by Davis Ashura
Rukh led the Murans and Rahails toward Ashoka at a fast trot. As they ran, he did a rough calculation of how long it would take them to reach the city. The plain outside Ashoka was about four miles wide. At their current pace, it would take them a little less than half an hour to cover that distance and reach the Outer Wall. There, rope ladders would have already been lowered so the warriors of the Advent Trial could more quickly gain entrance to the city. It was part of the emergency procedures that allowed those trapped outside the city quicker access into Ashoka beyond just the three main gates or the few scattered sally ports.
Rukh also realized that in their current situation, he and the warriors racing to get back to the city didn't actually have to climb the ladders. They just had to get close enough to touch the Outer Wall. If it was just the Queen coming after them, that's all they would need. The Outer Wall had actually been built ten or fifteen feet inside the bounds of the Oasis, a protection She couldn't penetrate.
That was it then. Get to the Wall, and they'd be safe. It was a mantra Rukh repeated to himself as he ran.
However, with the passage of time, Rukh fretted over the distance yet to travel. The plain flowed beneath their feet in a slow, painful procession, and the Outer Wall seemed no closer now than it did when they had started their run. How much time did they have before the Sorrow Bringer arrived? Rukh wasn't sure, but it couldn't be much. With every passing moment, he worried that they would be caught out in the open.
Rukh mentally grimaced and pushed aside his worrying thoughts even as he pushed the pace a little faster. Run. That was his only duty. It was the only duty of every warrior still out in the field. Run. That was all that mattered.
And while Rukh could have already made it to the Wall by now—find himself safely atop the Outer Wall—he'd never be able to live with himself. These were Trims. These were young, inexperienced men. They had no one to look after them. Rukh would not simply abandon them out here to be annihilated.
By staying with them, he could push them harder than they likely would have pushed themselves. The pace he set—the pace he expected them to maintain—was likely faster than any they would have managed on their own. It might be the difference between somehow seeing these warriors returned safely to Ashoka or watching them die.
“Sir. There are a number of Blends all around us,” panted Lift Toilpeat—a Muran—coming up alongside him. “Both north and south.”
Rukh cursed loudly. If those Blends could be sensed, those men couldn't be more than a mile ahead of the Blacks. They should have been a good deal further along than that. “How long have you known of them?” Rukh asked.
“Since before we left the forest, sir.”
“Suwraith's spit,” Rukh muttered. What were those fragging idiots still doing out here? He scowled. “Link with them.”
The Muran didn't answer, but suddenly something like a hundred men sprang into view. Rukh's eyes widened in shock. It was even worse than he had feared. The warriors ran in clusters of twenty—their platoons—in a long, ragged line that stretched more than a mile north and south of the Blacks. Most raced hundreds of yards ahead of Rukh's unit, but some were merely abreast of them. There were even a few laggards who were somehow behind Black Platoon.
None of those warriors should still be here. Why hadn't they run for Ashoka as soon as they saw the signal flares? Rukh bit back an oath when he saw Kummas amidst those groups. Those men could have already been to the Wall if they had raced flat out. Instead, they ran with the Murans and Rahails. What were they thinking? Had they thought that the signal flares were for incoming Chimeras? Had they remained with their brother warriors in order to protect them from Suwraith's hordes?
If so, it had been the wrong decision.
Rukh fired a whistling arrow to get the attention of the closest cluster of warriors. When they turned in the direction of the Blacks, Toilpeat used hand signals to message the truth of the situation. There was a momentary startlement before the information was passed down the line of platoons. A wave of surprise greeted the news. Soon enough, the Kummas began separating from their units. They ran more and more swiftly. In just a few seconds, they were many yards ahead of the Murans and Rahails and still pulling away
Good. It was what they should have been doing the moment Black Platoon's warning arrows had gone up in the first place. They might still make it to the city in time.
As for those left behind, the Murans and Rahails . . . all their futures were far less certain. Their fates were unknowable.
Rukh tried to be serene about the situation, to act unmoved by the possibility of the Queen's coming. If She arrives, She arrives, was what he told himself, but it was a lie.
