The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  “Give me five months, and I will have the Fan Lor Kum trained for winter combat. They will need it as Craven sits in the northern fastness of the Privation Mountains, a place of perpetual snow.”

  “How will you breech Craven’s walls?”

  “With your help and guidance, Mother. Craven is a mountain fortress with fierce warriors but weak walls.”

  “So you say,” Suwraith replied. “And what of my extra Plagues?”

  “Allow the Fan Lor Kum to feast on Craven’s corpse, and within three years, in a place of safety, I can deliver the extra Plagues you need for Hammer. Were I to attempt to do all such work here, the Shylows would perpetually work to undo all we attempt. Or worse, the Ashokans, or some others, might learn of our presence and somehow sabotage our efforts.”

  Suwraith did not speak, seemingly lost in thought as the wind roared and danced about the shallow bowl of land where the Baels huddled. “Yes. It is a good plan,” She said. “See to it. With your fine leadership, Craven shall easily be felled. And then with several seasons to rebuild the Fan Lor Kum…” Thunder rumbled and Suwraith seemed to smile. It was something in Her voice and the racing clouds. “The trinket will ease our passage, and the Fan Lor Kum will herald My dread arrival as Ashoka is ceased.”

  The Bael might have smiled as well. “Two cities to kill rather than just one.”

  Her words spoken, Suwraith left, taking her shrieking and tearing gale with her as She soared into the heights. With Her absence, a thunderous silence settled over the bowl of land as the grit and dirt slowly fell back to the ground in wispy streams of dust. The Baels remained bent over until the last of Her lightning was no longer visible.

  Several eucalyptus trees had been felled, their limbs denuded, and the sharp tangy smell of lemon pervaded the area.

  Keemo nudged Rukh, nodding toward the Baels, a question in his eyes. “Now,” he mouthed, asking if the Ashokans should attack.

  Rukh shook his head. They were missing something. He didn’t know what it was, but he needed the Baels to talk amongst one another. Perhaps then this nonsensical conversation he’d just heard might make sense. He urged the others to stillness. The Baels were stirring.

  “It was a great risk you took,” one of the Baels said to the general, a larger one and obviously important judging by his feathered horns. “If She were but slightly more sane, She would have seen through your ruse, and we would have all been fodder for the cookpot.”

  Rukh shared another confused glance with the others. What in the unholy hells was going on? The Bael general had lied to the Queen? Why? The Baels couldn’t mean to betray their Mother, could they? It made no sense. Why would they? There was something potentially world changing going on here. He knew it. He could almost taste it. He urged the others to silence.

  One of the other Baels, also important judging by his feathers, laughed. “I had to struggle to contain my laughter when She actually believed your Balant excrement about the ‘fabled city’ of Craven,” he said with a chuckle. “My SarpanKum, you have giant, brass ones. And where did you even come up with that name?”

  “But how could She not know there is no such city as Craven?” one of the younger Baels asked.

  “Has She always been this…” another younger Bael spoke, searching for a word.

  “Crazy,” the chuckling Bael supplied.

  “No. Evil.”

  The large Bael, the one who had initially cautioned the general, was the one who answered. “She is both insane and wicked and so much more,” he said. “The question before us, however, is this: what do we do now?” He turned to the general.

  “We do as I told Mother: we train for a winter campaign.”

  “Against a non-existent city?”

  The general smiled. “Yes. And once we’re in the mountains, marching on this non-existent city, we destroy the Plague,” he said it as matter-of-factly as Rukh would have mentioned taking a walk through Jubilee Hills, as if the decision had already been made. “I understand avalanches are prevalent in the high mountain reaches.”

  “But, we would die as well,” a younger Bael said hesitantly.

  “Yes we would. Many of our brothers will perish,” the large Bael said. “But it is a price worth paying. I, for one, will not have the death of Ashoka on my conscience. Not while I can act to prevent it.”

