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

by Mike Truk

  “This is the penultimate realm,” said Imogen. “Our foes will be of the highest caliber. And this Nithing-Lord may be unlike anything we’ve yet faced. We need more information on him. We can’t go in blind.”

  “And from the sounds of it, he needs to be destroyed before he cracks open the Chasmstone,” I said.

  Imogen nodded pensively. “Yes, agreed. Though I worry about our ability to defeat him after fighting our way through so many foes. He will be fresh, while we will be worn out.”

  “First off, we’ve got Neveah.” I ticked off one finger. “Second, we’ll have to be deliberate about conserving our magical power. I’ll use the Prisms and Mantras to refine my usage like I haven’t done in some time.”

  “And third?” asked Imogen.

  “Third, the Source is on our side.” I took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled with a smile. “So we’re guaranteed to win.”

  “Right,” said Imogen skeptically.

  “Either way, it’s time we got started,” I said. Pushing myself nimbly into a crouch, I rose to my full height.

  Imogen looked up at me. “How are you feeling?”

  I ground the ball of my foot into the ground, feeling no pain in my ankle. Swinging my arms around, I felt nothing but supple and ready, laden with kinetic potential and full to the brim with magic.

  “Ready,” I said. “Sound in body and mind. You?”

  “Ready,” said Imogen, and extended her gloved hand to me. I pulled her to her feet, embracing her before she could catch her balance.

  She blinked, taken aback, and stared up at me through her one remaining lens.

  “I love you.”

  Her smile was warm, and I felt her melt against me, pressing subtly against my hips, arms sliding around my waist. “And I love you, Noah Kilmartin, more than you’ll ever know.”

  I kissed her, deeply, truly, and only broke away when I heard Brielle cough from behind me.

  “If you guys need a moment,” said the princess, extracting herself from her burrow, “then I’d encourage you to hang a curtain across the far corner, because these… hell holes… are… oh, by the Source!”

  She set to scratching herself furiously.

  I broke away from Imogen, though I kept an arm around her shoulders. “Wake up, everyone! Rise and shine. It’s time to take down the Nithing-Lord.”

  The others stirred, muttering complaints, and lifted their heads from the straw.

  “First, we’ll ask Emma and Little Meow to cleanse us all of bedbugs, lice, and whatever else we’ve picked up, then you’re all going to gorge on the treats C’toh has provided us with.”

  Neveah hopped down from her burrow while Emma crawled out of her own, looking dismayed and resigned all at once.

  “Then, that done, we’re going to grab our map, grab our guide, and head out for the Flowstone Stairs.” My voice hardened with resolve. “We’re in for our toughest fight yet, but Valeria’s waiting for us at the end of the road. So ain’t nothing going to stop us, and if anything, I feel pity for any fool that tries to stop us from reaching her side. Am I right?”

  Brielle was energetically scratching at her upper arm. “Emma! Help!”

  “You’re right,” said Neveah, sweeping her long hair back into a braid. “I’ll cut us a road to Valeria’s side, no matter how long it takes.”

  “That I believe.” I walked to the wall where Shard rested, then set to buckling it at my hip. “The Nithing-Lord won’t know what hit him.”

  “Bravo,” said a dusty voice from the entrance, and C’toh stepped into the light, pushing his cowl back as he did so. “I do enjoy a rousing speech before attempting the impossible.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” asked Neveah, tone cool as her fingers danced over her materializing braid. “You’re talking to Noah, the Tenth Savior of the Source. He specializes in accomplishing the impossible.”

  Hot damn, if I didn’t feel a warm glow of pride and delight at her words.

  Emma had taken Brielle’s hands in her own, and the princess almost immediately let out a sigh of profound relief. “Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you a thousand times over.”

  Little Meow had emerged as well, adjusting her mask. “Did you bring a map, Master C’toh?”

  The Wight drew forth a brittle roll of parchment. I thought he’d spread it across the ground, but he muttered some obscure words, made a gesture, then unrolled it across an invisible plane of force that had manifested at waist height.

  “Here it is.”

