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

by Phil Tucker

  Synesis opened her mouth, clearly wishing to hurl some stinging retort at Audsley, but she turned to the Ascendant. “Your Holiness. Please. Your thoughts.”

  The Ascendant, who had gone pale, stared at Kethe. “You still hear the White Song?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Tharok moved forward. “I was the first to receive the medusa’s Kiss,” he rumbled. “And I hear the White Song.” As if to offer proof, he raised his hand, and a white flame burst from his palm to dance and cast a silver light that rivalled that of the moon.

  “I don’t know what it means,” the Ascendant said softly. “A kragh, touched by the White Gate? Makaria, polluted by a medusa, yet still hearing the Song?”

  “What it means,” Asho said from above, “is that the world is changing. Ascendancy is changing, growing, adapting, and we must change with it. If you wish for your religion to survive, then you must be willing to make sacrifices. We don’t have any more time. Follow Kethe’s example, or step aside and be silent.”

  “I’ll follow,” said Dalitha. She pushed her way to the fore, her eyes locked on Kethe’s. “Kethe offered me understanding when I couldn’t even understand myself. I know she cares. What’s more, I trust her. I believe in her. If she thinks this is the right thing to do, I’ll do it.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she sought to control her breathing. “I’m with you, Kethe, now and always.”

  “And me.” Gray Wind stepped up beside her. His face was gaunt with pain, but he nodded firmly. “I’m with you too.”

  Wolfker nodded with some reluctance and stepped forward. “I don’t claim to understand what the White Gate wants,” he said, “but I know what my heart tells me. And that’s to follow Kethe.”

  Slowly, some of the other Consecrated moved forward to join Kethe’s cohort. They did so with differing levels of guilt and rebellious determination.

  Synesis drew her blades. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t make this decision!”

  Wolfker’s face was grim. “Are you telling me I can’t decide the fate of my own soul?”

  “I’m telling you that you lack the understanding, the awareness!” Synesis was visibly shaking. “The Ascendant himself has said no. Who are you to gainsay him?”

  “I’m a nobody,” said Wolfker. “And if I’m wrong, I’ll pay the price when I’m reborn. But with what’s at stake, I’m not going to hold back. I’ll risk it if it means saving the Empire.”

  “Yes,” said Dalitha. “Saving Ascendancy.”

  “This wouldn’t be happening if Theletos were here,” said Synesis. “Your Holiness —”

  “Stop,” said the Ascendant. Wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed and dropped his hand. “This, perhaps, is our greatest test.”

  “You can’t be agreeing with them,” said Mixis.

  “Ours is a religion grounded in faith. Faith in Ascension, faith that our souls are tested in each cycle, and that testing helps purify them and allows us to rise ever higher until we reach a state of perfection before we pass through the White Gate. We have no proof that our faith is accurate. No one remembers their past lives. No one has ever returned from beyond the White Gate. We have only the revelations afforded to us by the first Ascendant and the wisdom of the sages who have followed and refined his words.”

  Asho floated down closer to listen.

  “Faith,” the Ascendant said quietly. “Something I came perilously close to losing moments ago in the Hall of the White Gate. I sought to understand what was happening. How it could be happening. It was beyond me, and my inability to understand led me to a moment of weakness.”

  Nobody spoke. All eyes were on the young man.

  “And yet,” he said, “despite the odds, here we are. Here we stand, prepared to resist. And I ask myself, is this not a test of our faith? A question of whether we can hold to our beliefs in dark times as well as good? How can any of us claim to be devout when we only follow Ascension when it is easy?”

  “Easy for you,” Asho said coldly. “Ask any Bythian how easy their life has been.”

  The Ascendant waved away Asho’s words. “This is a test. I will not be found wanting. I will not pollute our faith. I will not debase myself out of fear or doubt. Now, in the time of gravest danger, I will instead cling all the more tightly to the wisdom that has guided my life, the divine truths that I feel in my soul. We will not accept the medusa’s Kiss. We will not partner with Sin Casters. We will instead look at the impossible with the confidence that only true faith can afford us, and believe with all our being that we shall be delivered.”

