The Castes and the OutCastes: The Complete Trilogy

by Davis Ashura

  “It’s not how we were taught,” a Shadowcat muttered.

  Rukh recognized the warrior. He had been present when Rukh had first entered Stronghold. Tire Cloud was his name. Brother to Wheel Cloud, twice Champion of the Trials of Hume, and the man Rukh had defeated to take the title. “You think I was victorious because I’m faster than the warriors here?” Rukh guessed.

  Tire thrust out his chin. “Of course that’s why,” the young warrior replied. “Even with a Constrainer, your speed was your advantage. If you fought with skill alone and didn’t tap your Jivatma, how good would you be then?” he challenged.

  “Ready your shoke,” Rukh said. “We’ll find out.”

  His words drew a buzz of anticipation from the gathered warriors, who began wagering amongst themselves. All of them seemed to be betting on how many strokes it would take for Rukh to defeat Tire. No one was wagering on the opposite occurring.

  Tire had initially worn a look of anticipation as he stepped forward, but as he heard the laughter and wagering from those around him, his face fell into a sour grimace. “What an idiot,” Sign Deep said, loud enough for everyone to hear and further humiliating the young Strongholder.

  Rukh felt a spike of sympathy for the Shadowcat. No one deserved to be shamed in front of their peers like that. Still, he couldn’t take it easy on Tire. The Strongholder would know and would resent the condescension even more than he would the laughter thrown his way by the gathered warriors.

  Cedar stepped forward. “On my word,” he said. He gave Tire a quick, assessing glance before turning away with a shake of his head.

  Rukh studied his opponent, looking for balance and angle of the shoke.

  “Begin,” Cedar said.

  A blocked slash and a hard kick to the gut, and Tire was down. Rukh hadn’t even moved from his stance.

  Tire lay on the ground and gasped for breath. The kick had knocked the wind out of him.

  “I didn’t use Jivatma,” Rukh said. “All I needed was knowledge.” He looked the watching warriors in the eyes. “Knowledge and will are the keys to victory in any situation.”

  “Again,” Tire said once he had his breath back.

  “Later,” Rukh promised. He reached down and helped Tire back to his feet. “We need to finish up here first.”

  He was about to lead the Silversuns and the Shadowcats through another series of lessons, but from the corner of his eye, he caught movement. To the southeast, trivial as a dust mote but coming their way, a bruise-colored cloud raced the wind.

  Rukh’s heart clenched.

  Jessira followed his gaze, and the color drained from her face. “Devesh save us,” she whispered.

  The other warriors noticed their fear, but when they followed Rukh and Jessira’s gaze, all they saw was a cloud. They turned to one another in confusion.

  “We have to get back to the city,” Rukh said. “Warn them. If you have a place to hide or a way to evacuate Stronghold, we have to do it. Now!”

  “It’s just a cloud,” Tire said, confused.

  Sign was amongst the first to realize what approached. “Devesh save us. It’s the Queen. The Sorrow Bringer.”

  Lienna surged forward, Her goal was in sight: a large valley, plowed and planted with straight rows of cabbage, wheat, carrots, and barley. Once, She would have taken delight in the growing of crops, but now She saw them for what they truly were: a blight upon the skin of Arisa. The plants and vegetables Humanity used to feed themselves had to be expunged. And this time, Lienna had brought something with Her, something She had never before conceived of using.

  And it was all because Her mind was finally clear.

  Mother and Father might still mutter now and again, but Their utterances were tolerable. They would always be there—a residual effect of the Withering Blade, which had trapped Their minds—Mother’s more than Father’s—within the recesses of Lienna’s consciousness. But at least Mistress Arisa was gone. Silenced forever.

  As for the valley of crops…Lienna smiled. She would smite this infestation and cleanse the land altogether with a sandstorm.

  Lienna aimed for the fields, unleashing a scouring tornado wind of shredding sand. All the trees and plants were ripped apart and the soil denuded. Lienna scrubbed the very stones and ground to mirror smoothness.

  Jessira dropped her shoke and anything else that might slow her down. Nothing mattered but alerting Stronghold. The Queen would arrive in minutes. Rukh was already far down the trail, a distant figure outstripping all of them.

