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

by Mike Truk

  Her words were like a fist to the chest. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only stare, mind reeling.

  I didn’t dare think of the future, what lay ahead for Valeria. How she might face our quest, her life, herself, without hands.

  The healing process took hours. We all stood in mute shock. Emma and Brielle eventually slid down the wall to sit with their arms around their knees. Imogen moved to my side, and Little Meow lowered herself to a crouch, eventually sitting back against the wall as well.

  I couldn’t sit. Ignoring the pains in my own body, I stood there, aching for Valeria, watching as the purple light played over her arms. It soothed the red inflammation away, causing skin to thicken and grow over her stumps, knitting the flesh together, threading the splinters of bone back into her forearms.

  Emma scooted over to Little Meow’s side. “Why can’t you bring back her hands?”

  “The nature of Anahata’s healing is to expedite your body’s ability to heal to superhuman levels. That’s why the healing process hurts. Your body is coaxed - forced, even - to heal in moments what would take months, even years. Miracles can be worked, mortal wounds sealed over. But nobody can regenerate lost limbs. Anahata can’t urge your body to regrow what is outside its ability to do so.”

  In a daze, I realized she was right. Every healing I’d witnessed had been for gashes, stabs, concussions, bruises, broken bones. I’d never seen anybody, not in Bastion, Ghogiel, or Tagimron, bring back so much as a severed finger.

  Fuck.

  Time lost all meaning. The only progress was the work being done on Valeria, and after what could have been two hours or five, her stumps looked greatly improved. Their ends were covered with pale scar tissue, the blood gone, and her complexion was greatly improved. Her breathing had deepened and slowed.

  Yet her hands.

  No sign of them.

  Morgana, at last, lowered her arms. She looked exhausted. “It is done. The altar will continue to soothe away the shock that traumatizes her spirit. She will not awaken for some time. Healing her in this manner has taken a deep toll on her reserves.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  She considered me sidelong. “That depends on you. We could awaken her now. She would be debilitated and forever without her hands. Or we could let her sleep a few days - the longer the better - then attempt to bring her hands back with truly potent magics. For that? A minimum of a week for a small chance at success. Two or more weeks if you wish to increase her odds of not perishing.”

  I bit my lower lip, unable to process that information.

  It was Imogen who spoke. “And our deadline to find the Fulcrum?”

  “It continues apace,” said Morgana. Though she spoke without cruelty, there was also no sympathy in her voice.

  “We’ve three weeks as it is.” The words came unbidden from my mouth. “We might yet return to Aegeria and fight past Khalistria to her portal, but that leaves four realms for us to cross. If we wait a week, or even two…”

  Morgana’s eyes narrowed but a fraction, and I thought I saw the ghost of a smile cross her full lips.

  “We’ll take turns staying with Valeria,” I said, drawing myself up. “The rest of us will sleep and heal. We’ll inform you of our decision soon.”

  “As you wish, oh noble Savior,” said Morgana. “But do not forget. You have a tryst awaiting you tonight. That you cannot delay or avoid.”

  Alusz Iphigenia. I saw her again in my mind’s eye, slender and distant, brushing her ebon hair as she observed me in her mirror. Attractive, bored, enigmatic.

  “So be it,” I said. “I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain. But until then, I will spend my time with my companions.”

  “But of course. I trust that Emelias’s guest suite will serve?”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  Morgana extended her hand and a portal shimmered into life. “Then pass through. When the time comes, you will be sent for.”

  “I’ll stay with Valeria,” said Emma.

  “As will I,” said Little Meow.

  I nodded reluctantly. “Very well. Morgana. How can we return here?”

  A tough of exasperation crossed her features. “How you try my patience. Here. Pass me Alusz’s token.”

  I gave her the thorned circle, and she clasped it tight between her palms. After whispering words of power, she held it out to me. “Speak Valeria’s name with this in your hand, and a portal to this room shall open and remain so until you pass back through.”

  I took the thorned token. “Thank you.”

