A Warrior's Penance

by Davis Ashura

  Lienna whimpered, grateful the torment was over. “Yes Mistress,” She whispered. Secretly, in the innermost confines of Her thoughts, She hoped the hated voice would leave and never return. She wished there was a way to kill Mistress.

  She gasped. She had said the last sentiment aloud.

  But there was no response to Her words. Only dead silence.

  “Your pain is a mirror of that which You inflict upon others,” Mother said. “It is well deserved.”

  *Tell me again why we should allow these Tigons to accompany us?* Aia asked. Her tail flicked her annoyance. She didn't like the Nocats, even the ones who claimed friendship with Rukh. They were an abomination, creatures who should never have been brought to life. Their appearance was especially troubling, reminding her of the worst features of her own people mixed in with some other poor creature. What the Demon Wind had done by birthing such twisted beings was a sacrilege on the face of Creation itself. Aia's lip curled in disgust.

  Li-Choke sighed. Aia sensed his frustration as he cast his gaze upon her and her brothers, Shon and Thrum. *They are not like their brethren. They have become followers of Hume. They believe in fraternity, of the holiness of all life,* he said, relating thoughts he had already voiced many times now.

  Shon yipped his laughter. *And yet both you and these supposedly changed Tigons feast upon the flesh of that which you consider 'holy'.*

  *It sounds hypocritical,* Aia agreed as she gave one of her forepaws a quick swipe with her tongue.

  *It's not like that,* Li-Choke growled in annoyance. *And you both know it. You're just being difficult.*

  Aia smiled, a baring of her teeth. Li-Choke had once tried to explain to her the teachings of the Human known as Hume. Aia had done her best to understand, but the supposed philosophies had never struck her as being particularly practical. Why would a Kesarin give her life to save that of a Bael she didn't know? Or why would the Baels risk the existence of their very race in order to defend Humanity? It was nonsense.

  *Perhaps we are being difficult,* Aia's brother, Thrum, said. *But I still have yet to hear a single reason why we should allow these Tigons to journey with us. We generally leave you Chimeras alone when you roam the Flats because we know the Demon Wind will slay us if we kill too many of your kind.* He took a menacing step forward. *But these small numbers of Tigons you have with you—how likely is it that She will truly miss them? I'm tempted to find out.* His russet coat twitched and from deep in his chest came a low-pitched rumble.

  Aia switched her tail and flashed Thrum a warning by squinting her eyes and flattening her ears. Violence was unnecessary. Why couldn't Thrum see it? The Baels gathered here, the ones meeting with Aia and her brothers, were numerous. They would assuredly defend the Tigons. It would be tooth and claw against barbed whips, tridents and swords. And worse, the small copse of trees in which the meeting was taking place, with its low-lying shrubs, would do much to negate the Kesarins main advantage: their unmatched speed. Aia, Shon, and Thrum would be lucky to survive a battle against all those assembled here. It would be better to avoid any fighting.

  Thrum took the message and the rumble in his chest ceased. His stance remained aggressive, though, and he leaned forward on his forelegs with his eyes alert.

  Aia shook her head. Thrum might one day lead the Hungrove Glaring when their father stepped down—or so everyone said—but Aia was not so sure. Her brother was lacking in restraint, and the art of negotiation utterly eluded him. He was too quick to action, unable to sit still and listen quietly while others roared their passions. Too often, he was led by his fervors, hotheaded and full of his maleness, of the lust for tooth and claw. Composed, cool reasoning was the attribute Thrum desperately needed, and right now, he was anything but composed or calm.

  Would that Jaresh were here with them now. Perhaps he could have settled her brother down. Ever since Thrum had chosen the Human, some of his tendencies to meet every situation with a leap and scream had abated, and Jaresh's influence had likely been the reason. And right now, Jaresh's influence would be deeply appreciated since Thrum appeared to be an accidental movement away from attacking the Baels and the Tigons.

  Aia knew that Rukh would claim that her brother also needed to learn empathy and forgiveness, and, as was often the case, he would have been right. She mentally sighed. She missed her Human and wished that he were here with her also. Instead, Rukh was in far-off Ashoka. It was quite inconsiderate of him.