Rukh feared the Queen. He feared what She would do to these young warriors by his side. Their lives had been entrusted to his care, and he would be powerless to protect them. His heart thudded, hammering harder than what was needed for this race. Rukh also feared for his own life, especially what would happen to Jessira if he fell.
He could somehow sense her presence. She was on the Outer Wall, just north of Sunset Gate, and he found himself unaccountably worried for her. For a time, it had felt like she had been . . . in a battle? Fighting for her life. It was ludicrous—Jessira was safe in Ashoka—but, still, the sensation hadn't left him. The awareness, the worry had grown, until suddenly, it was gone, disappearing as abruptly as it had begun.
Rukh prayed then to Devesh for peace. It was an appeal that was more fervent than any he could ever recall making. Maybe the prayer even helped, because as he mentally voiced the words, a wisp of calm came to him. He was able to focus on nothing more than the ground before him. The running became hypnotic, meditative.
The flattened grass of the plain blurred beneath his booted feet.
Had She still Her Human form, Lienna would have gritted Her teeth with impatience. It had taken much longer than She had intended to travel the remaining distance to Ashoka. She'd been slowed by the laborious work that only She could do. Lienna had to make sure that no more of the Humans infested the forested hills west of their pus-filled home. Such searching required careful observation. The parasites could no longer hide from Her sight, but if Lienna passed too swiftly, She might easily miss one or two of them. Thus, a journey that She could have made in minutes had ended up requiring almost an hour.
The one aspect of Her travel that brought Her pleasure was the blessed silence in Her mind. Her parents and Mistress Arisa had remained quiet. Still, Lienna anticipated the end of Her journey. Just a few more hills, and She would be there. She overtopped a rise and found her Human lying atop the peak of a tall hill. Hal'El was hidden behind a humped mound of dirt. He appeared to be scanning the broad plain that began at the base of this crest and led to his once home.
Her children, the Tigons that Lienna had lent Hal'El Wrestiva, crouched down below in a shallow ravine. Upon seeing Her arrival, they fell prostrate upon the ground, quite rightly worshipping the presence of their loving Mother. The soothing sounds of their prayers wafted like rose petals, carried aloft to Her by their devotion rather than the wind.
By Her grace are we born
By Her love are we made
By Her will are we shorn
By Her fire are we unmade
And are reborn once more
When they completed the Prayer of Gratitude, Lienna spoke to them. “Arise My children,” She said. “Know that I am well pleased with you. You have My blessings. Now rest so I may speak to the Human you have so conscientiously served and protected these many weeks.”
Hal'El, of course, offered Her no prayers, nor did he offer Her anything resembling obeisance. But then again, She didn't expect proper behavior from him. The man was a Human. He lacked the ability to act in a civilized fashion. Yes, he was Her devoted follower, but the soul-deep stain of his creation forever marred his being. It could never be washed away. It could never be removed. It would remain with him to the end of his days.
The contrast in compo
rtment between the Human and Her children was striking. The Tigons mouthed the Prayer of Gratitude with heads pressed in humility to the ground while Hal'El haughtily made his way down the hill to the valley where Lienna patiently waited. His unhurried pace betrayed and emphasized his arrogance.
When Hal'El reached the base of the hill, he fell to a single knee and gazed upon the dirt. “My Queen,” he said. “What would you have of us?”
Lienna was surprised by his actions. First, by his bended knee, and second by his humble words. Lienna smiled to Herself. Perhaps there was hope for some Humans after all. For a moment, a doubt, a desire to let Humanity live surged through Her.
However, Her hope sprung from Her generous, loving nature, and She immediately snuffed it out.
The truth was that very few of Hal'El's kind had his restraint and wisdom. Her resolve steeled, and Lienna spoke to Her Human. “You hide here like a slug,” She said. “Why have you not done as I commanded and entered Ashoka?”
“My Queen, You commanded that I enter Ashoka alive, but the plain before the city crawls with their warriors. They would see me and slay me in an instant,” Hal'El said. “I have no means by which to evade them.”
His words were smooth and even. There had been no hint of fear in them. Lienna appreciated that. She hated when Her children trembled with fear before Her. As such, in this one matter, Lienna had to applaud Hal'El's bearing.
