The White Song (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 5)

by Phil Tucker

  Erenthil gave a mocking bow in a fashion she’d never seen before. “How I rejoice at being commanded in such a manner. Of course, Your Grace. Would you care for refreshments?”

  “Yes, actually,” said Iskra. “There’s no sense in entering battle on an empty stomach. See to it.”

  She then strode off, feeling a petty satisfaction that she immediately forgot as she collected those she wished to confer with. Asho. Kethe. Tiron. Tharok. Audsley. Kyrra. They all filed into Erenthil’s cottage. Iskra was the last to enter, and she pressed the door closed behind her with slow and deliberate purpose before turning to those within.

  “There’s no time for grand words,” she said in a shaky voice. “Nor do I think any of you need them. We’re out of time, out of options, and far, far too many have died already. We need to plan our attack and execute it as quickly as possible before any more suffer.”

  Asho and Kethe were standing together to one side, his arm around her waist. Tiron was leaning against the wall across the room from Tharok, who was standing like a pillar of stone with his head lowered and his eyes trained on her. Kyrra had lowered herself outside the cottage so she could watch the proceedings through a window.

  Erenthil appeared in that moment, occupying a comfortable armchair, his legs already crossed, startling Audsley, who had retreated to stand in the shadows.

  “There are three ur-destraas now,” said Tiron. “I heard it from Draumronin himself.”

  “That makes an assault tricky,” Erenthil said lightly. A bronze man appeared at his side with delicacies arranged on a golden platter. Erenthil plucked one free and popped it into his mouth, then licked his fingers. “Speed, I imagine, will be of the essence.”

  The bronze man disappeared, only to immediately reappear beside Asho and Kethe. Each took a sliver of cooked meat.

  Iskra smoothed down her skirt. “What, precisely, are you contributing to this fight, Erenthil?”

  “Precisely? Let’s see. My knowledge: how to wield the circlet, open the Black Gate, and banish every self-willed demon from our land. That, and a score of demon-infused gems whose value is beyond reckoning. Is that not enough? No? Well, I will also lend you my eidolons, as I call them. They are thirty in number, capable of flight, teleportation, and spewing forth a most virulent flame. None, however, can withstand a direct attack from an ur-destraas. Then again, who can?”

  “They can bear us into battle?” asked Asho.

  “Assuredly,” said Erenthil.

  “Draumronin can also carry a fair number,” said Tiron. “Though it’s dying. It won’t be as fast or agile as it was before, and won’t last long in any direct conflict.”

  “Then, Erenthil is right,” said Asho. “Speed is of the essence.”

  Tiron shifted his weight. “We must appear directly beside the ur-destraas and attack it with everything we have. Sin Casters, Vothaks, eidolons, shamans, Draumronin’s flame, Kyrrasthasa’s gaze. We must destroy it before it can teleport away, and then retrieve the circlet and bring it to the Black Gate.”

  Nobody spoke. Iskra tried to swallow and failed. It was a simple plan, but it failed to address the hundreds of difficulties awaiting them. “First, we need to find the ur-destraas,” she said. “Then arrange for everyone to teleport directly to it. Then we must kill it with one blow and retrieve the circlet before we are destroyed by the other two.”

  “I find it amusing that you assume my complicity in this,” Kyrra said through the open window. “I do not recall volunteering to be flown into the heart of the demon swarm.”

  “You refuse, then?” asked Iskra.

  “I have already gifted you with the blessings of my Kiss. I did not offer to lay my life on the line.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Iskra insisted. “Refuse, and I’ll ask Draumronin to incinerate you.”

  “It’s a perilous game you play,” Kyrra replied; her eyes flashed and cast a flood of heat across Iskra’s face. “Threaten me, and I’ll act in self-defense.”

  “Don’t waste our time,” said Tiron. “Kill us here, and Draumronin will destroy you regardless.”

  “She assumes,” Erenthil said lazily, “that she has the ability to destroy us all. Some of us are more durable than others.”

  “Why should I risk my life,” asked Kyrra, “when your Ascendant does not risk his?”

