty wardens at their disposal, don’t they? If they’re anything like those in Elleria, we’ll never get to Khalistria.”

  “So, we use some kind of trick, then,” I said. “I mean, that’s how the others got past her, right?”

  Valeria turned to consider the temple complex that was being burnished by the rising sun, its dozen terraces of white stone, ramps gleaming as if freshly washed. “If the portal is within the temple, or worse, buried deep underground in some basement level - and Khalistria plants herself before it - then no amount of trickery will get us past her.”

  “Pelleas began a battle in the docks,” said Brielle. “Obui charmed her, right? While Jevenna turned herself in and then somehow escaped. Khalistria will be wary of such tactics. We’ll have to think of something new.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Let us head down to the docks,” said Khandros. “We can meet with my son and cousin and plan from there.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Best to plan on water, at any rate.”

  “If that belief is even true,” said Brielle bitterly.

  Imogen joined us en route, having taken the time to acquire a voluminous, hooded cloak the color of sand. While an oddity to wear in the heat, it was better than walking around in her French Maid’s costume. I gestured for her to follow, and soon we crossed into the great port.

  It was turning into another beautiful day; the scent of the sea combined with that of drying fish, the acrid stench of hot tar, and the aromatic smoke coming from local stalls. We crossed the broad docks, making our way past dozens of war galleys and trading ships, till the dramatic arrival of a small vessel arrested us in our tracks.

  One moment the entrance to the bay was serene, a picturesque expanse of azure waves, and the next moment an explosion of foam marked the arrival of a dark gray ship. Its momentum slowed and came to a stop as it appeared from nowhere, huge waves rolling forth to cause even the larger galleys to rock in their moorings.

  “Where did that come from?” asked Emma.

  Others along the dock had paused to regard the new ship, but quickly resumed their activities; not a novelty, then.

  “Druach island hopper,” said Khandros pensively. “They use some variation of their portal technology to hop from island to island without crossing the sea in between.”

  The gray vessel looked like a speedboat from back home on Earth; a long, streamlined front bow, with a smaller cabin in the back. A rumble sounded as some manner of engine came to life, and the boat began to cut through the water toward the docks, gleaming and alien amidst the other wooden ships.

  “Can it leave Aegeria?” I asked. “Take us to another realm or world?”

  “No,” said Khandros, dark amusement registering on his features. “It can take you back to Elleria in the blink of an eye, but that is all.”

  “Useful,” said Imogen as we began to walk once more. “But not to us. We’re already where we need to be.”

  “These Druach are fascinating,” said Emma. “I mean, they’ve mastered portal technology, right? That must make them incredibly powerful.”

  Khandros spat. “All they desire is wealth, luxury, and sybaritic lifestyles. They don’t contest the Morathi for power. They just exploit those without the ability to traverse worlds to their own ends.”

  I turned to sight up the length of the Druach tower. “How often do their airships come through?”

  Khandros shrugged. “You think the Druach share their schedules with handsome veterans from Elleria?”

  We walked on in silence. I couldn’t help but keep glancing at the Druach island hopper as it nosed up to a private pier. Frustration mounted within me. It was too late to avail myself of its powers, and the portal to the next realm lay within Khalistria’s temple, not down here on the docks.

  It was best to put it from my mind.

  “There,” said Khandros, pointing. “Senca’s ship!”

  It was moored off a stone pier near the far end of the dock.

  “Wait,” said Little Meow, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  We all stopped.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “On deck. See? Looks like soldiers.”

  I frowned and saw she was right. We were still perhaps a city block away, but I could make out two men in guard’s clothing standing on the deck with Senca.

  “Has he been arrested?” asked Khandros. “We must help him!”

  “Doesn’t look like he’s been arrested,” said Emma, peering through the crowd. “He’s standing with his hands on his hips, talking to the men.”

  “Perhaps it is just an inspection?” Valeria turned dubiously to Khandros. “Checking out his goods?”

  “No, that is done by agents of the harbormaster and their scribes. They tally goods against the master inventory list, and it takes some time. Two guards alone? Very strange.”

  “What do we do?” asked Emma, turning to me.

  “Let’s watch a little longer,” I said. “Come on, let’s get out of the open.”

  I led our group back a distance, then up a side street, cutting around the back and moving down another that opened close to Senca’s ship. The two guards were still in evidence, but up close I could read Senca’s expression more clearly.

  Concern. Worry. Tension. He laughed when the guards made a joke, but frequently cut his gaze to the shore to scan the crowd.

  “What do you make of it?” I asked Khandros.

  “I don’t know. Very strange. The guards don’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.”

  Indeed, the pair moved to stand at the railing, where they crossed their arms and relaxed.

  “I’ll approach,” said Imogen. “I’ll tell the guards to leave with Psyche-Imperium, and then see what your cousin has to say.”

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll be ready to move in if anything goes wrong.”