Nevertheless, Humans were sly schemers, even one who was almost moral like Hal'El. In the end, they all lied. Time stretched as Lienna searched the soft words of Her Human for the hidden worm of deceit.
“You mentioned You had intentions for the Tigons You sent with me?” Hal'El asked, breaking into Her thoughts.
Lienna wanted to reply, but, in reality, She had no idea what the Human was talking about. Was this another lie? She couldn't immediately recall what She intended. Eventually, the memory came back to Her. She and the Tigons would provide a distraction while Hal'El snuck back into Ashoka.
“Your 'distraction' will do nothing more than kill all Your so-called children,” Her Mother said, speaking from the depths of Lienna's mind. “They deserve better.”
“Silence,” Lienna ordered. “My children will do as I ask because they love Me.”
“Your children will do as they are told because they fear You,” Mother countered.
“They are heroes and martyrs,” Lienna said, not sure why She bothered arguing with Her Mother. “Their sacrifice will be remembered for all time.”
“For all time?” Mother scoffed. “We once felt the same as You, Your Nanna and I. Our foolish arrogance was proved when You murdered Us and murdered the world We had helped build. And the sacrifice of Your Tigons will simply be another type of murder.”
Again with the charges of murder! Would Mother ever speak of anything other than murder! “I have no regrets,” Lienna averred. “I did what was needed.”
“And You have served Me well,” Mistress Arisa said. Her voice was soft as morning dew. “Kill the Humans on the plain before their foul city, and You will once again offer Me great service just as You have done in the past.”
Lienna didn't want to acknowledge Mistress' presence. It would be easier to pretend She wasn't real. It would be better if Mistress Arisa was simply a figment of Lienna's imagination. It would be simpler to—
“My Queen,” Hal'El prodded, ending Lienna's internal conversation and returning Her attention to the matter at hand.
“I will annihilate those warriors on the plains before Ashoka,” Lienna said. Her voice grew stronger with every word She spoke. “They will tremble at My coming and fall on their faces in fear. In the end, they will be grateful when I take their terror from them.”
“And what of the Tigons?” Hal'El asked. He remained on bended knee with a bent head and a penitent voice.
“They will act as My heralds. They will loudly announce My presence,” Lienna answered. “They, too, will serve to raise terror in the hearts of the Humans and fill them with fear of their coming destiny.”
“They are to sacrifice themselves,” Hal'El said, sounding thoughtful. “When they attack, warning arrows will be fired. The warriors down on the plain will slowly retreat back to the city since they won't know the nature or number of enemies they face. As they press for Ashoka, if You were to then appear, my Queen, a half an hour or so after the Tigons, they'll flee. It'll be a rout as they seek shelter in Ashoka. I should be able to follow on their panicked heels and enter the city as well. I'll be unknown and unseen.”
Lienna paused. With all the excitement of the difficult conversation with Mother and Mistress Arisa, She'd forgotten that Hal'El was supposed to get into Ashoka. It was the entire reason he was here. How could She have misremembered such an important detail? No matter. The Human's plan would work. Best of all, many of the very worst kind of Humans—their warriors—would die at Her metaphorical hands today.
Just a few more minutes and they'd be there. The Outer Wall reared higher and closer. The rope ladders and baskets were clearly visible. Many of them were in use as warriors from earlier-arriving platoons were even now being hauled to the top of the Outer Wall and to safety. Rukh dared to think that he and the other latecomers might make it as well.
No sooner had Hope dared poke Her lovely head past the morose skies above than Rukh caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. A bruise-purple cloud rushed toward them from the south. It smashed Hope straight in the face. Coruscating lightning lit the cloud from within. Thunder pealed a lurid counterpoint.
Everyone glanced back trying to identify what they were seeing, but Rukh already knew what it was. The cloud moved faster than any cloud had a right to move.
“Run!” Rukh screamed. “It's Suwraith! Move it!”
His words were passed down in frantic signals. The platoons set off at a dead sprint. The Outer Wall crept closer but not quickly enough. Warriors panted, their faces red with effort as they pushed past pain.
