The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  After several weeks of waiting for him to reappear, Rukh had finally exited his city. But to Aia’s consternation, she discovered him traveling with many glarings of his fellows. It hadn’t been easy to sneak into his camp, surrounded as he was by so many of his kind. She’d managed it, and Rukh had quite properly scratched her chin as reward for her achievement.

  She smiled in remembrance.

  At the time, Aia had been feeling quite generous, so when her Human had asked her for an odd request, she had agreed. He needed her help in saving the horned Nobeasts. Aia had honored his appeal because it was so unusual. He cared for the creatures he admitted had plagued his kind for generations. But somehow, he had forgiven them.

  How odd.

  Her nanna, Kezin Blenze, had acceded to her Human’s request, stating there was no real harm in allowing a few horned Nobeasts, the Baels, to roam the Flats. And if they proved troublesome, they could be killed whenever the Kesarins chose.

  By the time Aia had accomplished Rukh’s request and had seen the Baels safely settled in Hungrove lands, her Human had made his way back to his ant colony home. There, he had inexplicably turned away from the place and taken a northwestern direction, heading into the high country. And at no time had he waited for Aia to catch up. He had pressed on, moving rapidly until he had journeyed beyond her reach. He was already deep in the heart of the icy mountains, a place Aia couldn’t follow.

  It was so thoughtless of him, selfish really. Aia’s ears flattened and her eyes narrowed. Her tail switched once more. Did her Human not realize how much she enjoyed when he scratched her chin or spoke to her with his languid, honeycomb thoughts?

  She snarled her frustration, but there was nothing to it. If she sought Rukh now, she’d simply freeze her life away in the wretched mountains. With a heavy exhalation, Aia realized that she’d have to head south, back to the Land, and wait out the cold season in the Hungrove territories. But once the world warmed again, Aia was determined to journey north, even deep into the mountains if necessary. Then, she would reclaim her Human.

  With the founding of Stronghold, we stepped past the tired and outdated Castes with their stifling society built on the falsehood of separation. We built a city based on fraternity.

  ~Our Lives Together by Col Meander, AF 1923

  Jessira woke up to find her eyelashes sticking to her face. Overnight, the weather had turned frigid, and frost rimmed the surrounding brush and grass. With an irritated scowl, she sat up and rubbed the sleep from of her eyes. Last night, they had stopped just after sunset, making camp in a box canyon at the base of a red sandstone mesa. It rose before her, sheer and upright, glittering diamond-like sparkles when the first rays of the sun glanced off of slender shards of blue-hued ice. Similar cliffs surrounded them on all sides, except to the west where the Privation Mountains towered. A harsh breeze gusted, and she clutched her bedroll tightly around herself until it passed. The wind also carried the stirring smell of something delicious, and she looked to the campfire. Rukh had made fresh coffee and was also grilling some kind of meat.

  He bent over near the fire; his back turned as he did something with his hands. He stood and walked toward her. “Here.” He offered a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you,” Jessira said gratefully. During her time in Ashoka, she had learned to love the bitter taste of coffee. With a little sugar and milk, it was heavenly. There was nothing better to start the day and get a person going.

  It was too bad the bushes from which the beans sprouted wouldn’t grow well in Stronghold’s high elevation and cool weather. At least, that’s what Jessira figured. She’d have to check on it when she got home. Of course, Rukh’s nanna had supplied them with plenty of coffee beans, but once it was all used up, there wouldn’t be anymore. Then she’d find herself greatly missing her morning delight.

  She hid a smile at the thought. There was something else people labeled as being a ‘morning delight’.

  “What is it?” Rukh asked, picking up on her amusement.

  “Nothing,’ Jessira said. She took a grateful sip of her coffee and sighed in relief, feeling its warmth spreading through her. “What are you cooking?” she asked.

  “Rabbit. Caught a couple in a trap I set out last night.”

  “Do you need me to take over?”

  “I’m not going to burn them,” Rukh said, sounding offended.

