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

by Mike Truk

  Together we hyperventilated for about a minute, then I gave Neveah a nod. Together the four of us dove under and flew through the tunnel once more, speeding through the glowing green water, past the snake corpses, and back out into the dome cavern.

  No new snakes were present; we rose into the air, waiting for Neveah to give us the all-clear, then I lowered Brielle and Emma to what looked like the safest ledge.

  “Be right back,” I said, and dove back under.

  Suffused with Manipura’s power, it was easy to hold my breath; the two of us sped along underwater, emerging moments later back where Imogen and Little Meow awaited us.

  We repeated the process, moving quickly, every second away from Emma and Brielle feeling like a lifetime; then dove back under, Imogen’s arms around my neck.

  Rushing through the water, we emerged with a gasp into the cavern once more.

  Emma and Brielle were holding each other tight, and as I rose into the air they pulled apart. I realized that they’d been kissing - not a light peck on the lips, but a deep, searching kiss, mouths open wide. I felt heat rush through me, a sense of awkwardness at having interrupted, which was only compounded by Emma’s flush.

  “Teenagers,” said Imogen in the drollest of voices, and Emma laughed nervously, which cause Little Meow to chuckle, and like that the tension was broken.

  “The river continues,” said Neveah, setting Little Meow down. “This isn’t our stop.”

  “No Black Obelisk in sight,” agreed Imogen. “So back into the water we go.”

  I studied the far side of the cavern where the Starmilk flowed on. “At least we can go back to wading. Odds that there’s another snake nest up ahead?”

  “I’d say low,” said Imogen. “They’re large predators. This many would have to cover a lot of territory to feed. I’d warrant we’ve dealt with them for now.”

  “Still keep our guards up,” said Neveah, walking back down into the bloody water.

  “Right, yes,” said Imogen hurriedly. “Of course.”

  We followed her into the Starmilk and saw its slow current had taken most of the gore already downstream a ways. We waded through the blood, Emma and Brielle staying close together, and back into a tight tunnel, its ceiling bedecked with thousands of stalactites once more.

  We stopped every hundred or so yards for Neveah and Imogen to check what lay ahead, and after what felt like several hours of sloshing and occasionally swimming over deep stretches, Neveah raised a hand.

  “The river flows into a large cavern up ahead,” she whispered. “Continues, but I’m sensing something strange which must be the obelisk.”

  “Strange how?” asked Imogen. “I can almost sense that far, but…”

  “It’s drinking in my magic,” replied Neveah, voice still pitched to a whisper. “Like a sinkhole for power. I’m sensing it more by the void it's leaving than by detecting an actual object.”

  “Anything else?” whispered Brielle.

  “Movement. I think there are people on the banks. The void is making it hard to pick up on any details, though.”

  “Maybe if we move closer,” I said. “Get a better read?”

  “Sure,” said Neveah. “But we’d best douse our lights and move quietly. We’ll want to surprise whomever we’re coming upon.”

  “You think you could scout ahead?” I asked.

  “I could.” Neveah considered, then gave a curt nod. “In fact, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “I’ll wait for you in my reservoir. When you’re ready, dip in and tell me what you see. The less movement the better.”

  “Very well,” said Neveah, and drew Morghothilim. “Wait for me there.”

  So saying, she moved forward silently, into the shadows, soon lost to the dark.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this Black Obelisk,” said Imogen pensively. “If it’s drawing in magic like that, odds are that it’s related to Hexenmagic.”

  “You think it’ll be a danger to Neveah?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Possibly?”

  “Black Obelisk,” said Emma with a shudder. “Sounds like something straight out of Lovecraft.”

  “Lovecraft?” asked Brielle.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  But their words had raised my concerns. I almost pitched my voice to carry, to summon Neveah back. But she was already gone. So instead, I closed my eyes, sinking into my reservoir.

  I awaited Neveah’s appearance there, with news of what this Black Obelisk had in store.

