by Davis Ashura
Rukh gave a nearby clod of manure a sour look. Centered on the clump was a flattened indentation just the size of his boot. Damn sheep. He scuffed his bootheel on the ground, trying to clean off the dung, but all he managed to do was smear it about. The ripe aroma of sheep droppings rose up to him, and he grimaced in disgust.
He was about to swipe his boots against the grass with more fervor, but a distant roll of thunder caused him to pause in his work. He eyed the gray sky above with the same antipathy with which he had viewed the sheep dung. The day had started out so beautiful. Bright, warm sunshine had filled the sky—perfect weather for the Advent Trial, but then had come this somber curtain of gray clouds. They had hidden away the sun, stolen the warmth of the land, and brought with them a cold, blustery wind. In a matter of minutes, the season seemed to have shifted from a vibrant spring to something akin to a foul late fall or early winter.
Rukh didn't like it. He much preferred the hothouse of summer to this melancholy chill. Of course, Jessira would probably make some remark about him being a thin-blooded Pureblood who couldn't take the cold, but that wasn't it. The weather was just so fragging depressing.
Rukh looked to the Outer Wall, far away in the distance. He couldn't see Jessira, but he scanned its heights for her anyway. She would be near the Sunset Gate with a less-than-excellent view of the Advent Trial.
From behind Rukh came the sound of a throat clearing, and he turned around.
It was Lince Chopil, the Trim who was the acting corporal of Black Platoon during the Advent Trial.
“Are the warriors ready?” Rukh asked.
“Yes, sir,” Chopil answered with a nod.
“Good. Gather them around. We'll have one final briefing before the Trial begins.”
“Yes, sir!” Chopil saluted and barked out orders.
Soon, twenty bright, eager, young men with bright, eager, young faces were gathered around Rukh as they waited on his instructions. Suddenly, he was struck by a strange sense of his age. He looked upon the assembled Trims from a distance that felt like decades. It left him with a sense that he was as old as the nannas or even the grandfathers of these young men.
His bones were as old as the hills, his blood as deep as the sea, his heart as eternal as Jivatma.
Rukh startled. Where had those thoughts come from? They didn't even make sense. He was only twenty-two, not some ancient relic from the First World.
He cleared his mind, but as he prepared to address his unit, he couldn't help but notice how rapt their focus was, how reverent many of them appeared to be, especially those who didn't know him very well—the Murans and Rahails from the Sarath and the Shir'Fen, and even the Trims from the Fort and the Sword. The warriors of the House of Fire and Mirrors tried manfully to maintain a respectful pose, but the awe was all too evident in their eyes as well.
Nervous claws crawled down the middle of Rukh's back. The Trims looked upon him as though he were the First Father made flesh, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. No man deserved to be looked upon in such a fashion.
Once again, Rukh shook off his bothersome thoughts. Whatever discomfort he might be feeling, he had to set it aside. These men deserved his utmost dedication. They'd worked too hard to have his laxity in attention undo them this late in their training.
Rukh cleared his throat. “When the Advent Trial begins, our platoon will act as the forward western edge of the Southern Cross. We'll march directly west and follow a deer trail about a quarter mile into the forest. From there, we'll strike north. We would normally expect to encounter enemy units of the Northern Star at a point midway between our two locations, but this Advent Trial will be different. We're going into the forest . . .” He paused. “. . . and we're going without Blends. The enemy will never find us or see us coming.”
“No Blends, sir?” a Rahail said diffidently. “I don't understand. Without a Blend, won't we be more likely to be discovered?”
“No we won't,” Rukh said. This part of the strategy had been his. He remembered how easily the Muran and Rahail warriors had been able to pinpoint Blends from even a mile away or more during the battle at Stronghold. The knowledge had left a strong impression. “Remember: Murans and Rahails can sense Blends from a great distance, much farther than they could otherwise see an approaching enemy with their own eyes. With the forest to hide us and no Blends to give away our position, they'll never know we're there.”
“Is that why we're wearing the gray-and-green leaf camouflage, sir?” Corporal Chopil asked.
