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

by Mike Truk

  Neveah didn’t answer at first. She led me deeper into the woods, stepping nimbly over fallen logs draped in moss, hopping over gulleys through which trickled tiny streams, wading through glens where ferns rose to waist-height. “It’s a good question,” she said at last.

  I followed her around a large oak tree. “I know it’s a good question.”

  She snorted. “I suppose the Savior can’t be blamed for arrogance. But the answer is complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  “Do you remember when I told you of my youth? Before I left for Bastion?”

  “Yeah. Something about you toppling a government, then toppling that government when it proved worse, then being arrested, and… yeah. A lot of death and blood.”

  “Correct. What I learned, and what my mother and grandmother had learned before me, was that power becomes its own justification. The more powerful you become, the more inevitable your own decisions feel. But this is a lie. For all my power, I left my world worse off than I found it. Yes, my intentions were good. But the consequences no doubt delighted Lilith, wherever she was at the time.”

  “Wait, hold up,” I said, coming to a stop. “You saying that the more powerful you become, the less you should act?”

  “Not exactly.” Neveah turned to stare at me across the glade we’d stepped into, the ferns hiding her from the waist down, the sunlight dappling her as it poured through the canopy above. “The wiser you become, the less you desire to interfere with the world.”

  “But - no. I mean, that’s an argument against me trying to make a difference as the Savior.”

  “You are anointed by the Source,” said Neveah, smile bitter. “My grandmother? My mother? Myself? We’re not. And look what damage my power did to Ilandro. My lack of wisdom.”

  “But it’s helped me and the others more than anything else,” I said. “Without you, we’d never had made it this far.”

  “You can say that because you can’t see the future,” said Neveah. “Due to my desire to change events, I now carry a great evil within me. An evil that nearly killed you in my manifold trial. That may yet destroy you and the universe’s hope for salvation. Think, Noah - if I had chosen to stay here, in this cabin, Ilandro would have chosen another. Someone who wouldn’t have fallen to Victor’s manipulations and caused his death. Who knows how much farther he might have gone? You in turn would have chosen someone else, and perhaps that person would have helped you in ways you can’t imagine. Wouldn’t now threaten everything with their own curse.”

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Wait, shut up. That doesn’t make any sense. By that reasoning, Imogen should have never stepped forward. Neither should Brielle, or anyone.”

  “There are degrees of power,” said Neveah softly. “Imogen, Brielle, powerful as they are, do not measure up to my lineage.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t agree. Someone back from my world once said, ‘All that evil needs to flourish is for good men to do nothing.’ Or something like that. You are good, Neveah. You care. You need to act. Who knows how many lives your mother and grandmother could have saved if they’d done the same?”

  “Who knows?” asked Neveah. “Or how much worse the situation could be today if they’d fallen to Lilith, or in their hubris made the wrong decisions.”

  I scowled. “That’s a chickenshit argument.”

  “So I would have said before toppling my first government,” said Neveah with a smile. “Perhaps even after my second. By then tens of thousands had died, perhaps more. All that blood on my hands, and I’d still have agreed with you. But now? Today? Corrupted as I am? I’m not so sure.”

  My scowl deepened. “I’m going to have words with your grandmother.”

  “Feel free. But in which case, it was nice knowing you, Noah Kilmartin.”

  I laughed, unable to control myself despite my foul mood. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now come. If we don’t return with a deer over each shoulder, Grandmother won’t let us back into the cottage.”

  * * *

  The sun was sinking over the forest when Sariyah summoned us to the grassy sward before the cottage. Shadows were lengthening and the wind picking up a cruel edge, but I felt alert, alive, and ready for what might come. The day had been busy, the hunting giving way to dressing the deer and harvesting their flesh, then washing the blood off behind the cottage. It ended on the roof to replace a series of shingles dislodged by a recent storm.

