by Davis Ashura
Was this the best plan, though? Or even necessary? Those were questions still unanswered, but ones that didn't trouble Deem's crèche-brother and SarpanKi, Li-Feint. He had no doubts about their course, even if such a course might see an end to the Baels.
“The warriors are ready,” Feint said, coming to Deem's side. “They only await your command.”
Deem smiled faintly, a feeling that didn't reflect his heart's turmoil. “I wish I had your faith, brother,” he said softly.
Feint stepped closer and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you lack, lean on me and know that you will not fall,” his brother replied. “If you cannot bring yourself to do this, I will still support you.”
Deem exhaled softly and gave a tight smile of gratitude. The two Baels, gray-haired and old, should have long ago been retired to the breeding caverns to train the young, but the field was where they felt they could do the most good, where they felt they were the most effective. “I don't fear death,” Deem said. “It comes to all of us.”
“But you don't want the Baels to die either.”
Deem nodded again, unsurprised by his brother's insight. Such had always been their bond. “Mother will see us all dead for what we are about to do.”
“We won't be ended.” Feint spoke with a steady, unwavering cadence to his voice. “The Baels and Bovars we sent to Hanuman were given sanctuary.”
“I hope the Humans weren't lying to us when they gave us their promise,” Deem replied. Fear fluttered in his heart for those he had sent to Hanuman.
Feint shrugged. “It will be as it will be,” he said enigmatically, “but it helped that the Humans had already heard the story of Rukh Shektan and his friendship with Li-Choke.”
“Li-Choke,” Deem said with a sigh and shake of his head. “He makes paupers of us all. We've lived so long, but in a sense, not at all, given what that young Bael has experienced.”
“Then how would you like to live out the last moments of your life?” Feint asked with a smile. “Would you not want to experience the glory Li-Dirge experienced in his final breaths?”
Deem shook his head. “I have no need for glory,” he replied. “It is enough for me to be a servant.” His spine stiffened as he replayed the words he had just spoken. They described the heart of who Deem was: a servant. He chuckled just then as he realized that despite all his stumbling and questioning, all along he'd known the course he would have to take. “We will do as Devesh asks: act as a servant to a greater cause than our own lives,” he said in response to the unspoken question in Feint's eyes.
His brother smiled wryly. “Wisdom—decades late—has finally come to you.”
Deem chuckled again. “Better late than not,” he replied before turning to the Chimeras gathered before him. He drew breath and bellowed. “Warriors. A great challenge lies ahead of us! And should we succeed, a greater prize will be ours!”
Li-Shuk, the SarpanKum of the Southern Plague of the Continent Catalyst, led his warriors through a narrow, shadow-engulfed gorge. A trickle of water rattled over rocks on its way to nearby Lake Corruption, the body of water Mother insisted they call the Chalice of Purity. She claimed it was Her birthplace, which meant it was also the site where She had slaughtered Her Parents, the First Mother and First Father, in Their home at the Palace on the Hill.
As far as Shuk was concerned, everything about Lake Corruption stank of desecration. It was a place pregnant with the stench of mildew and sulfur, of despair and despoilment, of loss and murdered hopes. Shuk only hoped that the cleansing ruin he was bringing to Mother's southern breeders would do much to erase such a foul reek.
Perhaps it would, but even if it did nothing more than hinder Mother's villainous schemes, Shuk reckoned it would be worth the cost. He had heard that Li-Chig and Li-Deem had initially been hesitant to follow Li-Shard's grand scheme, but such doubts had never hindered Shuk's thoughts. He had always known that what he was about to do was just and righteous. Devesh demanded that all His servants oppose evil.
“Do you think Chig and Deem will carry out their roles?” asked Li-Trid, the newly elevated SarpanKi.
The previous one, Li-Kord, had been killed several weeks ago in a failed uprising by less faithful Baels.The traitors had been selfishly attached to their own lives, foolishly believing that a longer life was somehow more meaningful. They were too blinded by their own wants and desires to remember that every breath they took was by Devesh's grace and to His honor should every breath they took be purposed.