Rukh nodded. “The green-and-brown field camouflage would be fine if we stayed entirely on the plain,” he said, “but we won't be doing that. The gray-and-green leaf is for the forest.”
“What happens after that, sir?” a Trim from the Fort and the Sword asked.
“After a certain point, we'll exit the forest. We might get lucky and other units of the Northern Star might think we're one of their own. Regardless, we'll run like hell, straight east toward their flag, which should be just north of Twilight Gate. Depending on how quickly we traverse the forest, at that point, we might be the tip of the spear. More likely, we'll be the latecomers that no one sees coming.” He smiled without humor. “We're expected to be devastating, though, no matter when we happen to arrive. We are to strike deep into the heart of the enemy, expend ourselves to soften up his defenses, and whittle them down for other units of the Southern Cross finish off.” He paused, staring about him and meeting the gaze of his platoon. “That's what we're expected to do, but I say frag that. We will strike deep into the heart of the enemy, and we will soften up their defenses, but that won't be all we'll do,” Rukh growled. “I aim to capture the Northern Star's flag and return it to our fortress. We will be the killing Kesarin.”
A rousing shout met his words.
Li-Choke leaned on his trident as he carefully wended his way down a steep hill. Even with the additional support, his hooves still slipped on the damp dirt.
The sun should have long since burned off the dew that made the ground wet, but clouds had rolled in earlier in the morning and shut away the warmth. With them had come the promise of an icy rain, and while Choke didn't mind the cold, he dreaded the wetness. His fur became uncomfortable and heavy then.
Hopefully, he and the two hundred Baels and twenty or so Tigons following behind him would have reached Ashoka by then. It was unlikely they would be offered immediate refuge within the city itself, but at least many weeks of ceaseless marching with nothing but dry rations to sustain them would soon be over.
The Chimeras had trekked as quietly and as swiftly as they could, traveling from hours before sunrise to hours after sunset. It had been a hard pounding of hooves and padded feet, and Choke looked forward to the journey's end. The haste of their travel, and their decision to forego a fire at night had been a conscious decision meant to prevent the Queen from finding them. At best it was a meager protection since Mother could always sense the presence of Her children, no matter where they hid themselves.
Li-Choke knew this better than most. He and the few brothers who had survived the destruction of Li-Dirge's command had thought themselves safe on the Hunters Flats. They'd been wrong.
Nevertheless, during their current journey, Choke had decided against having a fire at night. It likely made no difference one way or another, but it made him feel better about their chances for survival. Tonight, though, should see them camped right next to Ashoka's proud, obdurate Walls. Then they should be safe enough to have a fire and a warm meal.
Choke glanced at his brothers, the ones strung out behind him. These were the sole members of the Eastern Plague deemed worthy of salvation before the coming battle for Ashoka. It was a pitifully small remnant of those who had once numbered in the thousands. Choke consoled himself, though, with the knowledge that from a seed had once grown the mythical Grove Oak. And just as Hume's teachings had once found fertile soil in the stony hearts of the Baels, so they would again in the future. It would happen when those who were to
o afraid to accept sacrifice either embraced again that which they were always meant to be or passed on from this world.
Choke twitched his fur, and a cloud of gnats flitted off of him. He twitched again before they could regain their roosts on his ears and nose. He failed, and with a sigh, he did his best to ignore the pests as he walked on.
Eventually, the ground flattened out into a broad hollow west of Ashoka. From here, the ground would rise again into a series of hills that ended at the wide field surrounding the city. It was said that herds of wild sheep kept the vegetation trimmed low, and Choke briefly wondered if the Ashokans would mind if he and the other Chimeras helped themselves to some lamb or mutton. It had been a long time since any of them had tasted fresh meat.
His thoughts distracted by food, he almost ran into Aia who had stopped in the middle of the animal trail they were following. She appeared concerned, and her nose was lifted to the air.
*What is it?* Choke asked.