  We all crowded around the parchment, which was an almost overwhelming depiction of Tantaghrast’s cavern system. Endless squiggles, blots, and arcane symbols adorned its yellowed surface.

  “We are here,” said the Wight, stabbing down with his overgrown nail at a tiny blob. “Weevil Hall. I shall lead you through our system thus.” His nail traced a complex path to a larger depiction of what were clearly steps. “The Flowstone Stairs. From there, you will follow the path as explained before: along the Starmilk River, to the Black Obelisk, through the Fungal Cathedral, and into the Wending Labyrinth.”

  I watched as he traced our passage, trying to memorize the route.

  “And here is the Chasm itself,” he said, tracing the length of a black smear that cut through the complex and interweaving lines of the Labyrinth. “The Fulcrum is located here in the very center, where the Nithing-Lord does hold his dread court, and the Chasmstone is held, to our perpetual dismay.”

  “Got it,” said Neveah, tone clinical and calm.

  “Yes,” said Imogen. “I think that’s quite clear, now.”

  C’toh rolled up the parchment and extended it to me. “Here. Into your keep, it must go, for no doubt you will have cause to study it again before you reach your destination.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking it gingerly. “I think we’ll be ready to set forth soon.”

  “The hour is indeed at hand,” said C’toh. “The plangentweb is thrumming constantly, and any moment the enemy will pierce the last of our illusions and come flooding into our tunnels. We must go before that happens.”

  I handed the map to Imogen, who wrapped a cord about its center, tied it off, then slung it over her shoulder. “Then let’s get going. We can eat while we walk.”

  “Very well,” said C’toh, and turned away. “Follow me, Savior. Follow me into the depths, into the darkness, and to your certain death.”

  Chapter 18

  We set off without any fanfare. A score of Wights accompanied us out of the main warren, clustering around us, all dusty robes and sloped shoulders. The tunnels were claustrophobic, forcing my companions and me to hunch over; and after perhaps ten minutes of squeezing through ever tighter and shallower spaces, I began to understand how the Wights came to be so small.

  Our path was illuminated by a few lanterns, each casting an amber glow over us, a soft pervasive radiance that made it seem as if we walked through a dream. Nobody spoke; the only sounds were the occasional drips of water or the rustling of heavy clothing. The air was damp and growing damper, until a mineral tang was all about us, and my skin felt clammy. Down the tunnels went, curving and curling sinuously as if bored into the rock by vast, ancient worms. Down we went, our boots occasionally slipping on the sediment that crusted the floor.

  Occasionally the way would expand into a cavern, suddenly and without warning. The ceilings were clustered with stalactites, the floors uneven and smooth, our path winding about stalagmites until once again diving into the rock, leaving those moments of expansiveness behind.

  Finally, the nature of the tunnel changed - gone was the smooth, organic feel of the rock, and instead, we climbed sharply through shorn rock, the markings of tools clear against the walls, signs of chiseling from long ago.

  “Ah, we are here,” said C’toh from the front, slowing and turning to us. It was hard to be sure with his cadaverous visage, but I thought he might have smiled. “Prepare to see something… wondrous.”

  He led us on, around a final curve
, and we stepped out into a vast space, a complex, mathematical void crisscrossed by great, clear crystals, looking something like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude if it had been dropped on the floor then swept into a huge hole.

  “My god,” whispered Emma, stepping out beside me and taking my hand. “It’s… beautiful.”

  And it was. We’d emerged onto a shelf of natural rock crusted with gems, dark purple gems that covered the interior surface of the cavern. It spread out as far as the eye could see and glimmered in the lantern light like some kind of fey fire, an endless constellation glittering alluringly wherever I looked. Spearing out from these bedazzled walls were great crystals, some crossing the cavern to sink into the far wall, others ending two-thirds of the way across, some barely emerging from the walls as if late to the party. They were massive - most of them broad enough to be walked upon - tapering to points, ridged with geometric perfection.