“I believe they will,” Shuk replied in answer to Trid's question, “but certain knowledge of what they ultimately decided will only come to us on the other side of life.”
“I think they will,” Trid replied with the hearty assuredness of youth.
Shuk grunted, wishing he still had the young SarpanKi's simple certainty. He had fears about what the other SarpanKums of Continent Catalyst might do. They were of lesser faith than Shuk would have liked, but still, Kord, his fallen crèche-brother, had believed that Deem and Chig would carry out their roles.
Just then, a single tear fell from his eyes. Shuk still grieved over Kord's death. It still hurt, akin to a stabbing pain to the heart. Such a terrible loss. So pointless. His crèche-brother's ending shouldn't have come at the hands of a faithless traitor. And maybe with today's actions, Kord's death wouldn't be in vain.
“Li-Dirge, Li-Shard, and Li-Choke,” Trid said, “those are the Baels by which we should measure ourselves. It is how those who follow after us will reckon our standing: as worthy heirs to those great Baels.”
Shuk couldn't fail to notice the hopeful expression in the eyes of his earnest SarpanKi. The expression sparked a smile from the SarpanKum. “Gather the warriors. It is time.”
The day had dawned bright and vibrant. The sun shone, the weather was warm, and the air dry. It was the perfect day to plan the murder of a city.
Lienna soared through the skies, feeling an anticipation and joy that She couldn't ever recall experiencing. Even when approaching Stronghold, knowing that She was about to annihilate a city of Casteless Humans—the very idea of unCasted Humans still left Lienna revolted and feeling dirty—She had not felt this excitement, this tingling, this need to laugh.
The Eastern Plague was almost at the gates of Ashoka. Just another week or so, and they would arrive. Then would come the hammer blows of Her children against the evil walls of evil Ashoka.
“What You intend is evil,” Mother interrupted in Her sibilant whisper.
Lienna mentally rolled her eyes in scorn. “What I do is no more evil than when I threw down Your rule and that of Father's,” Lienna responded. She let no hint of the worry She felt at Father's ongoing absence enter Her voice. Where was Father? Had She really experienced his angry touch outside of Ashoka several weeks ago? It couldn't be. She had seen to His death.
“You murdered Us both,” Mother replied. “How can murder be counted as anything other than evil?”
Lienna wanted to gnash Her figurative teeth. Mother and Father had died two millennia ago. Why couldn't the foolish woman simply accept it and leave Lienna in peace?
“Peace is only owed to those who are peaceful,” Mother said. “You are anything but peaceful. You are wicked and violent, a murderous plague upon this world.”
“Be silent!” Lienna shouted.
There was a blessed but all-too-brief quiet, one that was broken by Mistress Arisa. “Ashoka will fall to You, My avenging angel. You will see Humanity's corruption excised from My bosom.”
Once Mistress' voice would have filled Lienna with love and trepidation, but not anymore. At least not as much. “Yes it will, Mistress,” Lienna replied.
Better to agree with Arisa rather than to argue with her, or worse, ignore Her. That path often led to terrible pain and still left Lienna wondering how a figment of Her imagination could hurt Her so badly.
“After Ashoka, next to fall will be vain Ajax,” Mistress continued.
Lienna held in a sigh. Aj
ax was dead. She had destroyed the city five centuries ago.
She was about to reply, but She felt the sudden death of thousands of Her children. The sensation came from the east, from the vastness of Continent Catalyst. The deaths continued, even the youngest . . .
Her breeders in the northern caverns!
Lienna shouted outraged thunder and roared eastward in a storm of wind and fury. She raced across the Sickle Sea bent on vengeance when She sensed more of Her children dying. More of Her breeders murdered. This time the southern caverns of Continent Catalyst. Lienna faltered and slowed. The Humans had done this. Somehow they must have discovered Her breeding caverns.