  A howling wind, full of biting dust and debris, shrieked overhead. Jessira glanced up, her mouth dry with fear.

  The Sorrow Bringer.

  Jessira stumbled to a halt and watched in horror as Suwraith launched Herself at the Croft. The Queen smashed into the ground, raising a dust cloud that soared skyward. It took on the same mushroom shape as when Suwraith had crunched into the pond, the night Rukh had read The Book of First Movement. Seconds later, a dull roar washed over her, building in intensity until it was a howling wail. The Sorrow Bringer traversed the Croft, stripping the ground bare and wrecking the work of generations. In Her wake, She left behind a glassy sheen. The Queen had transformed fertile fields into a dead, crystalline desert.

  “Move!” Cedar shouted. “We still have to warn Stronghold.”

  “There’s no time,” a warrior said. “She’ll be on us in minutes.”

  “For all we know, She’s only discovered the Croft and nothing else,” Cedar replied. “We still have to warn Stronghold.”

  Jessira was no longer listening. She raced off. Need burned within her. Her family—her parents, her brother, Kart—all of them were trapped deep inside the bulk of Mount Fort. She had to try to reach them.

  She ran on, heedless of the risks as she piled on the speed. Time slipped away and she cursed how long it was taking to reach the trail’s head. Finally, the ground leveled out where the bases of Mounts Fort and Frame blended into the broad valley of Teardrop Lake and the Croft. Not much further to the East Gate.

  Before she could enter the narrow cleft leading to the Gate, Rukh stopped her, clutching her arms and spinning her around so she was facing him. She hadn’t even noticed him until just now. “I’ve already warned them,” he said. “They’re coming. But we have to get clear of the area before the Queen arrives.”

  Jessira tugged herself free of Rukh’s hold. “My family….” She managed three steps before Rukh grabbed hold of her again and held her back.

  “You can’t,” he said. “You’ll only make it harder on anyone trying to get out.” His face held a look of heartbreak and resolve.

  Jessira tugged her arm free of his grip. “They’re my family,” she cried.

  “So are Cedar, Court, and Sign,” Rukh answered. “So am I,” he added. “If you go inside, you’ll be lost to us forever.”

  Jessira blinked as she took in his words, hating that he was right. She screamed, a raw animal cry of rage, frustration, and fear.

  The rest of the Silversuns and Shadowcats arrived.

  “I’ve already warned them,” Rukh said before the others entered the cleft. “We should see evacuees coming out any moment.”

  Cedar breathed heavily, panting, but it seemed more likely from emotion than from the run down the mountain. He took a hesitant step forward. “My wife? My family?”

  “It’s all in Devesh’s hands now,” Jessira heard herself say.

  “Then we’re all doomed,” a warrior muttered.

  “Clear the area,” Rukh said. “Once they come out, we have to lead them to shelter.”

  Cedar shuddered and he turned away from Stronghold. “We’ll head back up the trail,” he said, his voice throbbing with suppressed passion. “There’s a rallying point no more than a couple miles on the far side of the field we were using.”

  “It’s part of a series of caves we prepared in case something like this ever happened,” Jessira explained after seeing Rukh’s confusion.

  A number of women and ch
ildren as well as some warriors were making their way through the cleft—a throng, thick and filling the passageway from side-to-side. They were packed in so tight, it was hard for them to make headway. The crowd moved with sluggish speed. Most of them wouldn’t make it if the Queen was already heading their way.

  “Move it!” Jessira screamed.

  “Cedar!” a woman cried out. It was Laya.

  Cedar’s face cleared into a look of joy and amazement. “Laya!”

  “Hurry!” Rukh shouted. “She’s coming.” He pointed. High in the air, south of them and rapidly heading their way, came the Queen.

  Cedar turned to Sign. “Take command of the Shadowcats. Lead our people to safety. Protect them! Chims are likely in the heights.”

  Sign nodded and with a gesture, she gathered the Shadowcats around her. She led a contingent of folk from Stronghold, the straggling few who had finally managed to exit the cleft.