  Chapter 19

  I floated within my reservoir, cross-legged, seeking to portray the calm I didn’t feel. Each moment that passed without Neveah’s appearance caused my concern to mount, and I didn’t have the patience to engage the Vam; I wanted to feel, to grapple with my worry, to stoke the flames of anger until they simmered, ready to be unleashed.

  My magic levels were high. Meditating during Emma and Imogen’s brief convalescence had helped me regain what I’d spent; gazing at the ambient glow around me, clarified and enhanced by my practice, I couldn’t help but compare my current strength to where I’d started. Once, back in Ghogiel, tapping Manipura for flight would drain me dry within moments; hurling a few levenbolts would leave me gasping.

  Now?

  Now, at times, I’d forget I even had limitations. Now I could dig deep and push past the point of collapse, harnessing my will to scrape the bottom of the barrel when necessary - at cost, but in doing so, help us wrestle past just one more challenge. One more attempt to destroy us.

  When we got Valeria back, when we finally managed to light up all our threads, when I brought our group into complete unity, who knew how much power would flow into my sanctum? What we’d then be capable of?

  I could hear my pulse pounding slowly and steadily in my ears, counting off the seconds as I awaited Neveah. Step by step we were getting closer. There was a sense of inevitability to our reaching the Nithing-Lord. No matter what lay before us, we’d crush the opposition and step over broken and mangled bodies until we reached Valeria, rescued her, exposed the Morathi lies, and stepped through the Fulcrum into Malkuth.

  To face Lilith at long, long last.

  I waited, wondering at what point I should awaken and lead the others after Neveah when her aperture slammed open. For the briefest of seconds, she was there, eyes open wide in alarm, arm reaching out toward me.

  Noah, it’s an ambush -

  Then she was gone, torn back into the living world.

  I opened my eyes, tapping Manipura as I did so, not thinking, not reacting, riding the crest of my adrenaline spike.

  “Come,” was all I said, and my tone said it all.

  Shard pressed to my leg, I leaped forth, Manipura roaring to life within my core, so that I left the others behind and sped inches above the emerald waters, going so fast I left a wake behind me. I soared around that final corner toward where I could now hear the distant sounds of combat.

  No thought, no fear, no planning, no doubt.

  For Neveah to look panicked?

  It had to be bad, which meant I had to get there.

  Around the curve, I skimmed the water, engaging the First Prism as I went, tapping the ocean of power within me and cycling it back into Muladhara, refining it further, bringing it to an impossible point of purity.

  The Second Prism split my magic, braiding it into streams that I fed with painful precision into my sanskaras. I tapered all of it, controlling it with brutal care through the Priyam Mantra, all my power suspended in a state of potential, ready to be unleashed at the slightest need.

  Om nashta vahkaya prim, I thought to myself, om nashta vahkaya priyam, motherfuckers.

  I came roaring around the curve, a broad beach of caramel sand coming into view, its expanse crowded with combatants who had seemingly leaped out of hexagonal holes dug deep into the earth. The cavern opened here, becoming cathedral-esque, and perhaps a dozen yards up from the water’s edge rose the Black Obelisk.<
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  Even my razor-sharp focus was distracted by the sheer weight of its presence. There was no other way to put it. I felt its power like direct pressure upon my soul, intense and malevolent, magnetic, and raw. The obelisk was a vast menhir of volcanic rock, its geometric planes pitted as if it had been attacked by acid in the past. It was as massive around as the greatest redwood trees back home, rising to challenge the stalactites that hung down all around it.

  So black was it that the edges seemed to gradate toward a noxious green. I could swear I saw cold vapor boiling off its surface, infusing the air with an ozone tang, filling my mouth with a metallic taste as if I’d just licked a battery.

  On the beach, Neveah was murdering everyone that came close, but she wasn’t up against a bunch of chumps, either - these had to be the Luminous Legion. All of them were clad in heavy plate armor, encased in black steel from head to toe which glowed a purplish-blue along the edges, a blue that left smears in the air behind them like afterimages. They were encased in tight wards - no ostentatious spheres, but rather form-clinging layers of purple inches from their armor. They carried heavy battle-axes, massive two-handed blades, dire flails, the kinds of weapons that could mow down a dozen lesser-armored opponents with a single swing.