  Throughout, Damaris and Sariyah had avoided us, preventing any opportunity for conversation. Neveah, I could tell, was grateful; she lost herself in her work, relaxed in a way that I’d never seen before, losing some of that brittle intensity that had always characterized her for a more natural looseness that I found incredibly appealing. She probably gave me more distracted smiles that day than the whole time I’d known her, and I found myself enjoying the tasks as well. There was something to working with your hands, to accomplishing tasks that were at once minor yet important, to losing yourself in labor so all the concerns and fears and doubts fell away.

  I could see the appeal of a life lived along such lines, hidden from the world and devoted to small, practical concerns.

  But at last, an hour or so before I guessed dinner would be served, Sariyah and Damaris emerged from the cottage to step onto the rough lawn and stare up where we yet labored on the roof.

  “Children, come down.” Sariyah’s voice was definite with authority.

  I shared a glance with Neveah as we rose to our feet, feeling a frisson of excitement and fear. Had the time come at last?

  Together we made our way to the roof’s edge, then down the ladder. I could have easily floated down with Manipura, but something about this place made casual use of magic seem in bad taste.

  Wiping dust from my hands, I walked to where both older women stood. Both striking, both standing with poise and confidence, but neither giving off any indication that they were amongst the most powerful people in the universe.

  “Neveah, your mother and I have discussed the matter.” Sariyah’s voice was firm. “Despite our earlier assurances I was not yet wholly convinced that we should help you. My initial urges were suspect, corrupted by love and sympathy. Weaknesses that could deepen the damage you have done.”

  “Perhaps killing you would have been the greater mercy,” said Neveah’s mother. “But I am weak as well. I do not think I could do it.”

  Sariyah tssked in annoyance. “Disappointments abound. But no. We have decided that to kill you would be to impose our judgments upon the universe in a way that is against our philosophy. To direct events and invite further disaster.”

  “You could have simply turned me away,” said Neveah.

  Her grandmother smiled, an expression as cold as the mountain peaks themselves. “Which would have been another judgment on our part. No. You have acted in coming here, and I have decided that is reason enough to assist you.”

  I couldn’t restrain myself. “Why are you so passive? What’s so wrong in helping others, in making a difference?”

  Both her mother and grandmother studied me with cold intensity. I resisted the urge to duck my head; their gazes were formidable, and had I not undergone so many trials, I probably would have blushed and stammered an apology.

  But I was no naive youth any longer. I raised my chin and awaited their response.

  “Neveah has already spoken to some degree as to our reticence,” said Sariyah at last. “Explained the dangers of power.”

  My heart lurched in my chest. Had they been listening in to our conversations? And if so - how?

  “But there is more to it than that.” The old woman smoothed the front of her apron across her stomach. “There is but one constant in the universe, and that is the inevitable movement toward entropy and Lilith’s victory. She cannot be defeated, only hindered, only slowed. Even if you reach her in Malkuth and vanquish her - a process I am positive you do not understand - you will not stop her. Only delay her for another tho
usand, or ten thousand, or million years. But in time, she will assuredly win.”

  “Right,” I said, heart pounding in my chest. “I’ve heard this before. She’ll consume the universe until only she is left, floating in the void, upon which she’ll repent and become the Source of the next universe, which will be created from a birthstar.”

  “Correct,” said Sariyah, betraying no reaction to my words or knowledge. “Thus, the only variable is the speed with which that will take place. Will this incarnation of the universe last for one millennium, or ten?”

  “A struggle worth fighting,” I said.

  “Agreed,” said Sariyah. “Thus, an adult must ask themselves: how best can I contribute toward the slowing of Lilith’s advance? For many, the answer lies in accruing power, seeking to mold the world according to their vision.”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Governments, leaders, so on.”

  “Yes. And the more power they accrue, the more change they effect. But all create evil in doing so.”

  “Wait, what? You’re saying all governments are evil? All leaders?”

  “Yes,” said Sariyah. “It is demonstrably true.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, and felt Neveah tense by my side.