*Blood,* Aia replied. *Lots of blood. Human blood. Fresh.*
Choke held up a fist even as he involuntarily gripped his trident more tightly and shifted about in nervousness. The Humans who patrolled Ashoka's borders were fine warriors. They should have been able to handle any danger out here. What had they run into?
Aia turned to him. *The Humans scout three days out from the borders of Ashoka, and in the past, whenever my brothers and I travelled to or from the city, we were always confronted.* Her tail swished. *Where have they been hiding then? We've yet to run across a single one of their patrols.*
*You think something's happened them?*
*I know something's happened to them,* Aia replied with a curl of her lip. *I think the blood I'm smelling belongs to them.*
Choke suspected she was right. Suddenly the forest carried a hidden menace. It was dark here, under the dull, gray sky and the mournful, moaning wind. Trees shook, leaves rattled, and Choke could imagine the acrid, iron-bitter smell of blood.
A nervous shiver passed down his spine. He glanced around in worry, wondering what might be watching them, what might be out in those trees that was deadly enough to kill Human warriors. His heart thudded.
Just then, a hard wind scudded through the forest, furious enough to shake branches. It howled like a nightmare. Choke nearly bit his tongue in fear. For an instant, the wind had sounded like cackling laughter, like sanity torn asunder, like . . . Mother. But where then was the lightning and racing clouds? Mother never was—
The wind faded away and passed.
Choke swallowed heavily and did his best to horn aside his fear and rein in his laboring thoughts. His Chimeras needed him to maintain a clear head. The sound they had all just heard had set the Baels and Tigons to muttering, the fear and—in some cases—abject terror, evident in their tones. But Choke couldn't afford such weakness. He needed to understand what they were facing so he could plan how to defeat it, or failing that, escape it.
*Where do you smell the blood?* he asked Aia.
She gestured with her nose. *Over there. Deep in the trees. A mile or so in.*
Thrum and Shon padded up to them.
*Why are we stopping? And what was that noise?* Thrum asked as he paused to lift his nose to the air.
*I smell Blood,* Shon said. *Close by. And death.*
*We need to learn what's happened,* Aia said.
*I agree,* Choke replied, his heart still hammering. He turned to Li-Silt, an older Bael he had grown to know and respect during the battle at Stronghold. “The Kesarins smell blood. They think it's Human, and that they're dead.”
“Human?” Silt frowned. “That is not good news,” he said in understatement.
“No, it isn't,” Choke agreed, taking a measure of courage from the older Bael's calm assessment. “Patrols from Ashoka should have confronted us days ago, and now there's this blood and death.” He shook his head in worry, and the feathers on his horns jangled. “We need to investigate this matter and find out what occurred here.”
The older Bael nodded. “Who do you want to accompany you?”
Choke considered for a moment. “Just the Kesarins,” he answered, although a small, fearful part of him would have been happy to have had all the other Chimeras come along as well. “I want you to lead our brothers on toward Ashoka. We'll catch up once we've learned what's happened.”
“Are you certain that's prudent?” Silt asked.
Choke grimaced. “No. But if there's something out there that can kill a troop of Humans and three Kesarins, it's unlikely that our brothers would fare much better.”
“It stands to reason,” Silt said. He turned aside and called out orders to the other Chimeras.
*Are you ready?* Aia asked.
Choke nodded. *Let's go.*
The Kesarins slid into the forest. Despite their large size, they moved swift and silent. The only sound of their passage was the random brushing aside of low-lying shrubs and the crumpling of leaves on the ground. Choke was hard pressed to keep up with them and walk as quietly as they. His trident wasn't the easiest weapon to maneuver through the closely growing trees of the forest, nor were his horns.
*We're getting close,* Aia sent as she slowed her pace. She and her brothers moved even more softly now. There was no sound at all to announce their presence.
Choke walked in a hunch, not wanting to disturb any overhanging branches. He held his trident close by his side.
The ground became soft and boggy with the sulfur stink of a swamp.
*Beavers,* Thrum announced. *The ugly-toothed cretins always try to flood an area,* he muttered in anger.
