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

by Mike Truk

  “On it!” Valeria hauled the crossbow wire back, locked it, loaded the bolt, and lifted it to her shoulder.

  She loosed her bolt just as the woman flung forth a streaming river of black smoke.

  Valeria’s bolt cut right through the heart of the attack, only to be swatted aside by a flare of the woman’s crimson ward. The smoke, however, gathered around the twin wards, which immediately began to sizzle and pit as if drenched in acid.

  “Can’t hold it!” screamed Brielle, sinking to one knee. “It hurts!”

  “Fuck,” grunted Valeria, closing one eye as she sagged. “Going to give!”

  “Little Meow!” I turned back to her. “We gotta let her rip!”

  “We’re close - and how are we judging the jump?”

  Imogen tore herself away from the Crookstone and staggered over the side panel, placing her hand on two of the burning schematics.

  “Ward’s giving!” shouted Brielle. A huge swathe of burning black smoke was starting to leak through directly overhead.

  I didn’t want to even think what it’d do to our flesh if it burst through.

  “Fuck it,” I said, and slammed the throttle to max.

  The ship jolted out from under us like a startled deer; half the crew fell back into a mess at the rear of the cabin. I held onto the wheel as I cut to port, angling out wide to slide into a correction that’d have us aimed right at the ramp.

  Arrows were still raining down upon us. Brielle’s scream was rising in pitch as she flung both hands skywards, straining to keep the black smoke at bay.

  “Losing power!” screamed Little Meow. “Down to three-quarters!”

  I leaned over the wheel, turning it at just the right time so we slid into place, the ramp right ahead of us, people racing away along the docks. We were going fast. Impossibly fast - the boat cut through the waves like a knife, the shock of each impact resonating through the hull, so fast we barely skimmed over the water.

  “Hold on!” I roared as the ramp came rushing up. “Little Meow, activate the hopper in three -!”

  “I don’t know how!”

  “Like this,” shouted Imogen, both hands exploding into balls of eye-piercing lightning. She raised both coruscating fists high into the air.

  “Two!” The ramp was racing right up, and for a split second, I saw with perfect clarity the boat slamming into the ramp so hard we’d explode into a million fragments.

  “I can’t!” shrieked Brielle, falling to the floor. Black smoke came boiling down, and my companions began to scream.

  “One! Hit it!”

  Imogen let out a cry so galvanizing, it eclipsed everything else; then she plunged both fists into the panel, unleashing everything she had.

  We hit the ramp.

  The impact was tremendous, the whole body of the ship flexing, scraping; we tore up its length along the log runners, blasting up at forty-five degrees, the magical engine propelling us up the incline just as it did across the water.

  The air before us began to ripple, to shimmer. We flew up over the edge of the ramp, straight into the air, the prow of the ship aimed at the distant temple. For a second, we simply speared through the air, higher and higher, the frozen masses on the docks staring in wonder. Then the shimmer became a portal, and we left the sun-drenched world of ocean and burning smoke for -

  - blue cerulean skies. We burst out into the air high above a gleaming marble platform. There was no time for orientation - all I could see was a huge marble dome supported by pillars right before us. A split second before impact.

  I screamed and rammed forth my ward, enveloping us all within the cabin in scintillating platinum.

  Then the Druach craft hammered into the cupola at top speed.

  Wood and stone exploded in all directions, folding around my ward even as I grasped hold of Manipura and flooded my body with strength and resilience. Terrible forces tore at me, seeking to dislodge my ward from where it was centered, wrenching me forward. Masonry erupted before me, my companions contained within the platinum glow.

  The Druach vessel burst clear out the far side of the dome, a mangled mess, falling apart midair. For a moment, we were suspended in the air, encased in my protective bubble - then we, too, fell, crashing to the ground within the remains of the cabin.

  The impact drove the air clear out of my lungs; I felt something terrible happen to my left leg. The world went away, but I reached out with my will and brought it back into focus, not caring about pain, about the delirious agony that was rising from my leg.