  “Never have I heard myself thanked so grudgingly,” she said with a smile. “What other miracles must I work to earn your esteem? Never mind. That was a rhetorical question.”

  I shouldered my pack. Brielle rose tiredly to her feet, and together, she and Imogen passed through the portal.

  I paused only long enough to study Valeria one last time - her golden hair, her broad shoulders, her ruined arms.

  A knife twisted in my heart, and I turned away before Morgana could see the tears in my eyes.

  Passage through the portal was icy cold and swift; one step, and I was back in that familiar chamber, the steaming pool before me, the lounge chairs, the potted ferns.

  Somehow, stepping back into this room, where not so long ago we’d rested and celebrated our victories, made everything even worse. Imogen and Brielle stood waiting for me, shoulder to shoulder, and I became supremely aware of how much we’d lost in so short a time.

  Brielle dropped her pack on the floor and stepped up to me. She hesitated, then took hold of my arm, resting her temple on my shoulder.

  Imogen moved forward as well to embrace me, head on my chest.

  Tears brimmed in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around them. I fought the urge to cry, battled not to dwell on the terrible injuries Valeria had sustained. Instead, I squeezed both women tight, and for a long time, we just stood there, supporting each other, holding each other up.

  Finally, Imogen stepped away. She removed her spectacles to wipe at her eyes and sat on one of the lounge chairs, her black skirt and white apron bunching up around her. “What are we to do?”

  Brielle pulled away reluctantly and sat on the next chair. “Four realms remain before us.”

  “And if they’re as difficult as Aegeria,” said Imogen, “we will be sore pressed to pass them all before Morgana moves the Fulcrum.”

  Frustration arose within me, choking my throat shut. I began to pace, linking my hands behind my back, frowning out at nothing.

  “That’s if we went back to it right away,” said Brielle. “But we can’t. Valeria…”

  She trailed off, and the silence that followed was uncomfortable in the extreme.

  “Valeria needs her hands,” said Imogen. “Her emotional state was precarious to begin with. If she’s deprived of her ability to help us fight, if she feels herself to be little more than a burden…”

  “We can’t wait two weeks,” said Brielle. “Reaching the Fulcrum will become impossible.”

  “We need Neveah,” I said, drawing up short. “We can’t do this without her.”

  “Have you heard from her?” asked Imogen.

  “No. She’s not responding to me when I call to her in the sanctum. But that’s where we went wrong. Where I went wrong. I shouldn’t have let her go.”

  Brielle crossed one leg over the other. “Did you have a choice?”

  “I didn’t think so at the time, but now… fuck it. Aegeria would have been completely different if she’d been there with us.”

  “Or infinitely worse,” said Imogen, “if the nagathronessa had knowledge of her power phrase.”

  I scowled at the floor. “We can’t do this apart. We need to be together, no matter the consequences.”

  “Then how do we find her?” asked Brielle.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to force her to speak to me in her sanctum. And find out where she is, and go get her.”

  “Finding Neveah when she
doesn’t wish to be found will be… tricky,” said Imogen. “Not to mention an expenditure of time that we can ill afford.”

  “This isn’t debatable,” I said. “We need Neveah back. I feel it. I know it.”

  Imogen sighed. “Very well. Then that can be our priority while Valeria heals.”

  “But how long do we give her?” asked Brielle. “Two weeks? Even with Neveah, we can’t possibly cross Carcosa, Matterlar, Byzul, and Tantaghrast in seven days.”

  My frustration was rising, choking me even further until I wished to scream. Instead, I resumed pacing. “These fucking games,” I said, voice thick with emotion. “Five manifold trials, five realms, jump through these hoops, you have so many days - it’s a fucking joke. We’re being treated like show dogs.”

  “It’s not ideal,” allowed Imogen, “but what choice do we have?”

  “None, and that’s the worst of it.” I turned on my heel and strode back down the length of the pool. “The Fulcrum is where we need to go. Pelleas, Jevenna, Obui - all of them had to do the same fucking shit. But I feel so fucking manipulated, and now we’ve been backed into the exact fucking corner Morgana hoped we’d find ourselves in. No wonder they were so chill with us in the beginning. They knew what fresh hell they were going to throw us into.”