  “That’s rich,” said Kethe. “You think we place equal value on both your life and the Ascendant’s?”

  “No,” said Tharok, and the room stilled. The kragh’s voice still intimated at the power he had wielded as the Uniter, still commanded that same attention. “Kyrra is correct. All must contribute. The Ascendant must ride into battle with us. We need his protection if we are to survive long enough to attack the demon.”

  Iskra hesitated. She knew the Ascendant was already on precarious ground, that he was holding himself together through sheer force of will. Could she demand that he join them? Risk his death?

  “He’s right, Iskra,” Tiron said softly. “We need him.”

  “Very well,” she replied. “I’ll ask him to join us. And if he does, you will go willingly into battle, medusa.”

  “’Willingly’ is too strong a word for it,” said Kyrra. “But I shall acquiesce.”

  Was she playing a game? Luring them into sacrificing the Ascendant? Was this a ploy of some kind that would play out to her advantage? Iskra couldn’t see how it could be, but she didn’t trust the medusa. Then again, what choice did they have?

  “Very well. Erenthil, you will send your eidolons to scout Aletheia and see if the ur-destraas is still there. The Ascendant — if he agrees — will ride Draumronin into battle alongside the Consecrated, Tharok and the shamans. Kyrra will be carried into battle in the dragon’s claws.”

  She was making this up as she went along, but Tiron’s subtle nod gave her the confidence to continue.

  “The eidolons will carry the Vothaks and Sin Casters into battle. The moment you appear over Aletheia, you are all to attack the demon. He who recovers the circlet first must teleport to the Black Gate, where I will be waiting with Erenthil.”

  “A simple plan,” Tharok said approvingly. “One that will succeed or fail within seconds of our arrival.”

  Audsley bestirred himself. “Zephyr is wearing the circlet. She benefits from its powers. Might she not anticipate this attack?”

  Iskra realized that the magister was addressing the Artificer, and was relieved; she had no answer to that question.

  Erenthil frowned. “The safest place for her lies within the ur-destraas’ chest. There, she is nigh on invulnerable. She knows that we escaped and no doubt expects a final attack, but with her demonic army and two new ur-destraas by her side, she must feel invincible. Thus, I would wager that she will actually welcome our attack so that she can enjoy our destruction.”

  Audsley gave an uneasy nod. “She does appreciate an audience. I hope you’re right.”

  “Very well,” said Iskra. “What else do we need to determine?”

  “A question,” said Asho. “How, exactly, are we to open the Black Gate?”

  “By using the circlet, of course,” said Erenthil.

  “You’ve never used it before,” Asho reminded him. “How do you know it will work?”

  “How do you think the Black Gate was originally closed?” asked the Artificer.

  “The first Ascendant used the circlet?”

  “That can’t be,” said Audsley. “Starkadr was yet flying when the Black Gate was closed. It was that severing of the magic influx that allowed the Ascendant to eventually defeat the Sin Casters in Starkadr.”

  “True,” Erenthil replied. He leaned back, fingers interlaced over his stomach. “But ask yourself: if the circlet was used to navigate and control Starkadr, might there not have been another whose purpose was to do the same for Aletheia?”

  “A second circlet?” asked Audsley.

  “Indeed. One that the Ascendant acquired at the culmination of his conquest. He used it to
seal the Black Gate, and then hid it so that no one could undo his work. Acquiring Starkadr’s circlet was one of the Ascendant’s secret goals when he attacked the Flame Walkers. Alas, it was stolen out from under his nose.”

  “Stolen?” asked Kethe. “By — oh.”

  “Yes,” said Tharok. “Ogri the Destroyer took the circlet. I did not know that he did so from Starkadr.”

  “Amusing, is it not?” Erenthil smiled coldly at them. “One of the Ascendant’s own tools of conquest — a lowly kragh — stole the circlet while helping the Order of Purity invade Starkadr, and then used its influence to escape and return home, and there begin a revolution that nearly destroyed the Empire itself many years later. Ah, history – a truly delightful field of study.”

  “Wait,” said Iskra. “If there’s a second circlet, can we not discover it and use it to defeat Zephyr from afar?”