  Cedar turned to Jessira and Court. “We’ll stay behind as long as we can; help get out as many as possible.”

  Jessira knew he would wait until the very end for Laya. Where was she? Jessira scanned the onrushing crowd, which was finally picking up speed. There! Still many yards deep within the passage.

  Jessira startled as Rukh launched himself skyward. He landed on an outcropping fifteen feet deep into the cleft and a dozen feet above the crowd before taking off again. He hurdled his way down the throat of the passage, jumping from one spot to another, high above the streaming horde.

  “Holy Devesh,” Court murmured in awe.

  Jessira didn’t answer. Her attention was entirely on Rukh. She knew in any other time, she would have been awed by what he was doing: his balance, his grace, his power. Right now she was too afraid to do anything other than pray for him to hurry with whatever he had planned. She glanced skyward and her heart clenched. The Sorrow Bringer was nearly upon them. “Hurry, Rukh,” she whispered.

  Rukh landed beside Laya. Without missing a beat, he grabbed her up and hurled himself back in the air. He made his way back through the cleft, bypassing the struggling, seething mass of people below.

  Cedar’s fists were clenched tight as he wore a look of desperate hope on his face.

  Seconds later, Rukh landed beside them. He set Laya on her feet before almost falling to the ground himself, gasping for breath. Jessira reached for him, holding him up. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “We need to get moving,” Court said, propping Rukh up from the other side.

  Jessira glanced up the trail. The Silversuns were urging their fellow Strongholders to greater speed. But as one, they stumbled to an uncertain halt. Many of them pointed to the sky and screamed in terror as Suwraith circled in a tight spiral. At any moment, She would attack the East Gate.

  “Run!” Cedar shouted, getting them moving. Rukh shook himself free of Jessira and Court, staggering toward the path.

  Jessira watched him, ready to help if needed. As strong as he was, she knew his vaulting leaps through the cleft couldn’t have been easy.

  More screams, this time from behind them. The Queen had taken on the shape of an arrowhead, pointed at the heart of their city. Suwraith plunged downward on a rush of wind. Those still in the passageway wouldn’t make it.

  The Sorrow Bringer seemed to cry out in triumph, a static shout of crackling lightning and booming thunder. She slammed into the narrow, open-ceilinged tunnel leading to the East Gate, folding it over as if were made of soft dough. Stone cracked, boulders tumbled, and the passage was filled with tons of falling debris. Hundreds were crushed.

  Lienna, Her work above the fields complete, flew toward the hidden city of UnCasted Humans. They would all die, even the pitiful few who had already begun to scatter like cockroaches scuttling from the light. Let them flee. She’d hunt them down after She had finished off the rest of their wretched brethren, hiding as they were like rats within the nearby mountain. Did they think the mountain’s mass would hide them? Protect them?

  She smiled to Herself. They were sadly mistaken. She would crush their home, while Her child, Li-Choke, would execute any who managed to escape Her righteous vengeance. And She knew Choke would carry out Her will. He knew the penalty of defiance.

  Lienna cried out, a fierce, triumphant scream of lightning and thunder as She arrowed downward. Her goal was the passage from which the miserable Humans poured forth. Her aim was true, and She smashed into the walls, laughing with joy as they collapsed inward, burying hundreds of the Human pests beneath mountains of rubble. Screams of the dying—hundreds, possibly thousands—rose through the wreckage of the passage. The fear of those still trapped smelled sweet like honeysuckle.

  Done. No more of the vermin would escape from that route. But to the west, another stream of the parasites sought to escape their tomb.

  Pleasure bubbled through Lienna. It had been too long since She had unleashed Her vengeance upon the Human scum. Mistress Arisa would be pleased.

  The pleasure slipped away like a fish struggling through Her frantic grasp. Mistress Arisa wasn’t real. Even as Lienna thrust aside the hideous memory of the fiend She had once worshipped, questions arose within Her mind. If Mistress Arisa wasn’t real, then what was the point of killing the Humans? The answer came fitfully, in unhappy spurts. Had Lienna done as She had over the millennia because She believed Humanity to be a plague on the world? Was there no deeper reason, nothing more rational?