  My companions watched me pace in silence.

  “And there’s nothing we can do about it. Every step of the way we’ve been led by the nose. Pass these five trials. Go to the Black Tower. Pass these five manifold trials. And now cross these five fucking realms.” I stopped to glare at Imogen. “What the hell is with the number five, anyway?”

  “I could lecture you for hours about its symbolism,” said Imogen. “But in the end, does it matter? I understand your frustration, but what can we do? We must jump through these hoops if our goal is to reach Malkuth.”

  I resumed pacing wordlessly.

  “How about this,” offered Brielle. “We’ve decided to bring Neveah back into the fold. The process of doing so might bring new information to light. Let’s hold off on making a decision right now until we have her with us once more. We can tell Morgana to continue healing Valeria and preparing her for this… healing operation, or whatever it is in the meantime.”

  Imogen nodded. “Smart. Also, it allows us to avoid making an impossible decision upfront.”

  “So how do we get in touch with Neveah?” I asked.

  “I could use that location ritual that I invented back in Ghogiel,” said Imogen. “That at least would point us in the right direction.”

  Brielle frowned. “No. That would just lead us in circles if Neveah wanted to avoid us. Which, may I remind you, she clearly does. So, we need to speak to her, get her to come to us. Which means breaking through to her in your sanctum.”

  “Ideas?” I asked Imogen.

  She took off her spectacles once more to slowly wipe them on her skirt. “This is far outside the realm of my expertise. But your bond to each of us is a creation of the Source. It reflects our mutual devotion to each other. Our visible connections within your reservoir caught fire once we were able to drop our walls and declare our love for each other.”

  “How do I make that happen if she’s not even here?” I asked, voice rising.

  Imogen held up a gloved palm. “What I’m saying is that perhaps your ability to communicate with her can be bolstered by your love and regard for her.”

  “Svadhisthana?” I asked.

  Imogen hesitated, then seesawed her head from side to side. “Not as much. Your genuine love for her, if that’s what you feel. Perhaps if you focus on that, if you push it toward her like one pushes forth a ward, then it might be a more powerful way of reaching her.”

  “I see,” I said. Linking my hands behind my back, I walked away, down the length of the pool. The few times I’d reached out to her in Aegeria, I’d done so from a place of concern, of loss, of wishing to connect with her to assure myself of her wellbeing. But had it been truly focused on my love for her?

  “I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Now?” asked Brielle.

  “Why not?” I moved over to an empty chair and sat. “Time’s of the essence, right?”

  “Right,” said Imogen.

  “Here goes.” I closed my eyes, forcing myself to relax. Instead of diving straight down into my reservoir as I did mid-battle, I allowed myself to float, for my mind to clear.

  It took a long time.

  I hovered in that velvety darkness behind my eyelids, and thoughts kept assailing me. Valeria’s arms. Khalistria handling us with ease. Karios burning on the altar, Khandros hurling himself to his death. Elleria, the glittering ocean. Valeria’s smile, then the troubled storms I often saw gathering in her eyes. What she’d say, what she’d think when she awoke. Fear of the future; doubt and anger over how impossible our situation had become.

  But I didn’t fight each thought as it appeared. Instead, I witnessed it and let it go. Over time, the initial flurry slowed, until at last, I found myself experiencing ever-lengthening periods of stillness.

  My pulse slowed. My breathing slowed.

  Only when I was ready, when I was centered, did I descend into my reservoir.

  Down I went to the golden filament, down past the black sun of Manipura, past the golden flower of Svadhisthana, to where the threads extended radially outward from the center to each of my companions’ sanctums.

  Imogen’s, Brielle’s, and Emma’s threads burned with white fire. Valeria’s and Neveah’s yet remained dark.

  For a long time, I considered Valeria’s thread. What would it take to make it burn with the same intensity? How much harder would that be now that Valeria had to deal with…

  I turned away from that thought and floated up to Neveah’s portal. Willing it to iris open, I entered her sanctum.