  Though Neveah was clad in only her traveling outfit, she was beyond their abilities. Morghothilim gave her the reach to slice them apart before they could close, her form spinning, blade never resting - but why wasn’t she flying up, leaving that trap?

  I realized why just before I closed. A magical net of glowing purple strands had been thrown over her ward, keeping her grounded.

  Well, time to introduce these fuckers to the Tenth Savior.

  I rose, leaving a crater which rushed to fill itself in the emerald river, and sped along the bank, unleashing a levenbolt that crackled and leaped from foe to foe. The bolt was as thick as my leg, blindly radiant and precisely powered. Its far end branched into a dozen scythes of white fire, and these I dragged over ward after ward, shredding and tearing their protective magics apart.

  “The Savior!” bellowed one, huge and clad in armor so reinforced each plate had to be an inch thick. His helm sported bull horns a foot long each, and he raised a battle-ax, its head the size of a cartwheel. “Destroy him!”

  “Noah!” Neveah’s cry pierced the din of battle. “In the water!”

  Her warning came too late. The Starmilk exploded as what looked like a legion of the monstrous eels flew up at me.

  These weren’t the mindless creatures we’d killed before, but human-headed versions, arms emerging from torsos that bled into their vast tails. Hairless, eyes alien, mouths distending and unhinging to reveal vast fanged maws, they flew at me, forms burning with black fire.

  I cut off my levenbolt, brought up my ward of peerless platinum, and turned to face straight down, one arm wide as I pointed Shard down at the rising mass.

  Time slowed, seeming to stop. I could see the black pearls of poison on their fangs, pupils that were vertical slits, the flex of great coils as they flew up, powered by magic, the fistfuls of black fire they were about to unleash at me.

  Then I closed my eyes and sank into my reservoir.

  Call me slow, but I get there eventually.

  I grasped hold of the golden filament, opened my soul to the Source, and channeled.

  Shard blew out a column of gold light as broad as a school bus. I felt it come charging through me like a train barreling down the tracks, setting the rails to singing, the roar so loud I couldn’t even form thoughts.

  Opening my eyes, I directed that vast beam in a swathe across the rising nagas. I saw their forms turn to shadowed silhouettes within its brilliance, those shadows disintegrating further till they disappeared altogether.

  I swept the vast column across the mass of them, a simple flexion of the wrist, and like that, the thirty or so rising foes were annihilated, removed from play.

  The huge beam was already fading, the influx of power waning as I no longer grasped the golden filament. Gasping for breath, face drenched in sweat from the effort of channeling so much magic, I turned to the shore and saw that all combat had come to a standstill.

  The Luminous Legion was simply staring up at me, even Neveah paused to witness my display of raw power.

  The charred remnants of the nagas fell back to the Starmilk like black snow.

  Neveah was the first to come back to her senses. She sliced upward, not having to parry attacks for the first time, I wagered, since arriving, and severed the trap apart. As the purple strands fell apart, she blew through them, flying up, turning so she accelerated backward, eyes locked on her foes.

  They weren’t done with us.

  Not by any measure.

  “Legion!” bellowed their bull-horned leader, voice stertorous and echoing off the walls. “To the air!”

  The hundred or so foes that crowded the shores manifested wings of black fire, wings of burning feathers that extended yards in each direction. As one they rose, not even needing to leap, not pretending that the wings were real; rising with weapons readied, helms glimmering, wards popping back into place, coming at us like a horde of massively armored locusts.

  “No shortcuts,” said Neveah, who’d reached my side. “Time for old fashioned butchery.”

  I extended my hand to her. “With you by my side? We’ll be done in minutes.”

  She grinned despite herself, glancing sidelong at me, then clasped my hand, her grip as strong as iron. “Let’s get to work, Savior.”

  We dove down at them. I screamed as I fell upon the first rank, Shard swiping out an arc of golden light, Neveah just off to my side.

  But these weren’t push-overs. Their wards absorbed my first attack, some wards flickering out of existence, but none of the front line died. I hit them in a charge, and where my arc of golden light had failed, my actual blade finished the job.