“Don't stop,” Rukh urged. “We're almost there.”
He glanced to the side.
Suwraith had overtaken a platoon of warriors. Rukh silently urged the men there to greater speed even as She hovered above them. She matched their speeds. Some of the warriors must have kept their bows because arrows sped upward. They sliced through the Queen, but caused no damage. Bolts of lightning sizzled to the ground, and with the rush of a waterfall, the Sorrow Bringer crashed down. When She lifted up again, the mangled bodies of ten or so young men lay unmoving.
Rukh gritted his teeth in fury as Suwraith moved on to another platoon. Their commander must have been a Kumma, and he must have remained with his men. Fireballs erupted toward the Sorrow Bringer. But just like the arrows, they had no effect on the Queen. Within seconds, another ten men lay dead.
Another platoon met a similar fate, and the Blacks were next in line for Suwraith's wrath.
“We aren't going to make it!” Toilpeat cried out.
Rukh knew the Muran was right, but there was no other option except to run. “Keep going,” Rukh said. “I'll . . .” The words dried in his throat. He swallowed heavily, hating what he knew he had to do. These men wouldn't die while he did nothing. “Don't wait on me, warrior. Keep running,” he commanded. He slapped Toilpeat on the shoulder.
Jessira forgive me.
Rukh broke away from the rest of the Blacks. He took an angle away from them and away from Ashoka. He took an angle toward sacrifice. Toward the Sorrow Bringer. Better that he die than all these others share his fate. His hands glowed. He hurled Fireballs at the Queen, hoping to grab Her attention. She seemed to ignore him at first, but then She paused. Slowly, heavily, Suwraith turned his way.
Rukh might have exulted, but he still had to survive long enough to give his men time to reach the Outer Wall. He had to keep the Queen chasing after him. He had to stay alive long enough for them to find shelter. He would die, but if the cost of his life meant these others could live, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
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He conducted Jivatma and raced away as swiftly as he could. He formed a Shield, held hard to his useless Blend, and even formed a Bow. Why the latter, he didn't know, but it was said that necessity was the Amma of invention. Maybe inspiration would strike him during this forlorn moment of need.
Rukh sensed the Queen rearing overhead, and he twisted aside. A bolt of lightning sizzled directly behind him. Thunder pealed, and the aftershock hurled him forward. Another bolt missed him. Another aftershock hurled him forward. Rukh stumbled but kept to his feet. His ears rang. He felt blood trickle down the side of his face. His ears were bleeding.
Rukh glanced at the Blacks. He only had to hold out a little longer. They were almost to the Wall.
Once again, the Queen overtook him, and Rukh dodged away. The Sorrow Bringer kept after him, floating low over the ground. From Her came the sound of grinding bones, of nails scraping stone, the howl of frustrated anger.
Rukh smiled to himself. Good. The Queen wasn't happy that She hadn't yet killed him.
His pleasure was short-lived. He sensed the Queen pause, as if She were trying to figure out how to smash him down when he refused to stand still. She moved more slowly now, as if to ensure he wouldn't be able to dodge away from Her a third time. She floated lower and rushed toward him from ground level.
There was no way to evade Her. Not this time. Rukh prepared to meet his Creator. Always lacking in faith, in this the final moment of his life, he offered his first heartfelt prayer. Devesh, if you're there, I commit myself to your care.
Serenity, so elusive before, came upon him then. Rukh understood he was going to die, that there was no way to avoid it. He accepted his fate, didn't fight it. He simply waited for the end to come.
In that unfathomably long instant, images came to Rukh. Images from his life. Random thoughts and ideas. Notions from childhood. Meeting Jaresh for the first time. Talking to his nanna and amma on the eve of the Tournament of Hume. Touching the WellStone and witnessing the world come to life. Playing with Bree before Jaresh became a part of their family. Seeing his daughter's first smile and watching her first steps. The moment when knowledge of Blending was thrust upon him. Kissing Jessira on their wedding night. Learning the truth about the Baels. Li-Dirge's last words. Touching his wife's pregnant belly. Understanding how to fuse a Shield, Blend, and Bow.