  Chak-Soon, one of the Tigons, stepped forward, and Aia returned her mind to the matter at hand.

  *I know you find our appearance hideous,* the Tigon said. Rukh claimed that Chak-Soon's voice was nearly unintelligible, garbled by his oversized teeth and clumsy tongue, but with his mind, he spoke as clearly as every other sentient being Aia had encountered. *You see us as diseased, as pale shadows of your own power and beauty.* His ears wilted in misery. *And your guess about our origins is correct. Mother created us from your kind. She shaped our ancestors from the Kesarins and another type of creature, twisting us until we wear these—to you—strange, befouled hides. But this isn't what we were meant to be. Our terrible bodies are of Mother's making, but our souls belong to Devesh.* The Tigon licked his lips when he finished speaking, and the copse of trees was quiet with sympathy on the part of the Baels and watchful consideration on the part of Aia and her brothers.

  It was a stillness broken by Thrum as he stepped forward. Aia nearly moved to block him, but something in her brother's carriage halted her. *You truly believe this?* Thrum asked, staring Chak-Soon in the eyes from just inches away.

  The Tigon didn't blink. He held Thrum's gaze and nodded. *So long my kind have wondered why we anger so easily, why we always answer every challenge with a rage for blood, why we can't remain calm like the Baels. We still don't know, but it likely has something to do with how we were created. We are damaged, but even the lowest can find salvation through Devesh.*

  *You eat the flesh of your own fallen,* Shon said, sounding disgusted.

  Aia shared his revulsion. She had seen it. At the Human city of Stronghold, during the battle there, she had seen Tigons leap upon their own injured, killing them, ripping out throats, and tearing out great chunks of flesh, and eating the meat of their own.

  Chak-Soon's ears wilted further. *As I said before, we are flawed creations. We are driven to hunt, to desire spilled blood, be it friend or foe. It is an overwhelming urge. And in battle, those urges are impossible to control.* He shuddered. *We have no thought but the need to tear apart any we come across, rend them with tooth and claw. And later, when we once again become aware of ourselves, remorse grips us, but we can never talk about our pain. It is too shameful.*

  Once more, silence reigned in the small copse. Li-Choke stared at Chak-Soon as though he had never before seen the Tigon. Grief and amazement warred in equal measures upon the Bael's face.

  Aia also found herself impressed by Chak-Soon's words. He knew the entirety of what he was, of what his kind were, and it shamed him. Nevertheless, he sounded determined to somehow overcome those flaws in his forging. There was also something to the manner in which he spoke that touched Aia's fierce Kesarin soul. Rukh would have said that there was poetry trapped in the heart of the Tigon, hidden away behind his disgusting features.

  Shon nodded. *You know yourself,* he said. *So you also know why we will aways mistrust you. Your hearts were carved with runnels of savagery that we don't possess and can't understand.*

  *And that is why we will cling even more firmly to the ideals of fraternity, of service rather than mastery, of peace over battle. We*—he gestured to the small party of Tigons with him, twenty or so—*have taken up the mantle of brotherhood, and it is a terrible burden and blessing that we will never set aside.*

  Aia quirked a smile at Shon and Thrum. *Not all beings are meant to be brothers,* she said. *Some are sisters, and we're generally the more intelligent of the two.*

  Shon whoofed in amusement while Thrum flicked his tail in anno
yance. Li-Choke grinned.

  *Are you satisfied now?* Shon asked Thrum, giving him a meaningful glance.

  Aia's ears perked. It was a strange turn to the conversation, and she wasn't sure what Shon was referring to. Thrum, however, had settled on his haunches and no longer seemed so aggressive, so ready to unsheathe claws and go for the throat. Aia frowned in consternation.

  Thrum shrugged, a twitching of his coat. *They needed testing,* he said to Shon.

  Realization dawned in Aia's mind. It had all been a pose, a playacting on both their parts, especially that of Thrum. He had never been angry or out of control. It had all been a ploy meant to force the Tigons to reveal their true nature. Shon, apparently, had been aware of it the entire time.