Choke furled his brow in confusion at Thrum's seeming hatred for the small, furry animals.
*One of them bit him on the nose when he was a cub,* Aia explained with a chuckle. *Thrum's never forgiven them.* Her words, humorous as they were, momentarily lightened the tension.
Shon paused. *The smell is strongest just past that break in the trees.* He pointed with his nose.
Aia sidled forward. She eased her way through the remaining foliage.
By now, Choke could smell the blood as well. It was rank, over-whelming, and near. He followed on Aia's paws, doing his best to walk as silently as she.
The forest was quiet. No birdsong.
Shon and Thrum followed behind.
*I don't like this,* one of them muttered.
The trees opened out into a meadow, and Aia crouched even lower. A rumble emanated from her throat, one she quickly silenced.
Choke edged to her side and saw what had her so disturbed.
The meadow was an abattoir. The trees on the far side had been painted with blood, their trunks red. The ground was scarred with burn marks. The Humans must have thrown Fireballs at whatever had attacked them. It had done them no good. Weapons and the shredded bodies of Humans littered the earth. How many, Choke couldn't say. They had been ripped apart. Legs and arms separated from torsos. And where were the heads?
Choke's heart was suddenly in his throat. The scene before him was horrifying enough, but worse, he knew what it portended. A little over a year ago, he had been witness to a similar site of murder. It had been on the Hunters Flats, and the victims had been his brother Baels, the ones who had survived the destruction of Li-Dirge's command.
A movement from up above caught his attention.
A bruised cloud floated low over the trees, ponderously, menacingly heading north. Toward Ashoka.
In the more than two millennia since Lienna had set for Herself the task of Humanity's destruction, only rarely had She skulked when approaching a battle with Her eternal enemy.
She skulked now. She had to.
For the past few days as Her pet, Hal'El Wrestiva, and his claw of Tigons had made their way to his former home, they had unknowingly required the protection of their Mother. Unbeknownst to them, small groups of Humans had lurked in their path, in places where they hadn't belonged. They had likely been scouts sent by Ashoka and without a doubt, they would have obstructed the progre
ss of Her pet.
It was a shame they had been here.
Following the destruction of the UnCasted Humans, Lienna had hoped that She had so thoroughly frightened all their verminous kind that none of them would have ever dared step foot beyond the bounds of their various Oases. She had dared hope that perhaps even the cursed caravans—the wagons of goods that one city sent to another—the so-called Trials, would cease to be a problem. However, with the presence of these patrols, it was clear that Her hopes were misplaced.
Of course, from this unfortunate circumstance had come an unforeseen but welcome opportunity. Lienna had always reveled in the simple pleasure of ending the hideous lives of Arisa's torturers, so with gladness and single-minded fervor, She had torn apart any scouts who might have threatened Her pet Human. Such an occurrence would have been disastrous, and Lienna had worked too hard these past seasons—suffered too much—to see Her plans ruined.
Also, whether Hal'El willed it or not, he would be the instrument by which She would smite his unholy home. For this reason, and this reason only—his survival—Lienna couldn't do as She had always done. She had to approach Ashoka unseen and unexpected. She had to subsume the pleasure She derived from wildly lashing out and slaying these Human parasites, these Ashokan scouts. Instead, She had to be quiet, secret, and subtle. She couldn't give in to unthinking rage and allow any of the Humans to somehow escape Her justice. Those who fled might then carry word further afield, to those who would then impede Her pet's progress.
Lienna mentally scowled. Normally, such a situation would have actually been Her preference. In times past, Lienna would sometimes allow a few of the parasites to escape Her righteous wrath, all so they could then fearfully tell their fellow Humans what awful torment they had witnessed. Of course, death was their well-deserved punishment—death was what all Humans merited—and death would find them, but first, Lienna reckoned that the terror of what these supposed survivors had seen and survived would likely haunt them for the remainder of their miserable days. A long life lived in suffering. It was possibly an even more just punishment for the original sin of being born Human. After all, from such a disgraceful beginning, there was no hope of forgiveness.