  The general nodded. “All of us will die at some point. It is a fact. We are not like Mother Lienna: unnatural and immortal. We are warriors in an army of evil, and our Queen thinks us slaves to do Her bidding. But we are not. Hume taught us what it means to be free. While She can end our lives, we do not have to live those lives in bondage to Her fears and insanity. We can choose who and what we will be. It was bad enough we had to destroy the caravan, but what She demands now…it is too much. Every SarpanKum since Hume Telrest first came to us and taught us of honor and our shared brotherhood has found a means to confound Mother’s will.” He searched around him, forcing all of the other Baels to meet his eyes. “I will not be the weak link who fails our unbroken chain of honor. We will yet redeem the Bael. I say it would be better to slit our wrists right here and now rather than raise tridents and chains against Ashoka.”

  “And the Humans…you are certain they are worth this?” one of the younger Baels asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Yes. They are our brothers though they know it not,” the high-ranking Bael who had been laughing said with a nod. “It is as Hume taught us: all who can reason must be counted as our brothers.”

  Many things Rukh might have expected to hear coming from the mouths of the Baels, but this was most definitely not one of them. He sat back in shock. The other Ashokans looked as stunned as he felt. It had to be some kind of trick. A lie. The Baels actively disobeyed Suwraith and hated Her? Impossible. And this talk of Hume…had he really gone to the Baels and taught them of honor, of devotion and brotherhood? He didn’t believe it. Hume was the greatest of Kummas. He could never have felt kinship with the Baels. The very idea was sickening.

  But then why had the Baels said all that they had? What was the point? The Ashokans were hidden, and no one knew they were here, listening in on the private conversations of the Chimera commanders. So, what did the Baels have to gain by speaking like this? At no time in Ashoka’s long history of war with the Fan Lor Kum had the possibility of peace with the Chimeras ever been considered. Two thousand years of history didn’t allow for it. The Baels were Humanity’s enemy. They had no soul for compassion. They had amply demonstrated this simple fact over and over again.

  Rukh growled in frustration. What to believe: a lifetime of learning, or this one strange and absurd conversation? And there the Baels still stood. Even now they continued to plan the most effective means of destroying Suwraith’s Plague, the very one intended to help annihilate Ashoka.

  Rukh shook his head, uncertain what to think.

  “It has to be a trick,” Farn whispered fiercely. “They can’t mean what they’re saying.”

  Brand clamped a hand over Farn’s mouth, flicking his eyes at Farn’s shadow, briefly visible for a moment in the bright moonlight.

  Rukh held his breath and tensed. The general had looked their way. Was the Bael aware of their presence? Things might get very interesting in a bad way if the horned beast knew of the Ashokans. A moment later, Rukh let out a relieved breath. The Bael commander was issuing orders and didn’t spare another glance in their direction.

  “Take the Tigons and Braids back to the army,” the general said.

  “And what of you?” the large Bael asked.

  “I need a moment for prayer. Some silence away from the encampment.”

  “Do not stay too long out here by yourself, brother,” the large Bael said, placing his hand on the general’s shoulder. “The Hunters Flats is not a safe place for our kind.”

  “Is there anywhere in this world that is?” the general asked with a smile. At the larger Bael’s frown, he relented. “I will be back shortly,” he promised. “You’ll s
ee me within the hour.”

  The large Bael nodded, clapping the general on the shoulder. “I will hold you to keep your promise,” he said.

  Rukh held himself still as a statue as the Baels moved past the four of them. He poured concentration into his Blend, willing himself to fade into the grass beneath him, the rocks and stones around him, and the night sky above him. He sensed the others also focusing their Blends, holding preternaturally still. Thankfully, all of them were supplemented by Brand’s greater skill.

  Now would be the time to strike. The general was alone. They could kill the head of the Fan Lor Kum with a single Fireball. But would it be the right thing to do? Rukh couldn’t believe he even had to ask. A half hour ago the question would not have even occurred to him. But now he was plagued by a haunting possibility: were the Baels really his enemy? The rest of the Fan Lor Kum, certainly, but the horned commanders…maybe not.