  My ward was down. Around me groaned my companions. Masonry was still toppling down from the ruined cupola, crashing onto the marble landing. A cluster of guards was gaping at us.

  I had to take care of them, but my leg - I stared down at my shin. The bone had not just snapped, but sheared around, tearing the flesh. Splinters of bone were visible under the gushing blood; my foot was nearly torn off where it’d been trapped under a plank.

  “Don’t stand gaping, you idiots!” The voice came from a million miles away. “Kill them!”

  “Fuck you will,” muttered Imogen beside me, levering herself up, glasses askew on her pert nose. She raised a palm and raked the approaching guards with lightning.

  They screamed, blasting back in quick succession.

  Imogen’s head slumped down.

  “Here,” said Little Meow, crawling over and placing her hands on my leg.

  I bit back a scream.

  The pain intensified somehow; I blacked out, only to claw my way back, refusing to fall unconscious. Bone splinters slid under my skin, my leg twisted itself back into shape, and I felt my bone fuse, muscle knitting together, skin smoothing over.

  Emma was working on Brielle. Valeria was climbing to her feet, one shoulder lower than the other, blade in hand.

  “There,” gasped Little Meow.

  Manipura tore me free of the wreckage immediately, lifting me on a cloud of air. I willed myself to turn in a circle, Shard extended, so I could scythe down the second wave of guards who were rushing over the bodies of the fallen.

  Golden light severed limbs and decapitated bodies; sprays of blood flooded out over the pale marble.

  A dozen men dropped before I was done. For a moment I hung there, taking in the sight. We’d done it. The docks were a faint line far below on the edge of the glittering bay, while all Argossy lay before me. It tumbled down steep roads and avenues, a mass of gorgeous mansions that gave way to humbled homes and finally slums, the Druach Tower an anomaly in the center.

  Most importantly, a dozen terraces lay below us, the gauntlet through which we were supposed to have run come nightfall. A complex filled with hundreds of soldiers and Morathi, who were even now staring up at me in shock and confusion.

  One thing was immediately obvious - there was no way we’d have been able to fight our way through that mass. Thirty magic users like the two we fought back in Elleria, along with hundreds of elite guards, and the Source knew what else?

  No way.

  With a sliding, grinding roar, the cupola fell, the remnants of the dome collapsing into its foundations, sending up plumes of white dust.

  Beyond it was revealed a lodge of sorts, colonnaded and open to the elements, within which an altar was heaped with burning flesh, and before which a great set of stairs descended into the earth.

  I dropped to the ground. Brielle had risen to her feet, pale but otherwise unhurt. Little Meow was helping Valeria with her shoulder, while Emma pulled Khandros to his feet. Imogen was swaying, black hair turned gray by the dust, but damn it, if we weren’t all standing.

  “Report,” I called out, ignoring the pain that still throbbed in my freshly healed leg.

  “Fine,” said Brielle. “Pissed off, but fine.”

  “Running low on reserves,” said Little Meow.

  “Same,” said Emma.

  “Doing fine,” said Imogen.

  “Same,” said Valeria, but I could tell her shoulder was a problem.

 
“A little overwhelmed,” said Khandros. His face was ashen, dark blood running down his temple. But he visibly gathered himself, drew his blade, and gave me a curt nod.

  “This way, then.” I flew over the rubble, leading my crew toward the lodge. A legion of shouts was going up all around and below us as the enemy reacted to our arrival. Any second now, the sky was going to light up with magic.

  I flew into the lodge. Two women had drawn aside, panic writ large on their faces. They’d been tending a burning corpse on the altar set before the statue of a snake woman, upper torso human, lower part all gray coils. The statue held an urn out over the altar, from which fresh fire poured like burning diesel onto the corpse.

  No, wait. Not a corpse. A living person, chained down and burned without dying, his body contorting and straining against his bonds.

  For a moment I could only stare, eyes glazed with horror.

  Then, with a flash of Shard’s power, a blast of golden light shattered the urn, setting off a chain reaction of explosions up the statue’s arm. Chunks of stone shattered until the whole torso detonated with a karumph.

  The two women screamed and fled the lodge just as my companions stumbled in after me.