  “Much. You won’t burn them much,” Jessira said, smiling again over the lip of her cup. “But if you think you can handle it on your own, I’ll leave you to it.” Times past, she might have patted him patronizingly on the cheek just to irritate him. Not now. Touching him, even fleetingly, would have been far too familiar. While they’d overcome much of their reserve from that first week on the road, they still had a ways to go before they were truly comfortable around each other once again.

  “I’ll be fine,” Rukh said. “Anyway, enjoy your coffee. Breakfast should be ready in a bit.” He gave her a half-smile. “Your part will be the one that’s scorched.”

  Jessira couldn’t see it, but she could sense Rukh’s grin as he walked back to the fire. He was obviously pleased with his quip.

  Eventually, the coffee warmed her up, and she kicked out of the bedroll and slipped on her boots. The air bit as another gust blew through the canyon. She tried to ignore the icy wind even as she shivered. Ashoka had spoiled her. Stronghold’s weather was much colder and harsher than this. Back home, people would have considered this a fine spring day.

  Jessira stood and looked toward the Privation Mountains. They were no more than a few days journey away, but once there, travel would become much more difficult. So far, she and Rukh had done well. They were three weeks out from Ashoka, and Jessira figured they’d covered five hundred miles, but it would be the next seven hundred—three hundred as the eagle flew—which would be much harder. She’d be happy if they managed to make it home sometime in the next six weeks, but she figured it more likely to be seven or eight with the snows, the rocky spines, and the twisting passes of the Privations to slow their progress.

  And of course, there was the problem in figuring out the best means to reach Stronghold from their current position. They needed to start heading north soon, but when? Dar’El had supplied them with the best maps he could of the foothills surrounding Ashoka as well as the Privation Mountains, but the details were sadly lacking. The last thing they needed was to take a blind pass and have it end at sheer bluff. Jessira would be more confident once they were further west and north. There, the mountains would be more familiar.

  Until then they would have to do the best they could and hope they didn’t guess wrong too many times.

  Her stomach growled. Time to see if those rabbits were edible.

  “Do you mind eating as we ride?” Rukh asked when she wandered over to the fire.

  “No,” she answered. “Do you mind if I spit out the burned parts?”

  Rukh pointed to the seared rabbit meat in the pan. “You won’t need to,” he said, appearing insufferably smug. He had just pulled the skillet off the fire, and the meat looked perfectly done.

  Jessira was impressed. “Not bad,” she said. “Maybe you’ll figure out this cooking thing after all.”

  Soon after, they broke camp and mounted up, eating as they rode.

  “Tell me about Stronghold,” Rukh said around bites of his breakfast.

  “What do you want to know?” Jessira asked, wiping away a line of grease as it dribbled down her chin. The problem with rabbits: add too much fat to the skillet, and it made for messy eating.

  “Everything, I guess,” Rukh replied. “If it’s going to be my home, I should probably know everything you can tell me about the people, the history, the government, where everyone lives—all of it.”

  Jessira laughed. “It’ll make for pretty dry conversation this early in the morning, don’t you think?” she asked. “You sure there’s nothing else you want to talk about?”

  “Maybe dry to you, but it’s all new to me.” Ru
kh shrugged. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jessira gave him a considering look. Maybe he was finally coming to accept what had happened to him. If so, she was glad. Ever since he’d learned of his banishment, he’d trudged along in mute sorrow as they journeyed west. It had hurt to see him in so much pain, and now…perhaps his curiosity meant he was starting to come back to life.

  She kept her thoughts to herself, though. Rukh could be as prickly as a cactus whenever she tried to express sympathy or compassion for his situation. She gave him a carefree shrug of her shoulders. “Suit yourself. But don’t blame me if I put you to sleep,” Jessira said. “Our city was founded in AF 1753 by fifty-five survivors of Hammer’s Fall. They were a small group of Sentyas, Duriahs, Cherids, Shiyens, Murans, and Rahails.”