  He smiled then, an open, honest smile, and there were tears in his eyes. “We cannot fail if we hold true to the divine. We will not be found wanting, and our very steadfastness will provide the miracles needed to see us through to another dawn.”

  Mixis nodded grimly, and Synesis gave a sigh of relief. Kethe bit her lower lip, suddenly assailed by a doubt all of her own, but then she shook her head.

  “With all respect, Your Holiness, your miracle will be worked by those willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.” Emotion made her voice tremble. “The kragh, the shamans, the medusas, the dragons, the Sin Casters and the rest of us will defeat this threat.”

  “We will fight alongside you,” said the Ascendant. “Of that, you need not doubt. But we will fight in a state of divine purity, and I believe that it is that adherence to the truth that will tip the scales in our favor. Swords and flames have availed us nothing to this point. My own faith has been inconstant, and for that we have been punished. But no longer.”

  He stepped up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “My faith has solidified once more. Perhaps it was always a jejune faith, untested and weak. But now it has passed through the fire, and I am resolute. I grieve for your choice, Makaria, but I forgive you your weakness. Together, we will win, and perhaps one day you will return to Ascendancy to be shrived and forgiven.”

  Kethe took a sharp step back. Harsh words rose to her lips, but she bit them back. The Ascendant looked all the more compassionate in the face of her anger, a compassion that riled her so much that she knew she’d say something she’d regret forever if she remained. Before she could make that mistake, she strode away, leaving the Consecrated to the medusa, and stepped up to where Asho was hovering.

  “Come down here,” she said.

  He obliged, floating down until he reached the grass.

  She reached out with a shaking hand and wiped the blood off his upper lip. It was thick, almost jellied, and she only managed to smear it across his cheek. More oozed down from the wound.

  “You’re killing yourself,” she said softly.

  “Yes,” he said. “I might be.”

  “Oh, Asho.”

  He leaned forward and rested his brow against hers. She closed her eyes and became aware of their conduit. It was fading.

  “Her Kiss,” he said quietly. “I felt it burn away parts of me. My... limitations. She tore down my defenses.”

  “Mine too,” whispered Kethe.

  “I feel like I could drain both of these spikes of their power in one go,” he said. “Use all my power at once. I’d die; I know it. But I can do that now.”

  “You can’t die,” she said, her misery creeping into her voice. “You have to survive this fight. You have to promise me.”

  “Kethe,” he said.

  She kissed him.

  It was like kissing a ghost, the memory of a man. She wanted to dig her nails into him, wanted to hold him tight, to steal him away from this fate he was tumbling into – but she couldn’t. She knew that to try to do so would be futile.

  Asho pulled away. “I’m sorry, Kethe.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Please. Don’t.”

  “I have to. I’m sorry.” He stepped back, cleared his throat and turned to the Sin Casters. “All right, listen closely. We’ve a limited amount of formulas and spikes. Not enough to train with. Some of you experimented with them in the
last fight. I know how you felt afterward, but the Kiss has given you new life, hasn’t it?”

  The men and women nodded.

  “Apparently, the way this used to work was, you’d bond with a White Gate person, and they’d clean your magic as you cast it, preventing you from becoming sick. We’re going to try that with the Consecrated. Let’s see what we can do.”

  He led them over to where the Consecrated were being embraced by the medusa, one by one. Kethe slipped her hand into Asho’s as they watched.

  “If we win this,” she said, “if we somehow come through, what’s going to happen then?”

  “I don’t know,” said Asho. “But if Kyrra thinks she’s creating an army to serve her, she’s going to be disappointed.”

  “Is she?” asked Kethe. “How do we know what this is going to do to us? If we’ll even be ‘us’ when it’s all finished?”

  Asho raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t know.” He watched as a large, gaunt Ennoian’s limbs darkened, as the man gave a shuddering exhale, his eyes rolling up in his head. “But we’ve got to have faith in each other. As long as you’re here, I know I won’t forget what’s right.”