  Farn signaled him, pointing to where the other Baels were swiftly departing. They were almost out of view. He gestured urgently toward the general, who knelt in the grass with his eyes closed and face raised to the sky.

  “We’ll never get a better chance,” Farn whispered into Rukh’s ear.

  Rukh nodded. Farn was right. He raised his hand, readying a Fireball.

  “How in all the unholy hells do they know about us?” Jessira Grey asked, shocked by what the Baels and Suwraith had just discussed. She shook her head; still having trouble believing the Queen Bitch Herself had been here.

  She and her brothers, Lure and Cedar, hunched down behind a large hummock of grass and dirt. It was not the best cover, but it had to do. There were some boulders on the far side of the bowl which would have served better, but there was no way to reach them without the risk of being spotted. And then the Queen had come, and all thoughts of edging closer to the Baels had been thrust aside. At that point, all she and her brothers cared about was simple survival.

  While Suwraith spoke to Her Chimera pets, the three of them had spent the time huddled behind their hummock. It seemed quite small during Her fell presence, but either their prayers to Devesh must have worked, or their Blends had been good enough. Whatever the reason, Suwraith had not seen them for which they were grateful. With her departure, the dirt She had thrown into the air had slowly settled, covering the three of them in a film of gritty dust. The Sorrow Bringer had torn apart a nearby acacia tree, and a floral, orange smell permeated the air.

  “Maybe it’s a trick,” Lure whispered.

  “Some trick,” Cedar replied with a scoff. “Somehow, they’ve learned of Stronghold, even if they have the name wrong, and think we’re allied to Ashoka.”

  “Our people have to learn of this,” Jessira said, her voice grim. “We’ve tracked the Chims long enough already. It’s time to head home and report.”

  Lure nodded. “Jessira is right.”

  “I agree,” Cedar said. “We’ll head out, link up with cousin Court and hustle home.”

  Jessira shook her head. “I’d still like to know how they learned of us. After the attack on that Ashokan caravan, I thought for sure they’d head straight for Ashoka?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lure said, his lips curled in a snarl. “How or what…they know. And they’re coming.”

  “A full Plague,” Jessira said, fear making a hollow pit in her stomach. “I doubt if even the Purebloods could handle that many.”

  “They could,” Cedar replied. He sounded certain, although Jessira had her doubts. “They have a proper Oasis, remember?”

  “What are they going on about now?” Jessira asked. The Baels were having a discussion, and since the general was no longer shouting, she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She would have loved to listen in on their conversation. Maybe it had to do with training schedules and troop deployments or something along those lines. Even the smallest scrap of information could be of use. Jessira hissed in annoyance. “I need to get closer.”

  “There’s no cover,” Cedar warned. “You’d be found out in a heartbeat.”

  Jessira grinned. “I’m pretty damned good at Blending, lieutenant. Better than you two, anyhow,” she said with false bravado, hoping her fear didn’t show. “I can sit at the Bael’s feet and play the pipes if I wanted.”

  Cedar poked his head over the hummock of grass and studied the Baels clustered no more than fifty feet from their huddled position. He looked at her with pursed lips before studying the Baels one more time. He turned to her. “Do it,” he ordered.

  “Linked Blends are more effective then a single Blend,” Lure warned. “You sure you’re up for doing this? We won’t be able to see you or know what you’re doing if you end up needing help.”

  Jessira nodded in understanding. By forming a Link, the three of them could combine their Blends and make them stronger. It was a skill she heard the Murans and Rahails didn’t always bother with given their reputed ability to Blend so effectively on their own. She snorted. Right. Everything a Pureblood could do was always supposed to be better than what her own people could accomplish. She didn’t believe it. The Purebloods weren’t better than her people.

  At any rate, without the Link, she would be on her own. She would be vulnerable. She knew it, and so did her brothers, but the risk was worth it. Stronghold needed the information.