  “But no Kummas?” Rukh asked.

  “No Kummas,” Jessira affirmed. “Hume saved them, holding back a Fracture of Chimeras by himself. We thought he had died in the defense of our ancestors, but apparently not if the Baels are to be believed.”

  “They were telling the truth,” Rukh said. “They weren’t lying about the caverns, were they?”

  Jessira gave a moue of distaste. She still didn’t like acknowledging that the Baels were secretly allied with Humanity. There was too much bloody history between the two species to so easily accept friendship with the leaders of the Fan Lor Kum.

  “Anyway, we honor Hume because of his sacrifice. Our stories also tell of how Hume urged the Fifty-Five to look past Casteism and become one people if they wished to survive. His words were the inspiration for the OutCastes.” Jessira privately doubted Hume had said any such thing, but the man had defended her ancestors against impossible odds. The fact that he had survived what should have been a glorious sacrifice didn’t take anything away from what he had done for her people.

  “It’s why you hold a tournament in his name?” Rukh guessed.

  “It’s why we hold a tournament,” Jessira said. “You’re part of our story now, too. And we call it the Trials of Hume, remember?”

  Rukh grimaced. “I guess I should get used to saying ‘we’ when referring to the OutCastes, shouldn’t I?”

  Jessira nodded, wanting to give him some kind of reassurance. Things were bleak for him, but his life could still be a good one. She sent a prayer on Rukh’s behalf to Devesh, the First Father, the First Mother—anyone who was listening.

  “What else?” Rukh asked.

  “The city is built within a series of caverns inside a mountain, Mount Fort. Two rivers drain the surrounding peaks into Teardrop Lake, which forms the southern border of a valley where we do all our farming. From the Croft—the farmland—Teardrop empties into an underground river running beneath Mount Fort. It’s where we get most of our fresh water. The river eventually joins with the Gaunt and from there, on down to Ashoka.”

  “These caves,” Rukh asked. “What are they like?” He looked and sounded worried.

  Jessira smiled. Rukh probably thought her people lived in some nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with ends of worms and an oozy smell. “Don’t worry, Stronghold is nothing like what you’re probably imagining,” Jessira said. “It’s a civilized place.” At his still unsure expression, she laughed. “You’ll have to see it to understand what I mean.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “What else should I tell you?” she mused, speaking more to herself than him. She snapped her fingers. “Government.” At Rukh’s nod, she continued. “Each Crofthold—the ten main caverns—elects a five-member Home Council. The councilors in turn elect a senator, one for each Crofthold. They serve in the Home Senate and basically decide who should farm the Croft when a field becomes available.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Croft is held as a trust by the entire city. No one owns the fields they farm. People work their plots based on the consent and advice of the Senate, and if they don’t do a good job, the land is turned over to someone who might do better. As for the individual Croftholds, those are run by their Senator and Home Council. So long as it doesn’t impact the entire city, they’re pretty independent when it comes to what they’re allowed to do. And overseeing all of it is the Governor-General. He’s elected during a citywide election every five years. He’s also in charge of the Home Army. Beyond that everyone else is either a laborer, farmer, or craftsmen of some sort.”

  “Like a plumber?” Rukh asked with a quirk of his lips.

  “Like a plumber,” Jessira said, not sure why Rukh found Disbar’s trade to be so humorous.

  “And what will I do there?” Rukh asked. “All I know is how to be a warrior.”

  “I’m sure you could join the Home Army,” Jessira said, although she wasn’t nearly as sure of the possibility as she was letting on.

  Rukh had the skill for the Home Army—more than any warrior she had ever met in fact—but skill alone wouldn’t be enough. Competition to get into the Army was fierce. It was often the only means by which someone who was poor could attain a higher station in life. Those who served for twenty-five years were automatically entitled to farm a full acre of land, and farmers were the wealthiest members of Stronghold. No one would want to lose their place to an outsider.