  She pushed aside the irritating voice challenging Her beliefs. It sounded too much like Mother, and Mother was long since dead. Besides, She still had work to do. She had no more time for philosophy.

  She soared westward, closing off a few smaller exits as She went, killing the few ant-like lines of dismal Humans who had managed to make it to the surface. Her goal, though, was the other main entrance and exit from the UnCasted city. And when She reached it, She smashed the passageway leading inward into heaps of rubble just as She had in the east. But this time, She kept on going, burrowing inside. The dying screams from the swarming mass of maggots lurking within was like music in Her figurative ears. And all throughout, She sent Her scouring sandstorms streaming down tunnels and darkened passageways, shredding and tearing everyone She came across into bloody ribbons.

  “Why do You kill them?”

  Lienna pulled up short, Her rage momentarily over taken by a needle of fear upon hearing the question. The voice had sounded disquietingly like Mistress Arisa. Lienna paused in Her destruction and listened further, desperate to hear nothing.

  And thankfully, there was only blessed quiet.

  Lienna moved on and Death rode Her wake. Not even the screams of Her victims could penetrate the cyclone howl of Her raging winds as She murdered the underground city. Splatters of blood, like ink stains, were the only remnants of Her victims. For their sins, they had to die.

  “What sins?”

  Mother.

  “Why do You murder them?”

  Father.

  “Weakling.”

  Mistress Arisa.

  The prior needle of fear became a thick spar. Lienna paused once again and whimpered. None of them were real. Within Her mind were Mother’s memories and possibly some of Father’s, but nothing more. Mother and Father were gone, and Mistress Arisa had never existed.

  “Then why do You murder in My name?”

  The fear blanketed Lienna, and She waited in huddled fear. Her whipping winds became slow, sullen gusts as She tried to still Her racing, terrified thoughts. Arisa wasn’t real. She couldn’t be. She had merely been a figment of Lienna’s insanity. Nothing more. She held tight to the thought as She waited in the darkness and silence. She prayed—to whom She didn’t know since either Devesh didn’t exist or He was powerless to oppose Her—but She prayed, nonetheless, hoping to never again hear the voice from Her madness, hoping that the angry, ugly, hurtful voice would be silenced forever. She prayed nothing would break the quiet.

  “To whom do you pray?” Mistress Arisa asked.

  Lienna
screamed.

  She raced away with a shriek, trying to outrun Mistress’ maniacal laughter. It chased after Her, even as She exterminated the hidden city of UnCasted Humans. In some fashion, their screaming deaths helped quiet Lienna’s own inner demons.

  Sateesh Grey had only heard the warning bells of Stronghold rung once before. It had been years ago, when a fire had broken out in Crofthold Jonie, consuming several flats on Plot Find. The smoke had carried throughout Stronghold, coating most every hallway and tunnel with a thin layer of fine sooty ash. It had taken weeks to scrub the scent of smoke from the city.

  Today, Sateesh had expected something similar: a fire or some other kind of natural disaster. He had rushed from his workroom down in Plot Art of Crofthold Discus. Only after he had run into several friends did he learn the true extent of the disaster facing his home.

  Suwraith was coming to Stronghold. It was his people’s greatest fear. The Sorrow Bringer would destroy the city.

  Evacuation would save a few, but for most there would be little hope, those like Sateesh’s family, who were buried too deep within the mountain to reach the surface in time. They would simply be trapped in tunnels full of screaming, terrified people as the Sorrow Bringer brought the ceilings down on their heads. Today, then, would be the end of Sateesh’s family and of nearly everyone he loved.

  All but maybe Jessira, Cedar, Court, and Sign. They might survive the coming holocaust. The four of them had planned on traveling to a place on Mount Frame where Rukh Shektan trained. Sateesh prayed they were still out there, somewhere safe from the Sorrow Bringer. He added Laya to his prayers. She might be out there as well. She had planned on picnicking with Cedar along the shores of Teardrop Lake and share with him the joy of knowing she was pregnant. It was knowledge that only her own parents, Crena, and Sateesh knew. Another grandchild, and Sateesh would never see the infant born.