  Heart pounding and feeling elated, I peered over the edge of the ledge on which we stood and saw that the cavern dropped away into the darkness. It was impossible to say how deep it went, despite the elusive glimmers that twinkled far below us. The far side was visible, perhaps a hundred yards away, our passage demarcated by ropes which had been strung from iron pole to iron pole.

  “Amazing,” breathed Imogen from behind me. “This must have taken eons to form. In solitude and darkness, until the first person forced their way in.”

  “We discovered it a century ago,” said C’toh, voice brimming with pride. “And such are the subtle pleasures that we yet derive from existence, even from the shadows. Ah, the wonders I could show you if we but had the time. Tantaghrast is home to miracles, and most of them natural. But come. Wondrous as the Geode Falls are, we must continue. There is yet much terrain to cover!”

  So saying, he stepped off the ledge and onto the back of a great crystal plinth whose surface had been abraded to provide footing. Clinging to the rope, the Wight led the way up the plinth’s oblique angle, only to step off onto another where they intersected. He began his smooth descent, following the rope all the while.

  “I’ll hold off on Manipura,” I said. “Best to conserve my magic.” Even as I said it, I felt a pang of loss; the thought of flying amid the crystals was a delight, to swoop amongst their columns, to explore the heights, to drop low and see what lay at the cavern’s bottom.

  “One day,” said Emma, squeezing my hand. “One day we’ll come back, and then we’ll explore as much as we want.”

  I gave her a guilty smile, surprised and gratified that she’d read my mind, then took the first step. Holding onto the rope, I followed C’toh across the crystals.

  It was wondrous. The lanterns caused the crystals to gleam as if each contained its own source of light, and it was hard not to stop and gape, to try and take in the full scope of that incredible cavern. Instead, I forced myself to remain focused, carefully following the path from crystal to crystal. On three occasions we were forced to leap a yard from one plinth to the next, but I steadfastly refused to tap my power.

  I was halfway across the cavern when I thought how terrible an ambush would be if sprung while we were strung out across the path, most of us unable to fly. A dozen aerial foes would knock us tumbling from our precarious perches, and Neveah and I would be unable to fight back, caught up as we’d be saving our falling friends.

  I shivered, peering ahead. Nothing but C’toh, shuffling ever on to the far tunnel mouth.

  Thank the Source.

  Finally, we were across. Nobody slipped, there was no cause for undue excitement, and it was with a last glance of regret that I left the Geode Falls behind, following C’toh back into the stone.

  The tunnel grew even tighter now, and though there were still signs of chisels on the rock, the diggers had not spent time expanding the way beyond bare necessities. I was forced to turn sideways at times to squeeze between the pinching walls. For the first time, I had cause to regret my enhanced musculature as my broad chest scraped against the rock. I embraced the Vam to keep any sense of panic or claustrophobia at bay, and forced myself to follow, breath echoing loudly in the close confines, air getting warm, sweat prickling my brow and running down the slopes of my back.

  How long we struggled through those tight tunnels I didn’t know, but when they finally opened back up into a natural cavern, I wasn’t the only one to give a heartfelt sigh of relief.

  “Up ahead,” said C’toh, turning back to us once more. “The Flowstone Stairs. We are almost there.”

  “Praise be,” said Brielle, dropping into a crouch and wiping at her gleaming face. “I don’t think I could stand another minute of those cramped tunnels.”

  C’toh smiled nastily. “Oh, there is much for you to relish yet ahead. But come. My duty is nearly discharged. Another hour, perhaps, and you shall soon be on your own.”

  I drank deep from my water bottle, took a deep breath, and rested my hand on Shard’s pommel for comfort. “Lead on. Day’s still getting started.”

  Once again, we followed natural caverns and tunnels, occasionally rappelling down deep cracks onto pebble-strewn floors. One room was filled with what looked like raw rubies - great blotches of clear, blood-colored stones locked into the walls - while another was so crowded with stalactites that a tunnel had been carved through their mass. On and on we went, C’toh leading us without hesitation, and slowly we lost more of the other accompanying Wights, who faded away and abandoned our group without word or sign.

  “Here,” said C’toh, raising his lantern to study a blank wall. “We’ve arrived.”