  Imogen pulled her hood low over her head and stepped out into the sunlight. We watched in silence as she crossed over to the pier, walking down to the lowered gangplank.

  The guards observed her approach with idle curiosity. Senca, however, moved to stand beside them.

  Imogen boarded the ship. The guards approached, calling out a challenge. She spoke to them, and they stiffened, then together marched past her to walk down the pier, past where we hid, before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Fucking Psyche-Imperium,” Valeria said. “I love it as long as it’s not being used on me.”

  Imogen was confronting Senca, who was shaking his head, hands raised. They spoke briefly, then he sank to his knees.

  “Shit,” said I said. “Come on. Valeria, watch our backs.”

  We hurried down the docks together, and Senca let out a wail when he saw Khandros. This only prompted our friend to run the last few yards and leap up the gangplank to confront his cousin.


  “Where is Karios?”

  “Cousin, wait, I had no choice -”

  Khandros grabbed Senca by the shirt and lifted him bodily to his feet. “Where is my son?”

  “Taken,” said Senca, voice quavering. “Along with the others.”

  “And you? Why did you stay behind? Who were those guards? What happened, Senca, damn you!”

  “He betrayed us,” said Imogen coldly. “I just forced him to admit it.”

  Khandros released his cousin as if burned. Stepping back, his eyes grew wide, face blank with shock. “He what?”

  Senca took a step back, beginning to turn as if intent on racing to the railing and diving into the water below.

  “Stop,” said Imogen, voice turgid with power, and Senca froze in place. “Answer our questions honestly. What did you tell them?”

  Sweat broke out across Senca’s tanned brow. “Everything.”

  “And Karios?” Khandros took a step forward, hand dropping to his blade. “Where did they take him?”

  Senca struggled against Imogen’s magic, but finally relented with a gasp. “He has been taken to Khalistria.”

  Khandros staggered if stabbed in the chest.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why betray us?”

  Senca’s eyes rolled like those of a panicked horse. “Common sense, Noah. You don’t stand a chance. I negotiated for Elleria. We will be spared punishment in exchange.”

  I rubbed my face as my thoughts roiled.

  “Fool,” whispered Khandros. “You have doomed us all.”

  “No, cousin,” said Senca. “Don’t you see? Ementina, yourself, everyone will be safe now. Karios is being held in safekeeping, and he will be returned once Noah is gone; we can sail home together, we can bring word that the army won’t be sent to burn down our homes -”

  In one fluid motion, Khandros drew his short stabbing blade and plunged it between Senca’s ribs.

  “No,” hissed Khandros, stepping in close as Senca’s eyes bugged out and his body contorted around the blade. “You will never return home. Not after this.”

  With a savage jerk, he tore the blade free, and shoved Senca onto the deck.

  Emma had her hand over her mouth. Little Meow took a step toward the mortally wounded sailor, then glanced at me.

  I shook my head.

  She stepped away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the words sounding futile even in my own ears.

  “My son,” said Khandros. “He’s just a boy. With Khalistria?” He looked up from his dying cousin to meet my eyes. “Save him, Noah. Please.”

  I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I will.”

  “We should go,” said Valeria. She was surveying the docks. I turned to do the same and saw horror on the expressions of those on the deck of the boat over. Nobody had shouted alarm yet, but it was only a matter of time. Maybe seconds.

  “Follow me,” I said, and ran calmly down the gangplank, leaving behind the blood-soaked boards of the ship on which we’d spent so many tranquil days.

  There was no time for thought, no time for agonizing. Shouts rang out after us and people pointed in alarm, but nobody moved to intercept.

  “I told the two guards to collect any others and lead them away from the docks,” said Imogen, jogging up alongside me, holding her hood in place with a gloved hand. “Should give us a few moments!”

  “Good thinking!” I ran across the docks, up a set of shallow steps to a higher level, then down the same side street from which we’d peered at Senca what felt like hours ago.

  “Khandros! Where to?”

  “A - a tavern, yes, a place where -” Pulled along by Valeria, he was clearly having trouble thinking, his face blank with shock.

  “Tavern. Got it. Imogen?”

  She paused, dropped to one knee, and planted her hand on the alley floor.

  The shouts were growing louder. A mob was growing.

  “This way,” she said, and ran straight into the side of the closest house, tearing aside a tarp of hide to reveal another alley so narrow it was barely a crack. She plunged down this with confidence, so I followed, resisting the urge to draw my blade.

  The crack was so narrow I had to run with my shoulders twisted. Halfway down, Imogen stopped at a ladder bolted into the wall; climbing this, she scooted up as quickly as a squirrel. I did the same, barely able to wedge myself between the rungs and the wall. I cursed my idiocy and instead tapped Manipura, flying up cleanly, rising past Imogen to emerge in the brilliant air and step onto the flat roof.

  I had a brief flash of impressions: a pergola draped with sun-bleached cloth, a man feeding doves and staring at us in surprise, and a brilliant bush of purple blooms.