  Jessira frowned. Until now, she hadn’t actually considered what Rukh would do with the rest of his life. Getting home to Stronghold had been her only priority. Now she was faced with sudden worry for his future. If her own bigotry toward Purebloods was anything to go by, Rukh’s time in Stronghold would be hard; but once everyone got to know him, she was sure her people would accept him.

  But what if they didn’t? What if Stronghold treated him poorly? The OutCastes wouldn’t turn him out, but that wasn’t the same as welcoming him. What would Rukh do then?

  She shied away from those thoughts. Her people would just have to accept him.

  But if they didn’t? her pessimistic side continued to pester.

  She had no answer.

  Two weeks into the Privation Mountains found Rukh and Jessira journeying along the flat, dull terrain of a high mountain prairie. They were surrounded on all sides by white-peaked mountains and a dismal ceiling of gray clouds hiding the early afternoon sun. The wind blew in blustery waves, cutting through their coats and clothes. Scrubby buffalo grass stretched as far as the eye could see except for the occasional ash and cottonwood. Prairie dogs—the duller ones anyway—poked their heads out now and again. They’d do best to lay low. Hungry packs of wolves ranged the mountains, as did coyotes and foxes. Elk and moose were about as well, but they wouldn’t be as easy to bring down as a young, dumb prairie dog.

  “We’re being stalked,” Jessira said. “A nest of Ur-Fels.”

  “Where?” Rukh asked. His head swiveled about, searching out the Chimeras even as he loosened his sword in its scabbard. While he hadn’t seen anything, he trusted Jessira’s instincts. She had far more experience surviving out here than he did. While he had done plenty of scouting during the expedition to exterminate the Chimera breeding caverns, this was the Privation Mountains, the place where Jessira had grown up. This was where she had learned to hunt, where she’d learned to hide, and master the subtleties of scouting. She was in her element here.

  “About a half-mile or so behind us,” Jessira answered. “They probably ran across our tracks and realized the prints they were looking at were shod hooves. Bad luck. It’s why Stronghold doesn’t use horses much.”

  Rukh glanced back along the length of their trail. Stretching out into the distance, as far as he could see, was an unbroken path of muddy hoof prints in melting snow and ice. They had just experienced their first snowfall two nights ago. It hadn’t been heavy, but it had slowed them down. And apparently, it had also allowed some lucky nest of Ur-Fels to find their tracks.

  Of course, whether it was good luck was another question. The Ur-Fels might curse their fortune if they actually caught up to Rukh and Jessira. He knew the two of them could take a single nest without any problem. Rukh had been worn out and dr
ained when Jessira had found him a few days short of Ashoka—Healing day and night with no rest for weeks on end would do that to a person—but now, despite the hard travels of the past five weeks, Rukh was feeling fit and strong once again. The Ur-Fels would pose no challenge.

  But it would be better if they could just avoid the fragging nest.

  “Do you have any ideas on how we can lose them?” Rukh asked.

  “No matter where we go, we’re going to leave a trail bright as day and easy enough for them to follow,” Jessira said with a frown. “We might as well shout out where we’re going from the top of the hills.”

  “Can we outrun them?”

  “I doubt it. Ur-Fels were bred from foxes. They can run through this muck faster than any horse. They’ll be on us within the hour.”

  “Then we need to find a place to ambush them,” Rukh said.

  They cast about, looking for an ideal spot from which to launch their attack.

  “What about those rocks up there?” Jessira said, pointing toward a cluster of monoliths a hundred yards to the north and on the crest of a small rise. The stones were like jagged shards of crystals, splintered and spilled all around. “If we circle around them, we can hide and take out the Ur-Fels before they even know we’re there.”

  Rukh studied the terrain with pursed lips before finally nodding agreement. It should work.

  Jessira led the way past a rock-strewn gully where a wash of water had collected from the surrounding heights before spilling down to the east. The horses clambered and slipped over the piles of rubble and boulders. But, finally, they turned the corner of a particularly large monolith, and Jessira called a halt. From here, they were invisible to anyone following their trail.