  Kethe had nothing to add. She felt turgid with power, but hollow at the same time. Fear was gnawing at her core, and though the White Song was still singing within her, it was an impersonal glory, one that seemed not to care for her continued existence or her safety.

  Finally, the Consecrated gathered before them. Asho rose up into the air so he could address them all.

  “Kethe and I found our connection over the course of months. You lot don’t have that luxury. You don’t even care for each other. But that doesn’t matter. We’re going to need to do our best, and that’s going to involve trying to match you so that conduits can form.”

  “Asho,” said the scarecrow Sin Caster. “We don’t even know how to use our magic, much less bond with anyone else.”

  “That’s where Erenthil comes in,” said Asho. “Him and his demons.”

  “Have you used yours?” asked a Sin Caster woman. “Is that what’s speaking to us right now?”

  “No,” said Asho. “Though I can feel it in my gut. I’ve not turned the gem to ash and freed it. When I need it, I will. And then — well, we’ll have to see. We’ll all have to trust the demon’s instinct for self-preservation. It’s not going to want to die inside us. It’ll help us in order to stay alive.”

  “You hope,” said Kethe.

  “I hope,” said Asho.

  “So, what do we do?” Gray Wind asked, staring down at his blackened hands. “How do we establish this... conduit?”

  Asho hesitated. Of course he didn’t know, but he’d brought them this far. Kethe couldn’t let him lose their trust at this juncture.

  “We need to establish your connections to each other,” she said, fighting to sound confident. “To do that, you’re going to have to focus on what you feel, not what you see. Line up. Sin Casters and Vothaks on this side. Consecrated here. Face each other, and then close your eyes.”

  Kethe watched as the men and women slowly stepped into place. Their reluctance was obvious. Purple-and-yellow-robed Vothaks stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the ragged Sin Casters, while the Consecrated stood across from them, their expressions wary.

  “Now, close your eyes. Asho, give each of the Sin Casters and Vothaks a bite of gate stone. Just enough to awaken their powers.”

  Asho nodded and moved down the line, fishing small nuggets of the black rock from his pouch as he went, handing one to each and waiting till they’d chewed and swallowed it.

  When he reached the end of the line, he surveyed them. “Feel the gate stone burning within you, that coiling awareness of your own power. Feel it aching for release. Now, try to expand your awareness beyond your power. See if there’s a direction where it wants to flow. Imagine it with your mind’s eye: a ribbon of light, a cord that flows from you to — where? To whom?”

  Kethe looked at the Consecrated. “The same for you. Keep your eyes closed. Now, reach out into that darkness that surrounds you. Feel the magic that’s being used. Can you sense it? It’s got texture. It’s compelling. Open yourself to it. Lower your walls. Feel that pressure against your sense of self. Allow it to take shape in your mind, then try to identify where it’s strongest. Try to feel whose magic you sense the most clearly.”

  Kethe bit her lower lip as she watched. Nobody spoke. Almost everyone’s brow was furrowed with effort. Would this work? Could the bond be forced? She had no idea how it was supposed to work.

  “Very good,” said a voice rich with amusement. Erenthil. He’d floated down in complete silence. “Your instincts are acute.”

  “You were a Sin Caster, weren’t you?” she asked.

  “I walked the Path of Flames, yes.” Something akin to pain touched his smile. “Centuries ago. Another life.”

  “This conduit – what causes it to exist between two people?”

  “Conduit? As good a name as any, I suppose. It’s a mysterious phenomenon, but it was discovered in almost exactly the same manner as you are orchestrating here.” Erenthil landed beside her, arms crossed, and watched the two opposing lines. “New Flame Walkers and Adepts of the White Gate would be gathered after a week of purification and meditation and placed in a circle around an orishian, an artifact of power that magnified one’s magical flow. They would then focus their energies on the orb, and over the course of the ritual see to whom they were bonded by the appearance of the conduit.”