  “I will not debate with you for the same reason I do not enter arguments with children,” said Sariyah. “But I will explain thus: on all the worlds of the universe where human life has arisen, there was a time when they lived in small tribes and roamed the wilderness, living off the land by hunting and gathering food.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “And in most of those worlds, a time came when those people learned to cultivate crops and settled into one place where they henceforth chose to live.”

  “The agricultural revolution,” I said. “What of it?”

  “That moment is when Lilith truly enters that world.”

  I made a face. “Lilith is the queen of, what, wheat?”

  “Shut up, boy, and listen. Agriculture allows people to create more food, but in doing so it breaks the balance they had with nature. The wandering bands of people existed in harmony with the world, the number of their tribes limited by the bounty of the land. But once they exert control over it and can create ever more food, their numbers surge and become unnatural. Instead of twenty healthy individuals, you now have a hundred hungry ones. The number of humans pushes aggressively against the limit of food production. Which propels innovation, which leads to more land being cultivated, forests being cut down, technologies being invented, complex hierarchies being brought into being, wars, the creation of nations, then empires, along with the quests for dominance and ever more resources.

  “Mankind becomes insatiable. Worlds change under their stewardship. The majority of their number suffer in poverty and ill health, while an elite is created who rules over them with force, religion, or philosophies that justify their mastery.”

  I wanted to protest, to cut in, but found myself fascinated. I still didn’t agree but wanted to see where she was going.

  “Lilith is entropy, boy. She is darkness and dominion; she is destruction and death. The more advanced a world becomes, the more it worships her. The more energy it consumes, the quicker it hastens the end of all life. That is the natural terminus of all civilizations, of all peoples: arrogance, ever greater power, and eventually the extinction of their kind.”

  I held up both hands. “Whoa, hold up. You’re saying not one world out there has managed to find a balance and live in harmony with nature?”

  “Not that I have heard of,” said Sariyah. “Most are still in the process, but all demonstrate the same ambitions: more power. More control. Greater dominion of their worlds. They achieve miracles right up until they develop the ability to destroy themselves, at which point they do. And who profits?”

  “Lilith,” said Damaris quietly.

  I pressed my hands to my temples again. “So, what are you saying? We should never have figured out how to plant wheat?”

  Sariyah laughed darkly. “Have you not been listening? One cannot avoid Lilith’s conquest. All one can do is delay it.”

  “But if you know this, you could use your power to create a just world,” I said. “You’re not longer a child. You’ve grown wise. You could do things differently.”

  “No,” said Sariyah, tone chilling. “I couldn’t. I would make mistakes, different ones to be sure, but anything I touch grows worse in time. The more power I have at my disposal, the worse the consequences. No. True wisdom lies in understanding the nature of humanity and entropy. True wisdom is laying down the sword, withholding the blast of heavenfire, and not imposing oneself on the world. The more power one has, the less one should use it.”

  “No,” I said, and smiled incredulously at her. “You’re saying the best way to fight Lilith is to go be a hunter-gatherer and abandon the world?”

  Sariyah spread her arms wide to indicate her cabin, the fields, the chicken coop, and the rest of her little world. “This is as close as I’ve managed to come.”

  “I’ve seen what Lilith can do,” I said, stepping forward. “How she torments, tortures, and breaks people. She isn’t entropy, she’s evil, and being good means opposing her. How can the Source create Saviors if, by your definition, those very people are making things worse by trying to defeat her?”

  “Do you think it a coincidence that every Savior has failed?” asked Damaris, tone dark. “Do you think you are guaranteed to succeed?”

  Her words hit me like a stone to the chest. “You saying Saviors can’t win?”

  “I don’t think they can,” said Damaris, voice sounding subdued in comparison to Sariyah’s certainty. “I think the only way for a Savior to defeat Lilith is for them to embody the principles of life that we follow. Listen to my mother, Noah. Learn from her wisdom. Discard Shard. Give up your quest. Do not use violence to defeat that which feeds on violence. Stop creating pain and suffering.”