  “Define ‘arrived,’” said Brielle skeptically.

  Again, C’toh turned his death’s head grin on us. “You think we have remained secret and safe for so long with open tunnels leading to our homes? Oh, no. The way forward lies before us, but first, it must be opened.”

  Imogen knelt, placing a hand on the ground, and closed her eyes. “A passage,” she said at last, rising to her feet. “Cunningly hidden, and not simply by illusion.”

  “Not simply by illusion,” said C’toh. “We’ve used a combination of Alchemy and Marchocias to obscure the way.”

  “Marchocias?” asked Emma.

  “Hexenmagic,” said Imogen, tone flat.

  “Ah, you sound so disapproving!” C’toh, however, sounded delighted. “You, of all people, who radiate a sweet corruption all of your own! Why yes, we have used the enemy’s wiles against them. Marchocias, the corrupted sanskara of obfuscation and fog. But we need not debate virtues and vices, we need simply open the way to the Flowstone Stairs. Observe!”

  With a flourish of his hand and a blast of power, C’toh caused the wall before us to disintegrate, the rock growing pitted before falling away rapidly to reveal a tunnel entrance.

  I shuddered as a noxious sensation wafted over me. Marchocias, I guessed.

  “Behold,” said C’toh. “The Flowstone Stairs. Follow them down, all the way down to the Starmilk River, and from there - may the Source bless your every step.”

  Beyond the newly revealed tunnel mouth, I saw a caramel vastness, smooth and slick. It was as if a hundred vast Portobello mushroom caps had been layered over each other, forming a descending series of platforms that receded into the darkness.

  Drawing Shard and willing it to incandesce, I stepped through the hole and out onto the treacherous floor. It curved beneath my boots to the closest lip, there falling away to the next, perhaps a half dozen yards below.

  Raising Shard, I looked up the Stairs, and saw that the edge of each cap or platform was festooned with a score of stalactites of sorts, or perhaps stone formations that more accurately resembled the gills of a mushroom cap’s underside. Everything was damp, and I realized immediately how this great descending tunnel had been formed - that dampness had to carry the finest particles of silt along the surface of the caps, down those gills, depositing them over time, slowly accreting and growing ever larger.

  My other companions stepped out next to me, moving wa
rily on the wet, gritty surface. Brielle raised her lantern in turn, and together we simply marveled. The stairs rose into the distant darkness, which fell away below us toward a hidden floor.

  “How high does it go?” asked Imogen, sounding awed.

  “We don’t know,” said C’toh. “The way is too perilous to travel for long. Wightlions haunt the Stairs, and those who venture too high eventually fail to return.”

  “Wightlions?” Brielle’s frown could have put an end to summer. “What are those?”

  “Tunneling predators.” C’toh gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

  “Details?” pressed Brielle.

  “Large, I suppose, twice my height, three times my width. They burst forth from innocuous-looking walls to seize you with great lobster claws and pull you back into the darkness, where they pin you under heavy rocks till you are grown sufficiently rotten to be consumed in great slurps through their little mouths.”

  We all turned to regard the Stairs again, this time with greater trepidation.

  “But compared to what you shall soon face, they are a negligible threat. Proceed down the Stairs until you reach their end. Follow Starmilk’s current until it brings you to the Black Obelisk. From there, consult your map.”

  “Thank you, C’toh,” I said, bowing low to the wizened Wight. “You’ve done us a huge service. We shan't forget.”

  C’toh waved my thanks away. “Just don’t reveal the location of our tunnels when you’re tortured, will you? Regardless. May the Source bless your efforts, Savior. I hope creation lasts long enough for me to grow nostalgic about our meeting.”

  With that, he stepped back, concealed by a sudden growth of stone that in moments hid away the tunnel as if it had never been.

  “Cheerful man,” said Emma, smoothing down the front of her tunic. “Upbeat. Going to miss him awfully.”

  Little Meow snorted. “The best thing we can do is prove him wrong. Um. By all of us surviving and defeating Lilith, that is. Shall we head on down?”