  For the first time in what seemed like eons, I engaged in sword fighting. I parried, raised my guard, deflected attacks from my flanks, kept moving, severing weapons at their hafts, spearing my sword point through chests. Shard’s edge cut steel like cloth; I only burst upward to avoid being crushed.

  The enemy followed.

  Their weapons were fearsome but their very size was a handicap; I could see each battle-ax coming from a mile away, could duck under vast sweeps of two-handers. The flails were harder to deal with - a parry meant the chain wrapping around my blade, or the spiked ball simply curving around Shard to nearly take off my head.

  I desperately ducked a couple before changing my tactics - against a flail, I either cut the ball itself in half or chopped at the chain, severing it altogether.

  But there were too many of them. I was ringed in glowing plate armor, the luminous edges combined with the wards making it hard to tell exactly how many were about me, to predict their attacks. Shard was a levenbolt itself, flickering all around me. It seemed to leap with that very intelligence and speed that had helped me defeat the Gray Mongrel that had nearly killed me, way, way back on Earth, when I’d first picked up the blade and sealed my fate and that of the universe.

  But it wasn’t enough. I was being forced to fight defensively, turning and ducking, trying to burst free but hampered at every turn. A line of fire opened down my calf where a low-flying opponent got a hit in, then something hit the back of my head with enough force to stave in a steel drum.

  My ward disappeared, crushed out of existence, but I refused to give in to panic, to allow the ringing in my head to disrupt me.

  All creation in a drop of water. I didn’t speak the words. They were peals of thunder coming from my very soul. All creation before me.

  It was time for an old trick. I tapped Muladhara, but instead of hurling out a levenbolt, I raised a cage of searing lightning, a great sphere of death that I pushed out in the same manner I might my ward.

  My hair went rigid as static electricity coursed through me, but the web of lightning expanded, cindering wards, coursing through
plate armor, causing a dozen of the Legion to suddenly spasm and shake as they lost all control of their limbs.

  I dropped the electric cage, and they dropped in turn, plummeting down to crash in explosive gouts of water into the Starmilk.

  But more flew forth to take their place.

  I raised my ward, head still ringing, heart pounding in my chest, not allowing panic to close a fist about my neck, not allowing myself to doubt, to fear.

  “Excuse me?” I heard the shout come from down below. A voice, tight with outrage. “Excuse me? Down here, everybody.”

  My heart leaped. I knew only one person who could be so furious and polite at once. I glanced down through the thicket of heavy weaponry and armored foes and saw Imogen. She’d just rounded the last of the curve, and her eyes were living pools of white fire, her braids whipping about her head, her clothing fluttering in an invisible wind.

  So incongruous was her request, so angry and authoritative her voice, that many of the Legion did just that - pausing, hesitating, and glancing down at her.

  Only for her to unleash hell.

  From her upraised, gloved hands erupted a score of levenbolts, more than I’d ever seen, so many that she disappeared behind their blinding radiance.

  The lightning bolts flew up faster than thought, leaping from foe to foe, shattering wards, causing enemies to contort and scream. Each levenbolt lingered for but a moment on a Luminous Legionnaire, caressing them, curling about them, then leaped to the next, killing each in turn.

  There had to be twenty, thirty of those bolts.

  The group immediately reassessed their tactics. I could fell the rush of tension pass through the ranks assembled around me, and fully half their number turned to fall upon Imogen.

  I roared and charged after them, breaking through the enemy that ringed me. I cut one legionnaire fully in half as I flew by, trying to chase after the thirty or so foes who were descending upon her, overlapping their wards as they closed, huge wings of black fire outstretched.

  But Imogen didn’t give ground. In the face of certain death, she opened her mouth and screamed, and goosebumps rushed across my whole body, the amperage of power doubling in output. The glowing waters of the Starmilk retreated from around her, repulsed by her might. She stood on the gleaming riverbed, surrounded by a wall of water two yards high, water that whipped and circled her in a frenzy, unable to crash in.