  “Oh,” said Kethe. “Should we move them into a circle?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s necessary,” said Erenthil. “Nor do we need the orishian, though it would make this matter easier. Desperation serves as a fine incentive to discovering one’s true powers, and this is as desperate a group as I’ve ever seen.”

  Kethe nodded, still biting her lower lip, and turned back to the opposing lines. “So, this might work?”

  “Yes,” said Erenthil. “Our kind instinctively seek each other out so as to balance our energies and prevent an early death. The magic that runs through us desires harmony. They may not know what to do with that connection, but even as we speak, they should be connecting to each other, forging bonds that will last a lifetime. Or until their partner’s death, of course.”

  “Of course,” Kethe said weakly.

  Dalitha’s eyes opened, and she met the stare of a scarred giant of a Sin Caster who was looming at the far end of the line. Dalitha stammered something, raising her hands as if to forestall some argument, but when the giant nodded at her, she dropped her hands and nodded in return.

  Ilina and Gray Wind were next to acknowledge their connection, both of them hissing in dismay, and Kethe couldn’t help but see an awful symmetry to that pairing: the eldest and the youngest, both fiercely independent and headstrong. They stepped aside, eyeing each other warily, neither of them speaking, looking like a pair of firecats sniffing each other out.

  That seemed to open the floodgates. The remaining magic users quickly paired off, showing a mixture of incredulity and satisfaction. Dalitha paired with the scarecrow of the Sin Casters, while Braex joined with a young Sin Caster woman with chopped-short blonde hair and as much attitude as he had.

  Erenthil floated up a ways and clapped his hands. “In the old days, before the traditions were lost and the Empire decreed that pairing was heretical, you would enter into a yearlong training the single goal of which would be to unite your essence with that of your partner. By the end of your Year of Comingling, you would be closer than husband and wife, child and mother. You would be opposite sides of the same coin. But we do not have that luxury, nor, of course, do any of you know how to wield your own nascent powers. A tragedy.” His smile was dark. “But it’s one I can fix. Within this pouch are enough gems for all of you. Do as Asho did and swallow yours so that a demon may enter your soul. Focus your energies on it, free it, and accept its offer to guide you along your path. It will help you ha
rness your power and show you how to wield it to greatest effect.”

  “Don’t be scared,” Asho said loudly. “This isn’t permanent. I can kill demons within people with just a touch. I’ve done it a number of times already.”

  “Yes,” Erenthil said, though his cheerful tone became forced. “It’s true. Demons render themselves uniquely vulnerable when they are within a human host. Asho will be able to cleanse you once the battle is finished. If, of course, you wish to give up your power at that juncture. Anyone who wishes to learn more from their demons, and myself, is of course welcome to return here to Nethys’ Stonecloud and study beneath me.”

  Kethe felt a flicker of anger. “Don’t bother arguing with him,” she called out before anyone could protest. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of us. Ignore him. Let’s hurry. Hand out the gems.”

  “Yes,” said Asho. “We’ve used up too much time as it is. We must hurry. We have to find Zephyr and take her circlet before she can wreck our world any further.”

  A bronze man popped into existence beside Erenthil and took his pouch in an articulated hand. He then floated to the first Sin Caster, opened the pouch, and waited as the man stuck his hand in and removed a glowing blue gem.

  “The demons within the pouch are of varying power,” said Erenthil. “It’s a pity you cannot appreciate how wonderful and rare a gift this is, but no matter. Even the lowliest demon will be sufficient to instruct you. Take your gem and swallow it. The rest should be intuitive.”

  The man studied the sapphire, then, with a violently shaking hand, placed the gem on his tongue and closed his mouth. No one spoke as he worked up a mouthful of spit, then, with an audible gulp, swallowed the gem whole.

  Audsley had stepped up alongside her, Kethe realized, a silent, bulky shadow. “I hope,” he said, so quiet it was almost a whisper, “that if we survive this confrontation with Zephyr, we won’t have reason to look back at this moment and realize it was an even graver mistake.”