Lienna bled outraged lightning.
When the eastern caverns of Continent Ember had been attacked several years ago, She had been unaware of the evil taking place. Madness had held Her in its cruel grip, and, unlike now, Lienna hadn't sensed the murder of Her children. She had been unable to save them, Her breeders, the most innocent creatures in all creation.
But this time was different. This time Lienna was sane and clear-headed. This time the Humans would pay for this treachery! This time Lienna would tear them apart limb from limb. Rend them and scatter their remnants to the four winds. She would crush their cities; peel the skin off their living children in front of their mothers. She would—
With an anguished cry, Lienna crashed to halt. The western caverns of Continent Ember were also under attack.
Within the forests carpeting the hills west of Ashoka, the cool scent of moss and trickling water from a nearby creek struck counterpoint to the trilling of birdsong. Shadows stretched along the ground as the sun set and gloomed the world in gathering, soothing darkness. However, the dimness of the place did little to hide the Fan Lor Kum as they pressed through and amongst the trees. Wherever they went, the soothing sounds of the forest were erased. Taking its place was the mad clapping of wings in flight and small animals scurrying in the undergrowth as they sought to evade the interlopers clattering through their home.
Li-Shard, the SarpanKum of the Eastern Plague of Continent Ember wished he could do the same. He wished he could simply crawl away somewhere and hide from what he knew was coming. It would have been so much easier if others had to make the hard decisions, and not for the first time did he wish that the mantle of leadership had not been his to bear, that someone else could decide what to do about Mother's newfound prowess. She had already destroyed Stronghold, and now Ashoka was in Her sights. And afterward, whatever other city She wished to end would also fall. Such evil could not continue unchallenged.
“The others will do as we've discussed,” Li-Brind said in assurance, standing nearby the SarpanKum.
Shard glanced at the hardbitten SarpanKi in surprise. “Since when did you develop such certainty in the actions of others?”
Brind grinned. “When a young SarpanKum came up with a scheme so mad that it had to be the work of a great fool or someone imbued with Devesh's holiness.” He shrugged. “And when an even younger Vorsan taught a Tigon the meaning of fraternity and both of them earned the friendship of two Humans.”
Shard smiled with the SarpanKi, but his smile quickly faded. “So much rides on the actions of the other SarpanKums. They have to be impeccable in their timing. They have to coordinate their attacks so all the breeders are eliminated in one fell swoop. It has to occur too swiftly for Mother to counter.”
“Despite what She claims, Mother is no Goddess,” Brind said with a snort. “She cannot be everywhere at once. We do not need impeccable timing. We simply have to have the attacks go off at around the same time. Everything else will take care of itself from that point on.”
“I hope you're right,” Li-Shard said softly.
“Have faith,” Brind said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Shard did a double take upon hearing the SarpanKi's words. “Faith? You?” he asked in disbelief.
“Faith,” Li-Brind averred. “Even me.”
Shard studied Brind. The older Bael stared back at him wearing an open, welcoming expression. “When did you find your way back to Devesh?”
“I told you when and why it occurred,” Brind said with a shrug. “Besides, I find that with our likely upcoming deaths, my mind is focused like it never has been before.”
Shard shook his head, wishing he had Brind's equanimity. His heart thudded fear and his stomach churned uncertainty, both sensations resulting from what would happen should his plan actually succeed.
Once he had asked Brind if Humanity would do the same as the Baels if their respective roles had been reversed. The SarpanKi had felt it unlikely. “They don't think as we do,” Brind had said. “There is a gulf of differences that might mean that we don't always understand one another, but they are still our brothers. And brothers sacrifice for one another.”
“Even unto the end with no hope of a future for our race?” Shard had challenged.
“Even then.” Brind had smiled. “Besides, aren't you the one who's always telling me that our lives belong to Devesh—that in the end, He'll take back that which we have been borrowing? If that's true, then doesn't it stand to reason that the same would hold true for our race as a whole?”