  It was as horrific as always. It wasn’t just the visuals that nauseated me, the glooping morass of black and purple ichor, the faces that appeared in the corruption only to distend into horrific caricatures of themselves before fading away. It was the feel of the corruption - the greasy, nauseating intrusion of its stench into my spirit body, the sensation of Lilith’s horror in such proximity.

  Neveah floated, serene and curled into a fetal ball, right in the sanctum’s center. Morghothilim, as always, was plunged through her chest.

  Her eyes were closed, black hair a floating corona about her still form.

  I crossed my legs mid-air, placed my hands on my knees, and closed my eyes.

  This time I directed my thoughts. I recalled Neveah as I’d first seen her, so long ago, back in her dungeon cell. I felt that familiar upsurge of admiration and awe when I considered what she’d been through, what she’d survived. I thought on the brutal strength of her will as she refused to succumb to that dread archer in her trial. Her integrity. Her dedication to the Source.

  Then I went further, thinking of her rare smiles, those flashes of personality that had begun to show through in Tagimron. The game of spin-the-bottle, the breakthrough we’d had after our duel just before her manifold trial.

  I have feelings for you, she’d said after we’d made love. You fool, she’d called me later, her voice fond, after saving us all from Unadeen’s safe house. And then, Thank you, her voice husky and vulnerable, the taste of her lips sweet on my own. I’d have lost myself to Lilith if you hadn’t set me free.

  And I understood something new about my love for Neveah. It wasn’t the familiar, uplifting, joyous love I had for Emma, or the fiery, tempestuous bond I had with Brielle. It wasn’t the deep and all-encompassing passion I had for Imogen, but rather its own thing, so different that I had a hard time fitting it in with the emotions I felt for my other companions.

  It was based on a foundation of deep and pervasive respect, of awe, of tenderness, of admiration. It was a love that urged me to do better, to be her equal, to deserve her regard. To be the Noah who had the right to stand by her side in her eternal quest against the darkness, to be larger than life, to
be the Savior in truth and not just in name. Neveah’s strengths were such that at times she felt almost inhuman, but somehow, she remained herself - a person wounded, near broken, yet still capable of smiling, of laughter, of love.

  A person who deserved my very best self, whose presence alone made me want to do better, be better, to embody the best that a Savior should be.

  I couldn’t envision myself under a blanket back home watching Ghostbusters with her or hanging out on a lazy Sunday afternoon drinking beers in the yard, or planning a vacation at my uncle’s house on Lake Erie.

  But when I thought of myself as the Savior, when I thought of myself raising Shard against the endless night, when I pictured myself crossing the five realms of Gharab to enter Malkuth and there face Lilith herself, I couldn’t imagine doing so without her.

  She was my highest self’s true partner. If as the Savior I was a king, then she was my exalted queen. I needed her, desired her, worshipped her, loved her.

  A great and perfect note sounded deep within me, like a tuning fork being struck by a hammer. I opened my eyes to see the corruption that seethed within her sanctum drawing back from where I hovered, as if in fear.

  Neveah, who had been slowly spinning in place, paused where she hovered, her eyes still closed, but facing me now, hair still rippling about her.

  Neveah, I thought, pushing the words toward her, imbuing them with the reverence and love I had embraced. Neveah, come to me.

  The corruption and poison grew agitated, whipping itself into a fervor as if seeking to swamp me, but never daring to draw close. Endless waves and eddies slid across its protean surface, faces screaming their horror and hatred at me, but I ignored it all.

  Focusing on Neveah’s perfect visage, I summoned forth that love I had for her.

  Her eyes opened, and she uncoiled from her fetal position, one leg straightening, the other remaining bent at the knee, arms opening out wide as her hair formed an inky backdrop behind her figure.

  She made no move to touch Morghothilim and ignored it utterly, instead gazing at me with her deep and sorrowful eyes.

  Noah, she said, and my heart leaped at the sound, the connection, the bond that was there before us.