  “Of course,” said Erenthil. “Be my guest. I would love to know its location.”

  “Perhaps the Ascendant knows?” asked Kethe. “Perhaps it’s in his treasury?”

  “Excuse me,” said Iskra. “Let me ask him now.”

  She nearly ran from the cottage, leaving the door open behind her, and hurried to where the Ascendant was sitting by himself in the dark.

  “Your Holiness,” she said, fighting to catch the breath that her excitement had stolen from her.

  “My Grace,” said the Ascendant, his voice so soft that it was nearly a whisper. He didn’t open his eyes.

  “I must ask you something, if I may. Have you ever heard of a circlet, the twin of the one Zephyr is wearing, that the third Ascendant used to close the Black Gate?”

  “A second circlet?” The Ascendant looked up at her with a frown. “No, I haven’t. Nor does one exist. The third Ascendant closed the Black Gate through a miracle of his own divinity, not through the use of a demonic artifact.”

  “Ah,” said Iskra. She bit down on her impatience and lowered herself to her knees, hands in her lap. “Can you please try to recall if there is such an item as the circlet in your holy treasury? An object revered, perhaps, or...?”

  The Ascendant shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Iskra. There are no circlets in the treasury that I am aware of.”

  “Perhaps, then, it is hidden in plain sight, or mentioned in literature meant only for your eyes?”

  To her relief, the Ascendant paused before answering, his eyes moving from left to right as he scoured his memories. Finally, he shook his head. “My apologies, but I have neither heard of nor seen such an object. Who told you it exists?”

  “Erenthil,” she said heavily.

  “And why has he brought it up now?”

  “As proof that the Starkadrian circlet can be used to open the Black Gate. He claims the third Ascendant used the Aletheian one to close it originally.”

  “His timing is suspicious, is it not? And there is a sweet symmetry to his conjecture, but no, I’m afraid I know of no such circlet. If anyone should know, however, it should be he; after all, he has controlled the Fujiwara clan for centuries, and they in turn have controlled the Empire. If it existed, I’m sure it would have found its way into his hands by now. The fact that it hasn’t is near-definite proof of his lies.”

  Iskra nodded disconsolately. “Ah, well. It was a fleeting hope.”

  “Iskra, have no fear. We need not trust Erenthil. When the time comes, I will don the circlet myself, and in so doing ensure that the demons are banished. If possible, I will then close the Black Gate once more after the last of them are gone.” His smile was almost beatific. “Don’t you see? All of this, our tragedies and our losses, have been but a means to set the stage for a new and better Empire. Together, you and I shall usher in a time of rebirth. We shall prune from Ascendancy the parts that do not fit our vision, and our cleansing of the land will be the miracle that galvanizes our people into following us.”

  “As you say, Your Holiness. Forgive me.” She felt overcome with emotion, and could only look down, her head spinning.

  “Do not apologize. These are difficult times. Only later will we be able to discern the fearsome intelligence that guided events to our eventual benefit. Now – you wish to ask me to enter into battle with you.”

  “I — yes. How did you know?”

  “All resources are to be used, are they not? Even my faith?”

  “Yes, Your Holiness,” said Iskra.

  “Very well. Then I will come.”

  “But what of the risk to your life? What of the risk to the Empire if we lose you?”

  “My life is vouchsafed by my higher self,” the Ascendant replied. “My rejection of Asho’s demands earlier that I sully the Virtues and the Consecrated awakened me to a truth that I had lost: I am the manifestation of a divine will that cannot be comprehended. If my higher self wills that I survive, then nothing can touch me. If I am fated to die, then I die serving my own plans. As long as I act with pure intentions, nothing can go wrong.”

  Iskra tried to find some adequate response, and failed. How could she argue with that? “Very well,” she said at last. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

  “Let me know when we are to fly into battle,” he said, and when she looked up, she saw that he’d closed his eyes once more. “Until then, I shall be here, meditating.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  She rose, dusted off her skirt, and backed away with a bow. She returned slowly to the cottage and found the others awaiting her in silence. She met Tiron’s gaze, then looked at each of the others in turn, finally resting her gaze on the medusa.