  The body on the altar moaned. His skin was blackened except where it had split, and there his flesh shone through a raw, glistening red.

  “Karios!”

  Khandros’s cry would have shattered my heart back in Bastion. The older man rushed to the altar’s side, and there stood, hands outstretched but helpless as his son turned his ruined face toward him.

  “Father,” croaked the youth. “You came.”

  “Of course, my boy, my boy…” Khandros’s eyes brimmed with tears which overflowed to carve runnels down his dusty cheeks. “What have they done?”

  “The Savior?” Karios turned his ruined eyes toward me. “He here?”

  “Here,” I said, stepping forward. I knew that hordes were almost upon us, that every second was precious. But the Source fuck it all to hell. “I’m here, Karios.”

  “My shit really hit the fan in the south, didn’t it?” Miraculously, the boy smiled, his lips cracking to reveal his pale teeth, the gums horrifically withdrawn.

  A knot formed in my throat. I took his blackened hand when he held it out to me, the texture of his palm so nauseating my mind immediately blocked it out.

  Little Meow stepped up, placing a hand on his brow. “I can ease his pain.”

  “Don’t,” said Karios. “I am beyond pain. Save your power. For. The Savior.”

  “My son,” said Khandros, taking the youth’s other hand. “My son.”

  “Get her for me,” whispered the youth. “Get Khalistria, Noah. Make her pay.”

  My skin broke out in goosebumps as determination set in. “You know I will.”

  “They’re on us!” cried Valeria, seizing me by the shoulder and pulling me away. I saw a wall of soldiers rushing across the detritus-strewn terrace, all armor and shields and wards.

  “Khandros!” I yelled, allowing Valeria to pull me toward the steps that led into the depths. “Come!”

  Instead, the older man drew his blade and turned to face the oncoming horde. “For Elleria! You bastards! For my son!”

  “Khandros!” But I knew it was no use. The last I saw of him, he was throwing himself at the oncoming tide, blade raised high, roar blotted out by the thunderous report of levenbolts.

  Imogen.

  She was holding the line.

  “Get below,” she said, lightning writhing up and down her arms, flickering across her face, pooling in her eyes.

  Lightning spewed forth from her extended palms, working terrible wounds across the lines, knocking dozens of men flying and stopping those with wards in their tracks.

  There was no time to debate. I rushed down the stairs, down into the coolness beneath the ground, Valeria and Brielle at my sides. We spilled out in a huge chamber.

  Marble poured forth from the bottom step like puddled water, only to end and give way to raw rock. Crimson torches burned in golden sconces in the rough walls, and everywhere was shifting light and dancing shadows. Banners hung from the ceiling depicting serpents, while offerings were piled at the base of a dais upon which Khalistria herself reposed, glorious and deadly.

  And holy shit, she was a sight to behold.

  Her skin was fish-belly white, gradating to purple and blue; her serpentine coils were fringed with green fins down the spine, purple-scaled, with luxurious black patterns down the flanks.

  A golden bra supported her high breasts, while coils of gold ran up her slender arms, of which there were six. Two pulled her mass of snake hair back, like a woman rising from bed, while two others rubbed at each other languorously. The last two? Crackling with purple power.

  But her face – her eyes. Twin orbs of glowing crimson, so intense and powerful it was like staring into two suns, leaving afterimages in my vision. Large mottled freckles of black ran across her brow and down her cheeks; there was something so alien, so hot, so disturbing, so lethal, so powerful about her that I saw how regular folks could worship her as a goddess.

  Higher she rose upon her curled coils, black lips spreading into a wicked smile. “So you have decided to pay me a visit,” she whispered, but a whisper that sounded all around me as if I stood within an echo chamber. “To come, to play, to entertain me. I am pleased. I do so enjoy diversion.”

  “Eat this,” said Valeria, snapping off a shot from her crossbow as she strode purposefully to the right.

  The bolt was deflected off an angled shard of purple ward that disappeared as quickly as it manifested.