  Aia settled on her own haunches, surprised by her brothers' cleverness, especially Thrum's. It seemed she had badly misjudged him. Perhaps Thrum did possess the attributes needed to lead the Hungrove Glaring.

  *By testing them, we now have a better sense of the situation,* Thrum continued before turning to Aia. *And you would still be foolish to let them accompany us. You heard what they are. They admitted it with their own voices.*

  *And you still need to learn to listen without prejudice,* Aia said. *Yes, we know who the Tigons are. We have always known this. And now we know they possess the self-awareness to recognize this truth as well.* She tilted her head to the side. *More importantly, are we to refute the evidence from our own eyes and memory? Or do you not remember that it was many of these same Tigons who attacked and destroyed a small glaring of Nosnakes in order to save three Human females? They weren't barbarous in that battle. At no time did any of them stop to feast upon the Nosnakes.* Aia turned to Li-Choke. *The Tigons can come with us, but first you must tell us everything. What is the true reason behind this sudden desire to go to Ashoka?*

  Li-Choke hesitated. His grip tightened on his trident, and he seemed on the verge of refusing Aia's request. All at once, his head stooped low. His hold on his trident loosened, and he stared at the ground, apparently unable to meet her gaze. *We are fleeing,* Choke said, his words a whisper.

  Shon startled. *Fleeing? Why? Have you displeased your SarpanKum in some way?*

  *We flee on orders of our SarpanKum,* Choke said with a sigh. *I cannot speak of all that will occur, but you know the Queen, the Demon Wind will come for Ashoka?* He glanced at the three Kesarins, waiting for their affirmations before continuing. *We seek to slow down Her plans.*

  *How?* Aia asked.

  *I cannot tell you,* Choke replied. *I am bound by oaths to my SarpanKum, but understand this: our lives will shortly be forfeit should Mother discover us while we are still in the Wildness.*

  Thrum's tail swished in either agitation or sudden insight. *You plan on doing something unwise,* he guessed. *Something dangerous, something that that will earn the Demon Wind's fury. As a result, you seek shelter in Ashoka.*

  Li-Choke nodded in answer.

  Shon glanced in apparent confusion at the several hundred Bael and score of Tigons. *But what about the other Baels and Tigons? Why were you the only ones chosen to escape?*

  *Because the SarpanKum thinks we are the best of our two races, the ones most attuned to the teachings of Hume. He believes we are the ones most worthy of saving.*

  Fluxed and foiled are those who marry immorality with selfishness. No matter the riches they earn in this life, their endings are always writ with penury.

  ~Our Lives Alone by Asias Athandra, AF 331

  The sun made a brief visitation early on the morning of the Advent Trial, but shortly thereafter, a bank of heavy, cold clouds moved in. They were gray as winter and stretched from horizon to horizon, concealing the world beneath a blanket of dismal dullness and unseasonably chill weather. High up on the Outer Wall, it was even colder. There, a whipping wind raised goosebumps on the skin of those who had dressed for Ashoka's normal springtime warmth. The scent of rain was in the air, and the pennons decorating the Outer Wall in honor of the four military academies clapped loudly in the breeze.

  “First Mother, that wind is cold,” Bree exclaimed.

  Jessira glanced at her sister-in-law and smiled. How similar Bree's words were to what Rukh might have said. The two of them didn't see it, but in many ways, they were very much alike. After all, how many times had Rukh complained of the cold on the way to Stronghold? Then again, perhaps in this—their dislike of weather that was anything less than perfect—maybe Rukh and Bree were merely like the rest of their kind. The Purebloods weren't weak, but they were soft. Or at least they liked to complain a lot about that which was out of their control.

  Jessira did feel pity for the warriors of the Advent Trial, though. They would have no cover from the cold. They'd be exposed to the elements out on the wide expanse of relatively open land beyond Ashoka's borders. Jessira turned her gaze to study the terrain. For a distance of several miles, the ground surrounding the Outer Wall had been denuded of all trees and shrubs. It was a bare plain of grass meant to prevent an invading Plague of Chimeras from approaching the Outer Wall unabated. Flocks of wild sheep kept the field thinned and trimmed, and of course, the ovines themselves had to also be periodically trimmed and thinned since no natural predators were allowed near the city limits.