  Now I stepped away. My heart was racing, and I felt like my head spin. “You’re mad. You’re both mad.”

  “I believe,” said Sariyah, linking her hands behind her back, “that the only way for a Savior to win is to cease fighting, and in doing so, embody the principles of generative goodness. You cannot defeat Lilith with her own tools. That is why every Savior, even Pelleas the Golden, ultimately was defeated. You lose the moment you take up the blade. So cast it aside. You may remain here with us. And if you truly cut free Lilith’s hold of your soul, if you master your violent, dark instincts, then - and only then - will the Source be triumphant.”

  I wanted to turn and run. They spoke with such assurance. And with my thoughts whirling, I couldn’t formulate a response.

  All three women watched me.

  “Neveah?” I turned to her. “You don’t agree with them, do you?”

  Neveah bowed her head and did not answer.

  “This is your one chance,” said Sariyah. “You are at heart a gentle soul, Noah. You were chosen, not for your martial ability or bloodlust, but for that very gentility and ability to love. Think - why would the Source not have chosen another great warrior? Why would it choose a weak youth with a big heart? Because it was your heart that was your greatest strength all along. What has followed since you were chosen has been a slow perversion of your purity. You have been corrupted. The more you have fought, the more power you have developed, the more you have fallen under Lilith’s sway. Reject her. Cast off the corruption. Lay down your sword and turn to the Source.”

  The sun had nearly dipped behind the trees. The shadows were losing their definition and merging. Dusk was at hand. My breath plumed before me as I breathed quickly.

  Were they right? Was I playing into Lilith’s trap by fighting her? Was that why the previous Saviors had all failed? I felt like I couldn’t breathe, felt overwhelmed by nausea. I wanted to stagger away and vomit.

  Had everything I’d done thus far been wrong?

  All creation in a drop of water, I thought. All creation before me.r />
  My pulse began to slow. My shoulders relaxed, the tension bleeding away. My breath slowed, and the creeping panic that had been about to consume me faded.

  Sariyah’s eyes glittered as she watched me.

  I tapped Manipura and rose into the air, crossing my legs and resting my hands on my knees. Closing my eyes, and under the aegis of the Vam, I dropped down into my reservoir, plunging down the length of the golden chord to where Muladhara lay at my core, its vast petals closed over its ruby heart.

  All creation before me, I thought.

  The sanskara was vital, warm to the touch like a sun-warmed stone. Fleshy and smooth. Power flowed through the thick petals. An endless source of wonder. A font of strength.

  I exhaled, a slow, soundless breath, and as I breathed out, the sanskara trembled. The petals rippled, and then, to my never-ending wonder, began to open.

  The rose-colored world in which I hovered was suffused with this glorious sense of safety and fearlessness. I sensed my mother’s arms around me, holding me close, rocking me gently as she sang me to sleep. I felt the warmth of belonging, a deep and endless state of peace and security.

  Within my soul, countless cracks and chasms began to heal over, holes and tears. Tears came to my eyes as doubt, guilt, bitter memories, and recriminations all fell away. In their place flowed a healing balm of primal innocence.

  The petals continued to open, peeling back; within the flower’s core, I saw thousands of rubies, packed tightly together and arranged in a complex spiral. I gazed deep into the heart of the sanskara, marveling, and felt the sanskara connect with me. My magic began to swirl down and into the flower, under and up into its gem heart, then flooded forth and into me. It was an invisible stream that felt like a torrent, rushing into the very core of my being.

  I threw my head back, transfixed, and closed my eyes. Sinking into that sensation as if it were the very first time, that endless, soundless tumbling pressure akin to lying beneath a waterfall, I simply existed. All thought fell away, and I was but the sum of my sensations. At last, the intensity of the pouring began to fade, and I opened my eyes to see that I now hovered in a clear infinity, the rose tint faded away from everything but the flower, which seemed even more refulgent than before - a rose-colored center to my all and everything.