  Brielle lay in right after, hurling a gout of flame so fierce it roared as it consumed the oxygen in the air, geysering at Khalistria like one of those Kuwaiti oil wells that caught fire during the first Gulf War.

  Khalistria disappeared within the conflagration, rendered little more than a shimmering shadow as Brielle poured ever more flame into her attack.

  Emma moved up alongside me, Victor’s blade in her hand, green ward encompassing where I floated. Little Meow hung back, ready, no doubt, to move where needed.

  Then, laughter.

  Khalistria slithered forward, appearing from the heart of the blaze as if from a refreshing shower. Hissing serpentine hair wrapped around her upraised arms, her eyes opening as her black-clawed hands caressed her white skin, lips parting in pleasure.

  “Oh, foolish mortal,” said the nagathronessa. “You know not whom you defy.”

  She flicked her hand.

  Brielle crossed her arms before herself a moment before the attack landed. Her crimson ward flared into view only to shatter, and she was thrown back, hurled through the air to collide with the cave wall.

  “I’m on it!” yelled Little Meow, racing to where the princess collapsed in a boneless heap.

  A second crossbow bolt flew at Khalistria’s head, only to once more be sent flying away by a sliver of purple ward.

  “Come, Savior.” The nagathronessa slithered down the steps toward me, rising five yards high, her gaze burning into me, her full head of waist-length snake hair writhing and reaching for me. “Show me what you can do.”

  Never had I missed Neveah and her utterly lethal stealth attacks more. That moment was when she was supposed to leap out from behind, emerging from the shadows to cut Khalistria in twain.

  But there was no attack, and Neveah didn’t manifest.

  Just me, then.

  “You want to play?” I rose into the air, forcing my breath to slow. My magic levels were running perilously low. I engaged the First Prism to boost my reserve’s potency, then engaged the Second Prism to control the amount flowing into Manipura as I brought Anahata online; pushing forth my platinum ward, it glimmered about me like the universe’s most priceless bubble.

  Rage was coursing through me. Karios’s agony. Greater fury at Morgana, at Lilith, at a universe that forced me to play these games. I wanted to scream, to launch myself at Khalistria, to hurl ca
ution to the wind.

  Instead, I forced myself to recite the Vam Mantra.

  All creation in a drop of water, I thought. All creation before me.

  My pulse slowed, my awareness pushed out, my thoughts grew clear. We were disorganized, fragmented; attacking now would be a mistake. I needed to give Imogen time to get down here and help, to give Little Meow time to get Brielle back up. We were only going to win this fight together.

  Looking up Khalistria’s serpentine form, her dark glory, I wondered for the first time if we were even going to have a chance.

  “You are the first to engage me in direct combat,” she said, ever approaching. “For this, I thank you. I thought every Source champion a coward, dependent on tricks and subterfuge. You wield the great blade Shard. Long have I desired to see how it might pare my flesh, how it might cleave me in twain. Will you do that, Savior? Will you wield your blade with both hands and pierce me to the hilt?”

  Fuck me, was she flirting?

  I took a quick glance behind. Imogen was making her way slowly down the steps, moving backward, throwing bolt after bolt of lightning up the stairwell. Brielle was still down.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  “How long has it been since you were truly matched?” I asked, fighting for time. “Since you fought an equal? Since you were pinned to the ground and forced to writhe in desperation before another’s greater power?”

  Her black lips pulled into a wide smile. “To be honest? That has never happened. Oh, for you to be the first. Do you have what it takes to conquer me?”

  Two of her arms interwove, faster than I could track, and reality cracked.

  It was as if we’d been standing on a huge mirror, and she’d just brought down a hammer. The mouth to the stairwell was up and behind her on the ceiling. She was below me and to the side. Fragments of the wall were scattered everywhere, intermixed with the floor and ceiling. Brielle and Little Meow crouched off to the left where the wall had been. Valeria stood upside down on the far end of the cavern, feet planted firmly on the ground, gravity pulling her upward.

  Khalistria slithered toward me, crossing from one shard of reality to another. Tracking her passage was disorienting, causing nausea to arise within my gut. I closed my arms, focusing on the Vam.