At the time, the words had been comforting, but now they no longer retained their prayerful tranquility. For himself, Shard was already prepared to encounter his Creator before the day's ending, but he still feared for the collective future of the rest of his kind.
The SarpanKum turned his attention back to the present when he noticed a frown creasing Brind's face.
“What is it?”
“I just wish we were already at Ashoka,” the SarpanKi said.
Shard nodded. “It's these accursed trees. These forested hills that stretch for weeks of travel from the city.”
“We were to have already rendezvoused with the Shatters that Mother sent from Continent Catalyst, but at the pace we're traveling, they're more likely to be waiting for us at the gates of Ashoka.” Brind snorted in disgust.
“Or perhaps they have been similarly slowed by this same forest,” Shard observed.
The SarpanKi tilted his head in thought. “Maybe so,” he agreed. “The northern approach to Ashoka will be just as hard as ours.”
“Hard or easy, we should reach the city in the next few weeks,” Li-Shard said. “Then all these months—these worries—will be over. It ends today,” he said softly.
“It begins today,” Brind replied just as softly. “When Mother discovers our treachery, Her fury will be something this world has never seen.” The SarpanKi hardbitten though he was, actually shuddered.
The SarpanKum nodded. “At least we can assume that Li-Choke is safe.”
“Why must we assume such a thing?”
“Because if we don't, then everything we're doing somehow seems pointless.”
Brind nodded agreement. “Though we will not see another morning, I am grateful that you helped me recover my faith. It allows me to face this terrible future with hope and acceptance.”
They both stiffened.
Mother was coming. And She was furious.
Li-Boil heard Mother's call, and his heart quailed. She was incandescent with a rage unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was reminiscent of times past when She had been lost in Her insanity but also different. This time, rather than an inchoate anger at anything and everything—a fury born of Her madness—Her wrath now held a cold, cruel quality; a savagery that was focused and disciplined, icy and sharp like a stiletto blade sliding through the ribs. Mother's fury was always frightening to behold, but this—this was terrifying. Boil could tell that whoever had earned Her wrath would pay a terrible price as She seemed bent on exacting slow, methodical vengeance.
And She was racing in their direction.
Boil's knees trembled and his lips quivered. What had Mother so enraged? He did his best to calm himself by focusing on his breathing. He even prayed, searching for his inner quiet. Eventually he was able to control most of his fear, and his k
nees stopped knocking so much.
He looked to Li-Shard, the SarpanKum. He and Li-Brind, the SarpanKi. The two of them whispered to one another, but rather than appearing fearful, they seemed unsurprised, or possibly even relieved. It made no sense, and Li-Boil's gaze tightened in mistrusting speculation. Those two knew something, something related to why Mother was so angry. And whatever it was, it likely wasn't good for the Baels.
Shard and Brind were like too many of the brothers who insisted that Hume's teachings required that the Baels sacrifice themselves for the sake of strangers. In this, they were too much like the infamous Li-Dirge who insisted their kind relinquish everything—up to and including their lives—for the protection of Humanity. Boil believed differently. While he considered himself to be just as religious as any Bael—he prayed daily to Devesh and believed in the truth of fraternity—he wasn't willing to accept that he had to die so someone he had never met should live. He also didn't believe the Baels should suffer and be killed so Humanity could prosper. Where was the justice in such an approach? Boil's vision of fraternity did not require that the Baels should impale themselves on their own tridents for the benefit of those who hated them.
“What do you suppose is happening?” asked Li-Torq.
Boil glanced at the smaller Bael who had come alongside him. Torq was his last living crèche-mate. “I don't know,” Boil answered, “but it looks like Li-Shard and Li-Brind do.”
Torq nodded. “You think they might have betrayed us?”
“Look at their expressions and your question is answered,” Boil replied. “Mother is coming, and I've never felt Her so angry.” He gestured to the SarpanKum and the SarpanKi. “Yet they show no worry. Only acceptance.”