  “This view is horrible,” Bree said in further complaint to no one in particular. “It's unforgivable what we were offered.”

  Jessira understood the other woman's frustration, even though she didn't share it.

  The women of House Shektan held a portion of the Wall just north of Sunset Gate. It wasn't the finest of vantage points—most of the battles would occur miles further north, in an area closer to the midway point between Sunset and Twilight Gates—but it was all that had been offered to them.

  The poor seating was a scandal, a calculated insult on the part of the ticketing brokers. Many of them were devout, and apparently, they were still furious with House Shektan for its role in obtaining sanctuary for the OutCastes. This less than ideal location was their way of expressing that anger and unhappiness.

  However, the actions of the brokers had led to further bruised feelings. Many Shektans were determined to seek retribution against them for what they had done.

  Jessira, however, wasn't as offended as the rest of the House. She was long-since inured to such insults. She had certainly endured far worse during her time in Ashoka. Most of the city had come to accept the OutCastes, but there were still a thorny few who continued to find their presence anathema. They were certain to still harbor ill will, and Jessira hoped that the reprobates eventually learned reason. Until that happened, such slights were simply part of what it meant to be an OutCaste in Ashoka. This was just another one, and one that Jessira really didn't care much about.

  Jessira shivered just then. It wasn't because of the cold, though. Nor was it the wind. It was something else, a foreboding that Jessira couldn't properly name or identify. Perhaps it had something to do with the upcoming Advent Trial.

  Rukh would be out there in the midst of it, outside the protections of the Outer Wall. He had been chosen by his fellow Martial Masters of the House of Fire and Mirrors to act as a lieutenant and lead a small group of Trims in the Advent Trial. It was a high honor, and while Jessira was proud of Rukh and happy for him, she also found herself worried for his safety.

  She closed her eyes and prayed to the First Mother for him. She also prayed to the First Father and Devesh.

  “I'd really be happy if this unholy wind would die down just a bit,” Bree complained again.

  “If you think this is chilly, you should have tried to take a swim in Teardrop Lake,” Jessira said with a chuckle. “Even in the middle of summer, with the air warm and the sun high up in the sky, the water was cold enough to resuscitate the dying. I loved it.” She didn't realize she wore a regretful, reflective expression until Sign pointed it out.

  Jessira smiled, but her thoughts had turned to Stronghold and remained there. Remembering her fallen home still brought with it a
prayerful need and a crying hurt, but more and more often, the pain had become a distant ache, a bittersweet recollection on the happy home she had once known. Jessira sometimes missed the more intense longing and sorrow she had felt immediately after, and for many months following Stronghold's death. Those stronger emotions, no matter how hurtful, more powerfully reminded her of the ones she had loved and who were forever gone now from this world.

  Jessira knew the Lord cradled those she loved in His singing light, and it comforted her . . . but still. Just one more time to hug her amma, to be held by her nanna, to tease her nieces and nephews and brothers. Jessira wished she could have done all of that and let them know how much she loved them.

  Jessira closed her eyes and sent aloft a prayer to Devesh. She prayed for the souls of her lost loved ones, begging that they be sheltered in the Lord's divine Grace. And she prayed for the life of her husband, Rukh, who stood outside of Ashoka's Oasis. She didn't like it. He was beyond her means to help, but Devesh could see him safe.

  Rector Bryce pulled his coat close about him in the face of the cold, fitful breeze. His layered clothing kept off the chill, but he still grimaced. A ceiling of gray clouds had banished the early morning sun, and the promise of an icy rain had left the city cold and damp. The day was reminiscent of the endless drab, dreary, and depressing winter of Arjun, an experience he recalled with nothing approaching fondness.

  Such weather had no place in Ashoka during the spring.

  Rector tugged his coat tighter about him. At least he'd been smart enough to dress warmly. It was a wisdom that many others standing on the Outer Wall likely wished for. Bree Shektan for one. Even now, she was complaining about the unaccountably cold weather.

  Rector listened with vague interest as Jessira made a comment about some lake near her home, but he didn't bother concerning himself with any reply that Sign Deep or Bree might have made in return. It was immaterial to his current obligation.