  “It looks like you’re flying into battle,” she said. “The Ascendant has agreed to lend us his strength.”

  “And the Aletheian circlet?” Audsley asked, taking a step away from the wall. “Did he...?”

  “No,” said Iskra, and to her annoyance, Erenthil’s smile didn’t even flicker. “He said it doesn’t exist and never has.”

  Erenthil shrugged. “He’s a victim of the third Ascendant’s disinformation campaign. A most thorough one. It’s hard to convince the masses that you’ve pulled off a miracle if your miraculous circlet is there for all to see.”

  “Very convenient,” Asho said harshly.

  “Let us phrase it this way,” said Erenthil. “What choice do you have? You must have faith in my own instincts for self-preservation, for if you doubt me, you have no one else who can control the circlet and cleanse your world.”

  Audsley said in a low voice, “What if you have no desire to cleanse the world of demons? What if you simply wish to replace Zephyr with yourself?”

  “A good question,” Erenthil replied. “Which is why I’m willing to allow you to place safeguards to ensure my compliance. Draumronin’s breath is argument enough as far as I’m concerned. Have the dragon watch me as I don the circlet and incinerate me if my actions are not immediately to its liking.”

  “And if Draumronin dies in combat?” asked Tiron.

  Erenthil spread his hands wide. “I don’t know what you would have me say. Place swords to my neck, bind me, have Kyrra or whoever else stand poised to destroy me. I’m willing to accommodate your distrust as much as is humanly possible.”

  “There is no cause for concern,” Iskra said, speaking loudly over the several voices that were raised immediately in protest. “I have the Ascendant’s assurances that all will proceed as planned. We need only concern ourselves with the execution of our strategy. Now, unless there is anything else, we should return to our forces, explain to them what is to happen, and prepare to attack within the hour. Erenthil, see to the reconnaissance. Everyone else, you are dismissed.”

  To her surprise, they listened to her. Asho and Kethe were the first to leave, followed by Tiron, who touched her arm as he passed her and gave her a meaningful look. Erenthil simply disappeared, while Audsley hurried out with his firecat in his arms.

  Tharok was the last. He moved to exit with his head hanging low. Iskra, on impulse, extended her hand to stay him.

&nbs
p; “A moment, Tharok.” When the massive kragh stopped and regarded her with his implacable eyes, she almost took a step back. “I know that you have given much to our new cause. Your title, even. But I must ask: Is it the loss of the circlet that’s changed you so?”

  She wanted to curse herself for a fool. What wooden, stilted words. But she didn’t know how else to inquire as to the wellbeing of her recent greatest enemy.

  “The circlet is a weight well gone from my brow,” Tharok responded. He reached up as if to touch where it would have lain, then dropped his hand. “I worry for Maur. She has not woken since falling from Flamska. I worry for my kragh, who are fighting to defend Aletheia even now.”

  Iskra could only nod mutely. Only the presence of the human army beside the kragh stopped her from apologizing.

  “But... “ He trailed off and looked away. For a moment, it seemed as if he was searching for the right words; his hands were opening and closing as if they sought something to grasp, and then he gave a sharp shake of his head. “It is nothing. I am well enough to fight demons.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

  “You’re doing well,” he replied. “You make a fine Wise Woman. Perhaps even a Warlord. We are lucky to have you.”

  Iskra wanted to protest, to deny his words, to give credit to Tiron and the others at her side, but Tharok’s gleaming eyes stilled the words in her throat. Why not take the praise? Why this immediate urge to deflect the compliment? Was it because she was a woman and had always been treated as something less by the men around her?

  She stood straighter. “Thank you, Tharok. That means much to me.”

  He grunted. “Don’t thank me. You have earned it.” Then, without another word, he stepped past her, out into the dark.

  Iskra moved to one of the windows and gazed through its many small, muddied panes at the gathering outside. A storm had started up on the horizon, and distant flashes of lightning caused the clouds’ underbellies to flicker purple, casting the men and women and monsters outside into sharp silhouettes.