  Imogen ran across the rooftop without hesitation, leaped over the retaining wall, and continued across the neighboring building, which was built flush with the first. I rushed after, the others at our heels.

  A broad beam of wood crossed over a street, the width six inches at most. Arms extended out to the sides, Imogen crossed over. Emma balked, eyes widening, then screwed her face up in determination, following.

  I swept my arms under Khandros’s and flew him across the street.

  He didn’t protest.

  Once we’d gathered on the far side, Imogen led us across onto a fourth roof, flat as the others, then down a stairwell into a bustling street in whose crowd we lost ourselves, slowing our pace to a stately walk.

  “Let’s follow this up,” said Khandros, pointing ahead where the street climbed the slope toward the distant temple. “We’ll find a better-quality establishment halfway to the top.”

  Forty minutes later, a bead of Little Meow’s gold saw us seated at a table on a rooftop restaurant, the sun’s intensity abated by drapes of faded red gauze woven through the rafters of a pergola. Beautiful vases surrounded us, painted with striking black patterns, holding bunches of flowers or billowing ferns.

  A stringed instrument played from below, and the low lull of conversation from the other patrons was sedate and decorous.

  We sat around a circular table placed in the corner with stunning views of the ceiling. The ocean glimmered below, while the temple complex loomed above. The sounds of the city rose all around us - the shouts of drovers to the bray of mules, the laughter of a crowd of women, the high-pitched cries of children chasing a leather ball.

  We accepted elegant clay cups of chilled wine, and it was with some sense of cognitive dissonance that I forced myself to relax; to accept a moistened cloth with which to wipe my brow and hands, and to accept that we were no longer being hunted by a mob.

  Khandros sat stiffly across from me. His eyes strayed constantly to the docks below to search, no doubt, for his cousin’s ship.

  Brielle took command, ordering a feast, treating the servants with the calm authority of a princess born. Her manner and confidence assured the establishment that we could not only pay for these goods, but deserved to sit at the table as well.

  When finally all was ordered and we were left alone, nobody spoke. Little Meow dabbed a cloth under her mask, uncaring of how patrons from other tables glanced at her eccentricity. Emma sipped at her wine, face pale beneath her newly acquired tan. Valeria watched the door, while Brielle tapped her fingers along the length of her cup.

  Only Imogen appeared utterly focused, brow furrowed, gaze lost in the middle distance.

  “We can assume we’re being watched,” she said. “I could perhaps try to extend Harmiel’s powers to protect all of us, but that would be… risky.”

  “No,” I said. “We’re not going down that road. Let’s meet in my sanctum. We can converse safely there without being watched.”

  “Excellent,” said Imogen.

  “My friends,” said Khandros, “how will I know what is to be done?”

  “Just keep watch for us out here,” I said. “We’re going to be unable to defend ourselves while we communicate. If anything happens, try shaking the shit out of me.”

  “Very well,” said Khandros, slump
ing back in his chair.

  “Give me a moment,” said Brielle, rising to her feet. “I’ve a pressing need to use the ladies’ room.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Emma, rising as well.

  “As will I,” said Little Meow.

  I sat back and stared up at the temple. It appeared splendid, sterile, desolate. Nobody walked its gleaming terraces, nor tended its huge urns filled with palms. There were four levels connected by ramps large enough for a Hummer to drive up. Freestanding arbors of stone were draped in luxurious flowering vines, and fountains dotted its expanse, the water rising high in the air to fragment into a thousand diamonds before falling back down.

  What could we do? How to surprise an enemy that could watch our every move? How to fight someone that even Pelleas the Golden had avoided?

  I tapped a finger to my lips as I considered, refusing to give in to doubt, to fear, to despair. There had to be a way.

  The Druach tower gleamed with sterile splendor in the morning sunlight. I could make out alcoves and portals along its upper reaches, where airships would no doubt dock.

  But no airship materialized.

  Too bad. It would have been terribly convenient to hitch a ride over the temple, then drop down onto it from above, skipping the tiers of death. Or to find a way to portal in, stepping from here to Khalistria’s throne room or whatever in the blink of an eye.

  “Hey, Khandros,” I said. “The Druach. They got a land version of the island hopper? A way to cross over an island in the blink of an eye?”

  “No,” said Khandros. “Not that I know of.”

  “Huh,” I said, tapping my chin. “A shame.” I swiveled in my chair to gaze down at the harbor. I could barely make out the private pier where the Druach vessel was moored, gleaming like graphite in the brilliant sunlight.

  I paused.

  “What is it?” asked Valeria.

  “There’s a way to control the hopping, right?” I didn’t look away from the ship. “They pick their destination, then hop to it. Which means they can set how far they jump.”

  “It stands to reason,” said Khandros.

  I rose, moving to the roof’s retaining wall, then from the harbor to Khalistria’s temple. A straight line.

 

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