  She unstrapped her bow and quiver, setting them aside. She kept her sword and brace of knives before easing her way from behind the hummock of grass. She belly crawled across the ground. The heaped up pile of stones and boulders on the far side of the shallow vale was her target. If she could get to the rocks, she should be able to listen in to what the Baels were talking about. Fear had her tight and tense. The muscles in her shoulders and back began to cramp. She briefly paused to work out the stiffness, breathing out as much of her trepidation as she could. She moved forward again, slowly and carefully, holding to whatever minimal shade she could find and staying as downwind as possible of the Baels. Her Blend was good, but all it would take would be the slightest loss in concentration and the red-eyed bastards would have her. She silently mouthed a prayer to Devesh as she edged closer.

  Soon enough, she was able to hear bits and pieces of their conversation. Just snippets here and there, but nothing she could really understand. The words grew clearer as she slithered closer. What she heard nearly caused her to gasp in disbelief.

  The Baels knew nothing of her city. Their general had fabricated the entire story, spinning a load of lies to his Mother; which explained his use of the name Craven. And Suwraith had been none the wiser. Jessira frowned. How could the Queen not know when she was being lied to by Her own creations?

  Jessira’s brow furrowed in further bewilderment. What was this about Hume? Everyone honored the man; even her own people who wanted as little to do with anything Pureblood as possible. Hume was the one exception. Beyond his status as the greatest warrior in Arisan history, Hume Telrest had also been openhearted enough to love and accept Jessira’s kind, which was much more important as far as Jessira was concerned. Had his charity been great enough to extend to the Baels? Jessira grimaced. It’s what the Baels were saying, but she thought it more likely to be some devious Chimera trick. It was simply too good to be true, which meant she would believe a horse could stand and talk before she trusted a word from the black-horned bastards. The Baels had hunted Humanity across all corners of Arisa for over six hundred years. To have them suddenly voice honor to Hume and profess brotherhood with their foes was a leap well past believability. It was insane.

  Jessira crept closer to the boulders. She couldn’t be hearing right. The Bael general was saying something about decimating his army within the icy spires of the Privations. Now that was definitely too good to be true. She inched further. She was only about twenty feet from the boulders when the Baels began moving out, their meeting apparently ended.

  Jessira’s heart hit her throat, and her eyes widened in sudden panic. Suwraith’s spit! They were coming her way. She sidled as quickly as she dare
d to the edge of their path and prayed for safety. She prayed to Devesh and to his greatest servants, the First Mother and First Father. She knew one day They would come again and walk the hills of Arisa, and when They did, They would end Suwraith’s tyranny and the evil of Casteism. Right now, none of that mattered. All she prayed for was Their protection.

  Focused and fearful, she eyed the line of Baels as more than two score of the red-eyed beasts walked by, some close enough for her to reach out and touch. She held her breath as they strode away, only letting it out, slowly, silently, after they had passed from view. The general had remained behind. Maybe he had something more to do? And maybe she and her brothers could take him out. She glanced to the rocks. Almost there. She crouched on the balls of her feet and made her way toward them.

  She smiled in relief as she approached. Only a few feet more, and she could unBlend and signal her brothers. She realized her mistake an instant too late.

  Her eyes widened in shock as a Blend, deeper and richer than any she had ever encountered suddenly Linked with her own.

  At the same time, a hand clamped across her mouth, muffling any noise. A voice whispered in her ear. “Be silent,” it ordered. She was held in a grip of iron.

  She twisted and saw him. He was Kumma, and he had three companions. Two other Kummas and a Rahail. All of them were holding Blends. Impossible.

  First Father! What had she fallen into?

  Strike with merciless swiftness and ensure your survival. Or hold your blow and learn wisdom...or a fool’s death.

  ~Kumma aphorism

  Rukh’s grip loosened as he stared in puzzlement at the girl he was holding. Who was she, and what was she doing alone out here? She was equipped like a warrior, wearing camouflaged clothing and even had a short sword and a brace of knives strapped to her waist. He looked closer, and his confusion deepened. She had the emerald eyes of a Muran, the honey-brown hair of a Rahail, and the delicate features and red-golden skin of a Cherid. She was like no woman he had ever seen before.